7.25.2006

DEMO_FIC_13

The Saga of Bazooka Joe. pt 1

Ever wonder why they call him Bazooka Joe? Or why he wears that eye patch?

He was kidnapped when he was a child. Young Joe, sold into white slavery. Men always looking for young hairless boys to fulfill their perverted fantasies.

One day — a seven inch cock down his throat — he bites down a little too hard. A reflex from the lightning bolt feeling of having to throw up.

The man backhands Young Joe. Big gold jeweled shiny rings on his huge leather tough hand knocks the eye right out of its socket.

Third world countries, they didn't have have sophisticated enough medical technology to save the eye, or even provide him with a proper prosthetic.

Hence the eye patch...

At the age of sixteen, Teen Joe escaped that life. Decided to go into pornography. Because it was more lucrative — any money being more than none.

His empty eye socket provided him with the perfect gimmick. A signature move that would propell him into notoriety.

All Teen Joe needed was a name. A brand. Something that would make him more then just your average male porn actor. Something that would make him a star. A Super Star.

Unfortunately, the name Eye Fuck Joe was already being used by a Taiwanese dwarf born with no thumbs. Skull Fuck Jo was trademarked by a Russian hooker skilled in the black arts of voodoo.

Who knew it was going to be that hard to come up with a name? He started to use Ugly Kid Joe temporarily, until he came up with something better. This, of course, is where the name of that band originated from.

It wasn't until his first audition. Jack-hammering the puckered brown man hole of a production assistant in front of the director Gorge Harryson.

It was time for the money shot, and Ugly Kid Joe pointed himself at the open mouth. Tongue hanging out a wide opening with silver fillings in the back molars.

Joe yelled a Haitian expletive that roughly translates into English as: "The horse's balls slap your face like scorpion stings." He shot into the man's mouth. On his knees, and the back of his head opened up in the explosion of a shaken soda can being opened.

The sheer force of Joe's come blew out the back of this man's skull. Like a bazooka.

And thus, the Bazooka Joe Marketing Empire was formed.

to be continued...

© Branden Palomo

I've always had a dark aspect to my writing, for some reason. Explicit descriptions of disgusting things. I remember writing vividly about someone being disemboweled for a story I wrote in middle school. It's only because of the novel I wrote last year that it's gone off into a sexual area... I think.

It's fun and disturbing, which makes it easier to get under people's skin. You get a reaction, that way. Maybe that makes me similar to a spoiled child that always needs attention, but isn't that something all people that create art do?

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