The first part: http://ift.tt/1Uzsg7T
The second part:http://ift.tt/1N4DpMV
Yeah, like I said I was just starting to drift off when I heard the noise, and I can remember thinking, man, I wish I didn't just fucking hear that. It was a noise straight from a gory horror flick, a noise eerily reminiscent of flesh being punctured and torn from the inside out, a la Alien part numero uno. I couldn't imagine what the hell it might be; if I'd had a cat maybe I woulda thought the fucking thing was shitting out a bulldozer, but a cat I had not.
As I lay in the dark, the oozing, squirting, worst-beer-shits-ever-experienced-by-any-man-in-the-history-of-all-mankind noise continued, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, burying my head deep beneath my ratty old pillow. I had involuntarily grabbed the big goddamn butcher knife off of my bedside table, and I shit you not when I say that my fucking knuckles looked like the flesh of Snow White's left titty, I was gripping that fucking thing so hard. I wanted, no, needed to go see what that noise was and where the fuck it was coming from, but my breath kept coming in short gasps, and I suddenly found it perfectly logical to just stay put.
With a sudden POP! like a cork rocketing out of a champagne bottle, the noise stopped. It was so sudden that again the silence rushed in around me in the darkness like water, filling every crack and crevice in my mind. I felt a bit less nervous, no, assholes, I didn't say I was completely over the fucking fright from that goddamn straight-from-the-pits-of-hell noise, but I felt a bit better, better enough to get the fuck up and see what the hell was going on.
I made it to the door of the bedroom when I heard a loud crash from the kitchen. I ran down the hall, balls out (literally and figuratively), butcher knife lancing from my outstretched arm like a fucking bayonet, and skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Through the only window in the house, the orange glow of a street light splayed across the horrific scene that engulfed my kitchen floor. A person, well, maybe a person, definitely a humanoid form of some sort, was trapped beneath my small refrigerator, yesterday's pasta puttanesca slobbed around the little bastard like a fucking spaghetti snow angel.
For a moment I couldn't move, then a knee-jerk, or in this case, arm-jerk, reaction made me flip the fluorescents on to bathe the kitchen in bluish light. There before me, lying on the floor, wallowing in my condiments, was the ugliest person I had ever seen. As its small mouth opened and a horrible, mewling noise emanated from it, a cry that evoked images of animals in a fucking slaughter house, I dropped my knife and backed up against the kitchen wall, pressing my hands hard against my ears as I stared down at its helpless body.
Yeah, the little bastard cried out like that for a good minute or two. Then he (I say he because the fucker's schlong was hanging out, plain as day) just sort of looked at me with his milky blue eyes. It seemed to me that a normal person wouldn't be able to see out of those goddamn things, but as he looked at me and I looked at him I knew that he could see me fine, just fine.
A bit more time passed, and I think he must've figured I wasn't gonna fucking hurt him, or maybe he just figured me for the pussy I was, because he sure as hell didn't make that cry anymore, which was ok by me. I finally ambled over, real slow like, so as not to give him a fright, and heaved the refrigerator up off of him. I was a bit overwhelmed by the stench of shit and another familiar odor that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
As soon as I got that fucking fridge up off of him, he kinda smiled at me, then got up and just stood there looking around calmly, like this was his fucking kitchen. Despite his strange skin, um, texture, he looked sort of familiar. For lack of something better to do, I pushed the fridge back up against the wall, then turned around to talk to him.
"I've never seen a fucking gnome before, but you really don't look like a gnome anyway, more like some kind of, I dunno, shit covered baby. I'm not trying to call you a fucking small weirdo, I just mean gnome on account of your tiny stature and shit." I said awkwardly, always the master of tact, regretting opening my goddamn stupid mouth as the words fell out one after another like a welfare junkie's belly fruit.
I thought, what the hell am I doing, talking to a fucking apparition? I mean, even if he isn't an apparition, he's covered in shit. If he's not an apparition, but he's covered in shit, then he has to be goddamn German to fucking walk around covered with shit, in which case I won't be able to talk to the bastard anyway, you know, 'cause of the language barrier and shit. I cleared my throat and sort of shuffled my feet, filling the silence while he looked at me like I was the one wearing yesterday's Bud mud.
"Well, assfuck, I may be ugly, but I ain't no gnome," he said, matter-of-factly, his voice like a sloppy Hershey squirt, "and come to think about it, you ain't exactly winning any goddamn beauty contests, either. Furthermore, at least my dong is proportionally gigantic to my 'tiny stature and shit', as opposed to that fucking Vienna sausage that you abuse on a regular basis." And with that, he leaned his head way back and laughed a deep, throaty, eerily familiar laugh; a laugh that seemed much too big for his tiny body.
A bit taken aback? Yeah, I was. I mean, wouldn't you be? Think about it: a shit-covered, midget-dwarf-baby-thing in your motherfucking kitchen, insulting your skin flute? Yep, fuckos, I was quite taken aback.
Like the smooth character I was, I came back with: "But how..."
"Because, shitlips," he interrupted, "in case you haven't fucking noticed, I'm related to you. I am your progeny, your offspring, your seed, YOUR SON. You see, every night, when you sit there on the shitter, taking a crap and pull starting the one-eyed yogurt thrower, you squirt shit and sperm down the toilet pipes. Now somehow, I don't fucking know how, don't fucking wanna know how, I came to be in an unholy combination of shit and jizz. Charles Darwin, Jesus H. Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, you can both eat your hearts out; I am the ultimate symbiosis of evolution and motherfucking immaculate conception!" he said, his words rising in volume until by the end he was shouting, flecks of brown spittle dotting my bare legs.
Wow. He's fairly well versed for a goddamn shit-covered baby, I remember thinking, somewhat stupidly. What he said then changed my life forever, like I said back at the beginning of this terrible sham of a story, and I realized that shit-covered or not, he was kin. His face looked like mine, and although back in those days it was rare to hear me laugh, when I did, it sounded like just like his. It was crazy, but I didn't know what else to do but accept him.
" Well fuck, you little bastard," I said with a laugh, " I guess welcome to my home. I know it ain't much, but I get by. You can sleep on the couch if you like, and there's usually some shit to eat in the fridge."
And I guess that's where my story ends. The Jerk Off Baby and me, together forever. It hasn't always been easy, but we do alright. I've even gotten over his smell. I know, it sounds too fucked up to be true, but you know, most shit does. I guess you could say that's life, you know, if you were a real corny motherfucker.
Submitted August 13, 2015 at 08:05AM by KnobDingler http://ift.tt/1UE1Hyo nosleep
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