I’ll Give Em a Jolly Rodger

by Balls Malone

If I was a pirate captain in the days of yore, I would name my ship “Forcible Sodomy.” However, I’d only sodomize the captives that looked disappointed when I told them the name is strictly metaphorical. And even then I’d be gentle and use lots and lots of whatever was the best lubricant in those days, because even piracy should have its limits.

Enough is Enough With This Guy

by Balls Malone

Okay, you know what?

Fuck you, Quaker Oats Man! Fuck you and your little self-satisfied, twinkle-eyed, shit-eating smirk. Fuck your stupid neckerchief and your puffy, dandy hair, you goddamned chubby-cheeked sack of shit. What are you anyway, some kind of nineteenth century pimp?

Don’t fuck your hat, though. I’ll give you this one: your hat is pretty cool. For a pimp.

You think you’re real fucking special, don’t you? What the fuck are you smirking about, anyway? Like you got some real secret, special info, or some shit. What could you possibly know about oats that anyone would give a fuck to know? Nothing, that’s what.

Your only fucking secret is that you’re balls deep into farm animals every night of the week. Raper Oats, more like it.

And what the fuck does your stupid religion have to do with anything? I have no interest in knowing what religion the guy providing my breakfast food practices. I’ll eat your goddamned oatmeal, sure, but you can take Quakerism and shove it up your ass with whatever else you put up there for your jollies.

So, in short: fuck you, Quaker Oats Man. Fuck you.

Hitchhiking

by Balls Malone

She’d have been a very big woman even if she weren’t fat, and she and Mr. Christie had definitely been around the block more than once. She lay there, like a manatee in a Walmart negligee and then slowly, teasingly, pulled her knees wide open.

Her cunt was huge, shaved, and wet. I got right to it. It glistened before me like a big plate of thickly sliced Virginia ham, all layered up. I never even knew her name.

Marvelous.

My New Spirit Anus

by Balls Malone

While inspecting high definition photos of gorgeous, dead-eyed, Slavic women showing off their shaved anuses (it’s so hard not to when online these days, isn’t it?), I had a kind of out-of-body experience where it felt like I became this woman’s anus in an emotional sense. My soul was now her anus and her anus was now my soul, and the madness in her eyes was the howling abyss that my anus soul was adrift utterly alone in. It’s like in quantum physics where you can’t observe something without changing it and it changing you all on a quantum level.

And now I have a spirit anus. Fuck.

The Cowboy

by Balls Malone

The Cowboy looked down from atop his magnificent steed at the pretty young woman and the three rough looking men who surrounded her.

“Trouble Sally?” he asked in his smooth baritone.

“Jaundice, these men are–” Sally started before she was interrupted as one of the men stepped behind her, clamped his hand over her near-legendary mouth, and drew a huge Bowie knife to wave in front of her dewy eyes. As if of one mind, the other two bandits stepped between her and Jaundice.

“There aint nothing here for ya, mister, less you be lookin for trouble,” said the lankiest of them, with his hand poised over his low-slung pistol like a rattlesnake with five heads and no tail.

“Why, I like trouble,” Jaundice replied, “almost as much as I like sucking shit from your mother’s asshole.”

Puzzled by the inherent wittiness of Jaundice’s retort, all three of the men paused, blinking stupidly at each other. This was all the time Jaundice needed.

With the lightning speed of a man born to action, Jaundice drew his double barreled shotgun from its saddle holster and brought it down hard on the lead brigand’s head, who fell as though struck by a shotgun wielded by God himself. Jaundice continued the natural motion of his swing until it was pointed at the second villain, and he discharged both barrels into his face at a range of less than a foot. Then, trusting in the inherent stupidity of all villains in westerns, Jaundice swung his leg over his mount and slid from the saddle, tossing his empty shotgun to Sally’s captor with a smooth call of “catch!” The man did not disappoint, and dropped his buxom human shield in order to grab the still smoking weapon. Jaundice drew his pistol and shot him right between the eyes.

Sally was by no means any less attractive now that she was covered in the remains of two men’s heads, including the almost complete scalp of the shotgun victim, which dangled jauntily from her bonnet. She ran up to her savior and buried her face in his chest, comforting herself with his manly musk.

“Oh Jaundice! I thought for sure they were going to… well… you know,” she finally managed.

“Now, now, Sally, I’m sure that would only be a mite less tolerable than you’re used to,” The Cowboy answered with a wry grin. Before she could respond indignantly to this, he pushed her to arm’s length. “Don’t get your bloomers in a bunch, Sally. I’m just sassing.”

Jaundice swiveled his steely gaze from her quivering face to the first villain he had struck over the head, who was beginning to come around.

“Why, I reckon I’m going to teach this varmint a lesson he’ll never forget!” Jaundice exclaimed.

He and Sally proceeded to strip the man naked. They tethered him wrists and ankles with rawhide and stakes, face up and spread eagle over a round boulder in the small of his back. Jaundice then commenced to sodomizing him vigorously, face to face, pausing in this only to beat him about the body with brutal punches from his iron-hard fists. Sally, fine lady that she was, helped Jaundice along by massaging his ass and balls from behind as she averted her eyes from the spectacle.

The Cowboy ejaculated inside the villain, who was rendered quite speechless by the manly display he had been treated to. Jaundice and Sally took their time with the next stage. They lit a small fire under the villain’s genitals and slow roasted them good and proper. After waiting for him to pipe down a bit, they cut off his eyelids and left him as he was, staring up at the noonday sun with eyes frying in his head. They rode off together with his screams still echoing in the canyon around them.

It was a good day for Justice.