HALLOWEEN POETRY- THE SWINGER

Swing me to the moon-
maybe grab a star-
I'm a freak and I love it-
I don't need a car.
My mind says it will take me-
anywhere I please-
my face looks like a meat cake
and my breath smells just like cheese.
Some would call me tasty-
others find me vile-
I like to think I'm golden
underneath this putrid pile.
Flesh won't make a difference-
I'm happy as can be-
that's why every night I'm out here-
swinging from this tree.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- BEZZLE AND OOZI

I had tried everything from dating services to crags list with the hopes of meeting my dream girl. None had worked and I was beginning to think the secret to finding true love was going to be one that stayed well kept. That is, away from me. I would have never thought the answer was so simple. One day, while grocery shopping, I was standing in the produce section and down the aisle walked the most beautiful woman that my eyes had ever set upon. We played a friendly game of bumper carts and that was all she wrote.

I knew from the first minute that we met she was the one I had been searching for my whole life.

The relationship seemed to progress near perfect for about a month. I say near perfect because.... well, there was one thing that I found peculiar. We were always hanging at my place or meeting somewhere. We never went to her place. She said that she had one. But whenever the subject came up she uttered something about a crazy roommate and changed the subject. Days would go by without a word said on the matter. But it just always kept coming back up again. I confronted her about it head on one night. In the end all was revealed and it wasn't anything like what I had thought to be the case. She had kids and she was too embarrassed to tell me. I just had to laugh at that. I was running scenarios far worse than that around in my head.

We talked, then laughed, then kissed. The conversation turned out so festive she said that I absolutely had to come home with her right now and meet the kids. This got such a laugh out of me I nearly sharted my pants. Thankfully, I didn't.

When we got to her place she started to get nervous again for some reason.

"I'm worried that you will not understand," she said.

I put my arms around her and pulled her close.

"I love kids!" I said, with more relish than a hot dog at a ball game.

That got the biggest smile from her that I had ever seen.

She opened the door and when we stepped inside the first thing I smelled was the most putrid and intense fecal matter stink I had ever been exposed to. I mean, damn.... I had a friends kid shit on me once. That was nothing compared to this. I almost vomited, but I really wanted this meeting to be a good one.

"Let me see the little monsters!" I yelled.

This caused her to start crying and she pulled away from me as the door slammed shut.

I looked around for a second but then I had to squint my eyes because the shit smell was making them water.

There was a scuffling over on the floor. I walked in the living room, and even though my eyes were only barely open I could make out a few things-

-the walls were covered with-

something dark.

Shit?

Blood?

Both, maybe?

I tried to open them a little wider but it was hard. I was blinded for a second and then I nearly tripped over something-

-a loud noise!

Was that a firetruck?

A siren was going off in the room.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I forced my eyes open. No matter how painful it was I was going to see-

-something-

What the-?!

The television was on-

-it looked like there was some kind of horror movie on the screen-

I saw deformed flesh-

-I heard growling-

-then blood and screaming!

What the hell were they watching?!

A hand grabbed my leg-

I looked down-

it looked more like a claw-

I saw a face-

a green face!

It was cackling-

a demon laugh from Hell!

I felt her hand on my back as she came up behind me.

"These are my little monsters," she said.

Her voice oozed pride. Just as the faces of her kids oozed fluids. They were both green, with cracked flesh. Eyes that were way too big for the tiny skulls and sockets that held them. Their clothes were so filthy they looked as if they had been wearing them for a year.

One of them walked right up to me and rubbed its claw on my leg.

"Eggs!" It yelled with hideous glee.

As the little creature continued to scratch its claw across my leg the other one rolled over on its head and stuck its ass in the air. I felt blood on my legs from the scratching, but I was too transfixed to do anything about it.

The other thing spread its ass cheeks apart with its fingers and let loose the most horrific sounding fart I had ever heard in my entire life. With its cheeks thrust as high up as they could go the fart emitted leakage that began to spray all over the floor and wall. I was both horrified and in awe of this spectacle.

"This little guy is Oozi," She said.


I had met the woman of my dreams and these were her kids. If I wanted this relationship to work I would have to love them. As of this moment that seemed impossible.

I looked over at her and whimpered.

She was beaming with obvious pride.

"What did you do, have sex with the devil?" I squeezed through my lips, though they were pressed as tight as a tourniquet.

She laughed. It was the same demonic cackling that her kids had.

"How did you know?"

I was floored.

All their laughs amplified as they echoed in my brain. I reached down and touched the one who had been petting my legs on its head.

"Good boy," I said.

I was trying to be nice. But I really was uncomfortable. I felt as if I were petting a rabid animal.

The baby thing made a gurgling sound and then banged both its claws on my legs.

"Eggs!" It yelled again.

She slipped her arm around my waist.

"He likes you," she said.

"Ya think?" I stammered.

"Oh yes," she said,"He rarely takes to anyone. But he adores you. A mother knows these things."

I could not help but laugh at this.

Pretty soon we were all laughing.

"I'm glad you met them," she said with relief.

She bent down and picked the one clawing my legs up in her arms.

"He's my oldest. Bezzle."

She cooed into its ear.

"Bezzle meet Steven. Steven-"

She turned towards me and held the thing out as if she expected me to take it. It was covered with vomit and feces. The thought of even touching it seemed about as enticing as bathing in its fluids to me.

"-Meet Bezzle."

"He's so cute," She said, as she continued to push it towards me.

I was trying to work up my nerve to hold it.

"Yeah, he's...."

I choked back my vomit.

"-Adorable."

I looked at the two of them and tried to see a resemblance. There was none that I could see.

"He must take after his father," I gulped as I took him in my arms.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- MY FEET

Check out my feet-
with cuts and rot-
they may not be pretty
but they're all I got-
bow to my filth
and lick my toes-
gets my heart pumping-
juice filled flows.
A tongue to the ankle-
straight across bone-
really gets me going
in the horny feet zone-
blood on your lips-
rubbing with paws-
whether straight on flesh
or felt through gauze-
adoration required-
like carnivores dig meat-
I need you to come over
and make love to my feet.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- SUSHI SNACK TIME

The sushi that was supposed to be my lunch quivered, then oozed over the plate. I should have jumped up from the table and ran. At least my good sense told me so. But when you walk into a sushi buffet and find your meal coming to life, well... good sense seems like such a distant possibility. Besides, my fright and confusion had me glued to the seat.

I wasn't going anywhere.

I looked around the restaurant expecting to see a horror show beyond my own. All I saw were people eating and having conversation. From this sight I was able to deduce a horrific thought. I was the only one who had bothered with the sushi.

Frozen to my seat, I looked back down at the plate. The grains of rice all around the sides of what had been some kind of raw fish sharpened and now resembled tiny nails. The fishy smelling jelly in the middle of these rice nails looked as if it were morphing into something much larger. When I picked it from the buffet line it looked to be about the size of an eye socket. It was now ever widening like a maw opening in anticipation of snack time.

Rice flew from the center of the mouth piece and when they smashed me in the face they left dents in my skin.

Teeth rose up from gums dripping with what I had thought to be sriracha sauce.

Now I knew better.

It was saliva.

I was too scared to move.

It was time to die.

The teeth sank into my flesh and I felt warm all over.

The jellied saliva invaded the wound on my face.

Though I was hardly able to smile, somewhere deep down inside of me I felt one coming on. For I was amused. My sushi had become a predatory diner and I had become its lunch. This kind of fucked up my head, along with my day.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- PUMPKIN MAN

My sword is long-
sharp with steel.
I live to cut-
it's what I feel.
Kneel before me-
an offering nice.
Through the neck-
I begin to slice-
juices running-
like drink from can-
slicing the veins
of a pumpkin man.
Lips on tap-
like slurping beer-
keeps me drunk-
until next year.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- HAPPY TEARS

The old lady in the fall out shelter opened the book to page one and looked down at the children.

"Are you ready for another dose of the happily ever after?" She beamed.

There was no response.

The woman paused-
then began to read.

Just a few words in she had to stop.

A single tear escaped her eye, only to find itself trapped in the crevice made by a wrinkle on her face.

She cleared her throat-
prepared for the tears that would follow-
then continued reading-

It would be okay-
she knew this-
For these were happy tears.

As the words flowed like wine onto her drying lips she looked down at her grandchildren.
They were nothing but bones now-
having been picked by her of all their meat and flesh.

Life after the nuclear holocaust had been much better than she could ever have imagined-
though now
she was the only one left in the shelter-
and she wasn't sure how long she could ignore the rumblings of hunger.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- LOVE ME A LATTE

Starbucks, Starbucks-
coffee cup-
burns so hot-
I drink it up.
Need a lift
of caffeine stat-
instead got acid
from a boiling vat.
First scorched lips
fell from my face-
I longer resemble
the human race-
burned my mouth-
like flesh on sun-
down my throat-
didn't seem much fun.
All my organs-
curdled with spew-
I melted from man
right into goo.
If you see me oozing-
don't be a hater-
I hope someone comes along
and drinks me later.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- THE EVIL PUMPKIN

There's a pumpkin on the block
with a candle in its hole-
hasn't yet been lighted-
so the pumpkin has no soul-
but when the fires lit
and the night it comes to pass-
the pumpkin will be human-
even though it has no ass.
So stay upon the sidewalk-
you can look, but never feel-
this pumpkin it is evil-
those close become a meal.
Just let it glow the night-
in hallowed pumpkin fest-
then November first, implosion-
as it rots with all the rest.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- WARMEST WISHES AND GUT FILLED DISHES

Pumpkins are carved-
the wounds are all fresh.
Halloween is coming-
there are bumps on my flesh-
ghoulies and goblins-
to race through the street-
decapitated heads
will fall down to feet.
The moon will be bleeding-
drenching crimson on sky-
clouds making shapes-
like monsters that fly-
it's all Hallows eve-
who could want more?
When Thanksgiving comes
we'll have plates full of gore.
Then Christmas time hits
like a hammer on head.
Santa claws cutting-
flesh living and dead-
then fill up the chalice
as we rock New Years Eve-
let go of the malice
like a drunken spewed heave.
The time now has come
as another year passed-
all of us sicko's-
we had such a blast.
It's months upon months
of new days and starts-
and leftovers simmering
to warm stomachs and hearts.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- MAKER BAKER

Baker baker-
make me bread-
drenched with blood from all the dead-
a perfect feast-
like cake and tea-
as all their powers
ooze into me.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- THE HUNGRY HOUSE

The house sat on the hill after gorging on the family of five.
When it belched it drew smoke from the chimney-
carrying the stench of death up into the clouds.
Its digestive juices cleansed the stains from all floors and walls-
making it seem new again.
New-
because it was.
The house was ready for a new family to move in-
it was hungry.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- JOE'S GIRL

Joseph had a girl
she was always talking back
he'd hit her in the stomach
give her face a little smack.
Until one day he stabbed her-
put a knife into her gut-
she had laughed at his penis
but he showed that stupid slut-
or did she show him?
'Cuz the girl had not a care-
she was only blown up
and now had lost her air.
So Joseph was alone-
he cried because he missed her-
he fucked the crumpled plastic-
gave his dick a fatty blister.
Now he's more pathetic-
can you imagine that?
He no longer has a blow up girl
'cuz she's been made all flat

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- CIRCUS CIRCUS

In the beginning there was a young boy yearning for stardom as part of a circus act.

In the end there was only a knife thrower who missed his target.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- THE BLIND MAN TAKES A PEEK

The blind man watched the neighborhood children from his window.

They had no reason to fear him-
they didn't know he could see-
and he liked what he saw-
perhaps-
a little too much.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- IF I HAD A HAMMER

This hammer is new-
can I use it on you?
I'll put holes in your face- 
but your brain stays in place.

HALLOWEEN POETRY- DARK WISHES

Fun in the sun-
sun in the park-
my flesh is so scorched
how I wish it were dark.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLIVE BARKER

Happy Birthday to one of the true masters of Horror and one of our all time favorite writers here at the Deadbydawn blog page!

Mr. Clive Barker!

From the Gitche Manitou and Filthy Regan-
Hope your day is a special one, good sir.

 

 

HALLOWEEN POETRY- LET'S MAKE A BABY

 

Let's make a baby-
like a baker and bread-
eyes that are gum drops-
with a potato head.
When it cries too much
we can throw it in a bowl-
grind it like paste-
then put the bones in a hole.
Shit on the remains-
while a prayer is said-
then grow it like a plant-
in a skeleton bed.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- YUM YUM

There is poop in the straw sewn to my lips.

 

 

MANITOU IS WHAT WOMEN WANT AND FILTHY REGAN'S GOT ME

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- WE ARE WHAT YOU EAT

The children smiled in their beds when they smelled the burning flesh.

It meant they had been spared their fathers ravenous appetite.

Mother was on the menu tonight.

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- TWO SENTENCE TALES

Here are  10  two sentence horror tales-
and even 1  that is only a single sentence-

to help get you in the mood for Halloween!

*

There is a monster calling my name. I won't answer though because I really need to stop talking to myself.


**


Regan spider walked the stairs. Father Karras wasn't so graceful.


***


The serpent plague split the clouds. Winged death had arrived.


****


My anus is bleeding. Think I'll go for a stroll and leave my mark.


*****


There is something moving in the water. I wish I had a boat.


******

I smile heartily south of my feet. Hell is my hometown.


*******


There I was killed instantly. Somebody else is writing this.


********


I have killed people before. I will kill people again.


*********

 The monster underneath my bed is gone. Eaten by the monster in my closet.


**********


 They talk a lot. I love silence and collect tongues.


***********


You will die after reading this sentence.

The Queen of Filth

The Queen of Filth

The Queen of Filth is what I am
With my filthy frightgown
I ain’t into glam
Just give me a bowl

filled with soup of pea
And I’ll do a back-bend

and puke will flow like the sea
My skin is crusted

full of sores that ooze
My frock filled with stains

of yellow and green hues
Beauty at its finest
“Hideous” Did I hear you say?
Just look into my eyes!

and soon YOU will be rotted and gray!

SLICES OF HALLOWEEN- THE HUNGRY BUS DRIVER

The children had run from the bus and were now screaming in the street.

The driver laughed as he pulled the door shut and drove away-

While still chewing on the tasty flesh of the girl he had bitten.

BLOOD LUNCH OF THE MEGA SKEETERS- EPISODE TWO

*** It's time for another episode of our cheesy 1950's style horror serial Blood Lunch of the Mega Skeeters! For anyone who missed the first part here is the link-



http://deadbydawn66.blogspot.com/2014/09/blood-lunch-of-mega-skeeters-episode-one.html


Happy Halloweenie and Happy Skeetering!

Henry sat at the end of the conference table and half listened to all the chaotic jabber going around the room. The afterglow from the most glorious bowel movement he had made in all of his 57 years prevented him from scowling at some of the things people were saying.

"-Goddamn alien bugs-"

"-That woman's crazier than cow shit if you ask me-"

"-Brandy's parents should be spared such talk-"

"-Those poor kids-"

"-What do you think, Sheriff?"

The question broke his concentration and he grumbled in efforts to clear his throat as well as his thoughts.

The deputies and office help all seemed to believe this grumbling was some sort of precursor for the responses they felt obliged to getting. Their eyes turned in their sockets towards the Sheriff like ball bearings and all their lips were zipped up like flies on a pair of levis. With his thoughts still patting him on the back from a shit well done as any job he only greeted them with silence until the phone on the table rang.

"Yeah?!" He screamed into the mouth piece.

As he listened to the voice on the other end everyone looked all around the table at each other. With nothing to go on but copious uh-huh's and really now's on the Sheriff's end of the conversation they all seemed to grow bored of this and as he eased the phone back into it's cradle their stares all stopped on him.

He met each and every one of these stares with not so much as a sound. Though he was the one who had just gotten off the phone it was almost as if his expression were inquiring theirs.

Sheriff Lewis again cleared his throat, much softer this time, and spoke.

"That was the morgue," was all he could manage to get out before the chaos erupted again.

Words were flying so fast and furious that they were incomprehensible.

The Sheriff banged both of his fists on the table and yelled for everyone to be silent.

As he did so the final words out of his mouth seemed to coincide with Deputy Roy Pugh's question.

"What did he say?"

The room grew so quiet that if a gnat had farted the echo would sound like a bomb blast.

"What killed those kids, Sheriff?" Someone else chimed in before he could answer.

Henry Lee Lewis had seen a lot of crazy shit in both his professional and personal life experiences. Somehow none of it seemed to compare with what he was just told.

"He's still got more tests to run-"

The pause in his voice was enough to slaughter curiosity all around the room as if it were a group of heads ripe for decapitation. He gulped like it was his own head now ready for the chopping block before he spoke again.

"Man said that it looked like they had all been bitten by skeeters-"

The looks on all the faces around the room were of puzzlement.

"-Big ones."


*

 “Big ones?”  One ruddy faced man with a very wide bumpy nose inquired.

“There’s some reason I think yer BIG ONES exceeds the norm of big skeeters anyone round here’s used to seeing…”

Henry looked around the room and wondered what was happening to the so called human race. Such a display of flesh and stains...

“Okay, like I said testing is still being done here. If there is some larger than normal skeeters flying around, then I would suggest everyone try to be inside by sunset.”

A woman with one big curler hanging off the side of her head shouted, “Wonder if some of those anti- bug sprays would work to keep them away from us?” As she shook her finger in the air.

"Maybe a goverment fog truck, eh?"

No one seemed to pay attention to what she said.

The room suddenly filled with a thick shit smell; causing some people to start waving in the air with some ewwwwws, and what’s that smell? 

One guy in heavily used unwashed coveralls even looked at the bottom of his shoes slowly, one by one.  

Someone shouted “Who Farted?”

No one fessed up, but one hefty woman in a bursting tube top was studying her fingernails seemingly oblivious…

“Never mind the smell people!!! What else did the guy at the morgue say?” Some man in the back shouted.

Sheriff Lewis knew he had to proceed with caution. Giving too much information could cause a panic, but giving too little could cause harm too.

"Look we have very limited information. He really didn't say much else than they seem to be big skeeters. Let's figure out what the plan is to protect ourselves from any further attacks. I need to make some phone calls. Please everyone, go back home." 

He realized that he was sounding ridiculous and needed to try harder.

"I need to get together with the other authorities now and prepare the press release. Please everyone, get back home and keep yourselves and your families inside. Keep the TV on a local channel and there will be more information forthcoming." 

He was pretty proud of himself for that statement...

Suddenly he felt a hard slap on his face that he didn't see coming. 

"Sheriff, how dare you! You're talkin' to us like we are imbeciles! GIVE US MORE INFORMATION DAMN IT!!!" 

The perpetrator - a pretty woman with a blonde up-do and a tight red plunging shirt yelled in his face.

Lewis found himself wide eyed and looking down at the woman’s jiggling breasts rather than at her eyes and was presented with another slap…only this one was almost playful; or was he just dreaming....

“Sheriff”, the jiggling red shirt said, “Tell us everything you know, NOW!”

"Now I've told you everything. Go home now and wait for further communication that you all will get. Oh and, all family members of the deceased, please report to the conference room at the end of the North hallway."

With that he turned on his heel and darted out of the room. He was dumbfounded and just wished he could crumple up this day and throw it in the trash.

HALLOWEEN POETRY

Freaks are off the leash-
let's roam in the pen-
we'll drink from a pumpkin-
then toast up again-
blood on the bricks
means cleaning the streets-
tricking means sicking-
as we're trolling for treats.
The weather has broken-
now breeze has the floor-
so put on your costume
and revel in gore-
there's no way to stop us-
like a bus or a train-
you can try and mop us-
but the answers so plain.
Written in blood-
like we're scrawling on flesh-
Happy Halloween to ghoulies-
both rancid and fresh!

HARVESTS HEAVE INTO HALLOWS HOLE

The cool air softly sings a spooky lullaby
that wades through the trees-
and jars the leaves from their perch-
sending them toward the earth.


The sun drops down-
like a fallen warrior
on bended knee-
defeated by a victorious ink stained sky.


The decorations-
now hanging like bodies
swinging from the end of a rope
held in the fingers of all Hallows Eve.


It is officially the greatest time of year-
let the celebration begin.

BLOOD LUNCH OF THE MEGA SKEETERS- EPISODE ONE

Greetings all you sickos! Manitou and Regan have been cooking up evil in the physical world so that explains why there has been a lack of attention given to the blogging world. Want good news though? Halloweenie is coming!!!!!!!!!! Want even better news? This of course means that we will be blogging more regularly around here. We'll be cooking up lots of fetid word mess for you to delight and fright in. Our friend, Ben the Rat blogger, will also be posting new blogs finally as well. We hope that you will tell all your filthy friends about us and send them over here so we can all be disgusting together and revel in the majestic mire that is Halloweenie and then some! In case you were unaware we also have a Twitter page. Come on over and follow us. Don't get too close though because you might get some bodily fluids all over you. Here is the link to our Twitter page-


https://twitter.com/ManitouandRegan


For those wishing to keep up with Manitou and Regan outside of the horror scene you can visit their regular blog pages-


http://filthyregan.blogspot.com/


http://thatmanitouguy.blogspot.com/



Also, check out Manitou aka BungleGrind on Twitter at-



https://twitter.com/bunglegrind



In celebration of the coming Halloweenie of Horrors we are going to start up a new feature here. Manitou and Regan are doing a serial. It's in the spirit of all those gooey 1950's B-movie classics and it's called "Blood Lunch of the Mega Skeeters." Each of us will contribute a part and then we will post both parts together, as sort of a chapter. Each new chapter will have the links to the past posts, so there will be no excuse not to keep up with us! Here is the first chapter that features both of our parts. Hope you all enjoy it!

 Most of the people standing around waved the air in front of their nostrils and gagged. This had everything to do with the stench and nothing to do with the intense desert heat. After all, this was Arizona in July and these people knew what it was like to be hot.

The bodies had been found just a few hours ago, and despite the paltry remains having been taken away the air still reeked of feces and death something fierce. Sheriff Henry Lee Lewis could care less about either the death or the smell of shit. He was used to both. In fact, he had just wolfed down one of those burritos off that truck that usually sat in front of the station and taking a shit was something on his to do in the very near future before he crapped his own self list. First though he had to clear out the scene near the mountain, on the corner of Yorkshire and 39th, that looked to be multiplying.

He despised these headline craving vultures of the media. Almost as much as he hated the planes that had recently been clouding up his formerly clear blue skies.

"Goddamn sons a' bitches!"

His thoughts somehow ended up on his tongue. The chaos around him prevented anyone from either hearing or caring. Saturday morning in Glendale had given these people something much more unsettling to deal with. Murders. Lot's of 'em.

*

What had happened exactly?  That was yet to be determined.  But the mass of bodies that had to be cleared away was unlike anything Henry had ever encountered.  They were mutilated and pretty much shriveled.  He knew people would want answers, and quick.  He’d be heading over to the local morgue to check on them later.

As he walked down the street shaking his head towards the chaos, a floral housecoat swathed stout woman in furry white slippers took little quick steps towards him waving her arms “Sheriff Sheriff!!” 

She yelled in a screechy voice and then stood directly in front of him. 

He could smell baby powder wafting all around her and a hint of something sour on her breath and she heavily panted in his face – he hated when people got too damn close. 

“Yes, ma’am if you’ll please step aside and allow me to...”

“Please listen to me, Mr. Sheriff!! I saw what happened, I did!!!  I saw it out my window!  There were so many of them!!! Some kind of bug alien I say!!!  They attacked these poor people...oh my God that poor little girl Brandy!!  Screaming like a...like a...well, I don’t know.  It was unlike anything I’ve ever heard...” 

The frantic woman’s voice almost became a whisper at the end of her sentence, and she crossed her chubby arms over her large bosom and looked down at the ground, suddenly silent. 

Henry realized she started to weep.  He also noticed how her fingers looked like the delicious bulging sausages he ate yesterday.

“Oh, now now ma’am; you just take it easy.  We’ll talk in a little while and you can tell me everything,”  He said, as he tentatively placed a hand on her thick shoulder, and gently pushed her aside as he continued to make his way towards the chattering crowd. 

He looked up and saw a black helicopter.  Why the fuck would the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) be here? He thought to himself.

RAT IN WINTER 2011- THE YEAR OF THE RAT

***A guest blog by Ben, the Rat Blogger. Original post date 2/3/2011***

Human scum is no doubt cursing Jack Frost and old man Winter right about now. The blustery hands of glacial malaise are reaching their icicled fingertips all around the country as I blog this and stay warm and I couldn't be happier. You see, I'm a rat. I hate humans. In fact I hate you all so much that I am tickled gray with a slightest touch of pink by everything that I shall tell you here. This winter has garnered some stupid pet names. "Snowmageddon" being the most ridiculous of the bunch. When the going gets tough and things go wrong human scum try to lighten the load by applying affectionate monikers to their misery. I have never understood this but I have never understood humans..... so there you go.

It's confession time for me and tones of enlightenment shall ring in the ears of all you sacks of meat filling that disguise yourself with a superficial pie crust called flesh. Heavy emphasis on the word crust there by the way. You can all disperse with the silly pet names that you are compiling to cuddle what is really happening. Your shrubbery is dying and your nobby pea parts are recoiling from shrinkage because this is the year of the Rat.

On February second of each year the vain and veiny population gets all excited with the appearence of a great prophet who will supposedly be the missing link between whether the winter will soon end or drag on for much longer than considered necessary to races besides Eskimos. What many of you may or may not know is that these prophets are actually of the rodent family. The rodent family is very large and includes the usual suspects Rats and mice, along with such pussyfied little wanna-be's as squirrels and chipmunks and.... yes, your beloved groundhog.

You can cease gasping and rest easy though as besides some genetic similarities that garner a text book definition, these grossly overweight prophets of yours have nothing to do with the filth and the majesty that is Rattus Maximus. Rats are truest and purest filth at its most magnificent. Whereas groundhogs are merely fat slobs that drink way too much wood cider and stuff their faces with bugs,nuts and berries. They have been hailed as celebrities and glorified by idiotic human waste of life that has taken to giving them names like Woody the woodchuck, Balzac Billy, Buckeye Chuck, and the silliest and most pathetic of all.... Gus.

Human existence is empty and they desperately scramble to fill this void of soul by clinging to tales both short and tall for comfort. It started with that filthy hippie of the pre-Woodstock sandal and stone era. But as humans evolved and inbreeding became more relevant to the survival and duration of the species the natural order of things grew far more deranged. This was where legend leaned heavier onto the mythology of beasts. The Easter bunny and shit like that. Even creature/human cross breeds like leprechauns seem to be very popular in drinking areas and these days film and the internet seem to be overrun with trolls and ass goblins.

But of the animal lore celebrated by all of you wasteful want-it-alls, my distant relatives the groundhogs have been hailed as saviors of season and despite the fact that surprisingly nobody has been stupid enough to adopt one and attempt domesticating these embarassments to my race they have become somewhat of a pop culture icon. Make no mistake about it, I nor any of my sensible vermin assemblage would ever wish to be associated with something as utterly putrescent as pop culture. Where normally that which can be considered of putrescence might be held near and dear and therefore enormously appealing to a Rats tastes and tendencies, when I say that pop culture is vile this is not said with affection or revelry. In the most palpable of terms I would like to say that pop culture can lick the bung from my filthy Rat asshole.

Still, pop culture seems to have an annoying lifespan like that of a cockroach and Gus and Chuck and Woody and Billy and company are yearly heralded as being the true kings of the moment when you people wish to get your hopes up and juggle prayers to that dirty hippie with "ooohhs" and "ahhhhs" of affection driven by the stupidity of your lenient standards for cuteness.

Each year all around the country, armies of morons who feel that it's okay to be drunk as fuck in the immature hours of the day act upon their most callow whims by cheering on a slovenly hog that steps from his hole simply because he wishes to pass gas. Yes it is true folks. That is all that these creatures whom you all seem to adore so deeply are doing when their every move is being recorded and broadcasted all around your airwaves. Clouds. Sunshine. Shadows. These are all myths created by storytellers with otherwise fading memories and wilting dingleberries between their legs. When the land pig retreats from his lair all that he is hoping to accomplish is sparing his brood from the spoils of his smelly rectum. It is actually rather amusing to us all in knowing that humans are so nit-witted in believing this act of expulsion and relief is about something so absurd as the conditions of their atmosphere. You truly are the most pitiful and self-centered race of beings on this compost pile of a planet and the hullabaloo surrounding an animal fart is but one drop of confirmation in the great big toilet bowl of our existence.

The true warriors of the weather are the rats of the world. Our genetic stylings have been constructed like a filthy machine that is able to trek through climates of all extremes. Polar bears might elicit more of that "ooohh-ing" and "ahhhh-ing" thing, but we rock the cold weather like its nobodies business. In fact, to speak for a moment about polar bears, while these animals do tend to live and breed in regions far frostier than what us rats usually have to bother with, their primary method of thermal employment is a microwaved secretion that is composed from eating Eskimos and shitting them out. The technical term of usage is freezues ignitous, or as it is more commonly referred to as, "freezer burn".

Eskimos are world renowned for eating copious amounts of fish sticks as well as consuming their own feces on several occasions. The proteins that have been broken down in their waste have been converted to ice-o-topes due to the crisp temperatures of their blood and along with all of the mercury that is found in fish sticks, when a polar bear eats one of these human popsicles it coats the inner walls of their bodies with a plasmic shell that only could only thaw itself should a polar bear ever fall into a lava bath within the caverns of a volcano. Since polar bears are not normally known to inbreed and usually not found to be retarded, they are smart enough to never climb a volcano and jump into a vat of magma so this greatly aids in their freeze protected conditioning. Always so eagerly charmed by the cuteness of animals overall, and particularly these polar bears, now you can know the truth the next time you see one of these creatures and envy its adaptation to frosty conditions.

So, where was I? 

Me-me-me. The Rat. This is all about me. The winter. You see, while the polar bears are hailed for their cuteness and the winter spell is thought to be made or broken by the groundhog, the truth is that it is us Rats who are the real champions of the season here. Just because we are filth ridden with disease and therefore generally frowned upon, we have long been deprived of our rightful place in the past and modern day folklore of Winter legend.

It is not the groundhog who knows whether you will soon be basking in the rays of effervescent light or cowering in the dark as furious storms ravage your electrical sensibilities. These corpulent scoundrels have actually been polluting your air with their stinky farts. Ozone depletion. Global warming. You can save your studies and theories right now. The real culprit is the very same critter fuck that you ogle on that second day in February. Your cute and cuddly little foretelling winter beast has destroyed your atmosphere with their rabid flatulence. Meanwhile you, the moronic race of sheep shifters, screech and holler and seem rather impressed by an animal that not only means nothing to your puny lives and goose-bump ridden skin but the irony of all irony is that these animals are in fact of rodent descent and they hate you. So there.
Rats actually do know the weather though. None of you would ever realize this because you have never once thought to ask. Do keep your panties on there big boys and girls because if you did ask any of us for so much as the time or type of day we would probably lie to your face and spit at your backs. That is how we roll.

But do know this, Rats have one of the highest senses of perception known to all kind. These groundhogs you hold dear to your hearts? They will keep farting and ruining your mother earth until father time rolls off the bed and the air will reek of plague and by then it will be too late to save yourselves. In fact it is already too late, so fuck off.

If you do not believe anything that I am telling you I do have one form of proof that I can offer you techno-babies and wire tappers. The myth of the groundhog predicting Winter was actually proven false in 1997 when a man named Rasputin Bieber tried to capture video of one of your precious prairie sows named Porky Pine-nut. He held court for hours awaiting the appearance of this fat tub of furry lard and when the porkster did manage to crawl from his hole, it snuck behind a tree to hide from all of the idiots heckling him from lawn chairs and not only did he pass gas but he took a gigantic shit that resembled a mutant chinchilla. Bieber managed to film the entire movement, both vapor and solid, and he posted it on the internet before disappearing. Still, history has a way of rearing its ugly snout even if you try to smother it with an Oriental rug and so I am certain that if you search hard enough you will be able to find either the video or a rumored audio of Porky grunting before, during and afterwards.

So in case you are wondering, the score is Rats won and humans frozen. The Winter is going to cripple your feeble species this year and if you think it is ever going to get better rather than worse, just know that I have actually befriended a few of the groundhogs and me and the boys now bring them beans every February first. Snowmageddon? How about blowmageddon? As in blow it out your ass like it's groundhog day. Oooooh-zone and global wahhhhhhrming indeed you motherfuckers. Go ahead and try and stay warm by rubbing your frosty flesh and brittle bones together. I'm going to have myself a great big laugh and then take a shit and wipe it with some green toilet paper that is decorated with images of more puny humans that your kind likes to call presidents or something.