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The Hamburger, Forgotten.

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TonyZimmzy
  • TonyZimmzy

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#1

Posted 10 April 2011 - 08:33 PM Edited by Craig, 13 April 2011 - 07:47 AM.

- story 1
- story 2



The Hamburger, Forgotten.

Warning: This story contains scenes of an intense and pointless graphic nature, including: sadism, torture, malpractice, rape, murder, and everything between and beyond.




January, 1990.




Chapter 1: Chase The Stomach



Many'a year since the grizzly demise of eight of the finest cookie-cuttin', future cock slurrpin' Scout girls were found decimated in the wake of The Hamburger, and the unforgotton stench left behind at Burkman High of two paramedics -- who were just trying to do their jobs -- the jobs, just like everyone else who seems to encounter this enchanting soon-to-be 'King of the City': SAVING VICTIMS .



Have you seen this man?



user posted image



Please, don't allow these brave paramedics to be entwined with the fate of your crusted, coated in kidney failure soul. If you have seen this man, you will soon know why you are a victim .

---

"Look bub', I don't give three quart'a milk and a broken ni**er if the payment didn't go through. I'm good for the cash, homeboy. You know me."

The voice, calming the displeased look on the counter jockey's face was strong enough to overwhelm him with a sense of pity. That, and he could smell lice and afterbirth on the breath of this man. He gently shifts the 24-pack of Coors across the counter top.

"Thanks, seņorita!" Michael Hamburger, now 20-years-old says, sliding his elbows along the counter and picking up the beer, giving his server a seductive wink as he does.

"I don't even know you," the stocky Indian man states, his accent thicker than Hamburger's lice-infested breath... barely.

"Haha, you're such a f*ckin' joker," Hamburger laughs, walking out with the case of beer pressed against his chest. "Cheesus Crust, God of Pizza, me 'n you gotta get our bee-hinds to the part-A."

---

The lust-covered walls were sweating with sex, both forced and consensual as The Hamburger drags his blistered heels down the corridor. He arrives at number 34. Home for him as of last Spring. He really is trying to become 'normal', believe it or not. He kicks the base of the door. "Let's go, broseths. Part-A won't wait for no man, y'hear?"

The door is immediately opened by a sickly muscled blonde haired teenager. Letting out a sigh of relief he grabs the Coors from Hamburger and nods his head.

"You did good, cock sucker. But I tell ya'," he leans in closer to Hamburger, twitches briefly, then leans back after realizing the stench of Bronchitis and 16-minute-old still-birth was emanating from Michael's very existence.

"...Where was I? ... Right. I tell ya', you keep talkin' like me, I fittin'a smash 'dem knee caps, y'hear?" he half-jokingly warns of his room mate.

"Gotcha, slick," Hamburger replies. On the outside, he smiles. On the inside, he wonders how hard he'd have to scratch through his stonewashed jeans before he could break skin. He dearly notes this to himself before he, the muscled blonde teen and another male, with long brown hair and a Mr. Bungle 'There's a Tractor in My Balls' t-shirt head back down the corridor Hamburger just came from.

---

The sound of student life is more alive than ever in the heart of Liverpool, England. The chilling Winter air is enough to warrant early indoor time to anyone who isn't ravenously assaulted on alcohol, drugs, or a combined mixture of both.

"Catch!" Todd, the aforementioned heavily muscled blonde teen yells to a group of girls, tossing a Coors their way. A girl catches it, barely, and they cheer as if they've f*cked their way from Broadway to feature-films. The Hamburger notices this, as Todd and his friend Murph both laugh and clap.

"Catch!" Hamburger yells, gripping his open beer and getting a full-fledged pitcher's piston force behind his scrappy right hand, then launching it through the air, across the busy roads, and nailing one of the girls square in the mouth, alcohol spilling everywhere upon impact.

The mood quickly turns, as screams and blood are both drawn from innocence just moments ago. Todd and Murph both look at Michael in disbelief, then can't help but laugh.

"Stupid maw'f*cka," Todd barely gets out between fits of laughter. Murph, gripping his sides with tears streaming down his face, begins to run as the girls all start running after the trio.

This scene:
Five angry, barely clothed 'women'; one with a lip that can now only be described as mince meat, charging towards them, is what makes Michael forget that he's in Med. school, trying to be normal, with friends.

With Todd and Murph out of sight, and only strangers and those whores in sight. It's Hamburger time.

At nine-years-old, Kelly was a ballerina. She was accepted in to a top London school for junior dancers. Her parents pushed her, because they loved her. She couldn't see it then, but in this split moment -- leading her four other cheap slutbag friends towards The Hamburger, she finally found clarity after years and years of her parents trying to keep her focused on dancing. She could've been something. She could've been someone. Somewhere in 1983, her childhood self just shed a tear, because unbeknownst to her, she was about to get jack knifed to whatever God she chose to worship.

This scene, in three minutes:
Five dead whores, covered in the failings of society, a crimson red, and aids.

Rewind two-minutes and fifty-three seconds ago.

The Hamburger palms the jack knife he's kept close to him for four short years. He grabs ahold of Kelly's tattered sandy blonde hair and yanks her down to waist level. Her friends stop in their tracks as The Hamburger looks up at them, not breaking eye contact, as he begins viciously goating Kelly's left eye out of her skull with his trusty jack knife. Her legs instantly give up as her spine goes into what can only be described as a narcoleptic fashion.

She drops to the floor as chunks of her hair remain in Michael's hand. Her friends slowly step back, as cars begin slowing to a halt around them.

"Have you ever really, really wanted to eat Toxic Shock Syndrome between bread as if it were a sandwich?" Michael asks of the cum dumpsters in front of him before pacing forward after them, jack knife at the ready...

UglyCasanova
  • UglyCasanova

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#2

Posted 10 April 2011 - 09:17 PM

Antonio...this is...a return for the best. wink.gif

El Zilcho
  • El Zilcho

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#3

Posted 10 April 2011 - 09:39 PM

I f*cking love this! Tony, I've read some of your past stuff but you were much more a writer before my time on these forums, but I'm sure I speak for most people to say it's good to have you back. This piece is visceral and above all, f*cking hilarious! icon14.gif Good sh*t.

Oxidizer
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#4

Posted 12 April 2011 - 01:43 PM

Mmm, someone bottle me some of Michael Hamburger's luscious scent. It makes me want to violently f*ck things.

And Zimmzy, lovely zesty Zimmzy, it's good to see you again, boytinkles. inlove.gif

TonyZimmzy
  • TonyZimmzy

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#5

Posted 12 April 2011 - 11:44 PM

My broseths are in! In for some Hamburger phun times ahead. Where the fugg ya been Mr. Sexidizer?

Thanks for the support Zilcho, means a lot.

It's been a long time, but I really feel like writing again. I'm rusty as f*ck, mind. If anyone spots any errors in spelling/grammar, point them fuggers out asap. S'been three+ years since I've read or wrote anything.

Craig
  • Craig

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#6

Posted 13 April 2011 - 01:15 AM

Jesus, look who it is!

Great comeback, I didn't see this coming. Your direction to these glorified tales are fresh and were a constant source of enjoyment way back when. The good thing with them is that I can either take them as fun little reads or as serious as a tax return.

All we need now is Cubanwhip and then it'll be a party though I've a feeling he's still with us...

UglyCasanova
  • UglyCasanova

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#7

Posted 13 April 2011 - 02:36 AM

QUOTE (Craig @ Apr 13 2011, 01:15)
Jesus, look who it is!

Great comeback, I didn't see this coming. Your direction to these glorified tales are fresh and were a constant source of enjoyment way back when. The good thing with them is that I can either take them as fun little reads or as serious as a tax return.

All we need now is Cubanwhip and then it'll be a party though I've a feeling he's still with us...

Tonyzimmzy being back does mark a return of good things and is an omen. This is the kind of resurgence we need! Now we need the good ole writers from back a while ago. What happened to Cubanwhip? I was a long time non-registered user, just browsing the forums and it looks like he disappeared off the face of the planet. There were rumors he died or something.

makeshyft
  • makeshyft

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#8

Posted 13 April 2011 - 04:22 AM

QUOTE (TonyZimmzy @ Apr 13 2011, 09:44)
It's been a long time, but I really feel like writing again. I'm rusty as f*ck, mind. If anyone spots any errors in spelling/grammar, point them fuggers out asap.

Forgotten*

Craig
  • Craig

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#9

Posted 13 April 2011 - 07:41 AM Edited by Craig, 13 April 2011 - 07:47 AM.

QUOTE (makeshyft @ Apr 13 2011, 05:22)
QUOTE (TonyZimmzy @ Apr 13 2011, 09:44)
It's been a long time, but I really feel like writing again. I'm rusty as f*ck, mind. If anyone spots any errors in spelling/grammar, point them fuggers out asap.

Forgotten*

I thought it was deliberate. Shows what I know.

EDIT: Changed, because I'm a meddling sh*tface.

user posted image

Let me know if it was part of the title though.

TonyZimmzy
  • TonyZimmzy

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#10

Posted 14 April 2011 - 12:07 PM

I spelt forgotten wrong? Haha, I must be rusty, because I learnt to spell that when I was a wee one. Yeah, it wasn't on purpose that's for sure. /feelslikearetardnow.

Cubanwhip's around. Giving head for small change no doubt. Crafty bugger.

I'll write up ze next chapter tonight or the weekend. Until then, an alcoholic farewell.

Oxidizer
  • Oxidizer

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#11

Posted 14 April 2011 - 01:30 PM

QUOTE (TonyZimmzy @ Apr 12 2011, 23:44)
Where the fugg ya been Mr. Sexidizer?

Around, like a pantyhose around a tranny's ankles. devil.gif

Er... I mean, I honestly don't know why I haven't been online as much; though if you're referring to Msn, I can explain; *New York film noir voiceover* 'goes something like this: Little Andy tried to sign into Msn one night, 'twas around August '10, and sh*t all happened, it wouldn't let him in. So he made a new account (*cut the tape* PM me for it if I haven't already added you *cue the tape*), only since a fortnight before Christmas he hasn't been on it 'cause he needs to update it and hasn't been arsed, uh, assed*. But once he does, it should be all systems go. That's about the it. /end voiceover

In the meantime, I look forward to the next chapter of this and I think I'll rent myself a little Cuban for however long it takes me to prematurely ejactulate. icon14.gif

TonyZimmzy
  • TonyZimmzy

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#12

Posted 05 May 2011 - 09:48 PM Edited by TonyZimmzy, 05 May 2011 - 09:54 PM.

Chapter 2: The Notorious Bacon Rapist

Obviously Michael jack knifed the whores into oblivion; there's no need to go into detail, out of respect to their families. They were sisters, friends, daughters, possible fire fighters? Who knew of their career choices.

Michael arrived at the party -- typical bullsh*t scenario:
The music was too loud.
The beer kegs were being occupied by overweight gentlemen upside down, chugging the life from the metalic seeds of glory.
The meat in the fridge hadn't been raped enough. Or at all. This was Michael's primary thought.

"Where the f*ck were you?" Michael's friend Murph from earlier asked of him, putting his arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer in. "Those girls, man... you all good?"

"All good in the hood, chief!" Michael smiled as he pulled away. His mind could barely focus. He could smell that unraped meat a mile away. He was getting the shakes. The sweats, man. This was bad. I've never seen a case this bad, I tells ya.

"Well, alright then," Murph says, noticing the distraction all over The Hamburger's crusted-with-crustacean face, possibly the same lobster eaten in the Summer of '89, many a moon ago. "You seem distracted. You should take the edge off," he smiles, nodding his head to a door across the room. "Todd's getting his nut. Said a girl, Cindy, was waiting for you..."

"Cindy from 108?" Michael asked, not taking his eyes off the fridge.

"Yeah, the real slutty one. Go get yours, son," Murph said, patting him on the back, then looking at his hand in disgust, wiping whatever remnants were on The Hamburger unto his t-shirt.

Michael surveyed the situation briefly. He was still a man, with urges, and wanted to get a 'nut' in something other than thawed meat. He also realised the fridge wasn't going anywhere. He took a quick pace and made his way over to the room and entered.

Picture this, my friends:
Your name is Charles McBroughton. At the age of 5, people began realizing you were a worthless sack of used anal glands. You were relentlessly bullied, ridiculed, beaten to within an inch of your life and would do just about anything to have a less sh*tty name and life. Maybe he thought -- just maybe, that at the age of 18, and after being horrendously molested by the Water-Polo team, each member using an item of clothing with rubbing alcohol to penetrate his useless asshole, culminating on setting a boy's fist on fire and forcing him to shove it into the dark abyss, that maybe he could start anew.

Charles McBroughton jumped ship. He left North Yorkshire and came to Liverpool to begin his life of University. He changed his name to Charlie. He slicked that hair, he walked that walk, and finally convinced a beautiful girl, Christy, to put out for him. It was at this very party, in this very room, at this very minute where Charles McBroughton's sad and tortured life could all turn around.

Enter The Hamburger.

"Oh, God!" Christy screamed, grabbing the sheets to cover the endless... endless amount of exposed fat that clung to her body. Ladies and gentlemen, this room's mass is worth that of the solar system right now.

But Charles could care less. He jumped off of her and stood up. "H-Hey! What the f*ck are you doing, bro?!" he screamed out, trying to be as primal as possible with his 97lb frame in X-Men underwear.

Michael's eyes scanned the room. He was not impressed one bit. In his left eye, the 97lb bucket of abused aids known as Charles. The right eye, the majority of the 416lb land whale known as Christy. His vision, in slow motion, turning back to see Murph and more, laughing...

But beyond that...

The fridge. The fridge that holds his sacred soon-to-be raped bacon joint.

No hesitation. Don't get scared now.

Michael bolted out the room and went right towards the fridge. He felt deep in his loins the urge to molest this treat of meat growing by the second. He grabbed the fridge.

"You f*cking c*nt!"

Michael turned around and ate 97lbs of Charles McBroughton in the jaw.

"You ruined my one chance... with my beautiful, amazing Christy," he cries, taking the sorrow of the room and using it as a weapon. "Look around you, man! People like me! Why'd you do it?!"

"Nobody likes you, fa**ot," Murph said, laughing around his brothers of beer. "Why'd you think we got ol' Hamburger to interrupt your sh*t? Oh, and beautiful? f*cking tank. Elephant. Queen of Sea Cows!"

The entire room was in a roar of laughter. Charles McBroughton had been denied access to one of life's perks again: f*cking a mile-high tub of fat.

"You're dead!" he screamed to The Hamburger.

No hesitation. Don't get scared now.

Michael instinctively opened his mouth and bit Charles in the face. Clamping his teeth onto his nose and grazing it, taking a chunk of skin off, instantly drawing blood. The crowd got behind Michael.

Charles stumbled back as Michael grabbed ahold of his hand and bit clean through his index and ring finger. The scream was ear-piercing. The crowd silenced.

...

"f*ck yeah! Hamburger!"

The roars were louder than ever. Todd emerged with a girl, all fist pumping and chanting his name as Charles curled up in the fetal position on the floor, spewing blood relentlessly, like a tapped spring.

"This one's for Maw'!" Michael yelled as he jumped through the air, open-mouth first, crashing his knees on the hard brown tiles and digging his teeth into the forehead of Charles, who whimpers in fear and pain. Michael stands back up.

"And this one's for 'lil Chaunsey boy. Yeah, yeah, 'lil Chaunsey boy!" he said, almost a tear in his eye as he leapt through the air, mouth as wide as can be, driving all his weight head-first into Charles, nashing his teeth across his eyebrow as he begins shaking and convulsing. The crowd only growing louder.

The night grew deeper. The stars were aligned for something magical, somewhere, for the beautiful people. Have you ever seen a night where the stars would hang like diamonds?

Michael's drawn skull with his teeth. Charles is fading.

The moon was glissening with a playful shade of purple. Somewhere, a man is proposing to a woman on a rooftop.

Michael sinks his teeth into skull and gnaws.

The sky was so black, so black you could get lost in it. Somewhere, a family is having dinner and thinking about the future.

Michael bites through the bone and the cheers grow intense. He's picked up by many, and carried on shoulders as a champion. Charles McBroughton will never be forgotten.

Michael lets the crowd carry him away, chanting his name. A smile covers his face, and a joint of bacon lines his jacket.




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