Greg’n’Joe

“Kick his fuckin’ ass Joe!” Greg screams at the top of his lungs, a tendril of drool projecting from his mouth and swinging off to the side in the breeze. Joe glances over at him, Grins maniacally, and turns to face his victim again.

Poor little Timmy cowers as Joe’s two hundred pound bulk of masculinity towers over him. A meaty fist slams into Timmy’s nose, a sickening crack and squish filling the air, and blood sprays from the once extruding feature of his face.

“Haw, haw. You little turd. You aint gonna make me look dum in class no more. Suzy thinks I’m cool, and you makin’ me look dum don’t help that none. So I’m gonna teach ya!” Joe lifts his fist again, and deals a thunderoud blow to what used to be the bridge of little Timmy’s nose. The boy goes down with a gurgling cry.

“Kick his fuckin’ ass Joe!”   Three strands of drool now hang from Greg’s mouth, as it hangs so far open a vision impaired buck might mistake it for a fine philly’s puckered one.

“Don’t fuckin’ mess me up when I’m consen… cons.. when I’m tryin to think an’ stuff, man.” Joe waggles his finger at Greg in the most butch of ways, spattering droplets of blood and snot into Greg’s eyes.

“You fuck! That fuckin’ stings!  I’m gonna kick yer fuckin’ ass, fuckwad! Blindly flailing, Greg runs toward his would be target, once bud.

“You aint kickin’ jack shit, cum stain.” And sidestepping the mad rush, Joe powers his elbow into the underside of Gregory’s gaping maw. Teeth that would have nomally cracked together are temporarily impeeded by the tip of a tongue. Not for long though, as force crudely severs the piece of sensory flesh from the rest of Greg’s mouth

Gagging, spitting blood for feet in every direction, and trying to scream al1 at the same time, Greg finally manages to clean the sludge from his eyes. ““ou muver fuker! Ahm gonga kick ur cock off!”

At this point in time, the only partially concious heap on the ground gets the epiphany to leave, and tries to slide away from the anticipated fray.  Both sets of the bad boyz’ eyes are drawn to him like flies to shit.

“You aint goin’ nowhere you little fucknut. Your faggot little weiner is gonna stay right where it is so I can stomp it inta the ground. Then I’m gonna take your little tit squeezers and shove ’em up your ass! Haw, ha*urp!” And Joe is sideswiped by the frenzied Greg.

“ou fuk!” Crack. “ou crack shniffer!” Thud. “ou fuk ur mom!” Chuk. Blood explodes from the faces of both bad boyz as blows are exchanged, skin splitting open like stitches on an acrobat. Finally, panting and wheezing, they stop, and after catching a breath, turn on li’l Timmy.

Greg jams his thumb into Timmy’s eye, and there is a pop as liquid spews from the socket. Joe jumps into the air, and lands square center on the chest of the doomed victim. Bones crack, ribs piercing the skin, and ichor sprays the sidewalk in a neat angel wing pattern.

“Whoo hoo!  Damn that was fun! That was more fun than porkin’ yer sister, Greg! Fuck my cock is hard! I Gotta fuck something Hey, let’s so fuck your dog!

“Ngo way mang! I gogh crap on my cock wheng we gig vat before. You cang fuk it if ‘ou wang.’

So the two lads swagger down the street, creating destiny for themselves as they go off into the sunset

 

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