Friday, June 5, 2009
It's that time of the month...He means week! Time to recognize this week's excellence in commenting! Dor sho gha! This week's winner receives a free self-addressed, stamped envelope in which to send The Mighty Feklahr nude pictures of themselves. Let's see who won!
In the Best Dream Evar? thread:
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
If ever there was a dream that stroked the ego, it would have to be a dream about being James Bond. Not girly neo-emo James Bond, we are talking cigarette smoking, woman smacking, martini drinking, panty-dropping Bond. The fucking Alpha Male of Alpha Males.
The fucking dream could not have started any better, I cruised into this port town (some coastal European place) on my battleship-like yacht and strolled right on in to the swankiest hotel and had a drink and my hand and surrounded by naked women in three seconds flat. You see, this hotel offered a nightly "dance production" (think big stage Vegas Showgirl shit) to showcase the available women forthe evening. After the the dance number, you could mingle with them to make you selection for the night. Oh, and of course the girls are all topless and gorgeous. (Kahless, I love my fucking dreams sometimes.)
This particular dance routine had a swimming theme for it, so afterwards the girls dried off and met you in the lounge. Some fuckwad was there in scuba gear (an apparent social statement about the dance routine). A drunk Russian pulls me aside and says to me, "Look at him, he ees like homosexual cosmonaut! HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!! HA HA HA HA!!!"
Ivan was totally ruining my pussy-magnet mojo, so it was time to shut down the vodka plant. I have no idea what I said next (because it was all in Russian), but I can only imagine it was the Russian equivalent of "Let a hungry Carpathian long-haired she-wolf blow your dick, fuck!", because Ivan was fucking RUINED.
After I shot down the walking vodka bottle, I turned on the pussy radar Q gave me and went on the prowl. I was like the rooster in the hen house. I knew all I had to do was find the one I liked and she would be mine. Oddly enough, the girl I found wasn't one of the topless dancers, it was a girl working on a laptop behind a desk (an administrator for whoring?). She was an absolutely gorgeous red-head with green-eyes, an Irish-man's delight, and she was a shorty, too, 4'10" tops. I didn't even fuck around, I walked over, shut her laptop, and motioned to the VIP section of the restaurant saying simply, "You can join me for dinner over there."
She tried to act all incredulous, but it was too long before I had her on my yacht rubbing her cooter in my face. (Kahless, I love my dreams sometimes!) I had this gigantic round bed with silk sheets on my yacht, it was a ballers paradise. After the dust had settled and we were talking about life and shit like that, I heard motors of boats humming!
I jumped up wearing nothing but my boxer briefs with a kevlar crotch and opened a cabinet filled with automatic weapons and shotguns and grabbed an AK-47 (why fuck around?). I looked out a porthole to see that I was being boarded by pirates from a few small boats. These pirates were fucking hilarious, all of them had these outlandish costumes like vikings or super heroes. This is the part of the dream where I go from "Karl Hungus 007" to "N64 Goldeneye" in the flash of a 9mm.
The gun fight was ludicrous, I had 50 guys shooting at me, but the yacht had them locked out of my "secure zone", so I could run around to portholes and blow their asses away. At one point, they had me pinned down pretty good in the galley. At one point I was literally using the refrigerator for cover. Bullets are shrieking in and blasts the refrigerator door open, and literally shoot a beer into my hand and pops the top!!! (Kahless, I love my dreams sometimes, oh, and eat my ass Indiana Jones!)
When I mow their numbers down to about 20 or so, they decide to flee. However, this gigantic helicopter flies in (presumably one of my government allies), shines this big spotlight on the pirates as they are standing without cover on the deck of my yacht. Then, whoever is in the fucking helicopter just mows their asses down with machinegun fire (glad they didn't sink my boat!), it was just carnage.
After a salute to the captain of the whirly bird, I go back to my den of sin and my lusty Irish lass (who, of course, wants to toss my salad for being so awesome like John Matrix from "Commando"), and all's well that ends well.
(see if you can guess where I took Radar Love lyrics out and put Dennis Rader poetry in!)
I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel
I'll bring sexual death unto you for me.
In that small world of longing, rapture, fear
Oh, Anna Why Didn't You Appear
When she's lonely and the longing gets too much
I didn't kill your family but I admire the work.
We don't need no phone-cord at all
We've got a thing that's called Rader love
We've got a wave in the air, Rader love