Having to...participate in many...abnormal acts
with whom I thought were fictitious characters, I decided to settle down for a
bit. I would no longer allow myself to fall victim to the sexual desires of
these monstrous fiends.
It all began when
I volunteered to help baby-sit my cousins. Naturally, as all small and feeble
minded children do, they loved Barney. So I decided to be a nice guy and popped
in their Barney tape. I thought I’d be able to rest while the little bastards
enjoyed their pansy little tape. Well it wasn’t that easy. The songs that I was
subjected to listening to seemed to anger me beyond human comprehension. It was
then when I came to my realization; Barney was really Michael Jackson dressed up
like a big purple dinosaur in a foul plot to molest as many little boys as he
could get his rhinestone covered hands on.
It was this revelations that lead me to my
new mission in life; the complete destruction of Barney as his whore Baby
Bop...also known as Marv Albert.
I spent that night packing every tool I’d need. With me I brought a rusted grapefruit spoon, chains, sulfuric acid, and a roll of toilet paper. Dressing in camouflage, I hit the streets as the darkness of night provided cover. It took a while, but I finally got to the studio via hitch hiking. Mental Note: Thank officer O'Neil for the ride. Hmmm...mental note #2: cops are stupid.
By five in the morning I reached my destination. Luckily for me, the security guard was too busy watching late night cinema in his tower to notice my presence. Anyhow, after careful yet fancy foot work...I got into the studio. I could only hope beyond hope that I wouldn’t get caught.
"Oh, hey Marv. What are you doing with those chains?" asked a stage hand.
I couldn’t believe it. My disguise (or the chains which resemble a bondage like accessory) fooled the simple-minded stage hand into believing I was Marv Albert. Shrugging, I replied...
"Huh? Oh...right. I was, uh...just trying to find my old Pee Wee Herman tapes and enjoy a vigorous masturbation session. Care to join?"
With that, the stage hand left...quite quickly, might I add.
It was now six in the morning and I found my way into Barney's (a.k.a. Michael Jackson's) dressing room. I opened the closet in hopes of hiding with his costume but to my shock, three naked little boys came running out with the look of fear forever burned into their eyes. I couldn’t help but pity them. I jumped into the closet and closed the door. Just as I got comfortable, I heard the dressing room door open...
"Marv...did you get those Asian children for the show?"
"Yes sir..."
"Splendid. Now...where did I leave my rhinestone condoms?"
What I just heard was a conversation by the two most diabolical men in the history of child sodomy...Marv Albert must be turning a new leaf...redirecting himself away from the adult scene to the children...my god...the horror...the horror. Anyhow, Michael Jackson left Marv alone in the room. I took my chance and jumped out of the closet (please...no "coming out of the closet" jokes...I only settle for tasteful humor) and proceeded to strangle Marv Albert with the chain. As his face turned blue as a smurf’s smooth ass...I could have sworn his eyeballs popped out of the sockets. His dying scream was a pitiful one at that...
"N...need...small...three in...inch...penissssssss...ack."
As I choked the life out of that sick litle fucker, I had a sense of power. Seeing I really had popped his eyes out, I then proceeded to take out my big Johnson and skull fucked that piece of shit. The sounds his eyeless sockets made...oh it was wonderful. One could only compare that sound to the sound made from blasting a corpse at a funeral with a semi automatic.
With one sick puke dead, I made my way to the set. Just as I turned the corner, I heard the prissy scream of Michael Jackson as he found his dead comrade.
Nearly thirty minutes passed until Michael Jackson came onto the set in his full Barney costume. The show began as it normally did. However...something happened that never once happened before. "Barney" reached into his costume and pulled out a rhinestone glove...slipped it over one hand...and then chased a small Asian boy named Hashamik-rama-dama-ding-dong around a small table. The screams of Michael Jackson resembled those of a cat in heat. It was horrible. Finally, I sprung into action. I tackled this paragon of atrocities and we soon engaged in a fist fight. Children were screaming, begging me to "get offa Barney." I couldn’t hear them; their please made no difference to me. But with one swift motion of his tail, Wacko Jacko knocked me to the ground. Before I knew it, his rhinestone glove was wrapped firmly around my testicles. Struggling to get free, all I could hear were the high pitched cries of "Yee-Heeeeee." It was so horrific...I’d never wish this upon anyone else...well...maybe those rat bastards on those Christian channels that preach "the word of God." Anyhow...remembering the acid in my pant pocket, I reached down and grabbed it...then popped it in my mouth. It took a bit for the trip to kick it but when it did, man was I fucked. For some odd reason, I remembered the sulfuric acid, I reached down and grabbed it, threw it at the Barney mask...and watched it melt away...along with Michael Jackson’s fake nose. The screams he emitted were actually quite funny. I took this chance and got to my feet. The moment I stood, Hashamik-rama-dama-ding-dong thanked me over and over for saving his life...and his anus. But I didn’t accept his hand which he so wantonly held out; instead I knocked him unconscious. I then picked Hashamik-rama-dama-ding-dong up by his ankles and used him much like a character in a Mafia movie would use a baseball bat: to beat the living shit out of Michael Jackson. It was glorious...the moment their skulls connected, there was a sudden burst and both skulls cracked, spilling grayish brain matter all over the set. I then proceeded to pick up the brains and fuck them without mercy.
When I got home, the voices in my head told me I’m a hero and not to pay any attention to those children rights activists outside my door. Oh the fun...I’d do it again if I could...but...who says I can't? There's always...Teletubbies...