Arlington Cinema N’ Drafthouse this Friday and Saturday at 9:45 PM! With Courtney Fearrington, Tyler Richardson and headliner Eric Schwartz! It’s gonna be fun, treat yourself…
And with that plug for the weekend, let’s get to the nitty grit. The story of Atif Myers, or “The Beast-Man Cometh”
In a time before jeans, when men roamed the earth with nothing but a mane of pubic hair to keep their legs warm, there was a man. Some said this man wrestled a cheetah to the ground, others insist it was a newborn cheetah cub that was still blind from infancy. One thing was for certain, there were cheetah drumlets for dinner once he’d laid the beast down. Who was this creature-man? To explain him we must peek through the beard of Zeus and tip toe past the childlike smile that whispers “Cinnamon.” Let me tell you how I came to know, befriend and ultimately encase in Carbonate… Atif Myers. I was walking through “the town” and was accosted by some hooligans set to make trouble. I was surrounded and without money, this meant an execution. As the circled swinging various sharp things I heard the battle cry that still rings out like thunder in my memory “No, you black son of a b*tch!” On the biggest mutant chicken I’d ever seen was a man whose beard completely clothed him. This was a hot day and the dew made it glisten so. He looked me in the eye and then pulled out a gigantic gun and starting pumping round after round into those evil doers eyes and faces. With each shot he laughed harder and harder, oh how his beard shook. I was of course soaked in urination because he didn’t appear to aim, just fire madly with his eyes closing from the laughter. But only one shot caught me in the genitals. Don’t worry, I’ve got the other one, I’m good. After he’d sent them back to “rapequarters”, which I’m pretty sure was his version of hell, he invited me to come ride the mutant chicken and he’d drop me off where it was safe. But I had no home, I would be safer to stay with him… and his big ass gun. He never seemed to eat, I only saw him chew the ends of his beard and stare angrily towards the sun. He told me that the sun taunted him and called him names. He used to swear at it for hours on end and try to throw things at it. I chalked most of that up to dementia from the heat. With a beard like that he must have been in a 130 room at all times. That will make you go crazy. But he saved my life, I’d be sane enough for the both of us. After a few months he told me he wasn’t black. He’d said the “N” word so much that I just assumed he was, after that news I asked him to refrain from using it unless the rap lyrics specifically asked for it. He agreed, and shot his own leg to say he was sorry. Atif never changed clothes, and to be honest I’m not sure if he ever had clothes on in that beard bubble. I thought I saw a sleeve to shirt, but then he pulled on it and it was a ribbon from somebody’s Christmas. There was no telling when it made it’s way into the beard, or how long it had been trying to work it’s way out. Since he was not Christian he pulled it out and stepped on it. But when he did the dance of pivoting on the balls of his feet to laugh at stepping on it, something happened. I saw a tear from the beard… I mean his eye. He was sorry; that was the day I realized there was something else under that beard… a heart. The only time I heard him lie when was I told him about my old Duck Hunt score and he said “Oh… oh yeah, well… I got a perfect score in Duck Hunt the first time I ever played it.” That’s impossible, but I still respected him. He was my hero. Why did I betray him you be asking… well, as with all great stories it was out of fear. Because of his great accomplishments I feared that one day he might destroy the world, he certainly had the power to do so in just his left nipple. So one morning while sharpening his nipples with an arrow I came from behind and blew his brains straight through his skull. I was heartbroken about killing my idol. I cooked up a good steak and took a walk while his body chilled in my freezer. There was only one solution, I gathered up all the bits of brain and skull and put them back in his skull. Oh, I threw up quite a bit that day, especially when the bowels released. But after all the gizzards and “what not” were back in, I sewed that b*tch back up and he was almost good as new. To this day there is no way to bring a corpse back to like but that is the day he’ll open his eyes and escape from “rapequarters.” I hope that when they bring that Frankenstein monster of a man back to life I can look him in the eyes and whisper “you did this to you.” Then blow my brains out all over him and embrace Satan in the long semen soaked clench of death.
Whew, that took a morbid turn huh? No matter, Atif now I don’t feel sorry anymore. I want a story like that to be whittled onto my grave someday. You’re welcome.
Everyone have a great freakend and if I don’t see you… I’ll see you.
Peaces
And with that plug for the weekend, let’s get to the nitty grit. The story of Atif Myers, or “The Beast-Man Cometh”
In a time before jeans, when men roamed the earth with nothing but a mane of pubic hair to keep their legs warm, there was a man. Some said this man wrestled a cheetah to the ground, others insist it was a newborn cheetah cub that was still blind from infancy. One thing was for certain, there were cheetah drumlets for dinner once he’d laid the beast down. Who was this creature-man? To explain him we must peek through the beard of Zeus and tip toe past the childlike smile that whispers “Cinnamon.” Let me tell you how I came to know, befriend and ultimately encase in Carbonate… Atif Myers. I was walking through “the town” and was accosted by some hooligans set to make trouble. I was surrounded and without money, this meant an execution. As the circled swinging various sharp things I heard the battle cry that still rings out like thunder in my memory “No, you black son of a b*tch!” On the biggest mutant chicken I’d ever seen was a man whose beard completely clothed him. This was a hot day and the dew made it glisten so. He looked me in the eye and then pulled out a gigantic gun and starting pumping round after round into those evil doers eyes and faces. With each shot he laughed harder and harder, oh how his beard shook. I was of course soaked in urination because he didn’t appear to aim, just fire madly with his eyes closing from the laughter. But only one shot caught me in the genitals. Don’t worry, I’ve got the other one, I’m good. After he’d sent them back to “rapequarters”, which I’m pretty sure was his version of hell, he invited me to come ride the mutant chicken and he’d drop me off where it was safe. But I had no home, I would be safer to stay with him… and his big ass gun. He never seemed to eat, I only saw him chew the ends of his beard and stare angrily towards the sun. He told me that the sun taunted him and called him names. He used to swear at it for hours on end and try to throw things at it. I chalked most of that up to dementia from the heat. With a beard like that he must have been in a 130 room at all times. That will make you go crazy. But he saved my life, I’d be sane enough for the both of us. After a few months he told me he wasn’t black. He’d said the “N” word so much that I just assumed he was, after that news I asked him to refrain from using it unless the rap lyrics specifically asked for it. He agreed, and shot his own leg to say he was sorry. Atif never changed clothes, and to be honest I’m not sure if he ever had clothes on in that beard bubble. I thought I saw a sleeve to shirt, but then he pulled on it and it was a ribbon from somebody’s Christmas. There was no telling when it made it’s way into the beard, or how long it had been trying to work it’s way out. Since he was not Christian he pulled it out and stepped on it. But when he did the dance of pivoting on the balls of his feet to laugh at stepping on it, something happened. I saw a tear from the beard… I mean his eye. He was sorry; that was the day I realized there was something else under that beard… a heart. The only time I heard him lie when was I told him about my old Duck Hunt score and he said “Oh… oh yeah, well… I got a perfect score in Duck Hunt the first time I ever played it.” That’s impossible, but I still respected him. He was my hero. Why did I betray him you be asking… well, as with all great stories it was out of fear. Because of his great accomplishments I feared that one day he might destroy the world, he certainly had the power to do so in just his left nipple. So one morning while sharpening his nipples with an arrow I came from behind and blew his brains straight through his skull. I was heartbroken about killing my idol. I cooked up a good steak and took a walk while his body chilled in my freezer. There was only one solution, I gathered up all the bits of brain and skull and put them back in his skull. Oh, I threw up quite a bit that day, especially when the bowels released. But after all the gizzards and “what not” were back in, I sewed that b*tch back up and he was almost good as new. To this day there is no way to bring a corpse back to like but that is the day he’ll open his eyes and escape from “rapequarters.” I hope that when they bring that Frankenstein monster of a man back to life I can look him in the eyes and whisper “you did this to you.” Then blow my brains out all over him and embrace Satan in the long semen soaked clench of death.
Whew, that took a morbid turn huh? No matter, Atif now I don’t feel sorry anymore. I want a story like that to be whittled onto my grave someday. You’re welcome.
Everyone have a great freakend and if I don’t see you… I’ll see you.
Peaces
3 comments:
"the beard of Zeus and tip toe past the childlike smile that whispers 'Cinnamon.'"
Boo sir, butter. G'day.
And a boo butter to you too good sir. Boo butter for everyone!
Boo Butter. I loved that story of my life. I envisioned me as capatain caveman for some reason.
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