...Michael Fisher Michael Fisher The Blood Letter The Blood Letter The Blood Letter Written by: Michael Fisher Jr. Copyright: October 23, 2014 -Preface- In mid-evil times there was an unorthodox treatment for any ailment at the time, it was called bloodletting. When the nobles were ill, no matter what the affliction was, the surgeons with their hideous beak nosed masks and the blacked out eyes would come in and perform a bloodletting. The bloodletting consisted of placing leaches randomly on the afflicted one’s body, and allowing them to suck the sickness out of the host body. They would also place small incisions in precise placements to allow the “bad blood” to flow out of the infected body. More times than not, the patient died, but they always assumed it was because the infection was too far gone. Or even that the Devil himself had a hunger for that person’s soul. Even during the time of the black plague outbreaks, smallpox, cholera and the many other ramped diseases of the dark ages, the bloodletting practice was incorporated. Even during the Salem witch trials this method was instilled as a form of torture to get confessions of witchcraft form the accused, and also to try to rid them of the evil blood received from the devil. The practice was thought to have died out with the knights, nobles, and the kingdoms of old, and destroyed along with the witches…or so we thought. Fast forward many centuries from the dark ages to the modern days of the cell phone...
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...THE VULGAR CHEF PRESENTS... ® EATCOOKBOOK LIKE S*HIT THE C HAPTER 1 Weclome to the book. S ECTION 1 Introduction ! Whats up mother fuckers? Welcome to the EAT LIKE SHIT COOKBOOK I’ve put together a fuck ton of shitty recipes...some new...some old...even a few healthy choices for you gym nazis and health food hardo’s. This isn't your typical Rachael fuckin’ Ray cookbook, this shit is way more legit. It’s so legit that a lot of the recipes don't even have measurements. Thats because the recipes suck and I want YOU to be your own Vulgar Chef. You call the shots in your kitchen. If I use six handfuls of bacon the fuck sprinkles, I want you to use 10. If I use bread....you use a sprinkled fuck doughnut. Ya dig? ! The instructions might be shot as fuck because I wrote this shit drunk as fuck with my hand in my pants. These recipes are here to inspire. I don't care what skill level of a cook/chef you are. Food shouldn't be boring and thats the fuckin message I’m sending with this bitch of a book. ! 2 ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kyle Marcoux was born and raised on the rugged as fuck streets of Western Massachusetts. As a child, his mother never let him have the laser back drop in his school photos...and that fucking sucked. He spent the majority of his teen years smoking pot out of sockets with his boys. Shortly after graduating High School, his band landed a record deal which led to full time touring of the US. This is where he developed a strong passion for shitty fucking value menu...
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...be doin’ fine, well I’ve never recovered/ but tonight ‘betcha that whatch yer/’bout to go through’s tougher than anything I ever have suffered/can’t think of a, better way to define poetic justice/can I hold grudges? Mind sayin’ “let it go fuck this”/hearts sayin’ “I will once I bury this bitch alive hide the shovel and then drive off in the sunset”/and… Chorus I flee the scene, like it was my last ride/you see right through, oh, you had me pegged the first time/you can see the truth, but it’s easier to justify/what’s bad is good and I hate to be the bad guy/I just hate to be the bad guy/follow me I run, I run, follow me, follow me, I just hate to be the bad guy/Verse 2 And to think I used to think you was the shit, bitch/to think it was you at one time I worshiped? Shit/think you can hurt people and just keep getting’ away with it?/ Not this time you, better go and get the sewing kit, bitch/finish this stitch, so you can reap what you sew, knit wit/thought some time would pass and I’d forget it? Forgit it/you left our family in shambles, and you expect me to just get over him? Pretend he never existed?/May be gone, but he’s not forgotten and don’t...
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...f Young Metro don't trust you, I'm gon' shoot you Yeah Halloween Taliban, Taliban Yeah, jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, them boys up to something They just spent like two or three weeks out the country Them boys up to something they just not just bluffing You don't have to call I hit my dance like Usher I just found my tempo like I'm DJ Mustard I hit the Ginobili with my left hand up like Lobster and Celine for all my babies that I miss Chicken finger, French fries for them hoes that wanna diss Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, them boys up to something Uh-uh, uh, I think I need some Robitussin Way too many questions you must think I trust you You searching for answers I do not know nothing I see 'em tweaking they know something's coming Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, them boys up to something Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, fuck was you expecting? Chi-town chi-town Michael Jordan just said text me Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman I just seen the jet take off they up to something Them boys just not bluffing them boys just not bluffing Jumpman, jumpman, jumpman, them boys up to something She was tryna join the team I told her, "Wait." Chicken wings and fries we don't go on dates Nobu, Nobu, Nobu, Nobu, Nobu, Nobu, I just throwed a private dinner in LA Trapping is a hobby, that's the way for me Money coming fast, they never get to sleep I, I just had to buy another safe Bentley Spurs and Phantoms Jordan Fadeaway Yeah Jumpman, jumpman...
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...You: Joel You: yours? Stranger: hello Joel Stranger: I am David You: hey david Stranger: I put my hand out and we shake You: haha we both have names from the Bible :P Stranger: hehe You: lol i shake it and make awakrd eye contact Stranger: I just look at you You: and??? Stranger: where you from? You: south africa u? Stranger: Colorado usa You: woah, cool. Stranger: maybe I should let your hand go You: thts like where disneys at right? You: lol, no, its cool You: i like it, its soft Stranger: no, it is where Aspen is, ski country You: oh ok, ive been to new york, la, florida and vegas Stranger: you feel good in my hand Stranger: near Vegas You: really? omg im blushing like crazy You: oh ok Stranger: that is ok You: gays are infested in vegas, loved it You: what color is your eyes? Stranger: would like to kiss the blush off you Stranger: brown hair and eyes You: sure, go ahead, ur lips are soft and warm :) You: same :) Stranger: I pull you to me and kiss you Stranger: tongue goes into your mouth You: and? and?!?!? Stranger: give me your tongue You: u pull me closer? You: i did, Stranger: I suck on it and pull you closer You: bite my lip You: it drives me crazy Stranger: no, I do not bite, unless you want me to Stranger: I bite it gently You: oh believe me, i want u to ;) You: i feel something hard against my leg Stranger: what are you wearing Joel Stranger: you did that You: lol nothing but my underwear tbh Stranger: boxers or briefs You: well, i guess i should help u get rid of...
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...Screenplay INT. HOUSE ON SYCAMORE Door bell rings. Brice opens the door to find his acting partner, Margaret patiently waiting at the front. Meanwhile Jeff and Joey sit on the couch under blankets watching TV, eating popcorn. BRICE Margaret! So nice to see you found our place. MARGARET Of course I found it! You can run but you’ll never hide. Jeff and Joey roll eyes. BRICE Ha, that’s my Margaret. Except let’s keep the creepy talk for our rehearsal shall we? Margaret looks confused. BRICE Gentlemen meet Margaret, Margaret, meet Jeff and Joey aka our audience for this evening. Brice grabs the TV remote and turns off the TV. Jeff and Joey are not pleased. JEFF Thank god I popped a xanex. JOEY And popcorn. JEFF Whatever it takes to relieve the pain. BRICE Jeff! Margaret notices Joeys Black eyes. MARGARET Oh my dear! Speaking of pain what happened to your eyes, Joey?? (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 2. JEFF I ordered sock’em boppers. JOEY I wouldn’t recommend facing Jeff in a match. Unless you don’t mind your eye balls sticking to the back of your skull. MARGARET I love the feel of sticky eye balls. Slight pause. BRICE Okay! Lets get started shall we? MARGARET Absolutely! Reading from scripts Brice and Margaret start acting out their roles. The sound of Brice and Margaret slowly turns muffled as the camera slowly zooms in on Jeff and Joeys painfully uninspired faces. Joey looks around and pretends to have a phone call. JOEY ...
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...You lying little shit weasel, fucking a giraffe on a unicycle that is balancing on the forehead of a enslaved elephant that is eating a bacon covered caramel apple that is home to a civilization of mini ligers with top hats; top hats that can defy gravity and feed the ancient Aztec camels, of Jupiter's 57th moon, fish eggs. That's what you are. What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face...
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...------------------------------------------------- SOME WORDS OF ADVICE EBCTT Assignment Submitted By: Paul Mathews 221087 Submitted By: Paul Mathews 221087 IN A SUBWAY STATION - DAY A WOMAN WITH A BOOK who is waiting for the train sits in the middle of a bench reading a brainy, yet hot current best seller. There are empty seats on either side of her. The other seats are taken. A garbled train announcement comes over the public address system. ALL THE PEOPLE WAITING for the train strain their ears to make sense of the announcement, but it's just gibberish. They all look at each other as if to say, "Wha?" Nobody gives it much further thought. They continue reading, chatting, listening to Walkmans. Somewhat down the platform, JOEY and FREDDY are going through the turnstiles. Their conversation is well in progress. They make their way down the platform toward the bench. We don't hear what they're saying because...
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...You Will Never Sleep With a Woman Who Looks Like That TBD Courtesy of Justin Halpern Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email comment May 15, 2012 Justin Halpern If you discount countless, forgettable chunks of time spent at school, home, and 7-Eleven, I passed most of my waking hours from ages ten through twelve playing baseball and goofing off with friends at the Point Loma Little League fields. Those two adjacent baseball fields were about a mile from my house, and twice a week my team, the San Diego Credit Union Padres, would gather there to practice. "You should just be called the Padres, not all that bullshit about credit unions," my dad said, as he drove me to the field on the opening day of the season when I was eleven years old. "But the credit union pays for us to have a team," I said. "Yeah, well, I pay for you to do everything, and you don't see me making you wear a shirt with my giant goddamned face on it." "That would be a weird shirt," I said. "Please. You wear all kinds of dopey shirts, and — what the fuck am I talking about right here? The shirt's not real, I'm just making a point. You got your gear?" he asked, pulling up to the field. Saturdays were filled with a full lineup of games, all of which the league's players were required to attend, so my parents could drop me off bright and early and then do whatever they wanted all day until my game. The prospect of a morning to himself was very exciting for my dad. "There's a lot of good teams...
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...The leaves are turning brown again. Cool and brisk, the wind blows up the torn sweater the old man wears. Visibly shaking and uncertain of his surroundings, he’s a husk of his former self. His eyes dilate, his face is melting. Literally melting. He collapses into a small dirty heap, his eyes shut and a final breath escapes his lips. A young boy walks by and asks for money, he too broke and dirty. Another shows up and prods his silent corpse. This is where our story begins. Set in Detroit, MI during the great recession, it’s a story based on the collapse of the withering economic catastrophe known as the Automotive Industry. I would like to ask for a possibility to build a film around the concept of the desolation felt in that town and of this place. But with only $500 in hand and an old VHS video recorder, there’s only so much I can create with these limited resources. It’ll be set in front of a Party Plus Market Off of Wyoming St, an area of town notorious for its high and violent crime rate. Its daring for sure, but I wish to capture the true feeling of a desperate environment in one of the most violent and crime riddled cities in America. If there’s a chance to negotiate an advance of at least $1000 to put towards filming expenses, it’d be greatly appreciated. Thank you for your time. EXT. LIQUOR STORE: It’s dark outside. Street lights dimly glow on the entrance of a local liquor store. An old man in tattered clothes and a Walmart welcome vest is seen...
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...bitch…..talk to who I want when I want. 5. Stop being a pussy….i’m nice at basketball and it time people know it!! 6. Talk to Hollub and tell him you coming to practice 7. IM 17 nothing is serious LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP 8. These girls mean nathan so fuck em all>>> by fuck I mean 8==D (/\) FUCK!!! 9. Weed……ONLY SMOKE WITH BITCHES....TO GET PUSSY 10. Basketball is my ticket im a 6’3” point guard..PUT SOME WORK IN ITS FUN TO BE NICE “Life is what you make it, you plant the seed that blossoms into your life. Nobody has a ceiling and Nobody has limits, you go as far as you want to go. So that means you are who the fuck you want to be and that’s that. Fear is created in the brain so delete that shit in your brain.” – I said that shit, Jonathan Buttah Mandingo...
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...trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo. I will cum hard between the fat tits of the fatty. i want to cum on her fat cheeks and slap her fat face with my hard cock, and watch her cry and gargle my cum begging for more as I slap her fat ass and face, before opening...
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...Stop waiting for me fail. I'm not going to give you the pleasure of not seeing me succeed. I'm not going to drop out of school. I'm not going to get pregnant. So fuck you. Grab a chair e esperen sentados porque no les voy dar el gusto. You're all a bunch of haters. I'm graduating valedictorian and you still have the nerve to say that once I get to college I'm going to start failing. You see me with good grades as Angie did before. Stop comparing me to her, she's my sister and I love her but I've learned from her mistakes. Stop comparing me. Mind you're own business. If I fuck up, that's my shit. I'm not stupid to get pregnant, and if I were to, you shouldn't give a fuck, I ain't asking you for shit. So keep running your mouth but it's a waste of time. What you say goes in through one ear and out the other. Who am I? I am a freshman female in college in Long Beach, California constantly being compared to my sister and her mistakes that she's made even though I'm a different person, and I'm tired of it. Where am I? I'm with only my parents, not with my sister, I'm the living room. They are sitting down and I'm fed up with what they say to me and I want to get my point across. What do I need? I want them to stop comparing me, and an apology. I want them to feel bad and see where I'm coming from. What is my obstacle? They have to listen to me and understand where I'm coming from. I also don't want to hurt my sisters feelings. I want my parents to realize I won't make the same...
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...the top battler in the entire country. You are nothing to me but just another source of XP. I will send you back to the Pokémon Center with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, youngster. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of trainers across the region and your trainer card is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your best Pokémon team. You’re fucking white-outed, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can KO your Pokémon in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my level 1 Pidgey. Not only am I extensively trained in single battle, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Elite 4's Pokémon and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass back to the Pokémon Center, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, Youngster...
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...Talking on aim And stealing you're heart That was never my aim See I let you leave and now Nothing's the same I'm picking you're brain You pick me apart I'm picking you're heart You left me in dark I guess all the pain and the hurt And the worry you left me Returned in the shell of a star Damn do we end arm and arm Or are we Armageddon Guess you'll never know Cause you never let him Show how he love And he trusts and he can do But all of it showed But you never were there So let's really see if you cared Nor If you needed Then he would be there To put all the blame Onto you isn't fair But all you care about Is you're makeup and hair You're taking a selfie I'm taking you're shit I see all you're pics I see who you picked And just know it eats me alive You're happy within That you're happy with him Damn I guess I'm just jealous creeping Thru you're Instagram And find myself asking why the fuck that I still give a damn About you , about us Like mark give her the fuck up And although I hate his guts I gotta give you're man that thumbs up Cause he was bringing you close Now he's bin the one Who's wanting the most One minute I hate you One minute I love you We're right now I'm writing And feeling em' both I can't stop Thinking about you When I was given this beat Immediately thought about you Curse with the hurt Is the one that I found you Stuck...
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