Contributors / Humanity in Times of Crisis

by Tequila

Ok, I come home in a bad mood from work. See, my secretary expected me to give her a raise for the tempestuous affairs we've been having, so I had to fire her. Anyway, I notice the door isn't locked, and I draw it open only to see footprints on the floor. I smell the stench of some organism rotting. I come in to my bedroom and see my wife's corpse on the mattress. Her skull has been bashed in by what looks like very blunt objects. There's a note pinned to the mess and it says: "Honey, you always wanted good head. How about using mine?" My jaw drops in surprise.

Instinctively, I run to my daughter's crib. She looks like she suffered from some type of applied asphyxiation. Upon closer inspection, I notice traces of semen leaking from her gaping mouth. I also notice attempted penetration within her vagina and anus. A note pinned to her says : "Daddy, I've been a bad girl. So I decided I needed to be punished. I've got to act like an adult if I wanted to be treated like one." "Jesus Christ", I holler, "my wife gets tortured and my baby gets raped by a bunch of messed up sickos. God, is this part of some plan like they teach you in religious classes? 'Cause if it is-count me in!"

I dance for joy. I really couldn't stand my family, cause they were a constant obstacle to my lecherous lifestyle. In fact, the only reason I married my wife was so I could slap the shit out of her when I got pissed off. I always wanted to get a divorce, and was about to tell my wife today. I guess my subconscious desire manifested itself in the most benevolent way. I get my wish, and my wife and child don't have to suffer without a father figure.

I bet everyone's gonna wonder if I'm gonna go on some vigilante streak-killing all those fuckers who ruined my serene family unit-like that old guy in those movies or the guy who got framed by some retarded cripple. Hell no! If I were to find 'em, I'd write 'em a thank-you note. I mean I'm impressed at their efficient methods: the lack of guns fired at the scene of the crime- so the police can't trace em to a gun shop, the non-apparent fingerprints on the bodies, the letters not being handwritten but typed....So now all I had to do was clean my child of the cum stains on it's body, and the killers would go free.[Using tissues to clean off the stains of passion....Bring back memories...]

After my janitorial duties have been fulfilled, I call the local police station, and a pig comes right over. He looks like he is high because he has constantly logged down my account of this incident substantially incompetently. I often have to repeat my account of this event; and when he takes down notes, his writing is generally highly illegible, his pen never remaining firm on his notepad. The final clue is that his whole uniform(as well as his face and fingers) is covered with traces of a powder that aren't in any laundry detergent I've ever seen. Finally, he pats me on the back and said, "Between you and me pal-I think God wanted it this way." "Well", I replied, "it sure as hell ain't the God you worship." With that, we both break into an uproarious, boisterous laughter.

I then give him a twenty and tell him to buy his whole force a dozen or so. The officer looks shocked that I have taken the situation so calmly. "Excuse me", he stared intently in my eyes, "are you trying to bribe an officer of the law? 'Cause if you are, I only take hundreds." So I give him eighty bucks more, and an extra hundred for his efforts.

"Mr. Pig-er-Cop-Sir!", I address him- where can I purchase some of your fine wares?" "Just call me pork-job sonny", he replies enthusiastically. "See, we arrested a local crack dealer nicknaming himself Frosty, and he promised to supply us with the stuff in trade for his release." "Can I talk to him Pork?", I inquire. He grabs me by the throat, pointing his pistol at my temple, and replied, "Listen I'm gonna search you. If I find out you're a fuckin undercover reformist NARC, you are one dead bitch....." So he searches my clothes and-lo! and behold- I turn out to be clean!

"Hey man," he apologizes fervently, " sorry about the search, but you don't make the same mistakes our fellow oinkers in New York made; being caught connected to the Mafia." "Hey", I smirk casually, "no problem! You're just doing you're job", and with that remark we end up chuckling again. "Um", he inquires monosyllabically, "what about the morgue? Shouldn't I be contacting them?" "Nah", I reply nonchalantly, "let some fuckin neighbor, who's staying home, deal with the stench. They'll probably call and notify the city for proper disposal of the corpses. Besides, I want some free coke man!" "Excuse me", he counters, "I may participate in illegal activities, but there's more than illegalities that you have to deal with, concerning refusing a coroner the rights to a body at a crime scene. There's also the moral sense of not paying proper homage to the dead." I ponder this, then I unzip my fly and release my urinal fluids on the corpses. "There primed and ready for a funeral", and we just can't help but laugh again. So the officer puts the bodies in his trunk and promises to dump them in a river later.

After a tedious trip-in which Pork keeps tuning into stations looking for classical music or talk radio, while griping about how minorities have taken over pop culture with their rap and reggae music-we reached the station. We go inside the station where someone with gang tattoos gets smacked on the knee with a night stick. He socks the cop in the face cursing him: "MOTHER FUCKIN' PIG!!!" Still, the cop maintains his sense of dignity, and smiles demonically, as blood trickles down his right cheek. He replies: "Lets test your pulse, now that we've tested your reflexes." So he pulls out a taser and jabs the youth above his rib cage. The poor teen squirms frantically before fainting.

I bellow out my concern to Pork: "What the hell was that shit?" "Oh", he replies nonchalantly, "we ship gang members to juvenile hall, but the board of directors for that facility claims we're being too easy on offenders, and that the percentage of repeat offenders exiting from there is pretty high. So we've been asked to be a little less subservient to those punks. We invented a bullshit "daily required physical" clause for gang members. It basically involves us torturing these kids 'til they get scared enough to turn over a new leaf. It's sort of like an active scared straight where you can vent your frustrations on these delinquents so that justice is served." "That's brilliant man", I commented. "But don't they have rights?"

Pork sighs and reluctantly responds to my question as if it was a mockery of the values he had been ingrained with within his mind. "From the typical philosophical point of view, no one is really free from anything. Our feelings enslave us to commit acts against social taboos that are extensions of the religious beliefs that have shaped society, because these moral codes present ideals that many cannot achieve on a regular basis. Therefore, these taboos are scorned in contempt, because they can't be practically applied to each and every individual, due to each individual's values, needs, and/or upbringing. But then that Sartre shit was boring anyway.... I'll narrow this down to a simpler scenario. As long as society continues to condone laws that inconvenience the lives of many and improve the standing of few, no one will ever be free. Those who support the laws will continue to thrive on them for their well-being, while those who are against the laws, or the supporters of the laws, will be powerless to challenge them because of the strength of these individuals. So, no matter what you do, you're powerless to your own selfish whims, or your inability to challenge a system that doesn't embrace your well- being."

I actually was startled that an obese member of law enforcement could ever come up with any observation that astute. "So when are we gonna meet the addict?", I inquire apathetically. "Soon," replies Pork, and he leads me to a cell where a bedraggled elderly gentleman-who looked as soiled and gruff as your typical derelict-lurked. Apparently, he begins masturbating with a lit joint up his ass, as if it were a candle, while he is licking the tip of a needle, as if it were a phallic object. "Yeah baby", he moans. "Make Pimp-Daddy cum all over this pig's abode. OOOOh man, I can feel my jism rising, don't stop, don't STOP!" At that moment, he spurts his seed at a distance of 6 feet. He only stains my shoes, but he ruins Pork's nightstick.

I was rather disheartened that such a prominent supplier of drugs within the police community would turn out to be as grizzled and crude as you're average drunk or poverty-stricken transvestite. I beckon Pork to the side, and begrudgingly admonish him about this ruffian's perverted character. Pork brushes my concerns aside by explaining that "Frosty" usually likes to insure his stash's quality by fornicating with samples from it. He assures me that the remainder of his drug surplus was quite usable, and that it won't be sullied by the fermented gluteus stains that that particular joint would procure.

I approach the elderly fag, and ask him how I could procure some of his mind-candy. He motions with the "bird", and spits out, "Closed minds will never reap the rewards others with different values have to offer. [That means my stash, dumbfuck!] Because you can't respect my lifestyle, you must first atone so that I deem you worthy of being inducted into my flock. Do me a favor, Homophobe, and I'll let you partake of my snow." (I love the way people superficially make whatever they're doing seem more significant than my existence, even when what they're doing shows little self control on their part.)

I apathetically reply, "Yes, Sir", and question him for further details on my task. He tells me that I'm to go to a certain country, [He points it on the map.] and deliver a shipment of assault rifles to a particular tribe, in exchange for more of their coke. I ask, inquisitively, "Why would a group of hunter-gatherers need guns?" "Because they're in a bitter power struggle, ever since we introduced them to guns, so that we could procure some of their 'medicine'", responds Frosty.

"Apparently", he continues, "better weapons didn't serve to make their hunting more efficient; it only served to make them greedier. There's less cooperation, and it's everyone for his/her self as they seek to accumulate the most game. They have developed a new eating pattern, where they consume as much as us; but unlike us, they haven't tried to balance themselves with their environment by making sure they can replenish their supplies, by maintaining a sufficient animal population and growing crops. All they do is wipe out the land of it's animal inhabitants, and eventually they'll very likely turn to cannibalism."

"And you expect me to drag my ass to a hostile shit-hole like that?!", I exclaim. "Aw, don't worry, they're racist of anyone who isn't them", Frosty assures me. "They'd gouge out their eyes if they dreamed of fuckin' anyone who looked like us. Just deliver a crate of that shit to a representative, do whatever idiotic rituals they demand from you to seal the deal, take the coke back, and you get a twenty five percent cut. Simple, huh?"

I involuntarily agreed, and was soon on my way, nestled between huge crates of ak-47's, grenades and uzis hidden below a cruise ship. The rocking of the ship over the water, the dinginess and cramped confines of these quarters served to make me nauseous. My ship docked at a sweltering deathtrap, and as I climbed aboard a hail of bullets whizzed alongside my cheek. After I froze, I saw what appeared to be your stereotypically loin- clothed clad native standing in front of me. "Hello, Cunt", he greets me firmly. "You know our slang?", I ask in a surprised tone. "Sure", he replies, "anytime we meet someone new, we take it upon ourselves to learn a new way to degrade our women, whether it be name-calling or sexual assault."

"Jesus!", I exclaim. "Aren't you all supposed to be peaceful and cooperative, since you're in touch with nature?" "How the fuck do you think I'm alive at this moment, because I have a million followers ready to ambush your ass the minute you pull something?!", he sneers mockingly. "No, fool, because I come packed and ready to do whatever it takes to keep what I have going. And now that I know you also have it, I'm afraid I'm going to have to finish it. Oh, and I nailed your captain when he docked, to insure I could succeed." "But I thought you were gonna supply me with cocaine", I counter. "Your ship carries a bad aura, and the only reason I want your weapons, is because their evil can at least be channeled into more power for me."

"Isn't there anyway I can be purified of this burden, so that you will spare my life", I semi-pleaded. "Well, our chief can channel spirits who are bringing negative energy, and find out what's needed to appease them...but you have to parade around naked if I take you to my village so you show humility." I've always considered myself well endowed, and figured showin off my cock would get me some savage-pussy, so I agree.

So, I'm walking in the village, seeing an elderly man in meditation. Immediately, his eyes pop open, and he grabs a dagger, and throws it at my cock. I topple to the ground wincing in pain, screaming at the top of my lungs, "What the fuck was that for?!" The chief leans over my body, and replies, "A troubled spirit told me she can never use her genitals for pleasure again, and the only way to appease her is to make sure that the next person who were to come in would be similarly deprived." He then applies some salve to the damaged area to halt further bleeding. He wraps his hand around my throat, [Is there something erotic about squeezing the life out of someone's jugular?] holding a lengthy machete over my neck. He then says, "There's yet another spirit to be appeased, but she will accept the safety of your life if you do something to appease her." "Ok", I rasp.

So the chief relinquishes his grip, chants some shit to make my dick as good as new, and states that the spirits in question were dead by someone else's hand, but not avenged because of me. Naturally I'd have to assume it's my wife and girl; and I sarcastically say, "Oh so how is the wife and kid?", before I get socked in the abdomen. Ah well, insolence and disregard for human life is still emotionally satisfying. He continues by offering me a spear and saying that I'm to rape a girl from a neighboring tribe with the dull end, because both tribes are at war. If the "enemy" tribe knows that the virginity of their chief's daughter is gone, they lose confidence in their ability to fight, and can be raided and defeated in seconds. Also, since she's on her period, I'm given orders to swallow her menstrual fluids, so that the tribe I'm with can be assured that I have as much control over her as they would have over the village.

Slightly aghast at such cruelty, I ask the chief why my wife would relish in the idea of me hurting someone like that. The chief calmly answers, "It's simple. Your wife's spirit wants to know that you would show this kind of 'reverence' to all women, so that you don't harbor any personal animosity towards her. She's slightly self-conscious right now." "She's slightly dead, and she should be worried about where she's gonna go after all this is over", I quipped. "She'll probably be in Hell for her stupidity in marrying me", which generates another fist to the abdomen from a tribesman.

The chief stares at me and says, "You know there are two types of evil: necessary evil and evil by choice. We practice necessary evil, to accumulate more resources and territory for our people. You practice evil by choice, by refusing to care about the suffering the people who loved you went through. How can you honestly show such contempt for something that most people spend half a lifetime to have?" "I just do", I shrugged. "Oh well", the chief sighed, "assholes get theirs somehow." [Jesus, this guy was naïve.]

Well here I am, sauntering into a hut in the middle of the night, stealthily gagging the mouth of a young girl, and tying her hands and legs together with rope. I carry her to the woods, where I attempt to rip off her undies, discovering she doesn't wear any. [A people that don't have the same advanced physical technology as us, the inhabitants all lacking undergarments.... Should I have even been surprised?] So I plant her on her hands and knees ala doggie style, the ropes around her palms and feet making me feel like I'm at a rodeo.

I shove the butt end of the spear into her very fast and hard, but she doesn't even wince! She just grabs it with her "lips", and it slides it in and out of her like a fuckin' sex toy. Turned on by her slutty wiles, I slam my own meat between her tits, while I continue jabbing her, and I spray my sperm on her hair. After that, I remove the spear and lap her menstrual discharge as quickly as possible, so that the awful taste doesn't linger too long in my mouth. Finishing my mission I leave her in the forest untied, get some tongue, [Hey, chicks need something for a good fuck!] and fire a flare gun into the sky.

As soon as I do, a shitload of people from the "good" tribe start coming down into the village, raiding storehouses and killing people with guns right and left. "Ah, the brutality of uncivilized people!", a voice booms in the distance. "Mankind at its most primitive and glorious. One can see the many vile actions of these groups as a stepping stone to the love that a developed society like ours can foster among individuals. Or are we doomed to the same fate as them, slaughtering indiscriminately to maintain our social structure, only with more advanced methods?..."

I follow that voice to a group of "news-people" . A man is speaking into a microphone, while a cameraman focuses on the carnage amongst the tribal members. On the camera, the word "SNUFFTASTIC" is written boldly. Oh yeah, I know these dudes! They record images of people dying and sell them for home video. I always laughed when I saw them on tape, but I didn't know that shit was real! So I walk up to the "commentator", after he's done, and introduce myself, explaining why I'm here. After listening, he comes up with an idea: Raid the tribes' village for coke, and sell it for ourselves. But I ask him in return to have the footage of the war and me with the girl. [ I didn't know he had that on video, but I definitely had a use for it.]

In the long run, the plan succeeds. I become rich from coke, and I have Frosty taken out to cut out competition. The newspapers talk about how he was found to have been butt-raped while someone shot him in the head. [Suck on that, you mutherfuckin' addict!]

The federal agencies almost bring me down, but I use the tapes to help them create a new society of automatons. The sex tape is subliminally shown in sex education videos, with the caption, "Girls who who challenge boys will end up like this!" The war tape is subliminally shown in videos about the history of wars. A caption for that says, "Boys who refuse to fight will end up like this!", referring to the massive genocide of the "bad" tribe depicted in the video.

Regardless of whether these messages will shape the minds of youngsters in the future is irrelevant to me. I'm rich, the government's off my back, and all the shit that I've done to others has only helped me to achieve status and power. I still laugh whenever I think about that last thing the chief said about "assholes getting theirs". Like the old saying goes, "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs", and thanks to the eggs I've broken, I've fixed myself the breakfast of a lifetime!