Medic found this extraordinary essay on cryptome. The author chose to remain anonymous.
Hey,dirty old man what was the best you ever had?
They were sitting in the firehouse screwing around cleaning equipment and lying about women and screwing and fluffing their feathers,waiting for the horn to send them flying down to the latest fiery wreck and clean civil rescues not too dangerous for the fellows no longer courageous — most were veterans of wars civil and military not so worldly — grand, just dirty and thankless murderous.
Old John,senior-cranky by years,and the long-time hard-butt of jokes of the dim-bulb young turds,he called them,they on the way up to his way down, hawked an oyster at the questioner saying suck this Blondie,you undicked dork,I’ve fucked more dead ones than you have live ones with feathers.
Sure,I’ll tell you about the best ever,and then let’s finish this shit work and hit Saugies hard tonight,get so pronged we can’t take no unnecessary chances with dumb shits trapped in wrecks. Nothing we could do,remember to say.
There it is,we dropped black near Da Quang in ’64 before the brass got involved,looking for the black drawer sappers slipping back north. Six of us,bone-tired of the dipshit killing and wanting out of CIA civil contracts soonest. Those black ops sucked your mind and rotted your weenie, we’ve never been so scared before or since,eh Dave? Old Dave never said squat and didn’t answer.
Down we plopped into the swamp from hell,nightshit and mud two feet deep,we sunk kneedeep in the muck and then flat on the deck,we knew it was hot. Just like that shooting began with green tracers crossing our red in the hottest black dark and me stuck flat in the mud under a 90-pound radio and pissing my drawers,I truly hate shooting at me.
I squirmed deeper thanks to the soft dung-filled swamp and begged momma-earth to hold me tighter. I shifted back and forth to go deeper in her hold and the more I moved the better it felt, safe,hot and moist, holding,sucking me closer to the hot body mudbath.
The racket was crazy with us screaming and the awful whomp of grenades getting closer and I got to really wriggling in that hot tub of mucus and sweat and piss and nightsoil,some of my own dribbling out,under the warm quilt of hot filthy rice water-fluid saving my life.
Goddam,before you know it my body started to grapple and hump that mother swamp,working hard to get inside her hairy hold-hole more,then old john henry got to creeping too,me crying momma save me,and him stiffening for duty and jumping out of my drawers to worm in deep, mid-body thrusting a bunch,let me tell you,telling itself involuntary that it could fuck its way out of this by getting in some momma’s deepest life-blood slot.
I did,or my self-saving body did I guess,it and me fucked the swamp-mother’s mudhole, hug-flogged the mal-muddy,stayed low,humpbacked down lowest,saved our low squirming ass when the other five slacks got wasted,blown away getting up to fight slopes and taking green hot slugs head and heart exploding. In this night scrape my body and me bucked that mudmother full-body wild and shot hotbody’s wad,keeping old iron gun cold-quiet,preserved its ass by keeping it down and john henry proudly at arms pronging mother earthscape rapidfire like she’s never been drawn and quartered-racked by a mu’fucking landscape desecrator.
There it is,dickheads,and Dave can tell you what I told him when he choppered in the next day,I was still down low,talking him in,and I said Dave ole buddy I got laid last night,laying pipe in the darkest shit fight,scared-shitless humping, laying low in that nightshit and got out alive from the worst godawful night of my life,and one way the best. A near death spurting salvation,coming alive totally smeared with momma’s rank dookie is the best,get these slurpy preserves from your momma when you get a chance,it’s mud-mouth jam and mucky wrong-jake and right-sweet awful,just like being born all over again,religious babe-creation revival,you better try it.
Come on,dry turdmosts,shut your mouths to keep out flies,finish up here and get on home to slurp mommas babymaker or sip a brew with me and DeadDave and we’ll spread for eats,eh, Dave?
Mud Love
Medic found this extraordinary essay on cryptome. The author chose to remain anonymous.
Hey,dirty old man what was the best you ever had?
They were sitting in the firehouse screwing around cleaning equipment and lying about women and screwing and fluffing their feathers,waiting for the horn to send them flying down to the latest fiery wreck and clean civil rescues not too dangerous for the fellows no longer courageous — most were veterans of wars civil and military not so worldly — grand, just dirty and thankless murderous.
Old John,senior-cranky by years,and the long-time hard-butt of jokes of the dim-bulb young turds,he called them,they on the way up to his way down, hawked an oyster at the questioner saying suck this Blondie,you undicked dork,I’ve fucked more dead ones than you have live ones with feathers.
Sure,I’ll tell you about the best ever,and then let’s finish this shit work and hit Saugies hard tonight,get so pronged we can’t take no unnecessary chances with dumb shits trapped in wrecks. Nothing we could do,remember to say.
There it is,we dropped black near Da Quang in ’64 before the brass got involved,looking for the black drawer sappers slipping back north. Six of us,bone-tired of the dipshit killing and wanting out of CIA civil contracts soonest. Those black ops sucked your mind and rotted your weenie, we’ve never been so scared before or since,eh Dave? Old Dave never said squat and didn’t answer.
Down we plopped into the swamp from hell,nightshit and mud two feet deep,we sunk kneedeep in the muck and then flat on the deck,we knew it was hot. Just like that shooting began with green tracers crossing our red in the hottest black dark and me stuck flat in the mud under a 90-pound radio and pissing my drawers,I truly hate shooting at me.
I squirmed deeper thanks to the soft dung-filled swamp and begged momma-earth to hold me tighter. I shifted back and forth to go deeper in her hold and the more I moved the better it felt, safe,hot and moist, holding,sucking me closer to the hot body mudbath.
The racket was crazy with us screaming and the awful whomp of grenades getting closer and I got to really wriggling in that hot tub of mucus and sweat and piss and nightsoil,some of my own dribbling out,under the warm quilt of hot filthy rice water-fluid saving my life.
Goddam,before you know it my body started to grapple and hump that mother swamp,working hard to get inside her hairy hold-hole more,then old john henry got to creeping too,me crying momma save me,and him stiffening for duty and jumping out of my drawers to worm in deep, mid-body thrusting a bunch,let me tell you,telling itself involuntary that it could fuck its way out of this by getting in some momma’s deepest life-blood slot.
I did,or my self-saving body did I guess,it and me fucked the swamp-mother’s mudhole, hug-flogged the mal-muddy,stayed low,humpbacked down lowest,saved our low squirming ass when the other five slacks got wasted,blown away getting up to fight slopes and taking green hot slugs head and heart exploding. In this night scrape my body and me bucked that mudmother full-body wild and shot hotbody’s wad,keeping old iron gun cold-quiet,preserved its ass by keeping it down and john henry proudly at arms pronging mother earthscape rapidfire like she’s never been drawn and quartered-racked by a mu’fucking landscape desecrator.
There it is,dickheads,and Dave can tell you what I told him when he choppered in the next day,I was still down low,talking him in,and I said Dave ole buddy I got laid last night,laying pipe in the darkest shit fight,scared-shitless humping, laying low in that nightshit and got out alive from the worst godawful night of my life,and one way the best. A near death spurting salvation,coming alive totally smeared with momma’s rank dookie is the best,get these slurpy preserves from your momma when you get a chance,it’s mud-mouth jam and mucky wrong-jake and right-sweet awful,just like being born all over again,religious babe-creation revival,you better try it.
Come on,dry turdmosts,shut your mouths to keep out flies,finish up here and get on home to slurp mommas babymaker or sip a brew with me and DeadDave and we’ll spread for eats,eh, Dave?