hardcore – f-your blog

The Wonderful World Of CANCER CHRIST

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring Los Angeles based DIY Reptilian Themed Grindcore Infused Hardcore Punk Metal Band CANCER CHRIST. As with Virtually Unknown Obscure/Niche Bands collecting information is a Bitch beyond Belief Believe You Me. The Mastermind and Frontman for CANCER CHRIST is the Notoriously Manic Anthony Mehlaff , and is Based on or Around His Rather Twisted Interpretation of Religion, Society, Jesus, and Satan Himself. The Band’s Musicians all adorn Snake Masks and go by the General Moniker “The Snakeboys” although each Band Member has His own Specific Name (Example: Apocalypse Snake). That is it as far as the Standard Band info is Concerned as 99% of information pertaining to the Band are Interviews Mainly with Mehlaff and the Band’s Official Website.

Cancer Christ’s Origin Story According To Melhaff:

“Cancer Christ has seen the ailing not too distant future of this godless world. Our bleak existence needs a new, stronger word of God. Cancer Christ is the imperfect vessel to wage a holy war against those who wish to profit from a dying prophet’s words. Cancer Christ understands evil must be fought with true words and even truer actions; fire must be met with fire, darkness must be met with searing and powerful holy light. The Lords work takes some heavy lifting at times and major balancing skill. I was at Church—as I do every Sunday—and I began to get really fucking bored—as I do every Sunday at Church—and I began to snoop. I was looking for snacks or some of those good latex nun porn mags when I heard a faint shriek from deep inside the bellow of the church.

I followed the sound until I ended up in the basement. It was dank, dark, and hotter than hell. The shrieks were almost unbeatable. My heart was beating like a drum. I moved toward the sound. Flipped my phone light on and was shocked when I saw this creature: human body, snake head—he looked scared. He was also chained by his neck to the floor. As I moved closer, I noticed another Snakeboy, and another, and another. I think they were as scared of me as I was of them. I searched around the church, found a sledgehammer, and broke them free. We fled out the back door and after many months of rehab and prayers. I was able to start to understand the Snakeboys, they were as loving as they were vicious with sexual appetites like teenage boys. They ate all day, smelled foul, loved heavy metal, and ’80s horror and action violence. I had to channel their endless need to fight, fuck, and kill. It turned out they all played music.”

Mehlaff on The Subject of the Band Starting Their Own Church/Religion:

“We intent to open The Holy Church of Cancer Christ in 2023 and break ground in 2022. Follow the smoke and sure enough there will be the almighty fire of God and Cancer Christ along with The Serpents of Jesus. The Snakeboys will surely be there. Praise his mercy, praise his brutal power, and praise this soon to be over—great and tragic existence! The Church is driven by the word of God. We are excited for this world to end and for the new one to begin. Endless blood, rivers, oceans, even of the blood of the non-believers. Especially the false prophets and prosperity preachers. Watching them melt as we ride with JESUS is gonna be hard for me not to be hard.

What they forget is the love and that Jesus died for your sins. That shits paid for in full with blood. So, go out and fucking sin or what did the dude fucking get tortured for? I’m talking with God about this shit all the time and honestly, he’s always changing his mind. This idea that all sins are created equal is bullshit too. And no pedophiles, serial killers, cops, rapists. racists, bigots, or murders in the name of country get in. His rules, not mine. The Kingdom of heaven doesn’t need that bullshit vibe.”

Photo: Chad KelcoMelhoff On the Subject Of The Band’s Name:
“We addressed a problem, a cancer, mankind and provided an answer to that cancer, Christ. God wants this world to be inhabitable again when he figures out a solution to its major flaws and mankind’s major flaws. People confuse fire being that it’s made by the devil, God makes fire, that’s where he stuck that bitch Lucifer after he dropped his evil ass out of heaven and Lucifer tried a name change to help his own ego—Satan.

What a bitch name if ya ask me. Satan works in fire but works with rot. He has been trying to rot the world from the inside out with corporations, big lobby firms, politicians, judges, cops, bigots, racists, and homophobes.

The rot, the cancer was happening underground and has finally reared its ugly, weak, face and has gotten completely out of control. The solution? GOD’s light. God’s fire. God’s wrath. It’s then, his faithful soldiers will help re-create this world anew.”

Photo: Aaron Story

**The Band’s Inclusive Message:**

“The mission of Cancer Christ is to find lost souls to take up arms in this new and uncertain heavenly body. We accept all: black, white, gay, straight, trans and all others that wish to fight evil wherever it spews its putrid and vile wickedness.”

Melhaff’s Motto:

“I stand for all the would-be scum that never considered Jesus an option,” says the musician, adding, “For the millions of demon worshippers that think Satan is tough or sick or down. I stand to let all those bitches know that God bitch slapped Lucifer out of heaven and only then did that punk-bitch become Satan. God fucks the hardest and he’s ready to fuck the world, whether you believe or not.”

Caner Christ’s Mission Statement:

“Christ is dying. A venomous cancer consumes his body and weakens his mind. As each day passes, his light dims to a faint whimper and the darkness of evil shrieks with a toxic vigor as its foul and unholy power collapses the human race.

In Christ’s absence, Lucifer has begun testing their Dark Trinities supreme and destructive potency upon our weak and divided planet. The world heats up, disease consumes all and the old passive and fragile word of God falls upon deaf ears.

Cancer Christ has seen the ailing not too distant future of this godless world. Our bleak existence needs a new, stronger word of God.

Cancer Christ is the imperfect vessel to wage a holy war against those who wish to profit from a dying prophet’s words.

Cancer Christ understands evil must be fought with true words and even truer actions; fire must be met with fire, darkness must be met with searing and powerful holy light.

The mission of Cancer Christ is to find lost souls to take up arms in this new and uncertain heavenly body. We accept all: black, white, gay, straight, trans and all others that wish to fight evil wherever it spews its putrid and vile wickedness.

This undertaking will cause many casualties. The most extreme pain and torture will be experienced but we will not falter in our divine mission to secure a New God, (N.G).

Join us.”

Melhaff on the Band’s Newest Album “God Is Violence” (2024)

“There was a call to arms, and there’s this real profound connection we have to this brutal motherfucker known as Jesus,” Anthony Mehlaff about their most recent album. “We were seeing the decline of the planet and where shit was going, and we decided to make songs to release those bad feelings so we didn’t participate in all the satanic activity that’s been going on since the pandemic.”

BAND MEMBERS:

Anthony Mehlaff aka Saint Anthony – Lead Vocals/ Flamethrower
Snake Bossnoise – Guitars/Vocals/Samples/Slime
Piss Snake – Bass/Vocals/ Urine
Diesel Snake – Shred Guitars/Sleaze
Apocalypse Snake – Drums/Cums

ADDITIONAL SNAKEBOYS:
Chain Snake: Noise, Vocals, Chains
Candy Snake: Sweets
Snake Momma: Juggs, Christ Whistles, Confetti
Snake Babe: Sex, Pain
Missing Snake: Additional Live Drums
Rusty Snake: Bass on “SAINT ANTHONY’S SERMON”
Snake Girl : Hype Snake

Video List:

“The Blood Of Jesus” (7″ Version)
“Do You Wanna Go To Heaven” (Demo Version)
“Prosperity Preacher” (7″ version)
GOD HATES COPS

It Is What It Is,

Presented By Les Sober

OUR ICONS

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring the Official Music Video for the Song OUR ICONS by ENSEMBLE OF CHRIST THE SAVIOR AND CRUDE MOTHER EARTH and to be Abundantly Clear This is Post Doesn’t have a Goddamn Thing to Do with Christianity, Jesus, Religion, Jesus, or a fucking Savior. Ensemble of Christ the Savior and Crude Mother Earth is one of the Most Extreme, Uncompromising, and Totally Politically Incorrect Musical Projects of the Russian national Underground Scene (akin to GG Allin, Anal Cunt, and The Murder Junkies for Example). ECSCME’s Music is Raw, Overtly Politicized, Aggressive Hardcore with an Obviously Blatant Bias in Religious and Social Obscurantism.
The Band Members Describe Their Musical Style as being “Radical Political Hardcore”, and “Cult Russian Radical Political Hardcore Project with Aggressive Female and Crazy Granny Vocals. Forever Opposite”

The Trio Consists of Members Starukha Izergil, Alexei Glukhove, and Xenia Hitler have already earned a Well Warranted Reputation in the Circles of the Radical Russian Underground Music Scene. Xenia Hitler has been Involved in a Number of Extreme and Controversial Musical Projects during His Carrier, particularly in Noisecore Coprotechno-Project AUDIOPIZDA. ‘Starukha Izergil’ is one of the most Infamous Human Freak Shows of Counter Culture. Since 1999 Izergil has an Extensive Discography Including both Solo Albums as well as Singles singles, and Unprecedented Orthodox Chauvinist Projects NeoIzergil and ПРАВАЯ СЛАВА и ГРУППА АСКЕТОВ. Izergil Collaborated with Renowned Extreme Musician Alexei Glukhov on more than Two Dozen different Radical Underground Projects (in Particular, groups such as МОЛОТ РОДИНЫ, ПРАВОСЛАВНЫЙ ТРАКТОР, NECROCEPHAL, ВКУСНЫЙ КОНЕЦ, Vomit Fall, Pigworld Bombarder for Example).

It Is What It Is,

Presented By Les Sober

The Morbidly Bizarre Story of leathersmokemi

There are many types of strange and disturbing things lurking from here to the four corners of the Earth. While I am a fan of Horror I am especially fond of Asian Horror in particular, and while the gory Asian movies with all the over the top geysers of spurting blood, decapitations, mutilations , and severed limbs are good for a laugh I prefer the creepier fair. I perter the more psychological of the Asian horror genre. I like the movies that really lingers inside your head like a dense fog that refuses to dissipate.

This is why one of the less popular pieces we did called Permanent Trip is a personal favorite of mine because it has that underlying uneasiness to it. The other day while I was wondering like a lost soul around the digital void of the internet.I was hunting for a intriguing rabbit hole to jump into with reckless abandon when something dark and extremely morbid. What I found was a gentleman named Dave who went by the user name Leathersmokemi.

The first thing that caught my immediate attention was the Dave’s manner of dress which reminded me of the heavy metal band of yesteryear Judas Priest. The second thing I noticed was Dave prolifically posted a total of 229 videos in a five year time span without taking any time off. The theme of of Dave’s Videos showcase Dave smoking cigarettes/cigars/Both at the same. Dave also demonstrates his new and inventive ways to smoke tobacco products (for example he concocted and created a modified gas mask so that he could smoke half a pack of cigarettes all at once).

As I waded through Leathersmokemi’s library of videos it started to go from strange too disturbing. Though he is amply aware of the toxic and deadly effects of smoking tobacco he chooses to gladly and defiantly disregard the health consequences know full well what grim fate lays in store for him. As you can imagine watching Dave’s health steady decline over the course of the videos is like watching a prolonged five year suicide. Its brutally unforgiving as Dave’s body is ravaged by his extreme smoking obsession. You follow a man who in the beginning looks like a big burly biker and ends as a withered, sickly, and skeletal looking slouched down in a wheel chair.

I selected five of Leathersmokemi’s videos for comparison purposes. Two of the videos are from the beginning of the series when Dave is at his healthiest considering he’s a avid smoking enthusiast of epic proportions. The Third video is from the around the midway point approximately two and a half years in. The fourth video is from the final leg of Dave’s imitate demise. The fifth video is the last video Leathersmoki ever posted before his death due to the cancer caused by his obsessive and chronic love of tobacco.

The painfully obvious question is why would someone chronicle last five years of their life as a smoker? What could be the possible motivation? Is this just an eccentric man in love with the art of self destruction?

IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE FIFTH VIDEO WILL BE THE EXPLANATION OF HOW SERIOUSLY SICK AND TWISTED THIS STORY IS ONCE YOU SCRATCH THE SURFACE.

Video 189.wmv Description: My return after cancer surgery.

Video title- still here still smoking (Last Video Posted before Death).

The Answer can be found in the comment sections of Leathersmokemi’s videos. Leathersmokemi’s Videos are a extremely hardcore version of a more traditional smoking fetish. While a smoking fetish is far from anything new this version is takes it to a very dark and unspeakable place. The usual smoking fetish fair is a person dressed provocatively slowly smoking a single cigarette while flirting with the camera, and is quite innocent in nature (much like burlesque shows for example).

When I started perusing deeper into the comments section of Lethersmokemi’s videos something sinister suddenly became horribly clear. All of the comments from his fans were hyper sexualizing the detrimental effects of smoking. Their fetish wasn’t focused on a person smoking a cigarette it was solely based on the detrimental health effects from the person smoking cigarettes/cigars. They seemed to enjoy and request to hear Leathersmokemi Cough, wheeze, and his progressively strained raspy breathing. Leathersmokemi to his credit did indulge his fans and recored certain videos dedicated to certain fans.

Leathersmokemi’s small but fanatical followers were getting sexual aroused by the sound(s) of Leathersmokmi’s progressing respiratory distress. His Fans enjoyed Leathersmokimi’s physical deterioration as it was being consumed by Cancer with increasing dire delight as Leathersmokemi’s health declined. The closer he progressed towards his inevitable death the more frenzied his fans became. The sickly sounds appeared to Heighten their level of arousal. Their unofficial motto it seemed to be “The sicker the sexier”. Leathersmokemi’s fans dedicated to his deadly and prolonged process got heightened sexual simulation from hyper sexualizing the illnesses associated with smoking tobacco. They reveled without remorse in the detromental health effects upon a the human body. As far as I am concerned this is vast collection of Fetishized snuff videos.

You don’t have to believe us because directly below are two separate testimonial videos where Dave addresses what kind of person he is, what he like, sexual preference, His various Jobs, and his extremely obsessive smoking fetish.

LEATHERSMOKEMI’S TESTIMONIAL VIDEOS

Thats It.

By Otto Rageous

What With All The Warning/ What Are All These Warnings About?!

In the Fledgeling Days of FYB I specifically Stated FYB Would NOT use Warnings of Any Kind as We Deemed it a Form of Censorship. I mean How the fuck do We have Free Speech under the First Amendment, BUT the same Government Who gave Us Freedom of Speech creates the Federal Communication Commission?! The FCC’s ONly Job is to Censor What People Can and Can’t Say or Show so again how the Fuck does that constitute Freedom of Speech for Fuck’s Sake?

What We discovered was Not placing any type of Warning on the Kind of Content We Traffic in (the Unconventional, the Unorthodox, Strange, Controversial, and Disturbing/Dark) Opened Us up to Shit Storm of Complaints, Objections, and Pissed off People.

Since We hate dealing with Bitchy People We Knew We had to go back to the Drawing Board. I ended up writing a Subsequent Post that We would Provide a “Head’s Up” to Our Fans if there was Objectionable Content contained within a Post. I simply and Lazily Adopted the TV/Movie Rating System only to Abandon it a Day Later. Why I thought would I want to Emulate What I Objected To?

So We were back at Square fucking One Again needing Some Sort of Acceptable Solution for Us and Our Fans. Utilizing the Premise of the “Viewer Discretion Advised” Model We collected a Small Variety of Different Warning Labels. This of Course raised Questions unto itself as to Why and What was the Reasoning behind the Selected Warnings. Well We have grown Weary of Repeatedly Explaining it to People on a Individual Basis thus We concluded a Proper Post was Needed pertaining to Said Warnings.

This is the Warning We use When We Personally DO NOT Think there is Anything Really all that Objectionable, BUT We use this Warning to Over Our Asses just incase.

This is Our General Warning which again is Not that Serious in Our Eyes, But the Colors seem to Garner a Stronger Sense that One SHOULD HEED THIS/THE WARNING.

This One is about a Simple and Straight Forward as Warnings Come. We use this Warning when We Know There is Content within the Post that a Great Number of People would find OFFENSIVE. We also use this Warning once in a while as a Second Additional Warning incase We think We should still Cover Our Asses a Bit More. Think of it Ironically as an Exclamation Point backing Up THE ORIGINAL WARNING again Just in Case.

This Warning is the One We Use when We are Serious about the Fact that said Post Contains OFFENSIVE, OBJECTIONABLE, OBSCENE, or Otherwise DISTURBING CONTENT contained within it.

This is the First of Our Top 3 Warnings which Should Not be taken at Face Value. If You see This Warning You Should Expect the Content in the Post is BEYOND A DOUBT OFFENSIVE/OFFENDING, SHOCKING, DARK, OBSCENE, DISTURBING, AND WILL ILLICIT A STRONG REACTION From Most People!!!

This Warning is Almost Identical to the One Above it with One Serious Exception. The Exception is the Second Line of the Warning that States”VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED. If You see this Warning DO NOT take it Lightly. This Warning Guarantees there is More than Enough OBJECTIONABLE, OFFENSIVE, DISTURBING, SICKENING, SHOCKING, SEXUAL, GRAPHIC, VIOLENT, Or in Any Other Way Troubling. THIS WARNING IS NO JOKE so if You are Easily Offended, Angered, Sickened, or have a Weak Stomach DO NOT VIEW ANY POST WITH THIS WARNING!!!!!

This Warning is The End All Be All of Our Warnings. This is such a Serious Warning We have actually Only Used it Once or Twice over the Years. This essentially means what You are About to See is THE MOST ABSOLUTELY EXTREMEST, GRAPHIC, OFFENSIVE, OBSCENE, DISTURBING, SICK, TWISTED, DARK, VIOLENT, SEXUAL, DEMENTED, TRAUMATIC, AND DEEPLY TROUBLING Content Ever Created. If You See this Warning unless You’re HONESTLY a HARDCORE FAN of Some Seriously FUCKED UP SHIT then Please Do US both a Favor and SKIP IT. Again the Content in said Post is ONLY For the Most DIEHARD FANS OF THE EXTREME!!!!!!!

To be Truthful No One should Really View ANY Post with this Warning Period.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober & FYB

BUTCHERS HAREM: Brutal Australian Underground Horrorcore

After Posting the Passenger Of Shit Video For Staple Tapeworms To My Penis it seemed fitting to do a Follow Up with BUTCHERS HAREM.

Butchers Harem is a Underground Australian Brutal Horrorcore Rap Group that mixes the Influences of Goregrind and Horrorcore Lyrics over Heavy and Distorted Hip Hop Beats. The Group was formed in Outer West of Sydney in the Blue Mountains as a Music Collective featuring MC Bushpig (aka ScatButcher), MC Cumblood, MC Slurry, The Woundbearer, MC Twot, and MC Mangia (aka The Anal Executioner). The Group officially formed in 2004 and the project was formed from the Remnants of the Infamous Suicidal Rap Orgy which MC Bushpig had founded in 2001. MC Bushpig whose Real Name is Swift Treweeke has the Distinction of Holding the Title as the “Godfather of Brutal Horrorcore.”

Butchers Harem was the Premier Australian (as well as New Zealand) to Produce this Type of Unconventional, Highly Aggressive, and Obscenely Brutal Style which gave Birth to a Uniquely Influential Australian Version of Horrorcore Music (Often referred to as “The Brutal Australian Sound”). The Group mad a Large Impression on the European Scene Opening the Door to Multiple Tours of Holland, Czech Republic, France, Germany, Belgium, and Greece.

Mc CumBlood

In 2008-2009 after Recording the Still Unreleased Album X Rated Puppet Theatre of the Dead most of the Group’s Members Quit. In spite of the Set Back in 2011 Mc Bushpig and MC Cumblood released the First Butchers Hrem Album Snuff Porn Gore on Butchers Harem Productions. Currently the Group is Recording Their 3rd Album Erotic Stories Written in Blood Though MC Bushpig/Butchers Harem haven’t done a single Interview since February 2015). So You can Expect to Hear New Levels of Brutality and Vomitous from the Australian Masters of Horrorcore Music.

(NOTE to Reader/Listeners: Brutal Horrorcore (also known as Gore Rap or Australian Horrorcore is the Bastard Offspring of Horrorcore Music which Mixes Styles of Brutal Death Metal (a Subgenre of Death Metal) and Hip Hop. The Sound Features Death Metal Growling Vocals with Production Elements of Horrorcore, Devil Shyt, Hardcore Techno, Breakcore, and Noise Music. Brutal Hardcore Lyrics are generally Much More Extreme Subject Matter than Older School Horrorcore, and Their Album Covers are Extremely Sexual, Bloody, or Violent reminiscent of the Typical Death Metal Album Art.)

Thanks for Listening,

Presented by Les Sober*

(* This Post is Dedicated to FYB’s Good Friend Mr. Nobody. We Highly Recommend that You Check Out His Music on Youtube.)

Passenger Of Shit: StapleTapeWormsOnMyPenis

Passenger of Shit is Australian Musician and Visual Artist Swift Treweeke currently based in The Blue Mountains, Australia.

Swift’s also gos by Other Alias’s Including: Doodleinacacoon, Dungnob, MC Bushpig, MC Poodick, Scortch1, Swift loannou Treweeke, POS, SCATBUTCHER, and Stapledpenisgolum.

Swift has been in or is in the Following Bands: Anal Compost, Colonic Meat Theater, Rancid Shit Wank, Vomit Junction, Fiesta Grande, Odiusembowl, Suicidal Rap Orgy, Butchers Harem, and Corpse Penis Eaten By Rectum.

Swift has been making Music for Over 15 Years since the Late 1990’s, and is One of the Most Propionate Members of the Australian Underground. Swift is One of Several Local Australian Musicians Specializing in Horrorcore, Hardcore, and Noise. He was also a Founder of the Now Defunct Suicidal Rap Orgy collective, and the Owner of Shitwank Records and BUTCHERS HAREM PRODUCTIONS. Swift is also a Painter, Dealing in Surrealistic Landscapes where Bodily Harm, Genitalia, Bodily Fluids, and Feces are Recurring Themes in Nearly all of His Art.

Swift Plays and Produces Extreme Speedcore, Breakcore, Electrogrind, Hardcore, Grindcore, Noise, Terrorcore, Pornogrind, Shitcore, Horror Rap, Snuffcore, Horrorcore, Electronic, and Sadcore Music.

Enjoy.

Thanks for Listening,

Brought to You by Les Sober

The F List Continues Baffling Its Creator

As I am sure even if they haven’t read it Readers are aware of two recent Posts Titled F to the U to the C to the K Parts 1 and 2. For those who may not be aware the original Post was a beyond basic “List” if you will of Fucks as in molded in the Fuck “That” format.

The 1st “List” as it were was only meant to be one singular post. Later after it was posted I slowly realized that I had forgotten a few things, and before I knew it I had another whole “Lists” worth of material.

At this point even My Dear Friend SpaceDog whom I have know more years than I can recall right now thought that had to be it.

And so did I.

We were Both Wrong.

The Cycle just reset itself and began once again spawning a 3rd and possibly final Fucks “List” (which is fucking Mind Boggling even for Me)

To say that these posts are not for f-yourblog curious Noobs. This only appeals to the small section of society that truly understand the “Lists”

No One including Myself wouldn’t blame Anyone for skipping over this or the two prior “Lists” Not by a Long Shot. The One and Only SpaceDog Himself said reading the “Lists” made him feel and I quote “Dirty”

So for those Hardcore enough to withstand the Gruesome Grind I give you List Number 3 in the ongoing F to the U to the C to the K to the series.

The Fucks List Continues:

Fuck Tiny Houses. Fuck Waffle House. Fuck Tail Gating. Fuck the Illogical.

Fuck Colombo. Fuck Nursing Homes. Fuck Coal. Fuck Armed Conflicts.

Fuck Leaky Roofs. Fuck Head Colds. Fuck The Flu. Fuck Foot Notes.

Fuck Traffic Lights. Fuck Neighbors. Fuck Kenny G. Fuck Muzak.

Fuck Flutes. Fuck Ice Machines. Fuck Regulations. Fuck Teletubbies.

Fuck NPR. Fuck AM Radio. Fuck FM Radio. Fuck Satellite Radio.

Fuck Internet Radio. Fuck Chat Rooms. Fuck Shitty Tattoos.

Fuck Manic Panic. Fuck Body Piercing. Fuck Phil. Fuck Jail. Fuck Uniforms.

Fuck Fango. Fuck Fanta. Fuck Soy Milk. Fuck Coconut Water.

Fuck I Can’t Believe Its Not Butter. Fuck Substitutes. Fuck Tori Amos.

Fuck Mr. Brainwash. Fuck Cheap Toilet Paper. Fuck Hand Dryers.

Fuck Port-O-Pottys. Fuck Credit. Fuck Loans. Fuck PayDay Loans.

Fuck The Movie Ratings Board. Fuck Harmonicas. Fuck Loans.

Fuck Finances. Fuck Mortgages. Fuck Predatory Bank Loans. Fuck Loofas.

Fuck Body Spray. Fuck Spas. Fuck Unsolicited Advice. Fuck The Odds.

Fuck Playing It Safe. Fuck Droll Waiters/Waitresses. Fuck Last Call.

Fuck Spray Tans. Fuck Extensions. Fuck Push Up Bras.

Fuck Victoria’s Secret. Fuck Staring. Fuck Foreclosures.

Fuck Insider Trading. Fuck Slow Fast Food Service. Fuck Identity Theft.

Fuck Religious Conflicts. Fuck Home Schooling. Fuck Reunion Tours.

Fuck Being On The Spectrum. Fuck Quiet Riot. Fuck The Beetles. Fuck Yoko Ono.

Fuck Bob Dylan. Fuck The 70’s. Fuck The 90’s. Fuck Dull Knives.

Fuck Dog Racing. Fuck Horse Fighting. Fuck Coming Back Into Fashion.

Fuck Hair Salons. Fuck Sore Losers. Fuck Asshole Winners.

Fuck Dog Fighting. Fuck Gloating. Fuck Howie Mandel.

Fuck Condo Associations. Fuck Middle Men. Fuck People’s Core.

Fuck Hot Yoga. Fuck Carbs. Fuck So Called Upscale Shit. Fuck Cell Towers.

Fuck Dust Bunnies. Fuck Shedding. Fuck Speed Limits. Fuck Spite.

Fuck Malice. Fuck Re Runs. Fuck Whitening Strips. Fuck Date Rape.

Fuck Someone Loves Someone Reality Shows. Fuck The Bachelor.

Fuck The Pick Up Artist Mystery. Fuck Jeff Foxworthy.

Fuck Larry The Cable Guy. Fuck Kevin Hart. Fuck Cialis. Fuck Zoos.

Fuck The Weinstein Brothers. Fuck Beard Art. Fuck Dog Shows.

Fuck Chris Jericho. Fuck Zack Saber JR. Fuck Deep Fried Butter.

Fuck Vince Vaughn. Fuck Decaf. Fuck Papa Johns. Fuck Bell Bottoms.

Fuck Kiss. Fuck Lowe’s. Fuck Property tax. Fuck Non Caffeinated Soda.

Fuck Tim Allin. Fuck Ray Romano. Fuck Jazz. Fuck Noise Bands.

Fuck Synthesizers. Fuck Drum Machines. Fuck Unauthorized Bios.

Fuck Korn. Fuck Morrissey. Fuck Slutever. Fuck Humiliation. Fuck BP.

Fuck Second Rate Sushi. Fuck Tex Mex. Fuck Fusion Restaurants.

Fuck The Cost Of Living. Fuck Maritime Law. Fuck Rush Hour (Traffic).

Fuck Rush Hour Movies. Fuck Steven Seagal. Fuck Dolf Lungrin.

Fuck Jean-Claude Van Damme. Fuck Phish. Fuck The Grateful Dead.

Fuck Petrulli. Fuck Toe Rings. Fuck McRibs. Fuck Ambrosia Salads.

Fuck Jello Molds. Fuck Fruit In Jello. Fuck Fig Newtons. Fuck Flair.

Fuck Glitter. Fuck ARL. Fuck Contradictions. Fuck Cane Toads.

Fuck Fanny Packs. Fuck Snap Bracelets. Fuck Jelly Bracelets. Fuck Mullets.

Fuck Vanilla Ice. Fuck Las Vegas Residencies. Fuck Snake Oil Salesmen.

Fuck Chain Wallets. Fuck Hacks (as in People). Fuck Pokemon Go.

Fuck Cheap Liquor. Fuck Labels. Fuck Swamp Ass. Fuck Anal Leakage.

Fuck Gas Station Bathrooms. Fuck Skiing. Fuck Paddle Boarding.

Fuck Sorry Not Sorry. Fuck Granola. Fuck LOL. Fuck Fisting. Fuck Thrillers.

Fuck Food Porn. Fuck The Unknown. Fuck Love Seat. Fuck Snuggies.

Fuck Voter Tampering. Fuck Dental Vaneers. Fuck Golden Showers.

Fuck Foot Oder. Fuck Bad Breath. Fuck Hashtags. Fuck Lice. Fuck Herpes.

Fuck Bed Bugs. Fuck Bug Bombs. Fuck Trophy Fishing. Fuck Commands.

Fuck Slot Machines. Fuck Full Voice Mail Mailboxes. Fuck Mimosas.

Fuck Homelessness. Fuck Carbon Dioxide. Fuck Braces. Fuck Smoothies.

Fuck Human Resources. Fuck Spanish Fly. Fuck Roofies. Fuck Spyware.

Fuck The Cold. Fuck Vape Shops. Fuck Toe Sucking. Fuck Rhubarb Pie.

Fuck Smoothies. Fuck Fire Ants. Fuck Preconception. Fuck Cosmetics.

Fuck Assumptions. Fuck Evaluations. Fuck Opossums. Fuck Termites.

Fuck Elective Surgery. Fuck Pool Noodles. Fuck North Korea. Fuck 777.

Fuck Web Cams. Fuck Skype. Fuck Microsoft. Fuck Slavery. Fuck Karaoke.

Fuck Vacation Resorts. Fuck Itineraries. Fuck On Schedule. Fuck Profiling.

Fuck Drug Free Work Places. Fuck Netty Pots. Fuck Canned Raccoon Meat.

Fuck Pickled Eggs. Fuck Jerky. Fuck Grits. Fuck Dullards. Fuck Snap Chat.

Fuck The Close Minded. Fuck Vine. Fuck Crabs (Pubic Lice).

Fuck Speed Walking. Fuck Pegging. Fuck Cream Pies. Fuck 7-11.

Fuck Titty Fucking. Fuck Lutefisk. Fuck Canned Meats. Fuck Waste.

Fuck Tea Bagging. Fuck Gristle. Fuck Waste. Fuck Female Circumcision.

Fuck Vice Principlas. Fuck Rats. Fuck Boiled Chicken, Fuck Bottled Water.

Fuck Cheque. Fuck Pasties. Fuck Granny Panties. Fuck The Over Rated.

Fuck False Promises. Fuck Bait and Switches. Fuck Newark. Fuck Trenton.

Fuck South Orange Blossom Trail. Fuck Disney. Fuck Phone Solicitations.

Fuck The Police Athletic League.Fuck The Black Eyed Pea (Restaurant).

Fuck The War On Drugs. Fuck Addiction. Fuck Vices. Fuck CBD. Fuck SWAG.

Fuck Name Tags. Fuck Hospital Gowns. Fuck Social Functions.

Fuck Polities. Fuck Malt Liquor. Fuck The Cost Of Living. Fuck Love Bugs.

Fuck Medical Debt. Fuck Gnats. Fuck Pat Robinson. Fuck Christian TV.

Fuck Gentrification. Fuck Animal Testing. Fuck Mowing The Lawn.

Fuck Jessica Vaughan. Fuck Thomas Homan. Fuck Kirstjen Neilsen.

Fuck Pubic Hair. Fuck Clubs. Fuck Toupees. Fuck Gangs. Fuck The Alt-Right.

Fuck The Proud Boys. Fuck The “I’m Above That” Mentality. Fuck OMG.

Fuck Medical Capitalism. Fuck Pay Per View. Fuck The UFC.

Fuck Sea Monkeys. Fuck Angora. Fuck Corduroy. Fuck Ski Masks.

Fuck Inflatable Lawn Ornaments. Fuck Fake Xmas Trees. Fuck Candy Corn.

Fuck Chemical Warfare. Fuck Water Boarding. Fuck Glory Holes.

Fuck Cheerios. Fuck Table Side Guacamole. Fuck Lectures.

Fuck Thighty Whiteys. Fuck Frozen Rats. Fuck Kazoos. Fuck Mimes.

Fuck Circus Clowns. Fuck Broadway. Fuck Nay Sayers. Fuck Lasik.

Fuck Custom Contact Lenses. Fuck Artificial Vampire Teeth. Fuck Halo.

Fuck Body Modification. Fuck Call Of Duty. Fuck Gamer Chairs.

Fuck Gamers. Fuck Angry Birds. Fuck Words With Friends. Fuck Risotto.

Fuck Candy Crush. Fuck Zucchini. Fuck Invasive Species. Fuck DayQuil.

Fuck Sleep Paralysis. Fuck Red Tape. Fuck Paperwork. Fuck Trivia Crack.

Fuck Sleep Apnea. Fuck Escalades. Fuck Munich International Airport.

Fuck Preferred Customers. Fuck Yard Sales. Fuck Garnish. Fuck Liver Spots.

Fuck Varicose Veins. Fuck IVs. Fuck EKGs. Fuck Nose Hair. Fuck Dipping.

Fuck Cigar Lounges. Fuck Daring Not To Dream. Fuck IQ Tests. Fuck PTSD.

Fuck Bastardizing Dive Bars. Fuck Artificial Intelligence. Fuck Hair Metal.

Fuck Political Science. Fuck Glam Metal. Fuck Poking (FB). Fuck Toe Rings.

Fuck Revenge Porn. Fuck Trickle Down Economics. Fuck The Boarder Wall.

Fuck Musicals. Fuck Natty Ice. Fuck Day Drinking. Fuck Paddle Boarding.

Fuck Grown Men Who Call Their Fathers “Daddy”. Fuck Mood Rings.

Fuck Promise Rings. Fuck Las Vegas. Fuck Atlantic Shitty. Fuck Dan Hanson.

Fuck Brittany. Fuck Gargling. Fuck Orgies. Fuck Swingers. Fuck Bukacki.

Fuck Nude Beaches. Fuck Patrolman Miller. Fuck Police Corruption.

Fuck White Collar Crime. Fuck Winding Brook. Fuck Designer Drugs.

Fuck Smoking Pot Using An Apple. Fuck Convince Store Coffee.

Fuck Panera Bread. Fuck Above Ground Pools. Fuck Cauliflower.

Fuck Florists. Fuck Customer Service Reps. Fuck Private Schools.

Fuck Ciracha. Fuck Putting Salt In Beer. Fuck Scrapbooking. Fuck Drones.

Fuck Puppy Mills. Fuck Backyard Wrestling. Fuck Matt Whitaker.

Fuck Blue Jays. Fuck Backyard Breeders. Fuck Kellyanne Conway.

Fuck Vatican LAw. Fuck Kids In Cages. Fuck Russian Oligarchs. Fuck Fur.

Fuck Hello Kitty. Fuck Sports Bars. Fuck Shitty Pizza. Fuck Garbage Island.

Fuck Cable Sports Packages. Fuck Phone Promotions. Fuck The Red Tide.

Fuck Revelations (Bible). Fuck Palm Readers. Fuck Ouji Boards. Fuck Q Tips.

Fuck The Evil Eye. Fuck Pier One. Fuck Pottery Barn. Fuck Sharper Image.

Fuck Segway. Fuck Baby Bumps. Fuck Metal Wind Chimes. Fuck Fruit Wine.

Fuck Dean Heller. Fuck Scott Walker. Fuck Oliver North. Fuck Kris Kobach.

Fuck Bruce Rauner. Fuck Pete Sessions. Fuck Dave Brat. Fuck Kim Davis.

Fuck Claudia Tenney. Fuck Rohrabacher. Fuck Percentages. Fuck Huffing.

Fuck Metal Straws. Fuck Cheesy Welcome Mats. Fuck Police Check Points.

Fuck Valets. Fuck Permits. Fuck 3rd Party Billing Agencies. Fuck Sneaks.

Fuck Military Coups. Fuck Double Speak. Fuck Backstabbers.

Fuck People Who Talk Both Sides Of Their Mouths. Fuck Dementia.

Fuck Alternative Motives. Fuck Privilege. Fuck Servitude. Fuck Mentors.

Fuck Back Handed Compliments. Fuck Cheap Shots. Fuck Sucker Punches.

Fuck Walking Poles. Fuck Land Mines. Fuck Hummers (Vehicles).

Fuck Butt Chugging. Fuck Vodka Tampons. Fuck Smoking Tide Pods.

Fuck Sniffing Glue. Fuck Mass Production. Fuck Comfort Zones.

Fuck Haters. Fuck Alienation. Fuck Life Coach’s. Fuck Advisors.

Fuck Piss Jugs. Fuck Men’s Thongs. Fuck Product (Hair). Fuck Tinsel.

Fuck Cosmetics. Fuck Dereliction. Fuck Disadvantage. Fuck Ye Olde.

Fuck Foreskins. Fuck Conditioning. Fuck Gold Diggers. Fuck Trophy Wives.

Fuck Status Symbols. Fuck Recorders (The Instrument) Fuck a Quick Fix.

Fuck Being “Too Good For” Anything.

AND

Fuck f-yourblog.com.

Well if you have made it through the entire list without skipping an entry congratulations thats really some Hardcore Shit right there.

This is The End of the F List……OR IS IT?!

Thanks for Reading By Les Sober

Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All

This is the 2nd story I wrote working at DFF Magazine in 1991 for their August issue.

Malice isn’t one of those bands that was poised on the threshold of Fame, but never made it to the Big Time. Malice is a band that most people don’t remember and theres a reason for that. You see Malice’s rise to International Fame was extremely rapid. In fact it was so rapid its considered a once in a lifetime phenomenon in the Music Industry. That combined with their Hardcore intensity on and off the stage Malice crammed a full 20 year career of Sex, Drugs and Rock’n Roll into just 2. Malice was the epitome of “Live Fast, Die Young, and Leave a Good Looking Corpse.”

The Story of Malice started in Slaughters Kentucky when Drummer Robbie Rage met Bassist Vic Vile while they both were attending The Gus Hubbard School of the Vocational Arts. Rage was there learning the in and outs of welding while Vile was there learning the fine art of Landscape Maintenance. The two quickly became inseparable friends and decided to start a band together a Black Metal duo called Aborted Faith.

Vile managed to get Aborted Faith a weekly gig on Friday Night’s at Lane’s Lanes a near by neighboring Bowling Ally. The Aborted Faith was going no where fast as playing in a cramped corner of the Bowling Ally Bar hidden behind a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke. Further more the open concept meant the band was constantly drowned out by the continuing Bowlers.

It was at one of these shitty shows when future guitarist Gar Fisch got stupid drunk and wondered over to where the band was playing and started playing along with them on air guitar. After the show Rage and Vile had a brief meeting and then promptly asked Fisch to join the band. Fisch took the guys up on their offer with one exception that they ditch the Black Metal schtick in favor of becoming a Hardcore Punk Band. Rage and Vile agreed to Fisch’s condition and their new band Stank Breath was Born.

Stank Breath went on to build up a local fan base by playing house party’s and by winning every “Battle of the Bands” that they entered. Stank Breath Shows were known be raucously violent fueled by Fisch’s outrageous stage antics (such as shoving high powered fireworks in his ass Actual M-80’s for example and lighting them) catapulted the Band even farther words fame. The only issue the band had was that they all seriously sucked at singing. After a late night of drinking Rage introduced the idea of hiring a singer to which both Gar and Vile agreed. So they put an Ad in a small music magazine, sat back, cracked a beer, lit a joint, and waited. Instead of getting plenty of replies by people who were no better vocalists than the rest of the band, They got no replies at all.

Pissed off and confused Rage and Fisch went on a beer run and outside of the liquor store pan handling was a rather tall and slim man with long greasy hair wearing a leather biker’s jacket. The man asked for spare change as the two exited the store Fisch asked what the man needed money for to which the Man told Fisch he needed the money for Beer and Smokes. On a whim Rage asked the Man if by any chance he could sing worth a damn. As it turned out He could so Rage asked the Man his name and if he would be interested in joining the band. The Man said his name was Von Dire and since he had nothing better to do than beg for beer money he’d be glad to join the band.

It was after Dire’s joining the band in January 1988 that it once again changed their musical style to Heavy Metal and name to Malice. Not long after the switch Malice was killing it at the Minnesota “Battle of the Bad Ass Bands” in when Dire literally bumped into Clive Mangina who was the front man for competing Hair Metal Band known as Rectal Invasion at one of the plentiful Beer and Booze stations. This lead to one of the most heated and out of control Rock’n Roll Rivalries of all time. You see Clive was a snark and bitter little man with a raging Napoleon Complex who took great exception to Dire accidentally staggering drunkly into him in line.

Clive called Fisch a “Drunk Dickhead” and Fisch hauled off and head butted Clive. Clive went down like a ton of bricks with blood pouring out of his now broken nose. At this point the other members of Rectal Invasion saw what was going on and jumped in. Fish undeterred by being out numbered (5 on 1 as Rectal Invasion in addition to 2 guitarists, singer,drummer and bassist had a keyboardist (I told you they were Hair Metal so what did you expect?!) Fisch put up a good fight but ultimately he was overpowered by his 5 advisories. Rage and Vile who were vomiting exited the bathroom and immediately came to their fellow band mates aid. Rage ran around kneeing every member of Rectal Invasion repeatedly n the balls until they vomited. Vile proceeded too break $182.99 of the Bar’s glassware over the various heads of the members of Rectal Invasion.Von Dire broke several chairs across the backs and over the heads of Rectal Invasions members. When inevitably the Police showed up with Billy Clubs a blazing everyone scattered like roaches when the light is turned on.

In spite of the brawl Malice went on to win the Minnesota’s “Battle of the Bad Ass Bands” and just their luck Jerry Jerkin the owner of a local Record label was in the audience. Jerkin fell head over heels for the Band and enthusiastically signed them to a 3 record deal on his label RatFuck Records. Now RatFuck Records was home of other small time bands such as The Young Cocksmen, Guttural, and Spit Shine. Right away Jerkin booked them on a 10 show tour opening for fellow label members The Salty Yogurt Slingers. The “Mad As Hell” tour was set to hit the road just 2 days after Malice signed their contracts, but that was no problem for Malice. The entire band had been couch surfing at friends places and owned next to nothing.

The “Mad as Hell” tour went so well that Jerkins called up The Salty Yogurt Slingers and told them that they would now be opening for Malice since Malice was a bigger draw at this point. The Salty Yogurt Slingers responded by quoting the tour on the spot under great protest. Malice went on to finish the second half of the tour on with another RatFuck Records band Grind Spine. Malice built a huge following and was expanding their fan base faster than a Crackhead at an all you can smoke Crack Buffet. By the time Malice ended the tour (in the first week of February) they had racked up a slew of business cards from much larger record label reps.

Stay Tuned For Malice Part 2 Posting Next…..

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

The Deviant Detective Ep 3 : Looking For The Cock Rock King

Rock kicked his feet up onto his desk with a solid thud. Rock picked up a copy of the local paper “The Fanatic” because you’d be surprised what ideas one can come up with by just reading the paper.

Rock flipped through the pages casually until he reached the back of the paper. At the back of “The Fanatic” was the local entertainment/art scene.

Rock never paid mind to the entertainment section it was all shit. Today though Rock realized he’d not only have to read the entertainment section, but also pay struck attention looking for any possible leads. His new client the underground self proclaimed Queen of Punk Ivy Savage had little patience and a huge fucking drug habit.

Rock scanned the concert section and found Ivy’s missing boyfriend Eddie Oi’s band The Fuck Me Pumps were scheduled to play that night down at a small hole in the wall called The Boozehound Lounge. The Boozehound was only a couple of blocks from The BarFly Bar which Ivy had mentioned as a possible hangout of Eddie’s.

Rock placed his feet back on the floor, downed 4 fingers of Kentucky White Whisky, lit a cigarette and exhaled with a labored sigh. Rock knew what he had to do. Rock called a cab and headed down to what was referred to as the dive district.

The dive district was a run down part of the city with abandoned factories, dive bars, shitty clubs, Soup kitchens, Hobo Haven (a tent city of sorts consisting of the cities many homeless), methadone clinics, the county mental health hospital, mom and pop liquor stores, Pawn shops, Strip clubs, Old school Porno theaters most converted into sex shops, the slums run by lecherous so called land lords, and the solid waste authority.

On the ride Rock decided it be best to pick the cabbies brain. Next to bartenders cabbies were the unofficial information sources of street knowledge the who’s, what’s, when’s and where’s the life blood of the city.

“Hey buddy how long you been driving the dive district route?,” inquired Rock

“22 years and thats 20 to damn many,” gripped the cabbie

“I’m looking for some punk rock guy named Eddie Oi. You know the prime punk scene hangouts and clubs?”

“Fuck that shit. The Fuck Me Pump’s aren’t punk rock, their fucking cock rock. your looking in the right neighborhood but wrong street if ya know what I’m saying pal.,”

“What in the name of Christ is Cock Rock?,” asked Rock as he reached for his trusty flask.

“Cock Rock,”said the cabbie “Its like punk rock, 3 chord shit played as fast as humanly possible. Instead of politics or social commentary Cock Rock is essentially a shitty porno put to music. Think 2 Live Crew but with guitars and all that shit.”

“Shit and I thought Punk was the soundtrack of the gutter but damn just like always theres something worse than what you think. Wheres a good place to start the search?” Rock wondered aloud.

“Easy you go to The BarFly Bar. When you get there ask for Bloody Sod Bollocks he’s the godfather of underground hardcore scene. He used to be in some famous British hardcore punk band back in the day called Shit Out of Luck or something like that. He’s been here in the city so long he knows every-fucking-body. You looking for a musical you go talk to Bloody Sod.” claimed the cabbie in utter confidence as he pulled up to the curb outside of The BarFly Bar.

Well isn’t that convenient as hell thought Rock. All signs seemed to point to The BarFly Bar and that would be Rock’s jumping off point. Rock exited the cab making sure to give the cabbie a hefty tip not for the ride but the information. Any asshole can drive a car.

The BarFly Bar looked like the kind of establishment one would expect to get stabbed in. The bar smelled foul like a locker room and a well used port-o-potty combined. Jesus Christ Rock thought I’ve been in shitty bars before but this is by far the shittiest. It’s like every other shitty bar came to The BarFly and took a massive shit in it.

The windows where blacked out to spare the bottom dwelling patrons having to face the light of day. Cigarette smoke hung in the air wafting around the lights like restless spirits. The bar was located to the left of the main entrance. The bar itself was lined with decreped and wobbly stools patched together with duct tape.

The bartender/owner was a stout man in his early 60’s whose collection of tattoos had deteriorated into sloppy blurs over the decades. His large gnarled hands with thick calluses spoke hard life of manual labor and long hours. The wrinkles in his face where etched through time like the feordes and ran just as deep.

The handful of patrons were spread through out the bar all of them alone. The exception being a middle aged couple who seemed oblivious to the world around them as the slobbered all over one another. It was the equivalent of watching a extremely shitty home made sex tape.

Rock saddled up to the bar preferring to stand over sitting on one of the STD ridden bar stools.

“Hey Bartender let me get 3 fingers of Westminster Whiskey and an ash tray while your at it,” Said Rock slowly rescanning the bar.

“I’m Gunny bartending is what I do.”replied Gunny as he angrily pulled the cork from the whiskey bottle “Ive got no problem letting you know that I don’t like dicks in my bar private or otherwise.”

“Well at least you didn’t say cop. I’m looking for Eddie Oi he owes my client money. Thats where I come in.”

“Who doesn’t that grimy little shit owe money to? I haven’t seen him since I 86ed his bar tab, and told him until he repays it all drinks will be on a cash transaction.”

“You have any idea where he might be Gunny?”

“Hell no. But Justin Sane the drummer in his little shit band is in the stock room.” said Gunny as he started to wipe down the warped bar top.

“What the hell is he doing in the stock room?” Rock asked downing his drink in one gulp before signaling for another.

“Some junkie groupie took him back there, sad the high light of this pitiful girls rough life will be sucking Justin’s baby dick in the back of a shitty bar.”

Rock downed his second drink in the same fashion as the first. Turned to face the stock room door at the back of the building. Rock steadily approached the stockroom door preparing for whatever maybe behind it. Rock stopped right in front of the door, grasped the greasy door knob firmly, and shoved it open like a steroid ridden line backer.

Stockroom more like storeroom is more like it Rock thought the instant the door gave way. None the less there was Justin propped up against a pallet of beer boxes with his red liberty spike mohawk, tattered leather vest infested with a collage of various band’s pins and patches, generic white t-shirt with a anarchy sign spray painted on it in a sickly green, slew of amateur India ink tattoos that gave way to the track marks beginning to establish themselves. His cut off jean shorts around his ankles while some skanky bleached blonde was on her knees in front of him her head bobbing like she’d been infected with a potent fast acting poison, and the only cure was located in Justin’s cock.

Before Rock had a chance to react all hell broke loose. Rock was grabbed from behind and thrown violently backward into the door frame . Ivy Savage came barreling past Rock in a goddamn flash, then she snatched the groupie by the hair and tossed her aside like a fucking rag doll. The instant the groupie was sent tumbling into a near by liquor rack Ivy dropped to her knees. She grabbed Justin’s massive member at the base with one hand and the tip with the other. What happened next defies logic. Ivy now with Justin’s huge lap hog in her hands bite down on it full force like she was rabidly attacking an ear of corn. Inspire of Gunny’s disparaging comments pertaining to the size of Justin’s “baby dick” Justin was hung like a goddamn donkey. The kid was 5′ 9″ and a 100 pounds soaking wet and 10 of those pounds were due to his dick Rock thought sarcastically. Justin’s porn star sized cock was inevitably too thick for Ivy to bite it clean in half which seemed to be her true intent.

In spite of Justin’s unforeseen girth Ivy earned her moniker of savage. Ivy gleefully started biting mouthfuls of Justin’s schlong spitting them out one after the other while screaming like a blood thirsty banshee “I’M IVY FUCKING SAVAGE! I’LL POISON YOU LIKE IVY AND BRUTALIZE YOU LIKE A FUCKING SAVAGE!!!!”

Rock had had enough of this bullshit for the day. The groupie cowering in a corner kicking and screaming, Ivy’s genital based cannibalism, and Justine guttural growls as blood splatter covered the entire room. Rock reached over and took a bottle of cheap rot gut booze and brought it crashing down upon Ivy’s head knocking out cold. Rock turned and exited the storeroom shutting the door behind him.

“Holy Hell what the fuck is going on in there?!!,” demanded Gunny scowling at Rock intensity.

“Gunny, your closed for the evening,” replied Rock with calculated calm before promptly leaving the confines of The BarFly for the soothing insanity of the city streets. Then it suddenly occurred he had failed to locate the so called underground godfather Bloody Sod Bolloks.

“Goddamn it! Shit,shit,shit!! Goddamn Bloody Sod!” Rock said aloud in utter frustration.

“You looking to find Bloody he’s at the Methadone Clinic everyday at 5pm to hook up his daily dose.” commented a disheveled homeless kid who was lurking in a dark doorway like a ghost of society.

“Thanks for the tip,” Rock said handing the homeless kid a twenty “Buy some fucking food. Don’t spend all this on dope or drink.”

“Sure thing,” the homeless kid chirped excitedly at the sight of the twenty.

Sure thing my ass thought Rock as he turned away from the kid and headed off towards the City’s sole methadone clinic at a quick clip.

To Be Continued…

The Deviant Detective Ep.4 : Shit Sandwich Lunch Special