Pan Goatee Beheads More Uglos and Morons While Stalin’s Saints Keep Marching On

October 16, 2021 at 10:59 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, International Intrigue, News, Sorcery, Technology, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee was about to get off a bus.

A fellow with a stupid looking expression on his face beat him to the back door exit (the fellow was so stupid looking that Pan guessed he was probably a supporter of vaccine mandates).

Anyways when the green light went on, the fellow was too stupid to wave his hand in front of the spot that said WAVE HERE to open the door.

Goatee was finally forced to wave his hand in front of the spot while the idiot in front of him stood totally clueless.

As the idiot got off the bus and stood there looking stupid, an ugly looking woman (of the thin ugly looking stoat variety according to the Goatee Classification System of Facially Aesthetically Challenged Uglos) ran in front of Goatee to get on the bus Goatee just got off.

Goatee immediately beheaded the thin ugly stoat and cut her up into 999 trillion pieces.

He did the same to her moronic looking boyfriend who ran alongside her.

He beheaded the jerk with incredibly bad taste in women and cut him up into 999 trillion pieces.

Goatee then went after the stupid looking idiot who did not know how to get off a bus.

“If you had known how to get off a bus, bozo, or at least stepped aside until I got off in front of you, I wouldn’t have had the misfortune of having that ugly looking creature run in front of me,” Goatee pointed out, “If you’re too stupid to know how to ride a bus, then don’t ride a bus, asshole.”

Goatee then beheaded the idiot and cut him up into 999 trillion pieces.

The idiot would not be riding a bus ever again.

Goatee then rushed to get on the next bus.

A fat ugly blimp (on the Goatee Classification System of Facially Aesthetically Challenged Uglos) decided to walk past Goatee to go up to flirt with the bus driver.

The bus driver must not have been from Calgary originally because he turned down the fatso uglo’s flirtations.

The fat ugly blimp on her way to the back of the bus (where she should have stayed) found herself being beheaded by Pan Goatee and cut up into 999 trillion pieces.

Krampus the Austro-Hungarian and Bavarian demon goat arrived on the bus to carry the fat ugly blimp’s remains down to Tartarus.

“This is bringing back memories of why I’ve stopped riding the bloody Calgary Transit System,” Goatee commented, “Too many uglos and morons riding it.”

As Celine Dion used to sing, “It’s all coming back to me now…”

. . .

Celine Dion would not be singing the song My Heart Will Go On in the case of a 17-year-old Ontario hockey player Sean Hartman who died of a heart attack two weeks after receiving the vaccine jab against Covid.

Sean Hartman who had been playing hockey in Beeton, Ontario since he was 5 years old absolutely loved playing hockey.

But he wouldn’t be allowed to play hockey this season unless he got vaccinated.

So he got vaccinated and two weeks later he was dead.

At the same time, Public Health Ontario dryly released a report covering vaccination data from December 2020 to August 7th 2021 and dryly concluded “the highest reporting rate of myocarditis/pericarditis was observed in males age 18-24 years following second dose.”

. . .

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was having a vision of British MP Renfield R. Renfield overseeing the execution of New South Wales Chief Health Officer Dr. Kerry Chant by firing squad.

Dr. Kerry Chant was the ugly looking airhead who said, “A Covid-forever New World Order is the New Normal.”

Dr. Kerry Chant was wearing a hood over her head to prevent the firing squad from barfing all over the place which would have occurred if they saw her repulsively ugly and stupid looking face.

New South Wales would not have suffered any problems in the first place if Pan Goatee had been a citizen of that state.

Michelangelo applauded vigourously with his lobster claws as Dr. Kerry Chant was blown away to kingdom come by Renfield’s firing squad.

Meanwhile as a result of the massive vaccination campaign going on in the Neo-Maoist Neo-Stalinst Nazi Police State of Victoria in Australia, that state just got a new record of 2,297 new cases in a single day and 62.65% of those cases were among the double dosed.

Michelangelo sees people lining up to take the vaccine shot and as they do so, the Haitian Vodou spirit of Baron Samedi sings his own paraphrased version of an old New Orleans spiritual hymn,

“When Stalin’s saints come marching in,
When Stalin’s saints come marching in,
you better be, be, be in that number
When Stalin’s saints come marching in…”

Those lining up either keel over and die after getting the shot or turn into living dead zombies with their flesh falling off and wander the streets in search of brains.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday October 16th
2021.

Baron Samedi partying it up with a female disciple and singing, “When Stalin’s saints keep marching in…”

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Hades Emergency Meeting

July 29, 2019 at 10:52 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Hades Emergency Meeting

“Ugly looking female teen stoat/ human hybrids grow up to be ugly looking adult female stoat/human hybrids,” Pan Goatee remarked as he beheaded the ugly looking female stoat/human hybrid as she was riding a bicycle down the street.

Meanwhile down in the Underworld, the Greek god Hades (who was known as Pluto to the ancient Romans) was holding an emergency meeting with his advisors on the huge number of repulsive looking spirits that were showing up daily from Calgary to cross the River Styx over to the Underworld.

Said a phlegmatic Phlegyas (who was extra phlegmatic this morning because he had eaten a full English breakfast as opposed to his usual continental breakfast), “We’re having to have orangutans wearing special darkened glass visors (whereby they see the shades of the dead as mere shades) hand out paper bags at the ferry docks for Charon’s boat to any Caucasian female soul arriving from Calgary on the high probability that they’re quite repulsively ugly. They are instructed to put the paper bags over their heads for the crossing across the river Styx. This is to prevent the occurrence of unstoppable vomiting on the part of both Charon the ferryman and Cerberus the 3-headed dog (all of whose 3 heads immediately start vomiting simultaneously) upon seeing the said hideous spirits.”

“Hopefully this will put an end to the problem,” said Hades.

“Until Pan Goatee manages to find the sinister Nazi criminal network responsible for breeding a certain type of brainless male with female walruses, stoats and gargoyles that’s producing these hideous looking hybrids by the thousands in that poor city,” Phlegyas coughed up more phlegm.

Meanwhile on the Caribbean Island of Little Saint James (owned by Jeffrey Epstein), the Caribbean Sea kraken Uhluhtc (666 meters tall) was strolling across the island accompanied by a Haitian voodoo high priest Samedi.

Uhluhtc stood on one spot and grunted.

Samedi waved to one of the island employees who no doubt lived on the nearby island of Saint Thomas.

Samedi spoke to the island employee, “The Great Kraken says that while he lived in the depths of the Caribbean, he had a vision of a great Temple that stood on this spot. The Temple was guarded by two small statues of owl wearing goddesses. He wonders what happened to this Temple.”

“It was torn down a while ago,” the employee answered.

Uhluhtc once again grunted.

“What did he say?” The employee inquired.

“He said merde,” Samedi answered.

Meanwhile in New York City, Peter Whitstable the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol was sitting in his hotel room where he was receiving information about much bizarre occurrences occurring across the world the past few days.

The Celtic stag god Cernunnos had been spotted on a Florida golf course this past weekend drinking a bottle of Dalmore Port Wood Reserve single malt whisky and slaying a bunch of country club Republicans on the golf course with his bow and arrow.

Meanwhile in Vienna, the infernal Underworld centaur Acheronus had been seen killing diplomats with his bow and arrow at various hotels across the city.

In Canada, reports of the ghost of Albert Johnson (the man they called The Mad Trapper of Rat River) had been seen at various locales in Canada.

Johnson (who had killed 3 people) had eluded the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for more than a month in a massive manhunt that stretched across the Northwest Territories and the Yukon Territory in northern Canada.

Johnson was killed on the Eagle River in Yukon on February 17th 1932.

Johnson’s ghost had been spotted in northern British Columbia, northern Saskatchewan and northern Manitoba.

After talking with a psychic friend of his, Whitstable was told that Johnson’s ghost was headed for the town of Lucan Biddulph in southwestern Ontario.

Whitstable was also told by the psychic that the Egyptian god Thoth was currently in the town.

“What the Hell,” Whitstable wondered, “is Thoth doing in Lucan, Ontario?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday July 29th
2019.

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Just Another Day and Night In The Wild West?

July 3, 2011 at 1:44 pm (Horror, Short stories, Short Story, The Supernatural) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

Sheriff Cecil Cartwell proudly looked over the graves of the Boot Hill Cemetery.

The Boot Hill Cemetery wasn’t where they planted regular folk like the townspeople might say.

Regular folk were planted in the town cemetery.

No, Boot Hill was reserved for outlaw gunslingers, ne’er do wells, the tough guy bandits of the Wild West.

And Sheriff Cecil Cartwell had shot and killed them all.

All 32 of them.

That now lay dead and buried in the cemetery.

At Boot Hill.

Given the boot by Sheriff Cecil Cartwell.

Sheriff Cartwell got on top of his Pinto horse Kiss My Grass and rode on back into town.

He stopped off at The Wild Horse Saloon and had himself a whisky.

Then he went back to the sheriff’s office and slept the rest of the day.

At 6 P.M. he went to Kate’s Dining Hall and had something to eat.

When he left Kate’s Dining Hall at 7 P.M. a stage coach rode into town.

A well-dressed black man got out of the coach.

Sheriff Cartwell wondered if he was one of the freed slaves from the Civil War that had been over some 11 years now and was coming to make his home in the American West.

But Sheriff Cartwell heard the man speaking perfect French.

He reckoned not many of the slaves in the American South could speak perfect French.

Sheriff Cartwell walked on down the street.

A defiant looking 16-year-old blonde girl in a long blue dress blocked the street in front of him.

“One of these nights, you’re going to get yours for shooting my pa dead,” the girl spat at him.

It was Daisy Durkins- the daughter of Dukehart Durkins one of the West’s most notorious outlaws- and one of the 32 who now lay dead and buried in Boot Hill Cemetery- shot and killed by yours truly- Sheriff Cecil Cartwell.

Sheriff Cartwell grabbed the bratty blonde, threw her across his knee and spanked her. Fifty good whacks across her backside with his firm powerful hands.

He left her in the dusty street and continued home.

At midnight, the deputy came pounding on his door.

“Sheriff Cartwell, Sheriff Cartwell,” the deputy screamed, “there’s some sort of trouble going on up at Boot Hill Cemetery”.

Sheriff Cartwell ran to the town livery stable, got on top of his horse Kiss My Grass and rode off in the direction of Boot Hill.

He noticed a group of people standing around.

“Disperse in the name of the law,” Sheriff Cartwell commanded.

The people turned.

They were all men.

Dead men.

Corpses.

With vacant eyes and soulless expressions, the corpses raised their arms and headed in Cartwell’s direction.

Watching the spectacle was the well-dressed black man who spoke perfect French.

Standing alongside him was the beautiful blue eyed blonde haired Daisy Durkins in her pretty turquoise blue dress still rubbing her sore and well-spanked bottom from the spanking she had received at Sheriff Cartwell’s hands earlier this evening.

The corpses pulled Sheriff Cartwell off his horse Kiss My Grass and then tore him to pieces eating what was left of him.

All that was left of Sheriff Cartwell was a single ear.

Daisy Durkins picked up the ear and buried it in a grave.

Grave #33 of Boot Hill.

The black man who spoke perfect French handed her his card and addressed her in perfect English, “Should you need me again, my lady.”

The card read, BARON SAMEDI Voodoo Practitioner, Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

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