Dracula slides on by
December 20th, 2009 | 
Author: Officer Jim Sampson questioned Dracula that day on the school playground and concluded he had to cut the creepy little bastard loose.
Dracula can’t help but notice the seaweed thin booger flake waft from his right nostril onto his left index knuckle during his interview with Stone Phillips.
Dracula just adores the way lipstick emerges from the tube like a an Irish Setter’s penis by simply twisting the bottom of it.
Dracula salts his meat lovers pizza.
Dracula joins the ranks of the teabaggers, only to slip his hand down the back of their pants and slide his pinky, with it’s cocaine ready nail, up their rectums when they are otherwise distracted and pontificating on matters about which they know fuck all. They either screech with delight or surprise and Dracula hugs them into silence or unconsciousness.
Dracula cries for Argentina.
Dracula minces his words.
Dracula only ever addresses his crew with “you boys”.
Dracula takes his Corvette to Jiffy Lube and won’t leave until they wash and wax the fucker. At first they refuse, so he bares his fangs and whips out his python like penis.
Dracula really digs Blue Oyster Cult.
To avoid long lines at the supermarket, Dracula shanks the customers in front of him and piles his basket of cow tongues, frozen peas and presto logs on the black, ever forward moving conveyor. He’s sure to have his membership card in hand and all coupons at the ready.
Dracula is not above blowing a homeless dude in the park for some fresh puppy meat and a little crack.
Dracula cannot help but love the way he looks in a chiffon prom dress. A strand of pearls with matching earrings completes the effect.
Dracula shaves his chest hair only to find that his nipples are puffy and swollen and feminine.
Dracula can’t get over how magnificent his python like cock looks in maternity compression hosiery.
Dracula loves to shit himself while wearing said hosiery. He likes the way the moist wad of feces feels while he drives and the way it works it’s way down the backs of his thighs while the odor offends everyone around him as he strides boldly around malls and supermarkets.
Dracula doesn’t visit the world with a smile but he does always leave his front door with an optimistic grin. You can take that to the bank you fucking turkeys.
Dracula hates yams. He hates the flavor. He hates the texture.
Dracula loves prison. He really likes the solitude. When he gets tired of it, he just leaves. It’s good to be Dracula.
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Count Dracula is very content in his traditional circle of Luv. Me well I’ve always been ahead of the curve when it comes to creating new norms.
Soon after we left Detroit, we ended up living in a small river town on the
Grand River. It seems that the entire town, was related to one another. Or the teachers went to school with your parents, or taught your parents, way back when.
All right well Michael of Braninspank.org, has his time and date mechanism skewed, so that if I tell the story he will then possibly have copyright privelagdes to it.
The story is about how myself and two fellow teenagers, 1st hit New York city via greyhound bus, then traveled down to Florida. One was an older kid, Rick Robinson who was being abused by his step dad. Just before we left for our sojourn Rick had run away, to escape the horrilbe violent assaults from this man whom, was thought to be his father.
Immediately upon meeting Rick when I was in 6th grade, I had an attraction to him. A sort of luv bond. Somehow there was an innate understanding. For a few weeks just after the Robinson’s moved to our town I was a girlfriend to his brother Terry that was my age. These two brothers were total opposite, I was looking for the same feelings I felt for Rick to develop between Terry and myself. I was intimidated by Rick, because he was a year older than me. But, then he goes missing, there was no big deal made of it. Except I felt very empty and alone, as I searched for him. Fortunately a few friends and I, find him living in a closed YmCA summer camp, cottage facility on the Stoney Creek.
I’ll try to tell the story of we the “Three Muskateers”, on my blog at myspace.
After a joyful afternoon offending bank patrons with his shit-filled pantyhose, Dracula
wipes his ass on the decorate pillars outside.
Nice one there Tacohead 🙂