Profane. Blashpemous. Funny.

If the profane, the curse, the blasphemous or the bat-shit crazy bug you, move along, nothing for you to see here.

I, however, laughed my ass off, sick bastard that I am.

Via Warren Ellis' Bad Signal mailing list:

bad signal
WARREN ELLIS

Jesus Christ's liver tasted of gin and semen.

I gobbed it out on to the floor and looked around the control room. Somewhere out back, the Pope was still screaming. If I hadn't punched the teeth out of the pirahna before I poured them up him, he might be dead by now. The only thing muffling his fucking noise was the mouthful of used condoms. The Virgin Mary came out of a side door with a shotgun. I bit off the end and spat it in her eye, laughing. "Virgin Mary my arse," I said. "Any wife of mine coming home with that story would have been left out for the lepers before midnight. You like the taste of dadpaste and no mistake. I've chewed open your son and washed his raw meat down with a bottle of shit wine. What do you think to that?" As the Virgin Mary went down on her booted knees and skilfully guided my purple-headed battering ram past her prehensile tonsils, I looked at the control panel. There was a depression in it with a red button at the bottom with the sign DO NOT PRESS. At the last moment, I ripped my beef missile free of her vocal cords with both hands and shoved it down into the control console.

The world exploded.

And THEN I ejaculated.

The end. Fuck off.

###

bad signal
WARREN ELLIS

I grabbed a handful of my own semen out of Mother Teresa and flung it at the oncoming cops. They all got instantly pregnant and fell over. Even the men.

"I've had better," said Mother Teresa, sparking a match off her nipple and lighting up a joint.

It was then I knew I had to kill everyone in the city. With my penis.

I flexed my flaming meathammer. The road cracked in half. The cops exploded. So did the buildings. Everybody died.

Except me.

Result.

The end. Fuck off.