The F Plus - live3c: F Plus Live 3 | Weird Romance | Part 3

Episode Date: October 24, 2014

It's the last leg of F Plus Live 3, and we're not running out of energy. Boots Raingear: Taken by the T-Rex by Christie Sims The Not Ready For YouTube Players: Dark Knight Reboot, part 2 Adam Bozarth: The Painting Fuckerby Jonathan Platz-Halter Kumquatxop: Tears of a Clown Adam Bozarth & Frank West: Dark Knight Reboot, part 2

I can't need live foot better when I'm drinking. Ride dick like a pro, throw the pussy like I'm famous. Pussy feel so good, feel like the rubber on Fanny. You ain't gotta tell me, I know this pussy be yanking. This pussy be yanking. My pussy be yanking. My pussy be yanking. My pussy be yanking.

All right. Coming up next to the stage is a man that has shown me. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Actually, I need to. I need to. No, I was going to talk about that night, but I'm not going to talk about that anymore. Sorry. I'm not going to talk about that night. But instead, I'm going to tell a story about what happened when I was outside smoking a cigarette.

And that was a story that I very much enjoyed, which was somebody in the back there, they had ordered a big plate of fries. Big plate of fries and mayo, also has to be fries. And so they were at the show. They were enjoying the F Plus Live experience, dipping the fries into the mayonnaise and listening to descriptions of copious amounts of cum.

And this person has left now. And here is the conversation that was had with the waitress. I'm done with these fries and this mayonnaise. Would you like a box for that? Nope! Coming up next on the stage is Boots Rank here! Yeah!

Butts, butts, butts, butts, butts. Before I begin my reading, I'd like to make an announcement. For the first time in F Plus Live history, there are more people watching that aren't F Plus people than whatever else. Yeah! We are less than half of the audience! And after that fanfare,

I've got a story to tell you. I don't... Like, you guys have all these weird sex stories about weird romance and shit. And I've... Unfortunately, all I have all these weird sex stories about weird romance and shit. And unfortunately, all I have is an ordinary story about a cavewoman having disappointing sex with a man named Grog. But I'm only, like, 20% of the way through my book,

so let's find out what happens after that. But I'm only like 20% of the way through my book, so let's find out what happens after that. So it's first-person narrative, so I will be Layla as I read this story. And Layla has had some disappointing sex with Grog, and she needs to go out and prove herself in the world. She leaves her tribe, and she goes and takes a bath As she's having her bath

She discovers her clothes are missing And here we begin I stood naked, the water gleaming off my skin As I scoured the horizon Spotting one of my skins high in a tree And there, between two branches In another tree hung the rest The pieces of my spear littered the riverbank. I wondered how my enemy

had managed to snap it without alerting me. I crouched, reaching for a sharp, splintered piece of my spear, holding it like a dagger. At last, the dino appeared from behind a small cluster of trees. He towered over me, a massive beast with hide almost impenetrable to my wooden spear and teeth as big as my whole hand.

A T-Rex! I gasped, heart pounding. My first instinct was to run. But how do you outrun a beast as fast as the wind and as hungry as the sea? I have a monster! You and the dinosaur do not live together, Boone. This proves otherwise. Humans and dinosaurs are totally living together right here. Without warning, a voice spoke to me as I clutched my pitiful broken spear.

Do not fear, it said. I looked around, finding no one save for the dino who looked at me curiously. The voice continued, and I realized that it was inside my head. It is I, Carnus, who speaks to you, human. The massive

beast nodded its head, its black eyes rimmed with yellow bored into mine. But how? I asked, voice timid and unsure. The beast approached, tall as the tree, skin pebbly as a blurry shade between brown and green, as its powerful legs and massive claws tore up the earth at its feet. The ground trembled beneath me with each massive footstep. What was I thinking, hunting a dino?

I was given a mystical gift, it said, mouth not moving, eyes black as tar rimmed with gold that seemed to flicker in the sun. Not only to speak with the humans, but to bend their minds and their bodies to my desires. I chuckled, scoffing. What sorcery is this? I barked, but all at once my body was no longer under my control. I sank to my knees, fighting every fiber of my being to stand upright. I struggled against my own limbs, finding myself powerless against myself. Do not tempt my wrath, puny mortal.

I just like to point out this point, now the dinosaur is a vampire. Do not tempt my wrath, puny mortal, growled the voice in my head, masculine and gruff, louder now. I control you now, and you have but one choice. Obey my command or die a horrible, violent death. I whimpered, kneeling before the massive beast.

What would you have me do, I asked, waiting only to survive long enough to have my revenge, or, barring that, at least die a noble death at the hands of a giant predator. It's all relative. And the conversation goes on a little bit. And the beast stood still, eyes

blacked as it watched me. Now, Layla, I want you to take those desires of yours and give them a voice. Please yourself for me and make your human body a mound of pleasure at my feet. Wow. And then the dinosaur makes her finger herself for like 20 pages. The new Turok game is really weird.

Yeah, so we get, like, you know, it's flesh was soft and pale in the sun, quivering as my fingers caressed the rouge nipple until it grew tender. Grinding in the dark, uh, the sun beat down on my skin, hot and sultry. Do you know how depressing it is to be a T-Rex human? I can't even see my own penis. Uh, you know Thick, luxurious

black hair above my cunt, moist from the bath of the juices in my fingertip. But this goes on for a while, just fingering yourself over and over again, constantly caressing her nipple. Caressing it and pinching it tight, turgid nipple as I begin pressing against my throbbing clit.

Boring, boring, boring. And then she has an orgasm, which is great. Good for her. Grog could not do that for her. Yeah! Yeah! Do you know how hard it is to find an apartment for a T-Rex? Not all mind-controlling dinosaur T-Rexes.

Don't applaud that. I nodded, too spent to speak. More than enough, more than I'd ever imagined. It was possible, but the beast merely chuckled. I promise you, dear, there is more to feel, but first I make you this offering. With that, the giant beast knelt to its ground, its black eyes swollen around, never left mine as it lay, with some difficulty on its back. Tired as I was, spent with every inch of me throbbing,

I somehow felt compelled to rise on its wobbly legs. I realized it was the beast controlling me again. It lay on its back, massive and sprawling, nearly 20 feet long, and from between its legs grew a staff towering and thick, tan in color and throbbing with veins. A prick. A dino prick.

It says that. Human, why do they call it a prick? Thick as a small sapling trunk, throbbing and swollen, growing still as I watched in horrified fascination. A monster's cock, throbbing and leaking from its giant swollen tip. Mount me, said the beast. Please me as you can, for watching you pleasure yourself has made me eager for more.

But it's too big. She's thinking logically. Look, lady, do you know how hard it is for me to masturbate? I'm a fucking T-Rex. Thanks, dog. I said, standing near the beast, I could never fit you inside me. I don't expect you

to take me inside you, said Karnas. Never once moving its lips, but follow your senses and allow yourself to pleasure me as you see fit. It is only right seeing the amount of pleasure I just gave you. It's a considerate mind control vampire T-Rex. Um...

Yeah! Point to Floyka. Point to Cloaca. Yeah! Does it work? That's what the T-Rex carousel went. Carnus took control, giving me the strength to cling to its leathery skin and hoist myself up between its legs

like climbing a small pebbly hill. Its pelvis was already slippery from the drizzling prick. I circled it, the beast's pebbly hide rough between my toes. It was shaped like a man's cock, with a long shaft and thick tip, but it went up as high as my naked, sweaty waist.

I felt my hands reach out, one on either side to grip it. You know you can just cut me off whenever you want. It felt hot to the touch, covered in the clear juices that drizzled from the curved tip. I knelt close to it, the tip flushed with my face as I felt my lips reach out, despite my instinctive distaste.

Okay, yeah. He wants more, okay. I could only kiss it, the cock too fat and too wide to fit in my mouth. Still, the flesh was hot and almost sweet. It had a tender, almost smooth surface like human skin despite its odd coloring. I regarded it, kissing the tip, watching the more slime ooze with each light, tender peck. Mmm. And then she gently kisses it for a while.

My pussy, still tender from pleasing myself, was warm and wet against it as it straddled the cock, pressing the thick flesh against my own. It pressed against my thighs, making me gasp as I inched forward tentatively, achingly, tenderly, eager to touch my pink bud to its hot, stiff skin. The minute I did, I gasped, the sensation of exotic and erotic. I lay on my back, hands on my breast, grinding my clit against the beast's massive cock.

This is just kind of... What I love about this is that it's like, okay, we've got to be realistic. It's just not going to fit in there. It's just going to just drop it down like this. Clever girl. Yes! Up and down I ground, moving the thick cock.

It was so big and so hot and thick and slick, it pressed against my nipples, my belly, my pussy, and my clit. I shuddered with each movement, sliding and down, hearing the voice in my head, Fuck me, cave girl, fuck your dino cock raw. My foot keeps getting pounded, so I need to find the money shot. Oh, yeah.

Okay, we got a finale here. The beast grunted between my ears, voice echoing loudly as I slid hotter, faster, close, a finale here. The beast grunted between my ears, voice echoing loudly as I slid hotter, faster, close, and coming again. The scaly hot skin pressed against mine, swollen nipples, tender and raw, my belly quivering, the beast's steamy slime in my mouth, coating every inch of my skin,

my pussy wet and trembling as my swollen bud throbbed and, and, at least Karnas gushed, coming in great explosion of hot white liquid that rained down over me, steamy and moist splattering my hair, my eyes, my

shoulders and sliding down every inch of my skin and then they lived happily ever after. Listen, is it okay if I never call you? Ew. Ew. Hey, Boots. Hey, Boots. That was gross.

You know what? You know what the part I didn't like so much The part where the lady Fucked a dinosaur That was my least favorite part What was wrong with Grog? Yeah, he was a bit small. I should have mentioned that book was called T-Rex Troubles by Christy Sims. By Christy Sims.

Yeah, I mean, you know, I recognize that sort of problem. That sort of problem with, you know, you've got the man, you like the man. The man is just, you know, he's just not, like, he's got the enthusiasm. He just doesn't necessarily have the size. I recognize that. I'm saying, ladies, if you've ever thought that in your life, that's not bad. I get it. That's fine. That's fine. If you

want the Tyrannosaurus Rex whose cock is four times bigger than you, then that's a rational explanation to have. No slut shaming have no slut shaming no slut shaming that's not okay alright

so we've got two more readers coming up I know what they're reading and I am excited but before we get to that we have another piece do you remember the creative reimagining of the Batman Dark Knight? We do.

Yeah, so that's super long. That's at least 140 pages. Let's read it. So here is another scene from the creative reimagining of Batman the Dark Knight. Ooh!

Okay. Interior. Gotham Bank rooftop. All right. Interior. Gotham Bank rooftop. Night. Eddie and Bob hide behind a little bird cabin on the roof. Look, man, I don't think the feds are leaving. Man, stop being such a girl.

Wait till they search the building. Okay, I'm getting scared. God, I thought you were better than that. At the opposite corner of the roof, some 15 yards away, at the end of a line, Batman is dropping slowly, implacably

into frame. Do you hear something? No. It could be a little pigeon or something like that. They look back and see Batman standing and Eddie takes out a gun. Shot him, Eddie.

Batman, you better move back. You don't want to do that, son. Shot him, you little bitch. Get me the gun. You don't want to do this. Moving closely to them, Bob snatches the gun off Eddie's hand and pulls the trigger and bullets are flying everywhere and bullseye! A full bullet hits Batman on the chest sending him to the ground and Bob and Eddie goes over to him Eddie turns to Bob Do you think he's dead?

I hope so! Damn, that was scary! Yes, you 100% right and let's get hell out of here! Oh, damn, that was scary? Yes, you 100% right. And let's get hell out of here. Above thier heads comes Dick with a new costume that has a big blue falcon mark on chiast. And in his blue darkish suit, and he fly kicks Eddie, sending him to the ground. Eddie is out cold, which leaves Bob alone,

and Bob picks up the gun from the ground. Bob pointing the gun on him. Stay back, I will shot. Go ahead, make my day. Wait, no, you missed one. Go ahead and shot. Make my day. You still didn't get it right. Oh, shit.

F plus five. F plus five. F plus five. F plus five. This is the shit we edit out of the episodes. It's hard for a new superhero. And Nightwing says, Go ahead and

shot me! Make my day! Bob pulls the trigger, but no bullets come out. The gun is out of ammos! See, you were in some deep shit! Hits him in the face. Bob is out cold and drops to the ground next to Eddie.

What the hell do you think you're doing? Nightwing turns back and he sees Batman. I'm your sidekick. Where is your Robin suit and gadgets? Do I look like Robin to you, Bruce? I'm let this go for now, and we'll discuss this later. I got that, sir.

Pick up the bag full of money. Okay, sir. That was pretty hot. Yeah. Oh, Jesus Christ. Why can't this be a week? It feels like one. Yeah. Oh, man.

Yeah. Oh, because I'd be dead. I'd be dead at the end of that. Yeah. Are you all right? Oh, yeah. It's time for Mr. Adam Bozarth. Yes! It's time for Mr. Adam Bozarth.

Adam Bozarth, I don't know him extremely well. But I know that he's really fucking funny. And I also know that his cock cock like, I mean, would you call it a boomerang? Like, would you call it the way you go for it, the boomerang? A parabola. Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah. Mr. Adam Bozart, please!

Boomerang dick! Hello. I am reading for you, Jonathan Plattshalter's The Painting Fucker. Hello. Hello. I am reading for you Jonathan Platt's Halter's The Painting Fucker. You might know Jonathan Platt's... I chose this because I have a B.A. in art.

You might know Jonathan Platt's Halter as the author of Cuckolded by the Robot. Walter is the author of Cuckolded by the Robot. Easy, easy. We got a ways to go. And Ulysses. Let's begin at the beginning of this incredibly short story.

March 13th, 2016 had to have been the best day of my life. The end. I had been in Paris for a few weeks then, biding my time and waiting for the chaos that was spreading across Europe to reach France. Yep. Yep, it was rather good timing on my part to have embarked on my trek when I did. While everyone in America was terrified, paranoid, or apathetic, I saw an opportunity. Yeah. So that's where it starts. So after a while, he talks about how he doesn't have any money, but he knew that he had to get to Russia to go to the Hermitage.

Hermitage. The Hermitage. Getting inside wasn't so easy. Security to all Russia monuments and public spaces had been increased in proportion to the rising international tensions, and the Hermitage was no different. One couldn't just walk up to the gate anymore.

You had to be part of a sanctioned tour group. It was all security theater, though. A passport check here, a fingerprint taken there before you knew what you were inside. Being in the Hermitage was like being inside of love. American museums were cheap cat houses in comparison. Everywhere I looked, there were most spectacular paintings. Paintings of all different genres, styles, eras, and artists. I don't list any. I just wanted to run away from the tour group and fuck every one of these works of art,

but I knew I couldn't. America, you slut. That night, I'd be back at the hotel masturbating furiously over everything I saw here, or so I thought. Or so I thought. Or so I thought. As the tour group was being led from a room of Renaissance-era portraits

into a room of post-minimalist landscapes, there was a large crashing sound and we were all knocked off our feet. A UN bombing raid on the city had begun. Yes, the UN started bombing Russia. Everyone got up and started panicking. Bomb after bomb fell around the hermitage. Each one shaking its walls and floors.

Everybody leaves. Everybody leaves. Uh-oh. Get out of here. At first I was confused. I started to run out the way I'd been let in. But as I adjusted to the sound and feeling of bombs going off, I calmed down. I calmed down. Paintings littered the floor.

So many of them had been broken, trampled, torn, or otherwise destroyed in the raid. I looked over each one, trying to find the right painting to be my first. Dude descending my dick. When I found one that was not only had its frame damaged, I knew there was no going back. My penis was hard as a rock. Penis, you slut.

And all I could think about was the feeling of dried paint on my lips and on my dick. Paint, you slut. Even now, I have no idea who the painter was or even who it was the portrait of

it looked to be some sort of important and pompous man perhaps a noble lord or man of faith had this been a photo or even just a man in person I had been disgusted but he was a massive differently colored paints and varying sizes of brush strokes, flat, and on a dry

old canvas. He was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. Having never fucked a painting before. You never fucked it your first time. I just did what come naturally. I closed my eyes and leaned in and passionately kissed the man on his lips. Little pieces of paint broke off on my tongue, leaving an earthy taste in my mouth.

Real renaissance era paint. Tastes so much better than the cheap hobby store brand paints. Hobby store, you slut. I kissed the painting again and again until the man's face was now in pieces on my face. I twitched with pleasure as the painting's subtle textures move across my cock. Even the sound it made while doing this

was an intense turn-on. A few minutes later, I came and gave a facial To my first painting It wouldn't be the last That day He fucks a lot of paintings Each style of painting Was its own unique fuck

Modern works of art were very hard and fast. No nonsense or need for foreplay. Impressionist paintings required more tender love and care to get them out of their shells. At which point they became total sex kittens. De Stijl paintings were into some kinky things. Fucking them was almost like something out of BDSM. Avant-garde were

vanilla. Etc. Etc. I turned all of them into a Pollock painting. Part of me wanted... Stand up, baby. Stand up. Stand up. Splatter canvas, motherfuckers! Part of me wanted to stay there

forever and I could have to. I later found out how the Brazilian Artillery Battalion stopped the advancing UN forces just outside of St. Petersburg. Come for the painting, fucking stay for the UN. Again, there are so many of those. At one point the internet is supposedly went out because of the Ugandan uprising.

Yes, yes, this is all part of your boners. At a certain point, he gets caught up with a bunch of other people who are fleeing other refugees. He's on his way to Belarus. To tell the truth, I didn't know anything about Belarus.

I barely even heard of it before first arriving at the camp. There were only two things that I could be certain of. Minsk was its capital, and capitals usually had museums in them. So he fucks

all the paintings in Minsk. And he fucks his way across Europe basically until he gets to Paris and he's hanging out in Paris. He's hanging out in Paris, and then the UN starts bombing Paris. Again, come for the painting fucking, stay for the UN paranoia.

Is the UN bombing cities because of what? Because this asshole is in them. Yes, yeah, that's why he had to get out of America. This is the only way we can stop the painting fuck-under. All righty. So he's eating at a... He's eating and he's... He's eating across the street from the Louvre

and then the Louvre starts... And then Paris gets starting bombed. Everybody runs out of the Louvre. He gets a boner. He runs in, and he knows. He's fucked so many paintings, he's like, I know I have to fuck the Mona Lisa. Oh, yeah.

When I first laid my eyes on the Mona Lisa, all hung up on the wall like a slut, but guarded by red velvet rope like a classy lady, I nearly cried. So many nights back home had been spent online staring at Wikipedia's high-def image of her while fapping into a sock-sniffing hobby paint. Now she was there for the taking.

He gets cornered by some guards. He wasn't expecting guards to stay there. No, they aim their guns at him. Is the jizz on him? cornered by some guards. He wasn't expecting guards to stay there. No, they aim their guns at him. As I stepped forward with my arms out, preparing to be jailed or executed or worse, the ground shook. It took everyone by surprise as there was no ordinary ground shake.

Too small to be from a bombing raid and too localized within the building to be a tank's cannon. From around the corner came a rampaging albino rhinoceros draped in Europe's best textiles. That makes sense. Yes. It crashed into the guards and scattered them around like bowling pins.

Those weren't gored to death and the initial hit were crushed by the rhino. How big was his dick? They were all dead in less than two minutes. The rhinoceros came to a stop in front of me, pinning me down with his icy stare. Zol vi mita gen, saidning me down with his icy stare. Zol, we meet again, said a man who walked into the room.

I knew who it was. I couldn't believe it. Frederick! I said, I thought you were dead? You have to be pretty stupid to get out of that oil fire that would be able to kill us. So yeah, there's this villain out of nowhere

named Frederick who has an albino rhinoceros shows up. His rival painting fucker has showed up. Marcus is the name of the albino rhinoceros and Marcus is wearing the Shroud of Turin like a diaper. As one does. As one does.

As one does. They fight. Is he horny? He is so horny. Oh my God. Yay! Yay, horny! I'm trying,

I have to get to the part where he fucks the Mona Lisa. Okay. So he does beat, he beats Frederick and kills them both. And then he grabs the Mona Lisa and says, oh yeah, Mona Lisa. I said, fuck me. Fuck me hard, you bitch. While staring intently at the Mona Lisa's beautiful eyes, I crouch down over the shard of her.

He takes a shard off of the poplar canvas and shoves it in his asshole. My dick began to throb, begging for attention. I dropped her to the floor, conveniently leaving her face at perfect cock height. Suck it! Suck it, you whore slut cum bitch! My dick slapped the Mona Lisa's cheeks a few times

feeling the subtle nuances of Da Vinci's handiwork before I just said fuck it and pushed my penis into her face for the first time I was able to completely penetrate a painting with just my dick no prior cutting required. I just gave the Mona Lisa a throat fucking of her life.

The canvas shard shoved up my ass was essentially dissolving. So he fucks it, and he gets out, and then finally he's realized he's fucked 50 years of, or like hundreds of years of art history, and he decides he's got to get out of Europe. As I got aboard the little vessel packed with other refugees, I looked into the pamphlet we had been given.

On it was our destination, New York, New York. I looked at that and I could think of only one thing. Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, here I come! Oh my God! Museum, here I come. Oh, my God. Museum of Modern Ass. It was called the enigmatic smile. Now it's more like an enigmatic...

No, no. We got only one more man. Only one more man coming up to the stage. And his name... is Cub Quats Up! and his name is Kumpquats Up! But we might do more Marques, so fuck it. But it's Kumpquats Up!

Hey, Kumpquats Up! Is your story fucking gross? Yes. Kumpquats Up. Is your story fucking gross? Yes. Kumquats Up! Yeah! I would like to preface this with, I paid $4 to a person on the internet because I love you all.

$4? This story is titled The Tears of a Clown. Whoop whoop ninjas! The sudden sound of a car horn blaring made her hand jump drawing a dark black line across her otherwise pristine white cheek. Darcy let loose with a loud, explicit string of words.

She threw down the eyeliner she was using to trace her ample lips and stormed over to the window. In one swift movement, she threw it open. Thanks a lot, bitch! I would have been down in two minutes tops, but now thanks to your heavy-handed impatience, I have to fix my makeup! Whoop whoop. She yelled at her prissy blonde doll-like stepsister Mandy.

Yeah. No time to take the make-off off and redo it. She'd have to improvise and try a new design. A heavy sigh escaped her. She wanted things to be perfect for her first day at a new design. A heavy sigh escaped her. She wanted things to be perfect for her first day at a new school? People were already going to be staring. Darcy

would feel more comfortable wearing her normal makeup pattern. To her, the specific combination of black and white was the ultimate accessory. It went with every one of her outfits. Amish! white was the ultimate accessory. It went with every one of her outfits. So there's some stuff, and this book is really fucking long,

and I've cut out many, many pages for your convenience. So she goes to school and argues with some people, and yeah, and Darcy bent to pick up her bag before taking a seat in the uncomfortable plastic

chair that sat to the side of the woman's desk. She squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. These chairs were not made for anyone who had anything resembling a slightly ample ass. Yeah. Yeah.

What's the minimum ample requirement? Show us your ass. While waiting, she bounced her head slightly and tapped her foot while humming the tune of Miracles, her favorite insane clown posse song. Yeah! That's my favorite insane clown posse song! Here you are, dear, the secretary,

who Darcy noticed via a plaque on her desk was named Mrs. Peaches, handed her a crisp white sheet of paper. Darcy had to blink a couple of times for the black dots to come into focus. She really needed new contacts, but she refused to wear her up-to-date glasses in public because they totally smeared her makeup. Yeah!

So she goes to school and registers... Boring shit. Into the dicks! Yeah, yeah. Clown-painted dicks. Then she gets to a classroom. Yeah. When she got to the closed door of room 105, the halls were empty again. Taking a

deep breath, she twisted the handle and tried to push the door in. Her head made a loud clunking sound as it hit the glass window on the door. Dazed, she took a small step back, noticing the white and black residue left on the glass from her makeup. The door cracked out and swung out towards her. The doors here swing out, said a good-looking guy who popped his head out into the hallway. He gave her a big, friendly smile. Like a painted-on smile? Did he have a smile and just painted on it?

No. So he's the star captain of the track team in a jock, and he totally likes her because, you know, some stuff. And track team guys, they paint. And there's like 20 pages of that shit. Makes sense. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And then they get to the classroom.

Hood off in here hear the teacher demanded? Darcy's hands snake up and push the fabric back. The teacher narrowed her eyes when she saw the hair and makeup. Well, that's different, she said. Looking Darcy over, Bedorn turning slightly to grab a textbook from the corner of the deck. Here's your book. You can take a seat next to the lab table back next to Chaz. Chaz is the captain of the track team.

All that shit. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. And then they talk for a while and there's a bunch of bullshit. Okay, Darcy said, shaking her head slightly. There was no more time for small talk. As the bored-looking teacher started her lesson on magnetic fields, Darcy's head spun. Electrons spinning, lining up to make a field.

It was all too much. She dropped her head into her hands, ignoring that it might mess up her makeup. Fucking magnets, how do they work? Yay! I'm just going to interrupt. I've spent this whole time just waiting to make that joke that the book fucking beat me to. Yes. I'm just waiting to make that joke that the book fucking beat me to. Yes.

I'm sorry. The bell rang before she had a chance to act on her anger. Grabbing her textbook, she made a move to jet to her next class. Before she could even get out of the aisle, she felt herself flailing as the floor was coming up to meet her quick. As floor met face, she heard an explosion of laughter. She struggled to get to her knees, ignoring Chaz's outstretched hand of assistance.

Her eyes sought out the source of the commotion, one of the jocks, of course. No. Boo. Boo. Boo. Oh, jocks! Guess they didn't teach you pratfalls at clown college, freak!

Jocks! Yeah! Not funny, Rich, Chaz said. Her palms were stinging and her nose hurt, but thankfully it wasn't bleeding. She brushed the dust off her knees and watched the two boys glaring at each other. Your folks sure named you well, didn't they, Dick? Oh, damn! He said Dick!

He said Dick! Family! Family! Family! He said dick. He said dick. Family, family, family. My name is Richard, not dick, you reject. She raised an eyebrow. Dick is a common nickname for Richard Dick. Just ask our former president Richard Nixon. He took a threatening step toward her.

She backed up into an unmovable lab table. All of a sudden she found herself looking at the back of a head of gorgeous wavy golden blonde hair. Chaz had stepped between them. Enough, he said, his voice strong and firm. Its timber sent shivers down her spine.

Rich leaned around Chaz's imposing figure. Best be careful around these parts, bozo. There could be a pie heading for your face in the near future. And then there's like 100 pages of bullshit. Oh my god, there's so much more bullshit I need to read to you guys. So she gets involved with a guy named Judd

who happens to look like the guy from Breakfast Club whose actor's name was also Judd. Nelson! No, the rebellious dude. Judd Shetterson. Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah. And then, you know, they make out a bunch, and then he comes to her house. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Let go, please, she said, not louder than a whisper. There was a chuckle. But I've missed you, my little clown queen.

She wasn't a fan of being held captive. Without warning, she kicked back, making contact with her assailant's knee. Oh, I heard you fight dirty. But did I deserve that? There would have been a lot of unhappy girls around had you aimed higher. No one likes the Big Jay to be out of commission. He made his penis, right? Yeah.

Yeah. He made Jesus' penis, right? Oh, jeez, the Big Jay, give me a break. The arms released, sir, and she heard the distinctive sound of rasping metal teeth. Swinging around, she grabbed at his forearms. What are you doing? I was going to show you how big Big J is. Didn't want you to think I was exaggerating.

And then there's a whole fuckload of... Fuck. Yeah. Fuck. There's a whole fuckload of... Fuck. Yeah. Oh, and then some cheerleaders spilled some food on her hoodie, and then they...

Yeah. Yeah. I don't have your shirt here, if that's what you're wanting. Judd leans against the counter and mimicked his position, crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. Her mouth emulated the Sahara Desert. What? What?

Skip it. Yep. Yep. Yeah. Yeah. And, yeah. And with a coming. Yep.

And then they're at a party. Darcy, not... The girls pushed their way through the crowd, heading towards the kitchen. Mandy dropped her hand as they went through the doorway, trailing behind her, stumbling drunkenly in her heels. She was unaccustomed to... Darcy's foot struck something and she pitched forward. As she fell, she saw Rich standing directly in front of her,

holding a pie tin piled high with frothy white whipped cream. Darcy was helpless to stop herself from falling face first into the sugary concoction. How is that not the cum shot? How is that not the cum shot? No. How is that not the cum shot? Bring us some cum. So they rescue her from the guy.

More cum! Onlookers gasp as the boys did the unthinkable. Simultaneously, they lean down and languidly ran their tongues up either side of Darcy's whipped cream-covered face? What was the matter with these boys? Did they think they'd be making things better, disrespecting her like that? Feverishly, she scrubbed at her face, trying to remove the remaining cream and the lingering sensation from their tongues traveling on her skin. After that display,

everyone who had been there would be calling her a trollop, a whore, a slut, a slore! Slore! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. That's it, that's it, that's beautiful. That's beautiful.

Yeah! Fucking beautiful. Slow. Fucking words. Yeah. Kumbquats up! Yeah! Yeah!

All right. Yeah! Why the fuck would that word be necessary? Why do you need that portmanteau in your life? I want to call you a slut I'd also like to call you a whore I wish I could call you both a slut and a whore at the same time. Hang on a second. The magic of English.

We could end. We will end. But I can give you one more tiny little morsel. I want to. I need to. I have to. I'd like to. I need to. I have to. I'd like to.

Coming up to the stage, Frank West and Adam Bozarth. One of you grab that one. Oh, sure. Now sprint. Yeah. All right. Doing your sports.

Yeah, the last hour of the night will be Frank West apologizing for what he just read. No, no. One last thing that I wanted to do here is yet another scene from the reimagining of Batman the Dark Knight. This is two academic scientists, professionals in their field discussing science. Science! Science! Science! Yes! Interior at Arkham Asylum, Dr. Amal Quinn's office. Dr. Quinn is using the computer and reading a list of all the criminal.

God, all the criminal in Arkham are not that dangerous. Boring, I like to call it. Dr. Burton comes behind her. They are dangerous. Dr. Burton, how long were you behind me? Not long. Back on their computer where there is a list of criminals. Criminals.

You look like scary criminal. Later. Just checking out the criminals files, cheek out these names like Ron Nays and Hank Nakes and how about Jack Napier? She suddenly stays still for a moment. That's my father. How come he is on the list?

That's because he was the biggest threat to Gottham 15 years back. Do you know how he died? I don't get it. Because police found his body in front church. Damn, do you know who killed him? Batman is the one who killed him.

Damn, didn't you watch the news back then? Oh, my God. Did you watch the news back then? So Batman killed him. That bastard! She punches computer screen. Whoa! You really hate Batman! He killed my father!

I can hear voices telling me to kill Batman. You don't want to do that. Doesn't he, my father, have some goons? Yeah, they're locked up. They have been locked up for 15 years. Here. Tosses him keys. Free them.

Why would I free them? What's got into you a mall? If you don't free them... Takes out a gun from her shoe and points it at him. I will shot! Okay, just don't shot. Batman, the Dark Knight, the Trifecta. I want to take a moment with a little bit of thanks. This night is very complicated. It's very emotional.

It's very difficult. It's very fun. And I want to just go around and give a little bit of love to Mr. Bruce Reingear. To Jiminy Franks to Bunny Bread Kumquats up French toast Bortex That was the wettest one so far

Isfahan Zarla Balder Shbumpko. Victor Laszlo. Stog. Jack Chick. Frank West and

to an equal extent the rest of you people wait who did I miss did I actually miss somebody did I miss? Did I actually miss somebody? Did I miss Bozerth? Sorry, Bozerth. Now then, to an equal extent, the rest of you people. This is a thing that we've discussed many, many, many times. And we genuinely do the exact thing

that we want to listen to. Like, we are providing not the thing that's popular, but it's the thing that we want to listen to. It's for us. It is. It is for us. And I'm genuinely touched and humbled and appreciated that people are also listening to the thing that I also like.

So thank you so very much for coming down tonight. My name is Lemon. I fucking love everybody in this room. And it's not bar closed yet, so let's get a little drunker. Thank you, please. Have a very good night. USA! USA! USA!