welsh's Incredible adventures - from cranky women

welsh

welsh

Junkmaster
Homophobia? Me? Never. Many of my best friends are gay. Hell, some of them even tried to pick me up, and we still got to be friends.

That said....

There was that time in Frisco when I wandered into that bar with the glass all painted when I notice it was filled with big guys in leather........ I came to realize soon that I was in the wrong part of town, especially when the girl I was trying to pick up had a bigger woody then I did.... So I started backing my skinny virgin ass out of there, trying to be a calm and easy as a goat walking through a pack of restful lions.... But as I neared the door I heard the bolt get thrown on my exit and a big 7 foot tall bald headed dude glare down on me like some medieval gargoyle, and say, "Howza about you play my little puppy dog."...... ANd then the screaming.....

But that's another story.
 
Hey, I would but I am still seeing a shrink who tells me that reliving the horror could cause added trauma.
 
Noones asking you to relive it... just tell us, including every gory detail.. what happened.
 
OK, Ellissar, since you ask-

So that big 7 foot tall bastard leers down on me like a kid finding a puppy under the Christmas Tree and says, "YOu my little puppy dog now."

The fact that he's wearing a Trojan/ Gladiator costume and sporting the biggest woody I have ever seen leaves me little doubt as to his leacherous intentions.

I think, "I may never take a healthy shit again."

So I have improvise and fast or it's going to be a visit to the proctologist and a lot of serious stitching.

So I do as my Grandmother told me. Once, when I was a wee child growing up on a farm, I had this testy bull that wouldn't go where I wanted.

Well ole grandma leaned over to me and said, "Sonny, sometimes you got to grab the bull by the balls and squeeze!"

So I reached down under that loin cloth and grabbed one those two big testies....

(they were the size of softballs or my real name ain't welsh [no caps thank you very much- because capitalized names is a sign of social superiority, damn it])

.... and I grabbed that hairy monster and twisted it to the right and pulled it down to his knees.

That big bastard started screaming and hollering and every single male in that place. But I had him. Damn if I didn't own that son of a bitch right then and there.

But at that moment I also realized I had passed the rubicon, for if I let him up, surely he would kill me or worse. So I figured I better make the most of this moment, so I turned to face my enemy.

And at that moment I realize that they are all dressed like something out of the Trojan War, odd that only that realization came at this moment of mortal danger and not while I was flirting that that woman who really wasn't.

But that's a lesson in the evil of alcohol if ever there was one.

So I still got that big hairy ball in one hand, squeezing the sap out of it, and I yell out. "Yoy bastards better let me go, or so help me God I will rip this ball clean off."

And they started shouting back.

"Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!"

And I knew things had gone from bad to worse.
 
So you were standing there with the balls of that seven-foot-tall guy in your hands??? Yummy! Can't wait to hear the rest of that story! Type faster, goddamnit! :D
 
So basicaly, the man was a tranny, and he was saving for a sex change operation. So you saved him a lot of money. right?
 
What's wrong Welsh? Suddenly overcome again with the fear inherent to your trauma?


(I bet he's dancing around in his room wearing a fancy gladiator-suit right now...)
 
welsh, if I'd were you, I'd buy myself a pair of steel- toed boots, a sturdy chain and a pair of spiked gloves. They'd save you the trouble of touching the Beast.
 
Well since you guys are so interested-

So all these homosexuals dressed like Trojans are chanting for me to rip off his balls and I'm thinking, Fuck did I pick the wrong crowd to party with.

But then I think what Ole Jack Burton would say in like that.

Ole Jack Burton says, "What the Hell..."

So I pull down on those giant softball sized meatballs and yank them down hard, figuring they're going to rip something terrible.

And Goliath yells his head off, and I keep pulling them down,

But they don't break.

They don't even rip.

These are some strange damn balls, silicone implants or rubber or something because suddenly, like a rubber band, they start bouncing back, but I'm still holding on for dear life.

(Mind you at this time I'm just a tender teenager who is rather naive in the ways of the world, having only just recently learned of the evils of alcohol).

So these balls bounce back with me holding on, and I go flying right into Goliath's big embrace.

Oh Fuck, I'm thinking, here comes and anal probing worse then the aliens gave me, or at least I think they were aliens (but that's another story)

Old Goliath is tickled pink with possibility of revenge picks me up over his head and starts twirling me around like the way you see the pairs figure skaters do at Ice Capades, and I get to be the chick tonight. He twirls me around like I'm about to puke while the legion of gay Trojans are whoopin and hollerin'.

Next think you know I am flying in the air and then I feel all sorts of hand holding me down. They carry me overhead to a table then put me down and start ripping off my clothes.

Before I know it they are covering me with all sorts of strange jelly and oily lubricants and I find they are tieing my hands down with satin scarves and I'm thinking, I am really fucked.

I'm not the only one because Goliath is also going on how he's going to be the first one to explore my virgin poopshute.

And suddenly I'm thinking of what my old grandma used to say in those days right before she used to take my temperature. "If ya don't want it to hurt, don't clench up."

But I'm so damn scared I almost shit myself. Except I went to the bathroom already and am all crapped out.

So instead I break wind.

It's a real ripper too. Remember what George Carlin said about farts "the fizz, the fazz, the fizz-fazz, rip-shit, tear-ass and the one that goes Whooosh."

This is a cross rip-shit/tear ass and it goes a long damn time.

I don't think I ever farted as long or as stinky again the rest of my days as I did.

And thank God. Maybe that fart saved my life (or at least my ass). If anything it bought me time.

Not that the fart would have changed their mind a lot, although it took the vigor away fromo Goliath's giant King Kong woody.

For a moment that horde of homos just stands there dumbfound as they experience one of the longest, nastiest, most formidable farts ever. ANd they stop their chanting and excitment and realize that they got to take serious this opportunity.

Well Goliath says, "You can't expect me to stick my priceless prick in that stinky ass" and walks away.

But they ain't quite done with me. One of them, I can't see his face, says. 'Let's take him to the Rave for our virgin sacrifice."

And then the rest start slowly chanting "Rave! Rave! Rave! Rave!" and then I find my self dragged, blindfolded, gagged and tied up, carried off and dumped in a car, off to the first Rave of my life.

And what happened at the Rave?

Well, I will save that for another time.
 
Grandfather, grandfather! care to tell us a story? :roll:
(ManOwaR The Warrior's Prayer)
Now a little suspense is good, but don't leave us hanging for too long!
 
Mental Note: If I ever start to behave like that I should get the shotgun from the closet, kiss the front end of the barrel and kiss my sorry ass goodbye! :roll:
 
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