#like yeah no fucking shit killing animal JUST for leather is wasteful i totally get having a moral opposition to that

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

vegan moral opposition to leather is so fucking stupid like, listen, that animal is gonna be killed anyways, you are quite literally never going to convince everyone to stop eating meat/dairy/eggs/etc, and even if you somehow did it'd be ecologically disasterous, humans are an omnivourous species that can have a symbiotic relationship with the animals around them, but thats been fucked over by industrialisation, urbanisation, and capitalism, which are all things we can fix, instead of magically expecting most or all of the population to somehow abanon entire food groups that provide multiple nutrients and let both livestock and predator populations go wholly unchecked, which in turn will wreak havoc on agriculture and the ocean and the rest of the environment, so like if we're gonna be killing animals to eat them anyways, since its pretty damn important for us and them that we do at least sometimes, the fucking least we can do is use as much of the animal as is possible, which includes making leather out of it, which need i remind everyone is also far more sustainable and enviromentally concious than that microplastic pleather bullshit that barely lasts 5 years

[themadking2]

If only...

Saturday afternoon. I’m lounging in front of my TV, watching some college football. It just doesn’t get any better. She calls me from the bedroom, sounding urgent. Yay, she must have found a spider. I make my way to the bedroom only to find her dressed in a black leather corset, stockings, and spike heels. She’s holding a riding crop. When did she get THAT shit?

“Lie down on the bed…NOW” she says in a stern voice.

I see cuffs on all four bedposts. OK, so it DOES get better than college football. I’m on the bed faster than Nolan Ryan’s fastball. Google it. She cuffs my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. Way better than college football. Did I mention I stripped? Well yeah I’m naked.

She approaches the bed carrying the crop. She begins to tease my balls with the soft leather strap, then my cock, which is now growing harder. She has a devilish smile on her face. I don’t even remember what game I was watching anymore. Suddenly she slaps my chest hard with the crop.

“Damn! That thing hurts!” I exclaim.

“Yes, it does. And its going to hurt a whole lot more if you don’t shut up and follow my orders,“ she says calmly. She reaches down and begins to stroke my now hard cock. Then she leans over and begins to lick the head, just teasing it with her tongue. Oh fuck yeah, football what? She was teasing the shit out of me with that tongue. I’m straining with the cuffs because I want to grab her head and push my cock into her mouth. What a total tease!

“Whatever happens, you are NOT to cum until I give you the OK…do you understand?” she says as she gives me a sideways glance.

“No doubt babydoll,” I answer but practically before I’m finished she’s squeezing my balls so fucking hard I feel like they’re about to burst, and not in a good way! “FUCK!!” I yell….”Jesus H Fucking Christ on a popsicle stick you trying to kill me???”

Then she slaps me on the chest again hard with the riding crop. “Shut up, fucktoy! From now on, I’m the boss. If you cum without MY permission, you will be punished!” and to emphasize the point she slapped my chest again with the crop even harder.

Then she takes me in her mouth, finally… and begins to suck my cock like she hadn’t had a drink in weeks. My cock begins to throb, I’m moaning…”yeah baby here it comes” I whisper and she fucking bites my cock, hard!! “Son of a bitch!” and suddenly she’s smacking me with the damn crop again, over and over.

“Mistress Jackie you fucking worm!! My name is MISTRESS Jackie and you’d better learn to address Me properly. Then she’s climbing onto the bed and straddling my face, pressing her pussy down onto my mouth. “Eat my fucking pussy!” she yells as she reaches back and yanks my cock half off.

Wasting no time I slide my tongue in her and lick her as if my life depended upon it. Which maybe it kind of does seeing I’m fucking tied up and helpless. I lick her fiercely as she grinds her pussy hard against my face. Soon she’s moaning and cumming in my mouth. I’m licking it up and loving it. She’s usually very passive but now she’s on me like a fucking animal. Oddly she doesn’t stop. Usually once she comes she wants my cock, but today she keeps going, grinding my face. Fucking my face. She goes on and on and comes a second time. Now I’m amazed she’s still grinding my fucking face. I certainly lost track of time, and can’t remember how many times she came, but unbelievably I was actually glad when she finally climbed off. Afternoon had turned into evening and my tongue could barely move, felt like my nose was broken, but damn it was awesome. No idea how much of her I drank.

Finally she climbed onto my cock. I was ready to burst. Then she pressed the shaft of the crop against my throat, choking me! “Don’t even THINK of cumming yet, fucktoy. You haven’t even come close to earning that right yet…” With that she started to ride my cock slowly, sensually, building up speed. Soon my cock was on fire, my thighs tingling, toes curling as she rode me hard. She could tell when I was close and kept pressing that shaft against my throat. Damn! This was hot!

Again I lost track of time and how many times she came, but by the time she was done my cock was on fire. I mean rubbed raw on fire. She straddled my face one more time, told me to clean her up – which I gladly did. Then she got off the bed and went to the shower. Leaving me cuffed. WTF!!!!! I tried a few times, but the damn things were real. When she got out of the shower she brought me a bottle, held my cock while I pee’d into it.

“’I’m going out with the girls tonight, darling “ she explained as she did her hair and makeup. “You will remain cuffed until I return…” Fuck it, I thought. I was spent anyways and I drifted into a blissful sleep….

[giranswife]

Tagged - Q & A

Pick one of your muses. Fill in the questions/statements as if you were your muse in a new post. Tag five people to do this meme.

Tagged by @self-shipping-angel

Ooooo this is fun, I’m going to do Ash for this! Her attitude was just fun to write for these XD

1. What is your name?

Not going to just release my real name like that, but I go by Ash now. My full name is Ashley, but I dropped that a long time ago. But it’s the female werewolf as far as you’re concerned.

2. What is your real name?

Not using my real name, like I said. I’m a villain, not an idiot.

3. Do you know why you’re called that?

Not really. I never knew my parents, so I can’t tell yah why. Not that I care all too much considering they didn’t care enough about me so.

4. Are you single or taken?

Taken. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. I wouldn’t try anything, Gi.ran’s kinda not the kinda bitch to mess with. Neither am I though.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

I’m a werewolf. A scary one at that.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah.

Bitch. Go fuck yourself with a rake.

7. What’s your eye color?

Like a baby blue, I guess.

8. How about your hair color?

Blonde, but I died the tips of my hair purple. I’m thinking about going full purple eventually. Gi.ran seems to really want me to...

9. Have you got any family members?

Not anymore. Good riddance too.

10. Oh? What about pets?

Nope. Not really a pet person, though I don’t necessarily hate animals. I just can’t take care of them, plus Gi.ran would kill me if I brought one home. I do have pet pack wolves I can call very easily, if you ever wanna try something.

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

Annoying people. Well, that’s not true, because I hate people that think they’re above it all way more. But if we’re talking just something in general... I guess... stupid questionnaires. 

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

Sleeping... and eating.

13. Ever hurt anybody before?

Oh yeah. I mean... I’m a villain... it’s what we do best.

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

Yep. Mostly not unless I have to, but if someone gets in my way I can’t make any promises. Unless you count my shitty abusive uncle.

15. What kind of animal are you?

......what part of werewolf do you not fucking understand.

16. Name your worst habits.

*narrows eyes* Why should I tell you that... well you said worst habits and not weaknesses so... I dunno I guess I’m a little emotional and loud. I tend to get really angry very easily. the wolf inside me gets super territorial, and it’s not so good. I cuss a lot, but I find that to be colorful speech if anything else. God damn t, I’m starting to sound like Gi.ran.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Uh.... is myself an option? Nah, I’m fucking joking. Honestly... I look up to a few villains, but I won’t say names because then they’ll get cocky as all hell. We don’t need that. And I guess I kinda look up to Gi.ran in a way. Not like... fully because he’s got his own shit, but... I don’t know I always liked certain aspects of him that I don’t have. Like he’s actually pretty smart and savvy and I wish I was like that.

18. Gay, straight or bisexual?

Oh, I’m a flaming bisexual.

19. Do you go to school?

I dropped out of high school. Pretty much taught myself after that.

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Hell no. I mean... technically we’re married, but that was all after a drunken night. I’m still not sure if this is... whatever I didn’t plan for this. But kids, I definitely don’t want. I’d rather not bring kids into this life... I wouldn’t be a good mother anyway. Besides, have you seen the guy I’m with?

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

Pffttt. I’m sure there are fans for us villains, but I haven’t met any. I’ll let you know if I do, because that’d be hilarious.

22. What are you most afraid of?

Nothing. Alright, fine, I’ll humor you. I guess being forever alone. Contrary to my attitude, I actually don’t like being alone. At least not now that I’m used to having someone with me... ( cue her making sure Gi.ran isn’t leaving her XD)

23. What do you usually wear?

A crop top and ripped jeans. Sometimes I’ll wear a leather jacket or a plaid shirt. Gi.ran sometimes buys me fancy shit, but I don’t wear it unless I have too. Although, the fishnets are really cute. Sometimes he gets my style.

24. Do you love someone?

......I uh.. that’s a very personal question. But I mean, I wouldn’t have this ring on my finger, if I uh, didn’t.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

I’ll give you about ten second head start, then I’m shredding your clothes for that question.

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

Oh, great. I totally wanted to spend my afternoon answering stupid ass questions.

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

Well, I started off low class with little money to my name, but now that I’m living with Gi.ran I guess I’d consider middle to high. More high with how much fucking fancy shit I have around me a lot of the time. It’s more than I’m used to, but... oh well he’s paying.

28. How many friends do you have?

Not many. I mean, I don’t really consider a lot of the league friends. Except Dabi and Himiko. Though, I do have two friends named Sayeko ( @self-shipping-angel and Mai ( @wispy-selfship-eden ).

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

I’ve only had it once, but it was fucking delicious. Maybe I’ll have some tonight.

30. Favorite drink?

Tea. Oh, and coffee. I can’t go a morning without my fucking coffee. It’s like a drug to me and it’s what helps me wake up in the morning.

31. What’s your favorite place?

Home. It’s been a lot of different places these past few years, but... w Gi.ran it feels the most like home. Just don’t fucking tell him I said that. He’ll never leave me alone about it.

32. Are you interested in someone?

Uh,,,, yeah? Do you even listen.

33. What’s your cup size and/or how big is your willy?

PFFFTTTT. Bitch, you wish you knew, didn’t you?

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or ocean?

Ocean. Lake’s are usually kinda gross. I’d live by the ocean if I could.

35. What’s your type?

I don’t fucking know, really. It’s changed a lot over the years. Usually I like strong, sarcastic types. Apparently I’m into older men.

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

Wouldn’t you like to know? You know, if you’re not fucking me, I don’t see the reason to answer any of this.

38. Camping or indoors?

Both are good. I like indoors whenever it’s hot, but outdoors whenever its cold. Gi.ran has totally had to stop me on many occasions during the fall because I will want to sleep outside.

39. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

Yeah, I got better shit to be wasting my time with.

40. Now it’s over! Tag five people:

Sure, whatever. Least it’s over.

Not gonna be tagging anyone, just if you want to do it you can! lololol

[blainematters]

For your reading pleasure, a selection of awful fucking quotes from CC’s latest *~masterpiece~*. That’s right, I read all 407 pages so you don’t have to! Unless you too are a complete masochist, in which case go nuts.

This is image heavy, fair warning. Some names have been slightly altered to protect the crazies who would read this and cry.

Audiences found the show’s campiness to be rather charming, its unique underdog spirit resonated with them, and a global phenomenon was born. Nice description of Glee there. Very original. Good work.

Pitying looks were cast upon the unfortunate souls without seats, as if they were third-class passengers on the Titanic. The death of 1500 people in the worst maritime disaster in history is not a funny or clever simile.

Luckily for him, these days Cash had a little help to take the edge off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three large pills and two marijuana gummy bears. This is how the main character treats his anxiety. He takes this combo with whiskey. This apparently makes him ‘completely numb’. 

He thought it was funny how there was hydrocodone, weed, and alcohol flowing through his veins at a work event but he wasn’t the biggest douchebag onstage. Except he really, really is. Funnily enough people on drugs aren’t the best judge of character.

If he responded with something they didn’t like, his social media would be bombarded with pictures, videos, and GIFs of decapitated animals, human feces, and militants destroying priceless artifacts.

“Olá, fucktards,” Davi said—his use of American slang was a work in progress. What. This character is brazilian, and he swears constantly. Those are his only character traits.

“That’s incredible, Huda,” Mo said. “If only diplomacy worked as efficiently as a fandom, there would never be war again.” I’m fucking dying.

“Young lady,” the psychologist said. “I have studied the human mind for more than four decades. I understand the appeal of joining the transgender community, but I promise you, the transgender movement is nothing short of a trend for nonconformists. In fact, it is still considered a mental illness by the World Health Organization.” Sorry, what appeal? What even is this nonsense? Why does it go on for five pages? Why the need to unnecessarily torture the trans character with this when it makes no difference to his storyline? Why?

Mo had suffered from OID (overactive imagination disorder) since childhood. The condition wasn’t officially recognized by the United States Department of Health (because Mo had made it up) but the disorder was just as taxing and consuming as any. From the entire community of people with mental illness: Fuck you CC. Fuck you for this awful, awful thing. Kindly go fuck yourself for pretending you have any understanding of what a mental illness is like to live with. Ugh.

A very good-looking man in his early twenties. He wore thick sunglasses, a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and designer boots. Yes, this is how ‘Cash’ is described. He’s also been previously described as a total mess who hasn’t showered in days, so I’m not totally convinced it’s accurate.

“I’m T0pher C0llins. It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carter.” T0pher C0llins? Are you fucking shitting me?

“I walked into my bedroom and saw Peaches had taken a huge dump in the middle of my bed, so I had to clean it up and put my comforter in the washer.” This is said by the only girl in the group, in front of ‘Cash’, who she idolises. Because girls are just stupid fucking blabbermouths right?

“-it’s getting asked advice on how to break into the industry from the guy taking a dump in the stall next to you” Oh look, another thing that has never, ever happened.

“You gotta say that shit so no one labels you as a future has-been—that’ll kill a career. Even if it’s obvious you’ll never do anything but the show you’re on, you can’t admit it.” The first honest and realistic thing in this book, and it only took till chapter seven!

“Every time I get any recognition he writes me into a coma or puts me through something horrendous as punishment. After I was on the cover of TV Guide, he put a dangerous stunt into a script and it broke my ankle. After I won a People’s Choice Award, he put my character in a coma for twelve episodes. The list goes on.” I wonder how Ryan Murphy will react when he hears about this character who is so clearly him?

“Nothing is stranger than fanfiction,” Cash said, like a sailor recalling his encounter with a horrible sea creature. THIS ENTIRE BOOK IS REAL LIFE FANFICTION YOU HYPOCRITICAL ASSHOLE.

“He’s a little jaded, I’ll give you that—but after all the joy he’s given us over the years, the least we can do is let him be a human being. ” Yes, let the straight white cis male tell you all how to think, feel, and act. Your hero isn’t a douche, he’s misunderstood. Let him treat you like shit because who else gets that experience?

The world’s biggest rubber-band ball bounced into the horizon like a deer recently freed from captivity. Chapter nine: ‘Cash’ destroys a national landmark for shits and giggles.

The actor excitedly passed out tickets to Topher, Joey, Sam, and the Sacagawea statue—mistaking it for Mo. He’s also a racist. Are we surprised?

Why is he dancing like an epileptic on roller skates? Aaaaand a joke about epilepsy. I’m sure Hannah loves it.

“What did you do? How did you get over it?” Joey said. “One day I woke up and decided I had had enough.” ‘Cash’ cures his crippling agoraphobia by just going outside. Again, fuck you CC. That is not how mental illness works. Do two seconds of research for fucks sake.

“The night we were all watching the season six finale of Wiz Kids at Joey’s house, I was actually supposed to be watching Billy while my mom was at a Bunco party. I gave him some cold medicine so he would sleep and ran home to check on him every commercial break.” Drug your disabled siblings, your friends will think you’re cool and laugh about instead of telling you  that you’re an awful fucking person. Which you are.

“Then one day, as I was posting a GIF of a decapitated giraffe on her profile, I learned WizKidLiz01 was a little girl with Down syndrome.” Also on the list of things that make you an awful fucking person… plagiarism or no, don’t do this shit.

“So what’s your real name?” Topher asked. “Now, that you’re not going to believe,” Cash said. “It’s Tom Hanks.”

“They were the most eccentric group of stoners Cash had ever seen and he couldn’t take his eyes off them, like they were the subjects of a fascinating nature documentary.” One character is literally screaming her head off with paranoia and scratching invisible bugs in her skin, but hey, watching teenagers on a drug trip is so interesting!

“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Cash said. “He’ll be long gone by then.” Oh yeah, ‘Cash’ is extremely preoccupied with death. He frequently says shit like this alluding to it. No-one notices.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell the fangirls about the treatment we’ve received today and unleash them upon your establishment like a plague of locusts! They’ll harass you, humiliate you, and chase your wrinkled, old, racist ass into hiding for the rest of your miserable existence! Do I make myself clear?” Um… what? Why would you even?

“Of course the brakes worked, I was just fucking with you,” Cash said. ‘Cash’ continues to be the absolute worst by making someone think she’s going to die. Of course, she somehow she also doesn’t know that James Dean died in a car accident. Sigh.

“But I think we’d know it if he was mentally unbalanced or an addict of some kind.” YOU ARE EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD AND YOU ARE A COMPLETE IDIOT. YOU LITERALLY JUST DESCRIBED ‘CASH’.

“You lose the right to humanity when you become famous. It’s just the way it is, but I’m not going to whine about it.” Except in this entire book.

“I’m transgender!” Sam declared. “I know what it’s like to have everyone treat you like something you’re not because people have been doing it to me my whole life. I’ve never met someone who could relate—but it’s like everything you just said! We’re both trapped! We’re both prisoners of unfair expectations!” These! things! are! not! comparable! Mostly because ‘Cash’ could leave that life any time, Sam won’t ever stop having to deal with being trans. Shut the fuck up CC. Sam then spends waaaay too much time explaining gender and sexual identity to ‘Cash’ because he’s a complete moron.

Darla spoke with the energy and enthusiasm of a camp counselor on crystal meth. How is this joke in any way appropriate when the main character is clearly a raging drug addict? He’s literally constantly tweaking.

The others stared at Cash in disbelief. It was like a demon living inside of him had taken the reins. Watch as these people we’re supposed to believe all got into prestigious colleges like Colombia and MIT completely fail to recognise the signs of an addict going through withdrawal.

They had never in their lives felt more exposed, more violated, or more gutted. It was as if someone had ripped off all their clothes and chucked their hearts into the depths of the Grand Canyon. ‘Cash’ is so self-obsessed and full of self-pity he decides to out two people in the group and tell another she’s wasting her life just to make them all feel as awful as he does. What a delightful person huh?

“Joey, I have always wanted a gay best friend. I’m not mad because you hid your orientation from me; I’m just upset because of all the Will & Grace opportunities we’ve missed out on.” ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

He was staring at Topher with a weak smile and his eyes were opened just barely enough to see. He clearly knew who Topher was, but Topher couldn’t place him.

“I have glioblastoma,” Cash said. “That’s a fancy stage name for brain cancer.”

I was fine and could easily hide this until a few days ago, but now I’m so weak and frail you don’t even recognise me. Usually Glioblastoma on the brain stem causes symptoms like seizures, confusion, paralysis, vomiting, dizziness, and loss of basic functions, but I’m a special snowflake and get to stay able-bodied and cognisant until the end!

“In April I started getting these really bad migraines,” Cash explained. “A doctor came to the set and recommended I get a scan. We were behind in production so the producers wouldn’t give me time off to get it done.” It’s all Hollywood’s fault he’s dying! Not his for not getting any fucking treatment. And actors can and do take days off for health reasons, that shit is totally allowed.

“Holy shit,” Topher said. “These are all mine.… You’ve saved every letter I ever wrote to you.…” That’s not totally fucking creepy at all, ‘Cash’.

“He’s not a bad person—he’s got brain cancer! That’s why he’s been behaving the way he has!” That makes everything okay! Except not really. Cancer doesn’t give you a free pass to be an asshole. You aren’t making the most of what life you have left, you’re just being a shithead.

“The actor had had so little control over his life, but his death was exactly how he wanted it to be.” Yes, he dies five days later. No-one wondered about his odd behaviour or suspected he might be sick until they visited him in a hospice. These people must be so stupid they can barely function for this to make sense. He’s been dying for months and nobody at all noticed? Bullshit.

“Oh gosh, I’m so nervous to hear how it went! I practically feel like I came out as transgender, too!” NO MORE.

“Not to be a downer, but did anyone watch the footage from Cash’s funeral today?” Mo asked. “Why did they wait a whole month to have it?” Topher asked. “Because it was sponsored by Canon and their new camera comes out this week,” Mo said.

I don’t think companies generally sponsor funerals? Let’s just hope it wasn’t an open casket, that shit would be nasty after a month.

“Fuck off, I’m banging Marilyn Monroe.” No, god no. Please no. Just end this thing now please.

The aspiring writer felt like she and her friends were living a ridiculous happy ending straight from the final page of one of her outlandish stories. Uh…

And a bonus from the author’s note:

However, for the purpose of good storytelling, the characters’ opinions and choices are sometimes flawed. Please do not view their actions as generalizations or examples to follow, but as the mistakes and triumphs of individuals. All of my characters were awful and/or treated like shit by everyone else, but that’s for the sake of the story. It’s not my fault if you act this way and everyone hates you! (And still love me please god I’m so alone...)

[wreckedgreg-blog]

the anti-hero's journey (5)

An unwanted mystery guest: Killing John Gee

The welcome speech was boring, tedious and prone to technical difficulties. After the 15 minutes of stuttering, mumbling, microphone feedback and utter niceties, the profusely sweating fat man, who apparently organized the whole thing, lumbers of stage.  When it ended most people got up and went to the talks in the small rooms. I stayed. They were putting more chairs, more microphones and some tables on stage. I moved a couple of rows to the front, still looking around in wonder at all these strange people. Some people with cameras are sitting in the front seats. Apparently there was some media interest for this literary freak show.

Some intern with a great ass puts down name cards. It looks like the photocopier, or printer, was broke, even from a few yards I can hardly read the names on the cards. There are going to be seven speakers.

I look in the program.

Chair: Richard Olafson- Publisher

panel:

Craig Cresent- writer and expert on sincerity

Ronald Twinshing- on-line literary critic

Xantasma Welch- activist writer of the literary blog ”please rape me”

Bernd Flour- professor and literary critic

Joachim Stein- writer and artist

and welcoming our very special guest

John Gee-successful writer and educator

They finally set up the stage. I notice Kessler sitting a few seats to my left. I smile and wave. He raises a can of cheap beer. The auditorium was slowly getting fuller. It looks like a zoo, or an asylum. Barely human rejects. The all looked deplorable and washed up. It looked all so miserable. I feel like “collective suicide” would be the only group activity this gathering is suited for.

It should have started five minutes ago, but the panel is only half there; the fat sweating organizer, who is chairing the thing, a psychotic looking emaciated young man in a black leather jacket, old and tired looking man in a brown checkered suit. The seem to ignore the small audience and even each other. A young unshaven man in a cartoon t-shirt and childish sneakers and masculine transsexual almost complete the panel. The second and fourth seats still vacant. Nobody seemed to pay any attention. The panelist were starting to mumble amongst themselves. Ten minutes after the panel should have started, the big shot, the star, walks on stage.

He appeared taller than he was. It was like some optical illusion; he seemed to shrink as he approached his chair. His imaginary tallness was mainly a result from his unnatural skinniness. He was swaying like a bamboo sprout when he walked and his silly fluffy hair added to his cartoonish appearance. To diminish his clownishness he left his usual side kick, his brother who looks like the aborted part of a Siamese twin, at home. Still, he looked like a fool. He was a successful writer and a total tool. A typical modern eunuch; the type that worships women instead of loves them; that 'respects' his brothers instead of challenging them. A total waste of human genome. One of those creatures that made you question the validity of Darwinism. He sat down and nodded uneasily towards his fellow panelists.

The sweaty man coughed. “ I am sorry to say that Mr. Stein could not make it. So I suggest we get this forum started. I won't bother introduce anybody here, because you should already know every one here or you wouldn't even care.” Muffled laughter.  “So what does sincerity mean to us? As writers and as readers?' The blond fat guy was looking at his phone, the tranny was staring at John, the psychotic man talked to the professor, who politely chuckled. Fat paranoid Richard was sweating even more and was looking desperate. “Anybody?” John looked around and smiled.

“I think we all want to be sincere here. I think we all appreciate what people like Dav....”

“Don't say his name! You piece of shit!” Twinshing, the young psychotic was standing up and foaming at the mouth. I thought he would jump on table and tear John Gee apart. “Don't you dare speak His name!”

The old fat professor was trying to calm down the internet lunatic. With a crazed look the internet critic pushed away the aging academic “Away with you, foul ghoul!” The fat little man fell back in his seat, nearly tipping over, not unlike a studious roly-poly.  Xantasma was body blocking the insane critic

” Back off crazy!” Richard made a feeble attempt to calm the panel. “Guys, can't we just play nice?” He did some weird giggle. “Good job, fatso!”  Some guy is jeering and trowing a paper cup. Richard is gleaming with sweat and looking around  like a caged animal. “Fight, fight!” The crowd was getting worked up. John Gee was getting agitated, rubbing his face and arms.

Who would invite a person like that to a “troubled writers event” ? Was this a set up? It looked like at least one person was going to die as result of this shit. John is clearly dismayed and surprised by the hate. He makes some weird facial expressions and leans in for his mic.

“He guys , relax. I came to check out this scene. … to share my knowledge.... to...”

His microphone was barely on. The feedback is getting louder than his voice, which was less shrill than I expected. Ronald Twinshing in his black leather jacket was hitting Xantasma, almost a full foot taller than him, was blocking him effortlessly.  John was staring at the table and Craig was filming the assault by Ronald. In the mean time the aged professor, the cowardly Bernd Flour made his way off stage, slowly and painfully, like a shot animal. Richard was stuck in a loop of looking at the audience with a retarded grin and a looking in horror at the chaos of his finely selected panel.

Thisd was going to be messy.. Did that paranoid fat bastard set it all up?  I don't believe so: he has nothing to gain from this chaos. No, it was just pure entropy; everything was gravitating towards its basest level. Xantasma knocked over the tiny basement dweller. He scampered to his feet, lunged towards the large transexual, plowing him/her/it into John. Craig steps back and keeps filming, with no  expression on his face. Richard yelps and runs off.

Kessler Laughed heartly, baring his unbrushed teeth. “This is too good to be true!” I saw guys clenching their fists, a fat guy doing a little autistic excitement dance, some other guy flapping his arms like he was going to have a full on seizure.  I grew nervous. The crowd looked up to no good. Yeah, I hated this ass as much as the next guy, but getting charged with GBH or attempted murder is not my my idea of “a good time” or even “useful life experience”. John Gee got up to his feet   There he stood. Mr. Bigshot. The successful writer. Looking like a big lost child. He did not understand where he gotten him self in to. We weren't envious, we were disgusted. The nerve of that insincere paedophile to show up at our little gatherings of sincerity and hate. He thought he could show us “the way”. We would show him. The audience stormed the stage. The other panelists were ignored and trampled. People were grabbing and tearing at John. He was crying.

“Why don't you like me?”

“You suck!” Somebody who smelled like sweat and dead animals was yelling in Johns face.

“Why are all so angry?”

“You are shit!”

“I thought I could teach you guys something about tolerance and...”

“Fuck you!” The Failed Writers Guild seems unanimous in their hate against our Johny, the prodigy, the success. Then suddenly things get really ugly, really fast. It was a flurry of animal frustration and violence. It was pure insanity.

So that is why I am driving at 2am in Kesslers car with a famous writer in the car booth. “One day Greg, you'll laugh about this.” “I doubt it” I snort and try to keep my eyes on the road and the car straight.  Fuck. Fuck. I thought I could relax by embracing writing, not cause more stress.