A strange, horrific story
Once upon a time in a far, far, far away territory, far, far, far away from the exhilarating, beautiful society and world we live in today, there was an evil man, (oh, he was evil it was not to do, but not he!) and this evil man was a vicious man slaughterer, and what do you know: he slaughtered men, may be that’s why they called him that way, I don’t know, I’m just a blonde. But anyway, where was I with my story. Ok, so this evil man, in order to protect the privacy of his victims and their friends and relatives , I will call him Pipo the beach faggot.
Now, Pipo the beach faggot had suffered from a severe trauma in his childhood, once, a long time before he had gone man slaughtering crazy, he had had his fingers stuck in the copier at work. People, you should have seen that, blood splattering everywhere, the wall, the floor, even on Miss Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today’s face and clothes (you’re going to think, what’s so bad about that? And you’re right it wasn’t bad at all because you should have seen what she was wearing that day!) It drove her starkravingmad, she got a nervous breakdown and had to leave work for a few weeks. Poor Miss Oh-No-What- Am-I-Wearing-Today!
Anyway, Pipo the beach faggot was hurt terribly, not only physically but all the more mentally, you could say he was a real mess. He started crying, wiping away his tears with the blood on his fingers, it was really sad. You know he was even crying harder than the sad little stapler I once told you about. But so what, he was a beach faggot after all, why would we be concerned about it. Now let me tell you, the story is only beginning. Prepare to be scared the shit out of you, and in case this wouldn’t happen I’m sure you’re at least going to laugh with it. Enjoy.
After the copier incident the Beach faggot got this really crazy idea in his head. He would slaughter every single one at work who had ever been near to that copier and him and who had never told him about the stubborn lid that from time to time would slam. If only they had told him, then none of this slaughtering would have happened and I wouldn’t have written this story and you wouldn’t have laughed about it so much. Well, that’s not entirely true because I haven’t really started my story yet, although, this background details that for your information should be written in the imperfecto, if this were a Spanish story, but it isn’t, so what am I nagging about. Now let’s go on with the story before I start flipping, because I’m a blonde after all. So he was going to murder everyone, well not everyone, he was so sorry about Miss Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today because all the blood had splashed in her face and she did have a nervous breakdown, so she was already punished enough as it was, and he decided not to harm her in any way.
Not being a blonde, he didn’t have to think hard or long about the way he was going to kill everyone in his way at work. But his girlfriend was a blonde, and her stupidity had infected him too. So to tell you the truth, he didn’t come up with the idea himself. He was watching the news some evening, and in some godforsaken country the leader had been eating pretzels and for some reason hadn’t listened to his mother’s good advice to always chew well before swallowing, so he choked in one of his pretzels, lost consciousness and flew with his monkey face flat on the ground. Pain, pain, excruciating pain, not to do!
And it went EUREKA in Pipo the beach faggot’s living room. He knew how he would take revenge on his unfriendly, bad colleagues. He would choke them, but they weren’t going to regain consciousness, no, they would turn blue, purple, their eyes were going to pop out of their heads, all the air in their bodies would come out, either on top or at their bottoms. It was going to smell bad, but is was worth it, he thought.
He set his eyes on his first victim, another beach faggot, that had tried to seduce him in front of the copier. Oh, he was so infuriated, you can’t imagine yourself, he even slammed the lid of the copier single-handedly on all of his fingers, that infuriated, unbelievable. Now, the copier had served him one way, because he stole the files of his colleagues from the administration and copied them. His revenge would be sweet, and I don’t mean that in a figurative sense. Read my words!!!!
He got all the addresses and the first one to suffer would be the other beach faggot, let’s call him The Backyard Lover. One night, Pipo sneaked into the Backyard Lover’s backyard and entered his house. He was fast asleep, a perfect moment for a slaughtering Pipo thought. He sneaked up to him and tied his legs and arms to the bed. Boy, if that man had been awake he probably would have enjoyed it so much. But there wasn’t going to happen anything The Backyard Lover would get all hot about. No, not at all, unless he would go to hell, that would give him hot. Once the Backyard Lover was strapped to the bed, Pipo opened his bag, and got out his secret weapon.
He opened the Backyard Lover’s mouth and started to pour Honey Pops down his throat, at first he would pour some milk with it too, to make the choking time longer, but he wouldn’t stop before the entire box of Honey Pops was emptied in his victim’s mouth, and as he had pictured it, the Backyard Lover turned blue, purple, his eyes popped out of his head and all, and I mean ALL the air inside his body was released in the room. Pipo almost fell from the bed, that bad a smell that came out of his backyard. Not to do. Pipo rejoiced or something like that. He had slaughtered his first victim, he was o so happy, up to the next.
He never thought it would go this easy, but still he didn’t get overconfident. He would approach every slaughtering with a kind of carefully chosen awkwardness and don’t ask me what it means, because I don’t understand myself, being a blonde, you know? This way he slaughtered the next fifteen unfriendly, bad colleagues. But to have some variety in his killings he choked his following victims with corn flakes, Choco pops, Rice Krispies, Muesli. This way, there was still some unexpectedness in it for him, because his girlfriend prepared his killing bag and he would never know with what he would kill the next. Isn’t that funny? I thought so.
But as it goes with all killers they slip up sooner or later and in Pipo the Beach Faggot’s case it was rather sooner. And it was his own damn fault that there would come an end to his men slaughtering days. Because, and this isn’t going to be a surprise, who do you think was going to save the day? Indeed, you guessed right, Ms Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today. Nobody knew this, but next to being a colleague from the beach faggot, she was a secret agent with the Breakfast Squad and since lot of killings happened with those crispy things eaten at breakfast she was asked to investigate the case. Since the victims of the beach faggot were all employees of the same company just as she was, the Beach Faggot the only one still being alive, and she knowing she hadn’t done it, their was only one conclusion to draw. It was the beach faggot!!!! (Now you have to know she was a blonde, so it wasn’t that obvious for her to come to that conclusion, so let’s say a hurray for Miss Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today.)
The Beach Faggot, not being a blonde but as mentioned before beboyfriended to a blonde, hadn’t figured it out, that it would be figured out so fast. Unaware of what was awaiting him, he enjoyed a quiet afternoon at home in the presence of him, himself and he. His girlfriend was out shopping and having her hair and nails done at the beauty salon so she wasn’t going to come home that soon. And what she would encounter when she got home, it would make her pull all her hair out of her head which would be so pitiful because she had spent so much money to have it made decent.
But I’m going too fast. That afternoon, Ms Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today barged in, pointed her thermos at him and said: “Your corn flakes, or your life! I know what you have been up to. I have to take you in, so what’s it going to be, beach faggot?” He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. His little men slaughtering plan had been discovered. And believe it or not, he didn’t understand why, and if even she, the blonde, figured it out, imagine how stupid he must be! Not to do!
Anyway, that isn’t important at all, it was figured out and that’s that, let’s go back to the ‘your cornflakes, or your life’ scene. Happened what may, the beach faggot wouldn’t allow himself to be taken in. He would rather die, than spend the rest of his miserable life in prison, surrounded by more evil, unfriendly, bad beach faggots, and they would love backyards even more than the Backyard Lover he had killed first. He ran for the kitchen, grabbed all the boxes of cereals he could find and poured them in his mouth. It was bad, he turned blue, purple, his eyes popped out of his head, all the air inside his body was released and I can tell you, it was a real barnyard smell, if you know what I mean. Now you can ask yourself why has that flaming idiot killed himself. Now let me tell you: remember the blonde? And after all, he was an unfriendly, bad, evil colleague too, so he equally deserved to die.
Of course, the sad thing about is was that Miss Oh-No-What-Am-I-Wearing-Today wasn’t able to retrieve the beach faggot as well as the boxes of cereals and on top of that she had to endure the evil smell, and that was even worse than the time when all the blood splashed in her face and on her clothes, so you can imagine, the nervous breakdown she suffered from this time, would mean the end of her. She died as well, but the good thing about it was that the clothes she was buried in were really nice. And I’m not saying this because she’s dead, they were just nice, that’s all.
I hope everyone who has read it enjoyed it to the fullest and will think back about it with a cracking smile. So that was the sad story of Pipo the Beach Faggot, also known as: THE CEREAL KILLER.
SOON IN THEATRES NEAR YOU