Status: I am the supreme alien god of all dust bunnies. Not much, but what are you the god of? Yeah, nothing.
Vaginamouth & Friends
Vaginamouth & Friends: Episode 1
It was a dark and stormy night in New York City, where all good superhero stories take place. Rain fell onto the pavement and ran down into the filthy sewers, washing away the chalk outline where a dead man once lay.
But it was a beautifully clear night in Edmonton Alberta, the murder capital of Canada. Where no superhero stories have ever taken place, good or bad. This is not looking good for a first impression so far, and I am trailing off and being a horrible narrator. Where was I... Oh yes!
Anyways, beautiful clear night in Edmonton, street lamps making little yellow bright circles on a narrow side street. But leaving an alley in-between the Telus store and a dingy pawn shop in shadow. As you can tell dear reader, bad stuff is going to happen here, I mean seriously the business beside it is a dead giveaway. If there's Telus there's gonna be dark dealings going on.
In the shadows of the alley, voices shouted. Arguing beside a dumpster full of Chinese take out boxes and broken cabbage-patch dolls staring at the sky with their empty eyes. The arguers were two men; one white man in a blue hoodie who looked like Leonardo Dicaprio with a face tattoo of a marjuanna leaf, and one black man in a red t-shirt who looked kind of like Bob Marley with a pair of lip rings. The argument escalated, the black man pushed the white man and reached down the front of his baggy jeans to scratch himself. The white man reached down the front of his tight yoga pants and pulled out a hand gun. Three shots rocked the shocked black man's body as he fell to the ground.
Blam
Blam
Blam
Dead. Blood pooling out from beneath red t-shirt. Drool ran from the corner of his mouth as the killer fled. Sirens were ringing nearby. No witnesses to the senseless murder...
... Or were there?
Don't worry dear reader, it's a rhetorical question. I can answer that myself in the next paragraph.
Peering from within a large stained cardboard box that once held a fridge there was a homeless man, face hidden beneath hood, shit-brown eyes glittering. A twisted smile spread across his face, something between a grin and a sneer. A satire of the dark deeds he saw before his very own home. And, in his mind, he made a vow. A vow to no imaginary god or lost loved one, but a vow to the world. A vow that he would punish the evils of the world with fear and pain and death.
On that clear starry night, in the filthy cradle of the back alley, Vaginamouth was born.
Wow, really author, do I have to narrate this nonsense. I am tired of this ridiculous story already and am definately not getting paid enough to-
END OF EPISODE 1
But it was a beautifully clear night in Edmonton Alberta, the murder capital of Canada. Where no superhero stories have ever taken place, good or bad. This is not looking good for a first impression so far, and I am trailing off and being a horrible narrator. Where was I... Oh yes!
Anyways, beautiful clear night in Edmonton, street lamps making little yellow bright circles on a narrow side street. But leaving an alley in-between the Telus store and a dingy pawn shop in shadow. As you can tell dear reader, bad stuff is going to happen here, I mean seriously the business beside it is a dead giveaway. If there's Telus there's gonna be dark dealings going on.
In the shadows of the alley, voices shouted. Arguing beside a dumpster full of Chinese take out boxes and broken cabbage-patch dolls staring at the sky with their empty eyes. The arguers were two men; one white man in a blue hoodie who looked like Leonardo Dicaprio with a face tattoo of a marjuanna leaf, and one black man in a red t-shirt who looked kind of like Bob Marley with a pair of lip rings. The argument escalated, the black man pushed the white man and reached down the front of his baggy jeans to scratch himself. The white man reached down the front of his tight yoga pants and pulled out a hand gun. Three shots rocked the shocked black man's body as he fell to the ground.
Blam
Blam
Blam
Dead. Blood pooling out from beneath red t-shirt. Drool ran from the corner of his mouth as the killer fled. Sirens were ringing nearby. No witnesses to the senseless murder...
... Or were there?
Don't worry dear reader, it's a rhetorical question. I can answer that myself in the next paragraph.
Peering from within a large stained cardboard box that once held a fridge there was a homeless man, face hidden beneath hood, shit-brown eyes glittering. A twisted smile spread across his face, something between a grin and a sneer. A satire of the dark deeds he saw before his very own home. And, in his mind, he made a vow. A vow to no imaginary god or lost loved one, but a vow to the world. A vow that he would punish the evils of the world with fear and pain and death.
On that clear starry night, in the filthy cradle of the back alley, Vaginamouth was born.
Wow, really author, do I have to narrate this nonsense. I am tired of this ridiculous story already and am definately not getting paid enough to-
END OF EPISODE 1
♠ ♠ ♠
Don't worry, it gets better. The first two episodes are a bit dry but it improves. Episode 2 is mega-short and in comic strip form. It can be found here until I rewrite the story to be entirely literature:http://necrokreatrix.deviantart.com/gallery/32615200#/d4aqeur