#that ones up there with balaclava faggot

[marcelwrites]

Excerpt From ‘Cancel Me Or Die’

(This is an excerpt from a novella I’m writing, ‘Cancel Me Or Die’. A collection of loosely related chapters exploring lust, sexuality, violence, and politics. It won’t be for everyone. I think the title is cool but I also hate it. Is that not the duality of man? It’ll be published later this year. The whole “cancellation” thing makes me shudder with how fucking embarrassing it is but it’s also this pervasive concept in the West now and I like how it’s something everyone’s aware of; if you’re on the internet then you’re aware of the concept. Transgression is important. Challenge yourself. Like the first time I read the works of Jonathan Ames, I was challenged by how boldly he laid the world of crossdressing and ambiguous sexuality at the reader’s feet. I believe in the pushing of boundaries because it’s vital that we’re scared by art, challenged by it, affected by it.)

In the absolute dark before the dawn peeks through the cracks and tears in the night sky I’d met up with Lina. Her pale pink hair a light muddle until being briefly lit by the street lamps we were walking under. The plan was to light some fires and cause some chaos. A legion of old, decaying boaters had decided to pollute the waterways with their noxious floating palaces. In the mood for unprotected sex and anarchy we went to each local petrol station and filled up several jerry cans worth of fuel, $250 AUD worth to be exact. We debated grabbing some food from Hungry Jacks but rather than indulge in disgusting deep-fried carbs we parked our car near a playground, opposite some closed shops, and had sex until we felt exhausted and loosened by the exchange. We weren’t exactly in a relationship but we were exclusive with one another. I think it’s one of those situations where you joke about getting married and you end up getting married to commit to the joke but also because you understand one another’s inherent darkness and miseries. Lina and I met while lining up for tickets to see a Horror movie at the cinema. She had absolutely no friends whatsoever and her last boyfriend beat the living shit out of her, shattering two of her teeth. She has a scar running from the edge left of her top lip that extends to her philtrum, where that boyfriend split her lip with a punch. Occasionally I kiss the scar as I’m drawn to it. It catches my attention when she rides me and I see little beads of perspiration forming around it. A few months ago we drove to her ex-boyfriend’s house and I slashed the tires on his shitbox of a Ford. I was tempted to break into his house and kill him in cold blood, or at the very least, throttle him half to death and take him to the hospital myself, but after slashing his tires Lina said she really wanted to suck my cock, and so she went down on me and when I finished she spat the cum on the door handle of the driver’s side door. “I love where your head’s at.” I said to her. “Me too.” Lina replied and then laughed. I think we’re in love but we’re broken so we just don’t say those words to one another. With the jerry cans in tow we would make our way down to the peer, make sure no one was sleeping in the boats, douse them in petrol, and then light them on fire. I think people are at their most beautiful when dimly lit by the moon and the street lamps. The thin light softens our features and renders us more human. As we walked I would occasionally turn to Lina and she’d turn to me and we’d smile at one another. It would sicken me to my core and make me feel like a faggot. I told her of this and she said, “I don’t like that word but I understand what you mean and so fucking what anyway.” Previously we’d spoken about how we planned to not get caught, so we got a mutual friend to order balaclavas for us. Neither of us had any history with the police so we wouldn’t immediately be suspected. The possibility of jail and legal action was real but that added to the thrill of it all. A few rich guys lose their manhood extensions? Big fucking deal.

[patrickmmorrissey-blog]

2min Animation Story Ideas

Boston, Massachusetts, 1931. The Sicilian Mafia and emerging Irish Mob meet in Southside Boston in an empty parking lot by an abandoned warehouse. The dagos are bringing in moonshine in an effort to expand their bootlegging business from New York to Boston and are forming an uneasy alliance with the micks, exchanging the alcohol for arms to aid in their muscling in on the unions at the New York docks. Unbeknownst to them, the Irish have been doing some expansion of their own and already have support from within the dock unions due to the large number of Irish immigrants working there.

Underground bare-knuckle boxing club, Brooklyn, New York, 1953. The bell rings as the referee reaches a 7 count at the end of the eighth round. The bloodied fighter pulls himself off the ground and falls into his corner. His ears are ringing and he spits the blood from his mouth into a metal bucket as he struggles to open his right eye. His ears stop ringing just in time to hear the bell ring again and he pulls himself up knowing he has to knock his opponent out to win the purse and pay off his debts.

New Mexico Territory, 1861, Somewhere along the Confederate border. What appears to be a grizzled outlaw steps into a saloon with a Navajo companion in tow. Dead silence falls over the saloon as the outlaw holds aloft a wanted poster and announces that he’s looking for an escaped Confederate soldier wanted dead by the Union. He continues, “….and my partner here’s gonna be mighty upset if doesn’t get to kill him a Democrat”. A man moving down the stairs with a prostitute on his arm stops, leaps over the bannister and sprints out the back of the saloon. He’s stopped outside by a tomahawk to his left calf when the Bounty Hunter calmly strolls out behind his companion and slowly draws his Colt .45 Peacemaker.

Omaha Beach, Normandy, June 6th 1944. West of the 100ft cliff, Pointe du Hoc, scores of Allied Landing Crafts near Omaha Beach. One member of the 29th Infantry division stands amongst his fellow soldiers, rosary beads clutched in hand, looking to the sky. The sudden halt of the landing craft jolts the men forward as the landing crafts ramp crashes into the water. A hail of bullets flies through the air as allied troops are cut down by the defending German forces and the murky coastal waters turn red as troops splash through to establish a beachhead. Men are felled left and right of the private as he presses forward. He puts his head up and fires ahead. He stumbles forward as a bullet rips at his helmet, then his shoulder, and finally, through his chest. He collapses face down in the water while his rosary beads are pulled out to sea.

May 22nd 1453, The Siege of Constantinople (April 6th- May 29th 1453). A Byzantine soldier walks the battlements of Constantinople looking out at Mehmed’s sieging Ottoman forces. A lunar eclipse blocks out the sun and shrouds the land in darkness. The soldier is stricken with a look of worry and turns to face the Hagia Sophia, the jewel of the Byzantine Empire and all of Christendom. Darkness engulfs the church as the colour fades into the sky and flees west. The Ottomans raise their standards and a volley of flame flies through the darkness from trebuchets as the invading Muslim forces’ siege towers heave forward.

Detroit, Michigan, 2017. A young woman walking home at night past by an overgrown, derelict warehouse and takes a sharp turn away from the dimly lit streets down a darkened alley. It is here that she is set upon by a group of men brandishing knives. Out of the darkness steps a large figure in a leather duster, blood splattered across a snarling face and a sawed-off shotgun hanging loosely by his side. What little light there is glistens off his dog tags as the men move toward him. From behind them comes a metal clink as the seemingly helpless woman sheds her overcoat and un-holsters an M1911 with a laser pointer trained on one of the assailants’ head. As their focus is drawn away from the stranger, one of the muggers is decapitated from the swipe of a machete from the stranger who then fires off both barrels of his shotgun. One of the men falls over the corpse of his fallen comrade as the darkness is lit up by a succession of shots and pierced by screams.

Bronx, New York, 1989. Men in a van with guns speaking Russian then burst out the rear doors. Two detectives sit in a black, unmarked, sedan, sipping coffee. Across the street, the alarm goes off at the Bank of America. They call for back-up, and take cover outside the bank. Inside, the three robbers hold the bank’s occupants hostage with Kalashnikovs while wearing balaclavas. They bark orders with thick Russian accents while squad cars gather outside. The phone rings in the bank and is picked up by one of the Russians who states his terms as snipers ready themselves on the rooftop across the street. The robbers move outside with the hostages.

The Oval Office, Washington D.C, United States of Terra-Gamma, July 4th 2076 (The 300th anniversary of the birth of freedom/The 60th Year of the Trump Dynasty and the name Obama long erased from the history books). God Emperor Barron Trump orders his Alex Jones clone army, fuelled by Super Male Vitality and pure, fluoride-free, filtered water, known as the Legion of Kek, to take the last known stronghold of the Globalist-Communist movement under the rule of the Soviet of the Soros Antifa Social Justices. Secretary of Trolling, Grand General Yiannopoulos, known as the Dangerous Faggot, directs the expansion of Neo-Israel across the galaxy with the aid of the Netanyahu Templar Order of Solomon. Hydrogen bombs destroy the communes of the Eco-Terrorists that threaten the Jupiter fracking operation which supports the livelihood of all the sovereign people of the Trumpenreich.