Wednesday, 3 November 2010

Creg's morbidly obese adventures in fat camp with minor amounts of impromptu fatty flapping

Hello world,
This is me,
Life should be,
Another pack of crisps.

- Creg Cornwall, diary entry 20/08/09

For years Creg had been just another weedy nerd with skin snapped thinly around his un-muscular frame, and so no one had noticed when he snuck an extra ginger beer or two after a long hard day at school. Soon he'd packed away an extra pound or two, two became four, four became twenty-seven, and suddenly he was pushing his way to his favourite Bush album - sixteen stone.

It was about this point that Creg made two discoveries - firstly, that not one single pair of his pants still fit correctly, and secondly, that his mother was a cheapskate. He'd been sitting in his room one day, happily polishing off his second family-sized can of tuna when his mother burst in looking frantic. "PRAISE THE LORD MY GOD, CREG, YOU ARE FAT!" she exclaimed. Creg responded by snuffling into his tuna faster than ever, like a fat feline paranoid it's food is about to be taken away.

"YOU'VE EATEN HALF THE FOOD IN THE HOUSE! And... And... LORD ALMIGHTY YOU'RE NOT WEARING ANY PANTS!"

"They don't fit," Creg murmured into his stinking tin.

"And what? You expect me to buy you some more? Well guess what buck-o, I've just seen this thing on the television, an ad during songs of praise, and you know what? It's looking for fatties like you. I just bought you pants last year, I'm not buying you any more."Creg shot her a pained expression, his eyes glazed over in horror.

"Yep. Won't cost me a thing. They want fat losers in their teens and I think you more than qualify. You better act like you want in, I'm not paying to send you to a real fat camp."

"I WON'T DO IT!" Creg gulped back.

"Oh you will," she replied coldly. "You'll do exactly what I say. You'll be living on the streets if you don't. I'm not spending another cent on your fat self that's for sure."

"NO NO NO NO!" Creg screamed, tears appearing upon his cheeks. "Suck it up you pansy. It's your fault you're this fat," and with that she walked out and slammed the door behind her. Creg slumped back on his bed, hurling the can of tuna and fork across the room as he kicked at the sheets, cursing his mother and the fact he'd ever been born between sobs. The sobs soon turned to a runny nose and a fit of coughing. Creg blew his nose and looked down into the tissue. There, staring back at him, was a thick pink flake of tuna riding across a slimy film of yellow snot.

Creg hurled the offensive thing across the room, but as he did he realized that just like that piece of tuna he had taken the wrong path. His tiny body, the piece of flesh he once knew, was swimming in an ocean of excess goop. Maybe his mother was right for once, maybe fat camp was exactly what he needed. He definitely needed to get out more, he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling his whole life was just one big inside joke that got dragged out every few months. Besides, maybe he'd meet a girl there, someone who had no scruples, no standards when it came to men. The kind of girl who would pick a piece of discarded chewing gum off the ground and eat it. The kind of girl who was forced to come to fat camp so her stomach stopped falling out. That was the girl for Creg. He'd meet her when she was fat, then they could get slim together, and he'd have his first real girlfriend, one he didn't have to pay money to, one he could show off to all his friends. Well, if he had any friends. Creg smiled and rolled over, excited for what the morning might bring.

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

The Baptism

My father stood, tersely muttering that it was a shame. Whether he meant that the family name had been disgraced or whether he actually felt some kind of pity was moot. Either way I sat dejectedly staring at the ground; there was only so far a person could physically stoop and no mere words could bend me any more. He paused, standing awkwardly amongst the silence before shuffling out of the room. I couldn't blame him for not wanting to get involved. How could I ask anyone to accept me when I could no longer accept myself? I hated my body, it was a rotting cocoon of filth, a refuse tip for other people's bodily emissions. It was tainted and no amount of scrubbing could clean it. No simple baptism of water could save me. So I looked up, begging, with tears streaming down my face, and from the dining room where I sat, I could see His blue halo. It danced, beautiful upon the stove top, as if Terpsichore herself embodied it. On my knees in reverence I touched it's blue light and covered myself with it.

Monday, 31 May 2010

Thoughts on Paper

Thoughts on paper
Cast-nets of shadows from my mind.
Dappled and motley.
Silvered and blind.
Coal black the darkest recesses,
ablaze in my fight.
Twisted, matted tresses obscuring my sight.
Where purpose is lost,
crystal evaded.
Haunted by ghosts.
Whirling for clarity traded.

Friday, 30 April 2010

Thoughts on a Bus

The rain comes down today and the skies have been so clear.
The clouds blew over, 
the muted sun their backlight.
The rain comes down today and off yonder the clouds grow dark
and dense.
A portent…
Superstitious thoughts.
The streets wet now-betraying their stench,
yet baptized.
The rain comes down today.
Take shelter little souls.
Don’t get wet.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Creg's Ridiculously Protracted Adventures With Absolutely No Audience Whatsoever

"Hello world
This is me
Conducting a scientific experiment
By ejaculating into my fish tank
I hope to see
If not only can I bring my goldfish
Joy and merriment
But also another member of the family."

Not for the first time in his life, Creg was in love. Perhaps for the first time in his life though, the object of his affection happened to be an animal. Sure he'd loved the long departed family dog, whose name currently escaped him, but he'd only ever got an erection once when it had been humping his leg or playfully licking his balls after he'd stepped out of the shower. Well maybe it was twice that his manhood had stirred but he was a teenager at the time and his hormones had been all over the place so it was understandable. This time it was something deeper he felt.

It had started when yet again his nemesis Bill Samuels had opened Creg's eyes to another new world of possibilities. Pictures of him fucking a dead squid to be precise that Bill had posted on his Facebook page after he'd got back from his holiday in Adelaide. "DON'T TAG ME AS YOUR DEAD SQUID," Creg had typed on Bill's wall in the white-hot rage of a thousand burning suns, but secretly he had been flattered. For no matter how many times Creg told him he wasn't interested, Bill still wanted to molest him again. It was whilst Creg was leaning back in his chair, wondering if letting Bill inside his bottom would be that bad after all (he might have to wipe his arse more thoroughly but that might not be such a bad thing he pondered, it would stop his mother from complaining about all the skidmarks she found in his briefs at least), when he noticed his goldfish Bob for the first time, really noticed him. He had always considered the fish a wonderful animal, except maybe for the time one killed his father and also maybe when his mother fed him and his date some frozen fish for dinner, but apart from that he'd always thought they were pretty cool and he found Tuna especially delectable. He could munch on Tuna for hours if he had his way. Indeed, his penchant for Tuna had landed him in fat camp a while back. But that's another story for another day.

This story is about Bob the Goldfish. Creg had been rather shy about asking him out on a date, plus in his twenty-five years on earth he'd never actually even heard a fish speak. Well apart from in that film he'd snuck in to at the cinema just so he could cry in the dark for a couple of hours after he'd found the Valentine's card he'd sent his sister in the bin underneath a pack of used condoms. Finding Nemo or something like that it was called. So anyway, instead of simply asking Bob out on a date, Creg had decided to start a scientific experiment to see if he could get one of the fish in his tank pregnant. Thus demonstrating to Bob what a manly man Creg is and making him fall in love with him. It was all going swimmingly, if you'll excuse the pun, until Creg had to go and ruin it like he has to go and ruin everything. He found Bob's girlfriend Synthia on the floor fighting for life and it was all he could think to do to pick her up, get his cock out and rub himself against her. He'd thought about taking off the black hair from his Mum's cat that Synthia had become covered in but he didn't want to appear racist so he just ploughed straight in. "Hush baby, I'll treat you right, I'll treat you good, just promise not to tell," Creg whispered feverishly as the black hair started to flake off against his engorged cock. "Oh baby, I needed this, I really needed this. Look at Daddy's cock, it's grown nearly as big as you, isn't it beautiful, no wonder Bill wants to suck on it."

In his excitement Creg had failed to hear the footsteps that had been rapidly gathering pace behind him before abruptly coming to a stop. A tap on his shoulder and then another tap on his shoulder caused him to freeze to the spot before lifting himself out of the metaphorical quicksand he felt himself sinking into, and somehow twisting and turning his body round to face his intruder. It was his mother but it wasn't his mother. One minute it was his mother's face contorting in front of him in a painful mixture of anger and disgust, the next it was Bob's giant face taking mournful gulps at the air. Suddenly they were both underwater and Creg's mum wasn't punching him in the face and blood wasn't pumping out of his nose but Bob was crying tears of blood. I guess because Creg wouldn't be able to see normal tears underwater. "HOW COULD YOU, CREG? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? I WISH THOSE PARAMEDICS HAD NEVER BROUGHT YOU BACK TO LIFE WHEN YOU'D JUMPED OUT THAT WINDOW."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It just gets so lonely in here all day, every day by myself. Please let me make it up to you. Please give me another chance. Please," begged Creg as he fell to his knees, when suddenly Synthia, who had been discarded in all the commotion presumed dead and was now lying next to Creg, spluttered out a hairball.

Little Fatty

They call me a little fatty. So I go home to cry. They call me a little fatty. So I go home and put my head in a tie. But I'm no good at anything, I'm too fat for everything. So the tie snaps and I fall to the floor. Mum shouts "KEEP THE NOISE DOWN, LITTLE FATTY, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE." So I get up and punch the wall and scream "FUCK THEM, FUCK THEM ALL." Sometimes I'd like to go in and blow up my entire school. They call me a little fatty. So I run on the spot until I think my pathetic fat heart is about to stop. They call me a little fatty. And I wish it would just give up and stop. They call me a little fatty. The bigger you are, the more love you've got. But with no one to give it to, it festers inside of me and just rots. They call me a little fatty. Eventually I get tired and, defeated, go to the fridge for another fucking Iced Choc.

Friday, 9 April 2010

Blood On My Cock

Brush your teeth with my cum and I'll wash my cock with your blood. A man goes so many places, he gets tired, he needs to rest. You are my resting place. Set me free and I'll set you free, we'll set each other free. Your eyes, I'll show you things with them. Cut out your tongue, rub it down my body. This is what love tastes like. Nothing. Nothing can't ever let you down. Nothing can't ever hurt you. Nothing can't ever scare you. Nothing is blood on my cock. Nothing is all I ever wanted. Be nothing for me.

Cunt In A Hole

Now she's nothing more than a cunt in a hole - I give her purpose, I give her life.

"You wanna die?"

No, she doesn't wanna die. Little girls don't really know what they want but they know what they don't want. That thing in church that makes all their parents look solemn and grave and sit very still in their seats and hold their breath so as not to make a sound when that bald sweaty cunt at the front starts talking about it. They don't want to draw attention to themselves, in case God is watching and gets any ideas. If only you knew what they were really scared of little girl, what really gripped them.

I should have pulled her fingernails out. This is too fucking easy. She can use them to dig herself out but whether she covers them in dirt or scrubs them clean, I'll still be underneath them until she's a cunt in a hole again, until I'm a cunt in a hole with her, until we're all just useless fucking cunts in some obscene massive cunt-filled hole.