Tag Archive: goscinski

“Hey Pops, check this out.”

“What is it this time Jesus?”

“See that fat dude down there in the mall food court. I’ma make his pants rip.”

“It just never gets old to you does it? You better hope your mother doesn’t find out. You know how upset she gets.”

Jesus smirked, made a quick gesture with his hand as the fat dude bent over to pick up a quarter from the floor. Sure enough the seam on the backside of his jeans ripped. God chuckled and snapped his fingers making an Emo tween drop her cellphone right behind the guy. She went down to grab the phone, and when her head was right by the guys ass Jesus coughed causing the guy to belt out a high pitched fart.

God shook his head. “Dirty one Jesus. What would your mother think?”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wanna see me make purple dildos come from the clouds?”

“Sometimes you’re so childish. More and more I regret the influence those earth people had on you. Think you’re hot shit? Watch this. See the guy sitting on the park bench eating the tuna on rye?”

God gave a little nod as a seagull flew over the guy on the bench. Bird shit splattered on his arm. He jumped up, dropped his sandwich, and looked up at the sky.

“That’s nothin’ Pops. Birds shit all the time. I’m tellin’ ya, I can make purple dildos come from the clouds. Ready.”

God watched patiently as Jesus rubbed his hands together and smiled. Clouds multiplied and huddled up over Salt Lake City. There was a crackle of thunder as the clouds started spewing purple dildos, but before they made landfall there was a flash of light and they were gone. God and Jesus immediately looked behind them to find Mary standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot.

Jesus hung his head. “Sorry mom.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it young man. Go to your room.”

Jesus quickly shuffled passed his mother while she focused her attention on God. “And you Mr. Know-it-all! You should know better!”


By Michael D. Goscinski, Assholeated Press – October 25, 2012

NEW YORK (AP) – A recent Assholeated Press survey reveals more than 80 percent of American parents who have children with Down syndrome have mistaken another child for their own.

A truth Jack Cleet of Intercourse, PA knows all too well.  “I can’t help they look alike.  I done brought my daughter Lindsay home and she done had pork and beans between her legs”, he confessed about a time he picked up the wrong child from daycare.  “I just don’t git why some hippy would let their son at four have long girlie hair.”  Though he refused to go into further details about discovering the “pork and beans between her legs” he remarked “if that was my boy, I’d be mighty proud”.

In an anonymous interview with a representative from Child Protective Services Assholeated Press learned “no laws have been broken”.  The representative told us “physical similarities such as microgenia (abnormally small chin), mongoloid fold, a flat nasal bridge and a protruding tongue protect the parents from any wrong doing”.  “It’s a simple mistake, not a crime” the representative concluded.

Despite Child Protective Services stance on the issue political groups on both sides are lobbying for the government to step in.  The ACFU believes “the children should be paid restitution by the state for their suffering” while the Teabagging Party of Idaho “wants stricter laws to determine legitimate Down syndrome from illegitimate Down syndrome” with both sides suggesting “branding” legislation.  “Something as simple as their initials branded on their wrists would dissolve the issue” a spokesperson from the ACFU told AP.

Several government officials turned down invitations from the Assholeated Press to be interviewed for this story.  Though President Obama declined to speak, Vice President Biden said “the Republicans have launched a war on mongoloids, and now it’s time to stand up and fight back like Gengis Khan and the other great mongoloid warriors from the past”.  Presidential hopeful Mitt Romney commented “I like Corky from Life Goes On.  I like Corky.  He should have won an Emmy”.

Samantha Yick of Muleshoe, Texas was “outraged” when she heard about the branding legislation.  “They ain’t foolin’ me.  They don’t care about no regular children, there ain’t no way in hell they care about disabled children.”

The Trip by Michael D. Goscinski

Eddie watched in terror as Jenna’s skin slowly slid from her face.  “You’re having a reaction.  The planet’s atmosphere is melting your skin!  We must get you to the revitalization chamber on the ship!” He yelled as he grabbed her by the arm. Eddie tried to lead Jenna to safety, but she was reluctant.  She fought back; slapping him on the arm and pulling in the opposite direction.  “This is for your own good,” he continued.  “If we don’t get you to the ship you will die! There’ll be nothing left.  Come with me now.”

Jenna kept fighting him.  “Hey asshole! We’re not in space.  There is no ship!  You are tripping balls.  Now let go of me.”

“You’re delusional;  your mind is going too.  I’ll have to use force.  Forgive me, but this is the only way to save you.”  Eddie barely finished the sentence as he clocked Jenna in the back of the head. She fell forward, conscious but in a state of shock.  Eddie took the opportunity to pull her up the steps of the ship and in to the revitalization chamber.

“Ok babe.  I’m filling the chamber up now.  You’ll have to submerge yourself.”

By this time Jenna was back on her feet.  “This is the bathroom moron, not some chamber.  I told you not to take so much of that shit.  You need to calm down.  We’ll go into the living room and watch some TV.”

Eddie didn’t reply. He knew at this point his only chance of saving Jenna was by force.  He lunged at her, grabbed her hair and shoved her down into the chamber.  She kicked and jerked but Eddie was too strong.  He held her under until she stopped struggling.

“There there now, you’ll be fine by morning.  I’m gonna take the controls and get off of this wretched planet.” He said while leaving the room.


Eddie awoke confused and alone in a cell the next morning.  He had no memory of the prior night.  He trembled as he looked out of the bars and thought.  “Oh lord.  Where did I go?  What did I do?”

Rock hard Victor lay strapped to the bed.  The moonlight spiraled through the blinds; freckled on his quivering body.  His wife Janine was wearing his favorite Marilyn Monroe outfit; an almost see-through white halter dress and a blonde wig. Janine crawled between his legs, opened her mouth and leaned towards his balls.

“You gonna fuck me?” he asked.

Breathing heavily she replied.  “You’re gonna get fucked alright.”

“Oh yeah baby.  I want you to take control”

“For seven years I’ve waited for those words.” She said.  “Through the misery and the abuse all I’ve wanted was to not lose myself.” She leaned forward and bit down with ferocity.  Victor screamed and convulsed desperately trying to free himself.  Janine released and went for her night stand.  Numb with pain Victor yelped and cried.  “Why?  Why Janine? I’ve been good to you!”

“Yes, at one time you were good to me.  When I was new you treated me like a princess, but over the last five years I’ve become your showgirl.  I cook, clean and do laundry while you watch your sports.  You won’t even look at me unless a commercial is on.  Sometimes I just don’t exist.  You won’t touch me unless I wear this stupid fucking outfit.  No matter how miserable I tell you I am you won’t give me a divorce.  I never have a say.  This isn’t love.  It ends here; tonight.”

Janine laughed as she pulled a bottle of Ronsonol from the top drawer.  “I hope you like it hot.”  Spurting the fluid onto the bed she was careful not to get any on Victor.  She wanted him to feel the flames slowly swallow his body.  With the flick of a long stem match and a flash the bed ignited.  Victor tugged on the restraints and screamed but it was no use.

As the flames engulfed the bed Janine made her way to the door.  Before exiting the room she looked back, took off her blonde wig, threw it down and said.  “Now I’m gonna go and find a gentleman that doesn’t prefer blondes.”

With a razor sharp howl George vehemently denied having a heroin addiction.  But his friends knew better.  He knew better.  The track marks on his arms, constellations from a magical galaxy.  The cold sweats, a misty morning dew.  The withdrawals, a gangbang in hell, burning his soul.

The intervention didn’t go as planned.  Wasted words repelled by his ironclad urge to self-destruct.  His friends babbled for over an hour on deaf ears.  When they’d finished George stood up listlessly and excused himself.

On the street he scuffed his shin’s against a snowbank while barking under his breath.  Surrounded by Christmas lights, reindeer and jolly Santa figurines he searched for a secluded area.  His safe-haven a park offset from the road.  Plopping his ass on the snow he reached into his pocket pulling out his date for the night.  Breathtaking, a syringe glimmering in the reflection of the moonlit snow.  George slid off his coat and found an unused spot on his arm.  The kick was almost immediate as his finger made love to the plunger.  Exhausting his resources he melted into the snow and let his mind get lost.

When the heroin took hold George’s body was swallowed by his surroundings.  The wind was softer, the lights brighter and the cold, mystifying.  Thinking about the intervention he mumbled with bitter sentiment.

“Waste of time.  I’m not addicted to this shit!  Who the fuck ruins someone’s Christmas?  They could’ve waited for tomorrow.  Well, I’m going to make this a Christmas to remember.”

As George’s eyes rolled back into his head he did just that, made it a Christmas to remember.  And it’s a good thing he did, because it was his last.

The dismal blue light of the moon splintered through the window illuminating the slab.  Gus, the night attendant at the morgue, couldn’t believe his eyes.  His Georgia-peach of a high school crush lying stiff, slightly mangled in front of him.  A car crash: broken jaw, twisted arm, a once recognizable face.  Never able to pry open her vice of a cunt, he now had his chance.

The metal clipboard rattled on the floor, freeing both hands.  Running his tongue up the mannequin-stiff cadaver straightened out his shriveled pigtail of a cock as he lunged into her with the zeal of a child ripping open presents on Christmas morning.  While he fucked away her broken jaw clicked; a metronome keeping time for the gods.  They couldn’t have her until he was done.  He’d waited for years to taste her.  Kissing her face, avoiding bone fragments and stomaching the saltiness of her dried blood, his cock pulsated.  His dream girl, soul-less, love-less, all to himself .  Gus would never again simmer in her heated rejection.  Finally, he was in control, she was the obedient shadow like silhouette he had longed for.  Jackal-esque he devoured his prey.  Drooling, growling, clawing.

Holding back as long as he could, it was time to explode.  His body shook, drops of sweat rained down on her.  Cumming harder than he’d ever imagined, he’d found his way into heaven.  Spreading his seed in a vessel of the gods.