truckload o' trash

5 stories (2 of them in verse), each more tasteless than the last
by Laika Pupkino


What's that Boingy-Boingy-Boingy sound coming down the alley? Why it's...

(This one was posted back on 2/29 as a stand-alone story. Something of a parody...)

"Hello this most excellent Leap Year Day," said the snazzily attired man in the swallowtail coat,
painted on moustache, wire rimmed glasses and top hat, "And how are you my good fellow?"

"Well you see I'm transgendered. I always wanted to be a girl. But now I'm old and it's too late.
It really sucks!"

"Well, that's rather more information than I wanted to know, but as happenstance may happen,
I have the very thing to cure your condition, right here in my pocket!
Behold! The Magical Sex Change Pogo Stick!"

"And here I thought you were just glad to see me."

"But I am, my fine miscorporeated soul-in-torment, I am! For without apparent reason or
visible means of support, or even a personality to speak of, I wander the highways and biways,
the bustling burgs and one-horse hamlets of this great nation offering succor to saps like-
Uh, to persons such as yourself. Just climb on my magical pole and bounce
your way to lithesome young femininity!"

"I'm 112 years old! Riding that thing would most likely kill me!"

"Nonsense, you're only as young as you feel! Go ahead..."

"Well I do wanna wear a French maid's outfit and ben wa balls. Help me get my foot up."

"There you go, now bounce! That's the ticket ..... See how easy it is? Higher! Why look at you!
You're transgenderating already!"

"I am?"

"Of course you are! Can't you feel your new 38DD boobies a-floppin'?"

"Mostly I just feel dizzy! And there's this shooting pain in my arm- ACCKKK!"

"Tsk! Tsk! It won't work if you fall off like that! Better try again."

"My back is broken! Heeeeelp me..."

"Allow me then- YOINK!"

"My wallet! Come back here!!"

And as the old man lie there in agonized extremis, the charlatan in the swallow tail coat and top hat
bounced off down the alley, crying, "Come One! Come All! Bounce your way to a new you,
on ........... The Magical Sex Change Pogo Stick!"


I stared at the doctor, "Do you mean that literally? I was dead?"

He fixed me with his piercing grey eyes, "Tell me Hans, what was the last thing you remember before waking up here in my laboratory?"

I was still groggy, as if from a long and very deep sleep. I thought about it, "Well I ........ It was late afternoon. I was bringing my sheep in through the pass. I heard a noise, and looking up I saw an enormous boulder rolling down the hillside toward me, and then ........ Are you saying it killed me?"

Have I ever lied to you, my young friend?"

"No Doctor. I've always enjoyed your company, our chess games at the village pub. And if you say it's true, well it would explain my er, condition."

"I see you haven't lost your mental faculties. I'm glad I was able to exhume you as quickly as I did. You're more fortunate than our large friend here."

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" groaned the monster. I didn't like the way it was looking at me. It made me feel dirty somehow. But as I looked down at the mismatched hands stitched crudely to my wrists, I guessed I was a monster now too. A human patchwork.

"But Doctor, why does my voice sound like this? It's so much higher."

"Well unfortunately most of your body was badly crushed. Unuseable. We had to use parts from various ................. sources."

"That much is evident. I have breasts now, and," I put my hand on my crotch, and though the man was a friend, and had snatched me from the Abode of Death, I grew angry. "Oh for the love of God! Couldn't you have made me either completely male or completely female?"

Doctor Frankenstein seemed embarrassed, "To be honest, yes I could have. I had sufficient parts for either. But you were created for a purpose. My creation here has been demanding a companion. And with his childlike intelligence and terrible impulsiveness he is often quite unruly. Breaking out, murdering, rampaging ........... I figured with a companion he would become more pleasantly disposed."

"But that doesn't answer why I've been fashioned into this bizarre sexual gerrymander."

"That was entirely his decision. I don't know whether this was a product of his necrotic derangement or some pre-existing fancy, but he specifically requested that you be constructed as you are. To coin an expression, a she-male."

The beast nodded vigorously, "Rrrrrrrrrrr! She-male, good!"

Frankenstein finished his cognac and swiftly rose to his feet, "Well, I'll let you two get aquainted..."

"Please Doctor, don't leave me here with this-" I cried, but he was already gone, latching the four inch thick oaken door of this dank cell behind him.

The creature clumsily unbuttoned and dropped its trousers, and by way of courtship simply bellowed, "Frriiiiiiieeeeend!"

I screamed and screamed and screamed.

#3. NAPPY'S LAMENT (The Don Imus Story)

Don Imus---you may recall---was an American radio & tv personality who got in trouble a while back
for calling the black members of a certain women's college basketball team "nappy headed hos".
This is a magical-retribution fantasy in the "forced fem" vein, laden with profanities
and ugly racial stereotypes. A crude poem about a crude man:


I once was Don Imus but now I'm a slut,
who gets fucked in the cunt and the mouth and the butt.
Yes I once had my very own radio show;
when I talked much mo' better, and not like no Ho.
All I can say now is things like: "Sho 'nuff";
"Yowza!" and "Um-gawa" and "Feets do yo' stuff!"...
And to negotiate prices for services rendered,
by this dumb two-bit floozy of a new race and gender.

Oh I used to be famous all throughout the land,
I basked in fanatical praise from my fans.
The more vicious I was the more money I made.
Such a damned cynical cavalier jade.
I made fun of homos, spicks, spooks and chinks,
and my mysogynist raving always raised quite a stink!
And when some bleeding heart took exception to me,
I sneered in disgust and I called him PC.

My life was a playland of thoughtless bombast
with no consequences, that I thought would last.
But the night that the Rutger's girls played Tennessee.
Everyone suddenly came after me!

Maybe my comments pushed the limits a bit;
but tell me those home girls weren't skanky as shit!
The girl's basketball coach wanted my head on a pike,
Well what can you expect from a man-hating dyke?

"Suspended? You're kidding! Now come on here, folks;
You know how I am! Can't these coons take a joke?"
Then when bigmouth Al Sharpton waded into the fray,
I needed a drink in a serious way.

I saw nothing amiss when approached in that bar;
It's just one of my perks as a media star.
She was young black & smart and she praised my aplomb,
her journalism class all thought I was da bomb.
She apologized for the overreaction
of a certain hysterical liberal faction.

"Words can't hurt anyone," I said. She agreed
and said, "Regulation of speech we don't need."
And that, "Only a wimp would expect the State
to act as their nanny and forbid us to hate.
Opinion's protected, even if it's not 'nice'",
she said as she swirled her Drambuie on ice.
She railed against censorship, free speech was her passion
(Laying her trap in a sinister fashion...).

She'd had her hair processed, her features were fine;
As I lit her cheroot her hand lingered on mine.
Why can't they all be as cultured as this,
I thought as she leaned in and gave me a kiss.
We went to her room & knocked back some more booze,
as we disrobed I noticed she had lots of tattoos.

She threw her wadded panties into my cowboy hat;
I smirked my opinion: "A lucky shot, that!"

She said, "Wanna bet? If I land this successfully,
then I call the shots here for all we do sexually!"

I told her, "You're on, but if it lands on the floor,
then I get to screw your sweet little back door."

In hindsight, I know... I should have spotted a hustle,
but at the time I was thinking with a whole different muscle.
She tied me to the bed which seemed nice and kinky;
then she recited something made me feel all hinky.
Her voice got real deep and it thundered- Satanic!
As her eyes burned bright red I'll confess that I panicked.

She sneered, "You insulted my sisters and me,
before the whole nation, quite offhandedly...
"But I looked good enough when you wanted to fuck,
you butt-ugly bastardly hypocrite schmuck!"

And then I beheld in the mirror above me,
a scene straight from the X-Files! (w/ David Duchovny)
I was shrinking and turning a much darker hue,
my dick and balls shrivelled my boobs grew and grew!
And when that mysterious glow did subside-
"Oh where did my weenie go?" I cried, cried and cried.
I wailed, "Whatchoo wanna do me like dat fo?
Oh lawdy lawdy, I'se a nappy-haired Ho!"

She smiled, "We'd agreed that free speech was fine.
Well when I said that spell I was just practicing mine.
"Words can't hurt people, isn't that what you said?
So now come and meet your new pimp, Memphis Red."

Cruel ethnic slurs can be jolly good fun,
until you insult a center who's skilled in Vodoun.
Oh once I was famous, and raked in the green,
'til I ran afoul of a B-ball voodoo queen.
And that's how I wound up out here on this corner;
My life's just a blur now of backseats and boners.

I'm a pure sex machine, my profile's obscene,
a vile racist cartoon like from 1913.
I'm a walking, jive-talking black stereotype:
leopard skin + red spandex, purple wig, a crack pipe.
The red six-inch stilettos with which I walk the street,
are somehow indelibly fused to my feet.
My skin's like the night sky, my lips freakishly large,
as are these tits on which my tricks all discharge.

My customers think that it's really quite strange
that I blow them for quarters & give them back change.
They don't understand this accursed compulsion
to act in a way that fills me with revulsion.
The Ho on the outside is living her dreams,
while deep down inside her the man I was screams...

(A reviewer at FictionMania, where this poem was first published, said: "The retribution is worse than the sin, so where does that leave you?" I responded that OF COURSE I wouldn't actually do this to someone,
even if I had the power. That this is just my way of saying "fuck you too" in terms
that even a schmuck like him could understand...)


#4. IN THE NIXON BATHROOM- A Political Fable

[This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are made up, and any resemblance
to known U.S. presidents or gerbils---real or fictional---is strictly coincidental...]

The two secret service men stood silently at attention outside the door. They knew they must never enter when he was inside there, and that even during the gravest emergency they should merely knock and wait for him to emerge, something that could take up to fifteen minutes. Loyal servants of the Commander in Chief, they never discussed the weird noises and shrill squeals they heard from behind the door during these daily sessions, not even to speculate between themselves about what went on in there.

Inside the sumptious Nixon Bathroom, larger than most D.C. apartments, President Stupid had donned his pink tutu, his Miss Piggy mask and his Farrah Faucett wig. He spoke in a regal, constricted falsetto, "Helleeew, yes! I am Princess of thee entire Ew-nee-verse, and a preetty, preetty peeg am I! Oh my!"

On tiptoes he fluttered gracefully across the room, his wrists crossed above his head, enamored of the reflections he saw in the room's many tall mirrors. The pig face, the tutu, the ballet slippers and snow white stockings, the pink ribbon tied around his dangling pecker in a lovely bow- he was indeed a vision of unsurpassed beauty!

Now came the fun part. From a wire cage on the sink counter he plucked a large white gerbil, holding the poor squirming animal by its stubby tail, "Ya know what happens now, my little friend-"

The gerbil spoke: "Mister President, I am a magic gerbil. If you don't put me
up your ass I will grant you three wishes!"

"Huh?" barked the ballerina POTUS. He didn't like people interrupting him,
even if they was one of them magic gerbil deals.

The creature repeated his offer of three wishes.

"Well, what kinda wishes?" asked President Stupid suspiciously,
forgetting to use his Miss Piggy voice.

"Anything your heart desires, however impossible it might seem to be.
Anything that you can even imagine..."

The leader of the free world stood a while, his brow furrowed,
contemplating what such a proposal could mean.

"Naw, I'm good..." he shrugged, and stuffed the hapless rodent
headfirst through his raw and gaping sphincter.


MORAL: Some people just can't think past that next gerbil.


This is a poem I submitted to Reader's Digest several years ago. Since I haven't heard back from them I've decided to post it here. It's a very sad story of a loving mother whose babies are taken from her by uncaring bureaucrats. Well not babies exactly, they're...


Folks will try to tell you
you're just a little turd;
Hush, my darling butt baby
don't you believe a word!

And when I take you strolling
in your pink and purple pram,
the people hold their noses
but I just don't give a damn.

Road apple of my eye
let me bounce you on my knee;
Oh gift from God in heaven
who was once a part of me...

I love you and adore you
with a mother's tender heart;
But I can't squeeze you very hard,
as you tend to come apart.

I recall the night you were conceived
(lying face down under Tom),
and how I strained to push you out
like any natural mom.

Old Tom was such a dear heart
he said my voice was lovely,
and as he'd never lain a girl
I agreed to let him fuck me.

He seemed confused to find my cooze
located on my posterior,
but having only read of sex
said, "I wish they'd made things clearer..."

Our passion spent he paid my rent,
and said, "I love you, Mary!
But I had not imagined
a woman would be so hairy..."

And since he is a blind man
I suppose it's no surprise
that your formless little soft head
has naught on it for eyes.

Tom claims that I misled him now,
he won't return my calls,
believing instead those vicious lies
from old Blanche down the hall.

So this is why you're fatherless
it's sad to have to say;
But who needs him, our happy clan
grows bigger every day...

There's Sadie, Jane, Kiyoko, Igor
Tim and three named Suzie;
Jar Jar Binks, Professor Frink,
and Ethel, Fred and Lucy...

Marcus, Mavis, Melvin, Morton,
Mitzy, Moe and Matt
(I could list some authors from this site
but I'd sure catch hell for that!)

Biff and Ginger, Sally, Rosie
Vince and Lance and Duncan,
all lined up on the window sill-
Such happy little munchkins!

But all your sisters, brothers too,
in their toilet-paper suits,
seem to draw a lot of flies-
The flies must think you're cute!

The neighbors are all howling now
about what they call the stink;
Some people are just jealous
is what I really think.

They never liked me here nohow
smirking at my bouffant wig,
and saying, "I had no idea
they made muumuus quite that big..."
Now someone's pounding on my door,
"OPEN UP!" a voice is snarling.
"Go away! Go away! Go away," I say,
"You'll wake my little darlings!"

then came the health department
and the sheriffs with their guns
who flushed my dear sweet babies
down the toilet one by one

then stopped my desperate effort
to chug down a quart of draino
but what mother e'er saw such sights
without going insane-o?

so off we went to the funny farm
they were really quite insistant
and i was so grief stricken
that i offered no resistance

the evaluation interviewer
said things to me most cruel
"you're not a woman, not a mom
but a sick deluded fool!"

so here i sit for 14 days
a "risk to self or others"
they took you away so they could say
i never was your mother

and though i'm locked up in this room
my heart is light and gay
for i feel deep down within me
a new miracle on the way!

What's this?

signifying whah?

And here's some real trash:

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