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Psychotic Worm Podcast
Psychotic Worm Podcast

Episode 1 · 2 years ago

Episode One: "Dope Sick" A Short Story

ABOUT THIS EPISODE

You are listening to the psychotic worm podcast. Here you'll find the work in writing of John Put me on on and independent author. visit the website John Put me on. Oh, that's John Putigna and no one thousand nine hundred and eighty three dot wordpresscom. Again, that's John Putig an a and O dot Wordpresscom, and make sure you subscribe to this podcast. Dope sick by John Put me on O. Brad was dope sick. Unless you have suffered from the itchy blood, cold sweat, uncontrollable shakes and tremors or the uncontrollable squirting shits, it's hard to sympathize. Now, imagine all this going on...

...while trying to work in a warehouse. Man, that is fucking hell. Back home, his girlfriend, Marlene was trying to score some dope, but at the moment that did not do him any good. For the next six hours, Brad had to invoke every bit of energy to survive the shift, and it wasn't working out well. Brad, I need to talk to you. Mr Watson was the run of the mill Cock Sucker, a blue collar slave driver who lived to micro manage the tub of large stood there dressed the machine creased khaki's in effeminate purple Polo Shirt. That's what he comes smear really got his rocks off and disciplining people. So it came as no surprise that, after spending most of his day blowing up the bathroom, this fucker felt...

...inclined to address his work ethic. Yes, I Massa, I'm a real sorry boss man, I'm just a worthless junk box, shit streaming down my Pale thighs and arms dotted with infected injection sites. Awfully sorry that a peasant such as myself must waste so much of your time by addressing my problematic work performance. Here I am sticking up the bathroom on company time, and now you must set aside the next few moments to correct my behavior. Please have mercy on me by allowing me the opportunity to hold on to my next minimum wage job. Watson's office is the perfect dwelling for an anal retentive douchebag. The walls were strategically decorated with certificates and awards, and on a shelf for his pathetic gold trophies. The man was immaculate, insanely orderly and, although he was aware house manager you'd figure. He worked as a CEO of some...

...fortune five hundred club the closet queer had this insatiable need to feed his narcissism. The manning constant ego stroking the bitch was more likely a masochist. It was easy to envision him with a ball gag in his mouth, his furry ass propped up in the air while some dominant big bone bitch puts metal clamps on his nuggets. In all likelihood, he man skipped his pubes into a heart shape. Listen, Brad, it'sn't brought to my attention that you're having issues making your daily minimums for over a week now. Are you aware of this? Yeah, I've been sick lately. I've noticed the tubby clown plops his fat ass and the seat of his leather chair, began typing something and do his computer. Well, pulling up your daily numbers report in the case that you've been operating on thirty percent. You're a grown man and I know...

...you understand this is a place of business and I'm responsible as your manager to ensure that every employee gives their optimal output. With all this said, I'm afraid that I'm limited in what I can do for you, and therefore I am forced to put the knees of the company first. What I'm trying to say is that your employment here has been terminated. Brad didn't even try. Why? Bother men like Wattson fucking live to ruin the lives of others. They cannot exist without pissing on somebody that's perceived to be below them. Control is what got his pudgy little pecker hard. Being a heroin addict, brand had gun used to a life void of self respect or dignity. How he wants suck the man off for a point of heroin, but in this situation he's begging would be for nothing. Once in, that made up his mind, but that's not to say he would go out peacefully. His stomach had been doing backflips since entering the office in a damn was on the verge of...

...letting go without warning. Brad surrendered to his intestinal woes and with a thunderous fart came the waterfall of liquefied feces. As he began pissing file smelling liquid from his asshole, the diarrhea shot down his leg with magnificent force, drenching his white carpet with Brown junky ash juice. With a smirk, Brad left his fuck face hurling into a wastebasket as a REC raped his nostrils. What Brad need and more than anything, was to get high. In his truck he kept a spare pair of pants. This is typical precautionary measures a drug addict must take for situations just as these. Wearing a fresh pair of slacks, he aligned his internal focus to his burning anus and hopes of plugging it up long enough to stick a syringe into his veins. He lived on the...

...first floor of a dilapidated three story apartment building. Upon entering the front door, became obvious that marline had company. She moaned like a whore and she begged whoever it was to pound that Pussy, to make that ass clap. When Brad got to the kitchen, his jaw hit the floor. Marlene was bent over the table and behind her was their dope dealer, hector, thrusting his Porto Rican Dick into her wet pussy. They had no idea he was home early. From behind, a shovel can crash it down on top of Hector's head, busting get open like a Pinata. His lifeless corpse collapsed on to Marlene, pinning her to the kitchen table. Frantically she struggled to break free, screaming hysterically. Blood sprayed all over her naked body. Brad repositioned himself next to marline. For a moment, he paused, peering deep into...

...her eyes and, for the first time his life he saw what genuine fear looked like. The vengeful man being the sadistic parting grin before winding up and swinging the shovel with all his might. The tool collided with her face as teeth exploded from her mouth. The impact shattered her jaw. The impact shattered her jaw, breaking it loose and sending it flying across the room before smacking against the wall. The cheating cunt went limp and all was silent. Brad dropped the shovel to the ground and took in the gruesome sight, basking in the brutality and justice which he had just delivered. Back in the living room he found a backpack which is where hector kept his stash. Historically speaking, Brad had proven himself to be a total failure in all aspects of life, but when it came to shooting shit into his arm, he was a goddamn...

...pro. Like any serious addict, he knew his dose ach well, so when he injected a lethal dose of poison, it was safe to assume that he knew exactly what he was doing. A warm rushed over his body as he sunk down to the couch, allowing the Magic to happen. And this concludes today's psychotic Worm podcast episode. Make sure you check out the website jomp putting on one thousand nine hundred and eighty three dot wordpresscom. You can email me at and theogenic lab at gmailcom. That's e and Thheo Ge and I see lab at GMAILCOM. Make sure you subscribe to this podcast. Thank you for listening. Goodbye.

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