Zapanaz' Stories

The slug from the forty-five had torn the top part of the blueberry pie's head clean off, splattering it in a gunky mess which was sprayed over the wall.  It was still moist, and some lumps were gradually sliding down the wall towards the floor.

The blueberry pie lay all akimbo on the floor of the bedroom, yet its right leg was, in a very unlikely way, laying with the heel on the top of the bed.  At a glance it looked as if the pie had tangled its foot in the bedclothes  while getting out of bed, and fallen to the floor. If you ignored the fist-sized hunk missing from its head, anyway.

This left the pie with its legs spread in a particularly undignified way.

The pie was cooling and almost cold now, and most of its juice had drained from the wound, leaving the pie looking a pale deathly shade of blue.  The pie had an eternal look of shocked surprise on its face.

Where the pie's legs were spread, one could not help but notice a large puddle of semen had dripped out and pooled on the floor.

Either somebody had fucked the pie and then killed it, or they had killed it and then fucked it.  Either scenario did not sit well on the stomach.

Private detective BIOU pulled a cigarette from a pack of Hard Boiled's
and lit it.

"Listen Mrs. Schizobeck, I took on a thirty-dollar-a-day missing person job.  But what we've got here is a pie-fucker.  And a violent pie-fucker at that.  We're going to have to renegotiate my contract."

"Well good luck with THAT, sweetie, I don't have any spending money, there is no way I can work a regular job with the problems I am having with my back, if I were black or hispanic the government would give me a job where I could just sit around all day but of course because I'm white I can't get any kind of job like that, not that I'm racist sweetie, it doesn't make me a racist to not be able to get a job, and I can barely make it down my MILE  LONG driveway to the mailbox which the post office was supposed to move two years ago but they are never going to do anything for ME sweetie, I don't think Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are a good couple at all, I think Angelina is not as nice as she likes to come off and in my visions Brad Pitt has anally raped me and he better never try something like that in person, I don't care if he's secretly gay but I don't want anything to do with it", Schizobeck said.

BIOU blinked.

"Yeah," she said.

But in that ruminant moment while Schizobeck's blabber left BIOU's brain with nothing better to do, BIOU had a sudden revelation.

"Mrs. Schizobeck, you're dressed as a giant blueberry.  I just realized, you're ALWAYS dressed as a giant blueberry.  I am finding it hard to believe that is just a coincidence, given that we have a blueberry-pie-fucker on our hands here."  BIOU's hand whipped out and slapped Schizobeck suddenly with a crack as loud as a pistol-shot.  "I want some answers, lady!"

At that sound, Police Detective Anna Dynamite stepped into the room. "Is this lady giving you a problem, BIOU?", she asked, glancing sharply at Schizobeck.

Schizobeck went pale with shock and sudden pain.  Everybody knew that when BIOU and Anna got together, things could get strange pretty quickly.  Schizobeck stepped back from them cautiously.

"Oh!  #13, I see you don't have a problem with taking easy pot shots out of context -- but I'm not making trouble here.  This is my dance of the seven veils dancing suit that I use to do dirty dancing to Leo Sayers songs."

The two detectives were visibly unimpressed.  A low humming sound began to fill the room, like an electrical generator powering slowly up.  Anna Dynamite had raised the arm with the butthole-punching fist on the end of it in front of her, and it was beginning to vibrate as it powered up to maximum butthole-punching speed.  Her eyes glittered and a wicked grin began to spread across her face.

"You'd better give the lady something, Schizobeck, while you still have a chance", BIOU said, stepping aside from Anna a little.  But Schizobeck was too frightened to think effectively and just burbled and babbled a little.

The butthole-punching fist shot out with the lethal speed of a freight train and landed a mighty blow to Schizobeck's butthole.  Her butthole was struck with such force that it shot up her colon and up through her throat and then emerged from her mouth, giving her for just an instant a small prehensile mini-mouth sticking out of her mouth.  The compressed gas forced up Schizobeck's digestive track by the blow
emerged from the mini-mouth in a loud raspberry, then the sphincter whipped back down into Schizobeck like a rubber band.

Schizobeck collapsed to the floor in agony.  "AIEEEEEEEEAAAAAAUGH!", Schizobeck observed thoughtfully.

Anna began warming the fist up for a second shot.

"I'll talk, sweetie!", Schizobeck sobbed.  "I lured Duck Martin here by dressing up like a giant blueberry on purpose!  I knew he was a pie-fucker, it was all my fault the pie was fucked!  I know Duck Martin is a foul greasy delusional pie-fucker and potentially dangerous, but he has some spending-money sweetie!  I thought I could control the situation, but it got out of control!"

The detectives shook their head at the blubbering woman.

"When will they learn?", Anna said, shaking her head.  "I just can't understand the thinking of a pie-fucker-fucker.  It always turns out badly."