Raping Her Heinrich.
I sat and twiddled my thumbs. Out of the frosted windows of that cold broken hotel, On the streets of stomping rubber and squeaking leather. Down came the young guys in grey. Thier handsome faces all made up for the hearts and minds. And at thier masthead rolling on a battered plinth dragged by barefoot trannies the most exciting of them all, Her Heinrich. And its jammy dodger cartwheels clacked the cobbles as they rolled which rang out rhythmically over the mellody of Doc Martins behind it. All was quiet but this pattern which echoed right through the frosted glazing and into my ears . And i sat and twiddled my thumbs. This kid about my age, he had been a faggot queer cunt, now dragged Her Heinrich with his beautiful bare back strapped with black slices by Heinrich's cane, his split shirt collar whistled in the wind off his neck in that grey grey bitter wind. Well he slips on the ice and cracks his neck and spine off the floor, almost knocked his self unconscious but nevertheless he sat up on his hunkers, sobbed, tryed to push the pain that was radiating from his crown and his backbone back inside his skull and back and when there was no avail he just lay there and stared up in despair. The events only unfolded in probably under a minute, but Her Heinrich must have watched him lay there in the snow for about three minutes ,they crawled by, as the whole street lined with unified apartments had thier occupants in awe at thier windowsills. Her Heinrich finally sighed and stepped down. He unsheathed that great wretched poker of his and rammed it into the boys pelvic bone chipping off a large chunk of bone which flipped like an iceberg upward within him and peirced the flesh about two or three inches. A fluttering in my heart and groin and my anus puckered up like a spooked dog. I felt his pain driven through my brian as if it where in my own prostate i where poked. "Christ to be jesus." I was repeating to my self over and over, and for what? Christ nor a jesus ever even interfered with my life or bussinesses. No time i suppose, busy guy, bit too fucking busy if you ask me, whats he doing up there all day? Wanking us off 24/7? Hes like a politician. What does obama do in the white house? Hes wanking our tax cum right out of our wallet Knobs, his big coco lips round my cocobutter cock. The little poofter saw the shard begin to emerge through his pubes and squeeled as he tryed to force it back downwards with twice the pain going back upstream, he decided in a split second just to let it emerge of its own will. And so it did. It grew to  a pink hill from his pubic forrest then the flesh burst and gave way to a white bloody jagged mountain. Then it just popped right out and the boy picked it up, turning it over in his palms. Her Heinrich took it from him with the promise of making it into a nice keepsake for the boy, maybe a shark tooth necklace type deal. Then he threw the dragging rope back down to the boy, hopped on his cart and carried on down the street. That was four months ago and i have been doing my mandatory work as a munitions sales advisor between our state and iraq since the day after that.
My first personal aquaintence with Heinrich came in a belfast bar called the Limelight. We where on a works do and since my job ranked comparitivly higher to that of many of my collegues, atleast on a plain of danger, i was chosen to represent my team in the V.I.P room, because apparently i had "More courage cause i worked with pakis all day". Number one I work mostly alone, from home on my telephone. Two, Pakis are from pakistan, its in the name really. Three, Iraq arent the enemy, so im in less danger than a guy on a building site really. So past a generic baldy bouncer and through a rather messy looking number of halls, strewn with more tacky boa's than there should be anywhere and a number of empty clothing rails i came to a normal yellow unmarked door without a handle. I knocked. Her Heinrich opened personally which was unexpected, he held a semi full bottle of lambrini, cap facing the floor, in his right hand and an un-faltering unsteady drunken scowl on his powdered pink face. He was by nature a pale, gaunt sort of a man. You can see on google in his early political runs, he was far uglier. But now he had himself and every man under his command wear at the very least a little bit of eyeliner or something. "Beauty will bear fruits unfound to the uggos" was often his response when questioned on it. I do not know what it means, nor where it came/comes from.
Her Heinrich looked at me through several metre tall wine bottles which where strewn about on this stout table among the men. He grabbed one of the long stems and slupped down the red juice within. He gestured with the glass toward two young men and warmed them into coming over. He Smiled a smile of "check this out" at me and whispered to the young boys; "Into the pit now, fellows". They just looked at each other in a feigned shock. "A bickering has emerged has it not? Between You? Into the pit now. Two men enter, one man leaves." They took off towards a small well looking thing in the corner "And hold damned hands while your at it. Two men, One." and they plunged in synchronisation about two miles deep.

The walls of the well had scratched our arms and a lot of jutting rocks bumped our heads so we had stopped falling about three metres down, when we stuck our bare soles and palms to the walls. So now we shuffled down the pipe just about a bodys space above the other. In silent anxiety  for the next hour we wondered who would give way first and the man below could only hope it was himself, because even if he fell he may land somewhere safe but if we both fell simultainiously or if i fell first we would have snapped neck and smashed balls on our hands. After an hour and a half we finally spoke to each other by confirming our secret fear was our partner was going to slip and die and that we would be utterly alone down here to face god only knew what so we decided to drop, come what may and all that malarky. Bottom agreed to drop first and then I, ten minuites later, so that he would atleast have time to escape me. Then it was my turn to drop. The air was tight and it wrung and echoed at ever shuffle so for a moment i remained perfectly still. The air began to twist tighter, crushing my head and ringing my ears, so i just tucked in my arms and legs, shut my eyes and was welcomed to movement. The sensation of falling and a cool moist breeze carressing all round me and a great rushing through my body. I fell for about twenty seconds before landing in a deep pool of cream. I emerged through the still film i had just disturbed a few moments ago to a large domed room covered in icons and detailed stucco. All was dimly lit with LED blinking lights below the glass floor on my breast level. I swam to the edge of the viscous pool and pulled my body onto the floor without any audible groans. Bottom watched my struggling form emerge with a dissasocited stare. He Knew the orders as well as i did. Two men enter, one man leaves. "How are we going to do this then?" He questioned. "Tell me about your mother." I said, shaking my hair off furiosly and futilly while whips of creamed corn splattered christ and his biblical affiliates.
Its summer now. There is the unnerving presence of a thought in my head, it goes as follows; I shouldnt be here. I should be somewhere else. It should be the cool blue sky of the morn that rouses me from a rolling hill of green. Instead my circadian rythem is disrupted by a constant contisol feed from this shallow blue screen and i am kept awake infront of scrolling text of green.
This thought is threatening because it looms. It never manifests in word or action only in thought. Often it comes about at night most strongest. In vivid fantasies of a montage of freeze frames of myself in a tattered vest bradishing various weapons, sporting many aesthetic exclusive wounds, in a lot of cool poses in abandonned buildings or in the woods, grimacing, gnashing my teeth. Then i cant sleep so i sit up in my sweaty red curtained room with my hair all greasy, light up a freshly rolled bine, finish off the last of my iced black coffee in a ruby blown glass and smoke up like its the last. Then i just flick on the old web browser and start checking the fucking kill count. Obsessivly, nightly, daily i'm checking the KD ratios of the planets forces: Iraq 1:2 Korea UTD 4:7  New Emirate States UTD: 4:1 Ireland 1:47 (always the short end of the stick us) USofA,C&M 8:3 ETC.