You know, a while back I thought about trying to get into writing porn. Writing funny/strange porn, mind you.

I figured, why should most porn be badly done Pizza Guy scenes when there is an almost untapped market for strange original comedies? This market exists everywhere, really and why shouldn’t porn get some of it?

I considered Seduction Cinema because they, at least, get the goofy angle to things. They not only do titles like Play-Mate of the Apes they don’t take them seriously. Rock on, kiddies, I say.

But it isn’t going far enough on the farce scale for me.

I wanted to write porn that was half slapstick. Sure, there’s fucking and wanton fucking at that, but there were also touching, heart-warming scenes of people falling down stairs.

It’s all in how you do it. Someone falls down stairs? Pratfalls are funny. Someone falls down the stairs, causing her clothing to come off? PratPorn falls are born. Everything can lead to fucking. Think about it. Sex can just happen bang you don’t know when. One minute you’re trying to get your car restarted on the highway. The next minute a cute female cop stops to lend you a hand. But while she’s looking at your engine, the thing starts, a fan belt grabs her shirt and in the ensuing madness you end up fucking.

The transition needs a bit of work, but it could happen and if you think it couldn’t… well maybe my life has been more interesting than yours.

Still, why wouldn’t some of the movies like American Pie still work if they also had some honest-to-Holmes fucking in them? We have this hang-up about it that needs to be broken down and I figure I might be the guy to do the breaking.

So, of course, I couldn’t find a good way to break into the business, much less a company that would be interested. You all miss out, now. My porn-genius will go undiscovered.

But still, for you guys, I will give you a bit of a script idea I was working on:

Pr0n: The movie

The set-up: A guy gets sucked into his computer and forced to play various adult themed video games, from the inside. He also has to stop the Master Computer from destroying him, because it wants to take over the world through superior processor power. Only Pr0n stands in the Master Computer’s way.

Ok, maybe that one wasn’t the best. But the War Games porn parody was just depressing. No, no, I kid, I keeed! What we need is original, well written, funny porn – to enlighten, amuse and titillate audiences around the globe. So – either who’s hiring or who wants to fund and star in a movie? Cause I got ideas. Big ideas. Ideas with Koosh balls and Pez dispensers. I even have an idea with a Slinky, but you aren’t ready for that one yet.

So here we go. The new Hellblazer.net. Strange shit in a can. An internet can. An intercan, if you will. Writing stuff on the right, as is fitting, along with links and other links and some more stuff. Cool as fuck look up top. But only my content to fill the middle. Like an oreo that just won’t stop at double-stuff – now I gotta “bring it” as the young kids say.

Well, if they want me to “bring it” then it’ll be brung! Brung like a Norse ship landing on an island of weaponless virgins. Or like Hasslehoff, buggering Gary Coleman.

(The before picture)

So I thought, what if the stereotype dry British behavior was taken into porn?

“I do declare Miss Hennings, I did not think you could fit that many crumpets into your vagina without breaking any of them.”

“Indeed it is so, Mr. Jenkins, now behold as I also fit your penis.”

“My word!”

“Truly it is so, now I shall place my hand upon your testes in a forward and firm manner, not unlike a Colonial.”

“I do exclaim, Miss Hennings, extraordinary! I moan at such tactics.”

“Yes, I grow positively swamped, myself.”

Please note the sidebar. It’s undergoing a lot of work as I’m adding pages with all of the published stuff I’ve done. Covers, links to buy, reviews, everything is in there. So you might wanna take a look.

This place is being worked on. Logos are being done, formats and content being decided and so on.

While you browse and wait, enjoy this picture of a pony:

Arms around knees, fingers intertwined trying to twist each other off her hands. Head down, hair framing her knees as her tears dripped onto her knees and ran down her thighs. Under her heel laid the crushed remains of the corsage he had bought her, curling up around the back of her boot, trying in vain to grab at her and drag her down deeper. She took it all in as if outside herself, all the pain all the fear and frustration. She didn’t know how to let go, and she was worried it would kill her. Quickly, she reasoned, it would kill her quickly bursting her heart in her chest and ending her sorrow like the flicking of a light switch. She longed for the switch, to caress it one last time and them flick it with an anger unseen since the Vesuvius had burst forth it’s molten curls onto the village below. She sat and considered herself, and she wondered why she had killed him. He hadn’t tried to hurt her or even been cruel. His gentle touch and shy smile had drawn her to him, and yet there she sat facing his cooling shell, her knife still sticking up out of his face like a sundial constructed by the Marquis DeSade. Her hands released each other and one of them curled out slowly towards the knife, fingers flexing over and over again as she drew near it. They curled around the handle and yanked it free of him, making her fall over onto her ass as his head jerked and bounced with the release. Then her hands turned it towards her own face.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Warm tip, still dripping with pieces of his flesh that had stuck to the blade, pressing against her cheek. She drew it in and up slowly, making herself stay still, feeling it curl the skin apart as she went rending her face into a twisted snarl. She came to her senses and dropped the knife suddenly, standing up and falling backwards until her hips collided with the concrete wall of the park. She stood there breathing and bleeding, not sure what she was going to do next, not sure if she would even know before she did it. Her feet made her turn and run.

When the police were eventually called, 6 hours after the fact, and investigated the scene they started looking for her and told the press they wouldn’t stop until they found her. They never did find her, they were looking for a living girl, not the corpse that would lay undetected for centuries inside the foundation of the construction site that had been across the street. The foundation she had tossed herself in, letting her body drown in concrete impaling herself on rebar and tainting the building with her desperate pain forever.

Anakin and Obi Wan are riding Bantha down a path – they pause]
Anakin: [to Obi Wan] Umm, uh…
[Obi Wan rides away, and Anakin follows. Anakin spots a gold coin on the ground]
Anakin: [to Bantha] Whoa – whoa, whoa.
[Gets off Bantha and starts flipping the coin]
Anakin: Hmmm. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side. Dark Side.
[Obi Wan grabs the coin, checks both sides, then tosses it back to Anakin]
Anakin: Dark Side.
[Obi Wan pulls a coin out of his own pocket and flips it]
Anakin: Bet? Dark Side I win?
[Obi Wan looks at coin and tosses it to Anakin]
Anakin: Again? Dark Side.

********************************

Yoda: More of the love, Force and rhetoric school are we. Can do Force and love we can, without rhetoric, and can do Force and rhetoric, love without and do you all three, we can, concurrent or consecutive, hmmm? Can not, love and rhetoric without the Force give you though. Compulsory, Force is. All Force they are, see you now, hmm?
Obi Wan: Is that what people want?
Yoda: What we do, it is.

********************************

Anakin: Did you ever think of yourself as actually Sith, living in a suit of armor with a respirator on it?
Obi Wan: No.
Anakin: Nor do I, really. It’s silly to be depressed by it. I mean, one thinks of it like being alive in a box. One keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is Sith, which should make all the difference, shouldn’t it? I mean, you’d never care you were in a suit of armor, would you? It would be just like you were asleep in a box. Not that I’d like to sleep in a box, mind you. Not without any air. You’d wake up dead for a start, and then where would you be? In a box. That’s the bit I don’t like, frankly. That’s why I don’t think of it, and why the armor would need a respirator I would think. Because you’d be helpless, wouldn’t you? Stuffed in a suit of armor like that, hunting your own children of some such nonsense. I mean, you’d be in there forever, even taking into account the fact that you’re Sith. It isn’t a pleasant thought. Especially if you’re Sith, really. Ask yourself, if I asked you straight off, “I’m going to stuff you in this suit of armor. Now, would you rather be Jedi or Sith?” naturally, you’d prefer to be Jedi. Jedi in a suit of armor is better than simply turning to the Dark Side, I expect. You’d have a chance, at least. You could wander around thinking, “Well, at least I’m not Sith. In a minute somebody is going to use the Force to cure me, and tell me to take off the helmet.”
[bangs on suit of armor]
Anakin: “Hey you! What’s your name? Take off that helmet!”
Obi Wan: [long pause] I think I’m going to kill you.

********************************

Anakin: Do you want to play Dark Side?
Obi Wan: How do you play that?
Anakin: You have to look into the dark corners of yourself and ask a question that will lead you down a darker path..
Obi Wan: Statement. One – Love.
Anakin: Cheating!
Obi Wan: How do you figure?
Anakin: I hadn’t started yet.
Obi Wan: Statement. Two – Love.
Anakin: You’re counting that?
Obi Wan: What?
Anakin: You’re counting that?
Obi Wan: Foul. No repetition. Three – Love and game.
Anakin: I’m going to go play with the Emperor if you’re going to be like that.

Find a hat and clutch it like a baby, will you? I’m importing random funny things I want to have here as well. And book stuff. Because you love me and want to buy my books. You fucker. You do. You just don’t know it yet.

So there we go. There will be a lot of content-bursting over the next while here. And then it will slow down to something that only gives you a migrane every other day.

James Bond in Fuckfinger: An APK Production

In M’s office

M: Well James, it seems Fuckfinger has stolen a nuke and intends to bomb England if we don’t pay him seventeen and a half billion dollars.

Bond: Well for fuck’s sake, cut off his aunt’s tits and mail them to him. That should put a stop to this shit.

M: Bond! We would never…

Bond: And that’s why we have shitrags like Fuckfinger stealing nukes, innit?

Later: In Q’s laboratory

Bond: Right, fix me up with a testicle destabilizer then, we haven’t got all night.

Q: Excuse me Bond? I have a new watch for you. It shoots lasers and has a homing device and it can sonically break glass…

Bond: I can fucking well break glass with a brick, can’t I then? The fuck do I need a 30 grand watch to break a fucking pane of glass with? Fucking watches. Always with the fucking watches, could you crawl up Swatches ass anymore? What next Q? What the fuck next? ‘Oh look here Bond, we have a special today for you, it’s a cock ring that emits concussive explosions’?

Q: I… well … *tosses watch over his shoulder* I have a new car for you.

Bond: Does it turn invisible?

Q: Well yes, and it has lasers…

Bond: Enough with the damned lasers man! Fuck your lasers. I want the car equipped with a big fucking spike on the front.

Q: A… spike.

Bond: So I can spear people at high fucking speed and collect them up. Ought to serve as a warning.

Q: A… spear. Right. Big fucking spear. On the front. No lasers.

Bond: Not a single fucking laser.

Q: No watch?

Bond: No watch.

In a random Casino

Dealer: Sevens win again! *pushes money to Bond*

Bond: Bring me whores and drink!

Later: In Fuckfingers lair after being captured while sleeping off the whores and drink

Fuckfinger: And now Mr. Bond, you die.

Bond: Blow me you used up piece of ass garbage.

Fuckfinger: … what?

Bond: Yeah and suck off the Queen while yer at it too.

Fuckfinger: I…

Bond: Go on, tell me how big your cock is why don’t you, maybe your girl over there will stop laughing if you use a hypnoray to make her think it’s bigger than a baby’s.

Fuckfinger: I’ll kill you.

Bond: Not with that small cock you won’t. Jesus.

Fuckfinger: You can’t talk to me that way! I’ll nuke London!

Bond: Have you been arsed to look at London recently? Who’d be able to tell?

Fuckfinger: You won’t outwit me, Bond…

Bond: I have lasers that can outwit you.

Fuckfinger: Now you…

Bond: Die. Yes, now I fucking well die. How?

Fuckfinger: What?

Bond: How do I die now?

Fuckfinger: Well I have this big tank of water and I’m going to drop you in it, and there’s a timer and…

Bond: What the fuck is this? Adam West’s Batman? Good fuck man. *Bond cuts the ropes that hold him with a knife that spring releases from his crotch and steps over to Fuckfinger* Two to the back of the head, maybe that I could respect.

Fuckfinger: Free? But How?

Bond: And that is your fucking problem right there, exposition. Shut the fuck up man! *Bond knees Fuckfinger in the balls. Twice* Cunt.

Fuckfinger: Ack! I… Erk! I… *vomits* Oh…

Bond: Yeah. Ok. Nuke fucking London huh?

Fuckingfinger: …

Bond: Right. *Bond bends Fuckfinger over and puts his Walther PPK up to his ass, emptying the clip and blowing the top of Fuckfinger’s head off, shooting straight up the man’s ass* For Queen and country and fuck all. Bring me whores and drink!

- Fini -

Fuckpig: The series is brought to you by a grant from the Dear Lord, What Now Foundation. The Dear Lord, What Now Foundation – When it just has to be said and done.

Interior – Fuckpig’s Lair

Dr. Xalarian: So, Fuckpig, I have found your lair at last! Now I can, and will, destroy you!

Fuckpig: Fuck you, motherfucking fucking fuck! Cunt tits shit cock!

Dr. Xalarian: So you say, Fuckpig! So. You. Say. But the world shall be mine!

Fuckpig: Twat knuckles! Ass raping scat clown, eat my testicles with honey.

Dr. Xalarian: Yes, you will be trapped here and *Xalarian brandishes his laser pistol* die!

Fuckpig: Mothersucking sphincter sucker!

*Fuckpig leaps at Xalarian*

Dr. Xalarian: AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, my SKULL!

*Fuckpig skull fucks Dr. Xalarian until his head is a bleeding gelatinous mass*

Exterior – Suzie’s house, later that day

Suzie: I’m so glad you could join me for tea time, Fuckpig.

Fuckpig: Awww, AIDS rabbit, clit-faced slurp slurp fuuuuuuuck.

Suzie: *giggling Later can we go play on the swings?

Fuckpig: Urine drinking rodeo whore!

Suzie: YAY!

Jules: So let me get this straight, this bad motherfucker was at his table.

Vincent: Right…

Jules: And this piece of shit that he knew by name starts shit?

Vincent: Yeah he just sits right down at the table cool as anything.

Jules: That takes balls.

Vincent: That’s what I’m saying, so he sits down and says ‘you owe my boss money.’

Jules: Now wait a minute, he doesn’t pull a gun or anything? Just sits down, acts all suave, maybe gets a beer?

Vincent: A good beer, even.

Jules: *laughs* Right. a good beer. And he starts off with that line?

Vincent: Well not that exactly, of course, but that’s what he did, yeah.

Jules: And this bad mother, he did what?

Vincent: He shrugged him off, what do you think? Man comes to town, interrupts your drink with that kind of heavy shit as an opening?

Jules: Well sure, but I ain’t asking what I’d do, I’m asking about this other guy.

Vincent: He did the same as you woulda. Just played it cool.

Jules: The way to do it.

Vincent: Stone cold, sly grin and all, just played it off, yeah yeah I’ll get Jabba his money.

Jules: Sure, so now this guy has a bad choice. Does he push at it or does he let it go? He obviously works for this Jabba? Jabba, so he wouldn’t want to let it go, but pushing it…

Vincent: Right, pushing it can be risky, but what other choice do you have?

Jules: So then what does your bad mother do? He’s just had the stakes raised right?

Vincent: Well there’s the question. He could just shoot the guy, right?

Jules: Sure. It’s a stone cold move, but you shoot the guy, it sends a message. Don’t push me, you’ll get your shit, but don’t try and grab my balls. I like that. Yeah.

Vincent: But what if the other guy shot first? Then he could shoot him in self-defense…

Jules: Naw, see, you described a bad motherfucker to me. This cat is so cold he would’ve been all about the message. Waiting? That’s risky. Now he’s shown he doesn’t care about risk, sure, but he’s also refused to be backed into a corner. He gives the other guy a chance to shoot first, word spreads.

Vincent: So he shoots first you think?

Jules: Listen, I’m telling you, he has to. It saves his face and sends the right message. Otherwise he’s seen as a soft touch, He’ll push but not so hard it’ll ever hurt. Now if he was that type of guy he wouldn’t have lasted long enough to get a guy with those kinda balls coming to talk to him in the first place. Man, only thing he could’ve done was shoot first.

Vincent: Yeah see that’s what I thought. Tony thought he would’ve let the other guy shoot first.

Jules: Tony? That motherfucker thinks Big Khauna burgers are a waste of money. Now I tried one of those. It was damn tasty. Tony? Fuck that.

Vincent: *laughs* Yeah man, look it’s time. You ready?

Jules: Let’s do this like that guy did. What was his name?

Vincent: Solo.

Jules: Solo? I like that. Let’s do this like Solo. I respect Mr. Wallace, I owe that man a lot, but we gotta stay cool. Give the man his case and explain this whole thing to him. We good?

Vincent: We’re good. Let’s go.

(by Adam P. Knave all characters are owned by their respective creators, of course, but this was written by me. Which means legally? It’s parody. Or fair use. Whichever won’t get me sued.)