I didn't go out until late last night, mostly because I wasn't sure if I was gonna stay in or not. But then I realized that this is Derby weekend, & bars in Louisville typically stay open til six-fuckin'-ay-em! When it comes to closing time at bars, few cities can top Louisville. In most cities of similar (& larger) size that I've visited, bars usually close around 1:00 or 2:00. If you're lucky, they'll stay open til 3:00. But in Louisville, the bars don't close until 4:00 am every fuckin' night! That beats just about anywhere in the Midwest--even in Chicago, most bars close at 2:00 on Friday & 3:00 on Saturday (to stay open later, they need a special license). From what I've heard from other people, to find those kind of drinking hours, you'd have to go to soem place like NYC or LA. In my opinion, this is one of the better selling points that this city has--if they really wanted to bring people into Louisville, you'd think they would advertise it. I can see the brochures now: "Come to Louisville, where you can drink until 4:00!" But then again, few people probably would want every drunk in the Midwest moving here.

Anyway, I arrived at the Mag at about 2:30, where I encountered Mike D, DB, Missy, & Chris. A few other members of the BLC ("Bad Luck Crew") were there as well, but they soon left--I think their pussies were hurting or something. So I have a few beers & shoot the shit with whoever's left. A few highlights I recall are: DB talking about trying to hook up with the skank from a few weeks earlier (see appropriate blog entry) & sharing her with all his friends & said skank running off to buy pills or some shit & never returning. At one point, Mike D mentioned that he'd fuck just about anything if it was female or weighed less than him (I'd guess he weighs about 150 or so). I replied with, "What about a sheep?" Mike said that he wasn't that hard up at that point, but did leave beastiality as a future option, in case he went to prison for a long time & the first thing he had access to was an animal.

I also ran into this Satanist guy named Seth there, who I hadn't seen for quite some time. I went to a party with Ronnie, Mike D, Chris, Leigh-Anna, Sondra, Steve, & Missy last fall at this house where Seth was living--a place many of us now refer to as "Satan's House." Anyway, this stripper/dominatrix chick named Eris was there--oddly enough she recognized me, even though it'd been about three years since I'd been to the strip club she works at, & I can probably count on one hand the number of times I'd been there. Though I dig naked chicks, I'm not really fond of strip clubs, because in the end, all you end up with is an empty wallet & blue balls. Anyway, Eris's 19 year old slave boy, Nicholas, was there as well. Eris spent much of the evening humiliating him & beating him, at one point making him drop his pants in front of an audience in the kitchen & beating his ass red with a cake spatula. She even invited a few others to join the fun, & many people took turns beating Nicholas. Hell, many people besides Nicholas took beatings as well, including Eris. At one point, she came up & bit my chest really fucking hard (I had a bruise the next day). Of course, I waited til she wasn't looking & did the same thing to her ass, which she wasn't too happy with. In the end, a good time & much sado-masochistic fun was had by all. Oh yeah, I also backed into a lit candle while I was there & caught my hair on fire (some quick thinking by Janet, the hostess, saved me).

Anyway, we ended up leaving sometime before 5:00. Mike D's catching a ride home with me, & I tell him to wait a minute while I piss behind the dumpster in the parking lot. I look up to see Mike standing in the bed of my truck, grunting & groaning as he dry humps my cab. I watch in fascination like Jane Goodall observing a new species of primate engaged in some bizzare mating ritual. "Unnhh. I'm so fucking horny," Mike says to my truck. "Take that, bitch! You like that cock, don'tcha?" Needless to say, as soon as I'm finished pissing, I tell him to cut it out & get in the truck.

After a quick trip to the WC Lounge, we head back to Mike's place, which he shares with Ern, Shaun, Chris, & Nugget. We get there & everyone is asleep but Chris, plus Ronnie's crashed there as well. Mike shows Chris & I a couple home movies created by Shaun, Nugget, & Ben. He also tells me about this bigger film they're planning which will involve all the BLC & affiliates, & how the climax of the movie involves this girl inserting a gun into her vagina. He asks me if I'm interested, & of course, my reply is a hearty "Fuck yeah!" Who knows when a chance like this will come again? This could be my big break & my ticket to stardom. Fuck Ed McMahon!

The night ends with a practical joke. The three of us cut out pictures of cocks & vulgar phrases from the BLC porn mag collection & tape them to Shaun's & Ern's bedroom doors. Too bad I won't be there to see their faces when they see such witticisms as "I like a good fat hard cock in the ass" & "11 inches of unholy man-meat" with accompanying pictures adorning their doors.

Hmmmm. Y'know, "Eleven Inches of Unholy Man-Meat" would be a great name for a band.

Burn in Hell
posted by El Bastardo at 10:36 AM

Would've posted this sooner, but Blogger was down for some reason. Anyway, "The Lemonade Game" is a sick, twisted tale of boyhood pals which originally appeared in Kelly's demented zine Psycho Carnival a few years back. Without further adieu, I therefore present

THE LEMONADE GAME

By Kelly Gregory

This story is an old favorite with all my amigos. It is has been requested of me to tell so many times, I'm frankly quite sick of it. But this is the first time I’ve put the episode on paper . And it will be the last. Enjoy.

The Porkston Boys lived down an old gravel road from my house when I was a wee lad. There were no other neighbors my age for miles around. So I had either the Porkston kids to play with or my cat, Pepsi, to tease and torment. I also talked frequently to a huge apple tree out in the back yard, for a bit of imaginative fun. Yes sir, I was plenty bored.

So it was the Porkston boys or not much else.

At the tender ages of five and six, I would take my bike (that still had little training wheels) and ramble on down the bumpy-ass lane to the Porkston house. On either side of this lane were trees that stretched so high, you could hardly see the sky above you. This factor caused the lane to be dark or shadowy in many places. But I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t afraid of anything back then.

One of the first times I remember being afraid was when the Porkston boys showed me the cellar of their dirty, shabby house. The eldest boy, Law and his younger brother opened the door and a variety of spiders quickly scurried out into the lawn. Davis, a skinny wisp of a kid said, “Pretty cool, huh?” Law, who was about a foot taller than me and only a year older, said, “Ya ought to go in and check it out.” I looked at the cobwebs and old rock walls of the cellar from where I stood and said, “I don't think so. Not today.”

So Davis and Law shoved me in.

Without haste, I got up from the dirt floor and tried to make it back out the door. Unfortunately. the door was slammed shut before I could make an escape. There I was, in complete darkness, with, God knows what about to attack me. I began screaming and beating on the door, begging to be let out. I could hear them mumblingsomething, & then laughing. After pushing and hitting the door for what seemed like days, Davis and Law finally set me free.

“You sounded scared in there...” said Law.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and said, “I wasn’t scared.” Then we went around to the front of house, went inside and drank highly sweetened warm Kool-Aid that their mother served us. Seems like I was always picking dried food particles off the cup I was given. That could be the reason I continue to thoroughly check each gless that is served to me when I go to someone's house. When I'm caught doing this, I explain it's nothing personal. That normally does not provide the host with a satisfactory explanation.

On many of the hot summer days at the Porkston house, Davis and Law would invite me to join them in a ritual, of sorts. Law would pull down his pants. Davis would pull down his shorts. Law would pull out his little tadpole of a penis. Davis would stretch out his pink mushroom, as well. Before you knew it, the boys were promptly pissing into their own mouths. They frequently pissed into each other's mouths, laughing all the while. What a time they had!

Law, ever the courteous lad, would say, “Come on Kelly! Drink some with us! It tastes just like lemonade!” Davis would encourage me by shouting. “It's really great! If you don't like yours, you can try mine!” Law would giggle and say. “This is cool.”

Even at that unenlightened age, I knew there was something wrong with this picture. Two kids, dancing around in their back yard, sharing streams of hot, stinky piss. Maybe I was just missing the element of fun in that. I turned down their “generous” offer whenever they played the lemonade game and asked them if they wanted to play tag, kickball, hide and go seek. Anything but what they were doing. As always, they would prefer to drink fresh, warm pee rather than do anything else. So I would either sit on their front porch and wait until they saturated themselves with urine. But more often, I'd go home and talk to the old apple tree.

I never told my parents what the Porkston boys did for fun because at that age, I didn’t think they were doing anything too abominable. After-all, they weren’t hurting themselves. Besides, I didn’t really understand what they were doing in the first place. I just knew I didn’t want to participate.

One afternoon, after hours of playing tag, the Porkston boys invited me to fuck their dog. I declined that offer, too. I had no idea what they were doing at the time. Davis and Law would take turns holding their beagle down on it's back while the other brother did the deed- I remember the beagle had a strange look on it's face. If the dog could have spoke, it probably would have asked, “Why are two human children violating me?” And if I could have broken my spell of shock and confusion, I could have replied with the comforting statement, “I don’t know what I’m seeing.”

In fact, I didn’t understand what they were doing until I learned about the basics of sex and remembered back to that weird time.

As for Law, he grew up to be a six foot four construction worker. He's married, I think and has a kid. The information I know about Davis is, is that he's bi-sexual and changes jobs a lot. So I guess they're both somewhat normal. I’ve never spoken to them since my family and I moved away from the old place when I was twelve.

Hell, what could I say? How have you been? Where do you work? Have you drank any fresh pee, lately?

Burn in Hell
posted by El Bastardo at 8:47 AM

Well, just finished my last final today, & things are lookin' good. I'm at work right now, but I'll try to post something later tonight (that means Friday morning in the am). I just recently rediscovered a number of stories I was planning to publish in Bastard #6, but as most of you know, the zine is on indefinite hiatus. Therefore, I figured I'd post some of those sordid tales of debauchery written by myself & my contributors. Look for "The Lemonade Game" soon!

Burn in Hell
posted by El Bastardo at 7:44 PM

Oh yeah, here's some more shit for you fucknuzzles:

Some dumbass movies made by my friends & I:

Earth is Fuct by Rob Bastard
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

Silky Vest: Pimp by Herr Ledford

Linda's Valentine by Wild Bill
Linda's Vagina by Wild Bill

Spooky Horror by Nugget

Burn in Hell

posted by El Bastardo at 10:30 PM

Well, finals week is finally here. It seems I can opt out of my German final with a B or low A if I turn in the extra credit, so I really haven't bothered studying. Hell, I might take it tomorrow anyway if it'll give me a few extra points. Then there's my Asian film class, which has a take home final. I thought it was due Tuesday, but I just discovered it isn't due 'til Thursday.

I had some vehicle troubles over the weekend. Had to get my battery & alternator replaced. It's a bitch, but it sure beats walking. I was outside quite a bit yesterday, & in the woods for some time as well. Exhausted, I went to bed last night without showering. Well, when I hopped in the shower this morning I found something on my ass. First, I thought it might have been a dingleberry, & pulled at it. It actually felt like it was embedded in my skin, rather than any body hair when it came loose, so I decided to inspect it. I then saw it was a fucking tick. I tossed it down the drain & began frantically searching my hair. I was quite surprised to have come up empty, as my hair's quite long & naturally would make a nice haven for the little critters. However, they do like sucking the blood outta my ass. Perhaps next time when I'm in the woods, I'll put on some underwear.

There're some great shows coming up. I'd like to see Bob Dylan before he dies, and I'd also like to see The Reverend Horton Heat this Wednesday, but unfortuately they're at different venues, and I have a written final due the next day. Then Friday there's Freakwater, but I'm debating that one. However, I'm gonna try my damnest to see Concrete Blonde the following Wednesday. Of course, the very next Wednesday, Dwight Yoakam's in town--haven't made up my mind about that one. The following Tuesday is the one that's gonna be a real motherfucker that I absolutely can't miss. That would be none other than Steve Fuckin' Earle. After that, there really isn't anyone coming to town that I'm interested in seeing for about a month. I'll keep you fucks posted on who you should see.

Oh yeah, I just learned that someone read my blog & has decided I'm an expert in profanity. That warms the cockles of my fucking heart--well, if I had one, that is.

Burn in Hell
posted by El Bastardo at 9:58 PM