Rondo, Traveler of the Spheres - Journey to Plezbo-9

I

"We have to help Edgardo!" I said. Shez, seemingly transfixed by the hole into which Tipo the fat had vanished, rubbed himself absent mindedly. There was another explosion, and Edgardo ran in, dragging Popula's Golden Perambulator in with him. "We have to get out of here! There are too many transexuals, and they've taken Della!" This seemed to shake Shez out of his daze. "The cunts! No one takes my ship!" He "cocked" his penis-laser, striking a pose. 'Let's go kill us some tranny ass!'. And with that, he went dashing into the hall, Edgardo prancing after him, his hairy tail wagging in excitement. I was so lost in confusion that I forgot I was a living organism, and instead likened myself to a table, or a chair.


I was halfway through the idea that I had either a vase on me or a table cloth, when the clatter of vinegar bottles startled me. "Fucking tranny scum!" I heard Shez exclaim from the hall. I rushed out, only to see Shez and Edgardo urinating on the remaining members of the senate. The floor was strewn with a helter-skelter mix of Crystal Penises and vinegar bottles. "You niggers - " began the Viscount Prince, when his mouth was filled with urine. He gagged and sputtered. "We ought to get out of here" suggested Edgardo. Shez, buttoning his space trousers, agreed readily, and before long we were all aboard the Della Cruscan, our prisoners trussed up in the cargo hold. "Edgardo, set a course for Plezbo 9. We can rendezvous with the resistance there and gather more provisions before we go after Sh'boobla." Edgardo set the ship into motion and we were out of the domed chamber quicker than two shakes of a Lesbian-Orca Woman's engorged membranes. "How will we know where to find him?" I asked. "Who?" inquired Shez, who had been distracted by his erection. "Sh'boobla, obviously." "Well, obviously - " responded the space pirate, "He'll have gone to Tweenus 14. His gold planet on the outer rim." Edgardo laughed, but I wasn't at all amused. "Tweenus 14 is a myth created by anti-imperialists. There is no golden planet. It's a myth. A - a consipiracy!" Shez appraised my face. His one good eye seemed to stare right into my brain. "Don't worry", he said "You'll see." And with that we were nearing Plezbo, it's blue and purple moons twinkling in the distance. I was in desperate need of a rest.

II


The encampment on Plezbo 9 was a whir of excitement, which almost sent me reeling. I was about to collapse on a corg of Mole-fish eggs, when Prince Prespa came charging up to me, his longsword drawn, and his Ortigan disemboweling cutlass poised. "Where the hell is the Emperor?" The bald headed warrior's face was so close to mine we could have kissed, a thought which made me shudder in disgust. "What's wrong with you?" he screamed. "Calm down there, your princeship." Shez had a unique sense of timing when it came to rescuing me. Transsexuals and mutant space Octopi are deadly things indeed, but I had never felt more grateful to have known the space pirate in this instant. The Prince was a formidable character. "The Emperor escaped us. We've brought the court though. Popula is with them." The prince thought about it. "Very well. We may be able to gather information from him." With a final glare from the bald pated Prince, he turned dramatically on his boots, and was off into the debriefing tent. "I need a good bath!" said Shez. Edgardo roared in agreement, and so we were off to the douching tent. The tent was filled with young men, poised ready with towels and other accoutrement.
"Please remove your clothes" asked one of them. Another handed us all towels, and a third led us into the bathing chambers. The bath was enormous, big enough for more than ten people at any given time. Fortunately it was just the three of us. The water was intoxicating, spiced with scented oils and frothed with soap bubbles. I was about to wander off into my own thoughts, when Shez interrupted them. "I wonder if they'll be able to get the location of Tweenus from Popula." "They won't", I responded "because it doesn't exist." Shez smiled "Oh ye of little faith! Those interrogation droids can be quite persuasive. I bet you a million corgs of Fat-Fish eggs that not only will he tell us it exists, but that he'll show us how to get there. The debriefing is tonight, they don't expect him to last long under that kind of torture. I wouldn't risk my mortality for a fat blob like Sh'boobla." He was right about that, I thought. The debriefing was tonight, and I was in no rush to be there. One of the douching boys clapped his hands, and three more entered, ready to massage our troubles away, but there was still doubt gnawing at my mind, and I - Oh! Oh, that felt so good!

Rondo, Traveler of the Spheres

"Take me to the Emperor!" I demanded. "He will not see you", said the monotonous drone of the fat lesbian who guarded his pleasure chambers. "He will not see you, nor anyone. The Emperor is having an anal bleaching and he has invited the leaders of every country to see it." I was too late. Or, was I? I had no time tohesitate, but the lesbians and their idle chatter distracted me. "How many clits does it take to get me off?", inquired the taller lesbian of her stout friend. "I don't know, P'toola, how many?" I was baffled. These lesbians made me dizzy. Without warning, I threw my half eaten corn-dog at the squat creature, hitting her square in the eye, and knocking off her fur-lined Dildo-Helmet. It fell to the ground with a clatter, and before the taller lesbian could advance, I flicked my ankle, and my birkenstock stiletto flew off with such force, that it impaled itself between the lesbian's enormous bosom. She screamed, and flailed about in an attempt to remove the shoe, and went careening down through the hall of exquisite penis crystals, knocking a few from their pedestals. A pity, since many of those artifacts were no doubt plundered from the art collections of a thousand star systems. The squat lesbian was attempting to assemble her helmet. I took off my other shoe, and gave her fat posterior a shove, sending the little creature sliding off accross the polished marble floor. 'Fuck it!' the creature exclaimed. Now was my chance. The door lay just ahead. With one shove, I kicked it in. The scent of oils and exotic perfumes enveloped me. The scent was heavenly, and had I not seen the sight before me I may very well could have gone on enjoying that scent for a good long time. But alas, it was not to be. For before my eyes, was the grotesque anus of the Emperor. His imperial anus doctors, distracted from their labors, staring at me. "What?! Why do you pause? Continue with the bleaching!" demanded the fat Emperor, his body drenched in sweat. Large strips of bacon covering his generously sized buttocks. Before him, were members of the royal senate of Gelactia.


"Who is this Nigger?" demanded the Viscount Prince, Popula III, from his golden perambulator. "Guards! Sieze the Nigger!" Before I had a chance to think, four Transexuals advanced upon me, dildo lasers poised, and set to eviscerate. I thought I was doomed. Just then, an explosion rocked the pleasure chamber, and the domed cieling exploded in a flash of bedazzlement, sending the trannies flying every which way. "Come suck on my titties, momma!" cried the voice of my faithful companion Shez DuButterfries, the greatest gay space pirate this side of the Anus cluster.Shez, and his man-beast Edgardo, descended from his ship the SS Della Cruscan, and began to open fire on the transexuals, turning them into bottles of vinegar. The Emperor, though titanic, was as nimble as a mynx, and minced out of the chamber in the chaos. We had Popula, and his wizened, dusty, and dried up old cronies. "You Niggers won't get away with this!" cried the giant baby. "I think these niggers just did", Edgardo said, tweaking his massive nipple as he blew a kiss to Shez. "The Emperor is gone!" said Shez, discovering the bleaching dais empty. "Look!" cried Edgardo, "He left a trail of bacon on the ground. The tracks go off that way!" "Into the penis crystal room!" I said. And so we were off. Edgardo stayed behind to rape Popula. His moans of confusion echoed after us. Littered on the crystal floors were bits of pork fat. These led into a large bed chamber, where the emperor was raiding his closet to change into something for his escape. Shez aimed his penis-laser. "Freeze, fat chunks!" The emperor stood naked before us, his roley-poley face agog. Chunks of fat dripping from his large rump. "How dare you!" he blustered. "I am the Emperor of Fagotia! Ruler of the Semen Islands, the planet of the Transexuals, the Galaxy of Perversion, the - " before he could finish his littany of titles, Shez shoved his fist into the mans mouth. "You're Emperor of nothing, bitch. You're my toy, now. You've had us under your fat tits for too long, Sh'boobla!" In all this confusion, I had forgotten the emperor's name was Tipo Sh'boobla. I cackled at the absurdity.


There was an explosion from without the room, and Shez pulled his fist from the fat man's face, and went to investigate. "Tranny patrol!" He exclaimed, looking out the door. The emperor, who must have been a venerated dancer, pranced from one side of the room to another, bacon flying off in all directions. "I shall have you, Ass-Pirate! And it shall be MY fist in your supple anus next time!" At that, he siezed the large erection jutting out from a statue of a young boy near his massive bed, and yanked it. The blob of a man dissapeared through a trap door. His laughter echoing out at us. "Fucking prick!" screamed Shez, as he rubbed his throbbing erection. Danger always aroused him sexually, and he was often seen going into battle pantless, his proud member pointing him into the fray.

Sham-Sham, the dumpster Faerie

Here at the little report, my own little morsel of the Internet tit-meat on which I plaster my man-splash of dark horror, I am starting something new. Art, or "Kunst" to my German speaking friends. Some of my trashy Kunst has been languishing upon my hard drive, and so, I hope to start the first of many exhibits which will be updated weekly here at the little report. The first in this series features a piece of a somewhat torrid nature: Lesbianism. The central figure here is "Sham-Sham the dumpster Faerie", who just happens to be a lesbian.


Sham-sham, was a Faerie by trade,
Her Faerie clothes were all hand made.
From shreds and shards and bits of things,
Like cabbage, and treacle, and tampax with wings!

She lived beneath a stately bridge,
within an old luxurious fridge.
Upon sofas and linens of yesterdays papers,
And issues of penthouse were her linen drapers.

She dined off of cardboard and drank of hot pee,
Her tastes were refined, as you no doubt see.
She pranced and she flitted, or rather she hopped,
and waddled and slalomed and hobbled and plopped.

She awoke every morning to the crowing of cock,
which she proceeded to kill with a very large rock.
As she hobbled outside, her mouth full of chicken,
She remarked, "How divine! T'is quite finger-lickin'!"

She crawled from her cavern and into the day,
To the town of Saint Francis, where all were quite gay.
She plopped and she hobbled down Castro street,
Where our Faerie friend a drag queen did meet.

Beneath rainbow flags which fluttered and furled,
That Drag-queen did shriek, and her eye-lashes curled.
"What the hell is this beast, which impedes on my path?
Get you hence from me quick, or suffer my wrath!"

The She-man did roar and bellow and blast,
Until finally Sham-sham reacted at last.
She unhinged her jowls, as the Drag-Queen did cluck,
And gobbled her up, every bit of that fuck.

And the Leather bears screamed and ran from their Pubs,
And the Fisters abandoned their dark fisting clubs.
The Twinks and the jocks went scrambling about,
While flailing went flamers, so riddled with gout.

And as they all panicked and ran all around,
Sham-sham was sated, so she turned around.
She hobbled and wobbled back under her bridge,
She crept back inside her luxurious fridge.

She curled up within her greasy newspaper,
and smiled contently at her porno-drapers.
And as the screams within her abated,
She fell asleep, her hunger was sated.

And as she slept, she made muffled cries,
for hot dogs, and ham-slops, and spam-cherry pies.
And her massive drumstick legs, they twitched without errors,
Digesting a Drag Queen, this chicken of terrors.

New year?

Well, it is now 2010 in the year of our lord, David Bowie, and it's time for yet another post on The Little Report.

In honor of my recent "Spirit Journey Formation Anniversary" I have decided to include a "film clip" in this very special New Year's "post". One of my favorite Cinematorial (filmade) works is the 1980's thriller "The Shining". In this clip, Delbert Grady reveals some shocking news to Jack Torrence. How will Jack react to this one? Let's watch!



Well there you have it; the cinematic expertise of one of Hollywood's finest film directors shines through into another century yet again. What film making surprises will the next decade hold in store for the people of earth? I can't say, but hopefully it isn't another load of s#@*.

Stay tuned for next episode: Plant Women of the Vagahoozits!

You only post twice

So we meet again, Blogee...

The days go by and the months drip away, and I have the sense that my life, very much like my blog, is going nowhere in a big hurry. I don't like running. So I've decided to turn the tables on life. Yes, for years it has outwitted me, but it shall soon see me as the victor.

I shall not fail!

But now I must retire, for my kitty, Gorgeous-lamb st. elmo's fire III is hungry for his savory elegant seafood loaf.

Chapter Three: Another chapter

It's all a lie, a great big lie! I do have asthma! I do!
- Eddie Caspbrak

When I look back on all the things I could have done with my life, I get uncomfortable, and I have to shift my legs a bit. The same sensation occurs whenever I have to urinate. Is there a connection between my past and my bladder? I find passing water increasingly difficult as I progress in my age. It involves a very stern push on occasion, which may be a result of not keeping up with my kegels routine. I long for the days when urinating required no forethought or effort to expel the golden fluids from my bladder. This sudden "burst" of nostalgia brought the phrase "Blast from the past" to mind. But the Urban Dictionary has given it a different meaning:

BLAST FROM THE PAST - The act of giving your grandfather a blowjob and having him ejaculate in your mouth.

"Hey dude, you want to hang out?"
"No thanks man, I'm going over to my Grandpa's for a blast from the past."

Useless. So looking back on happier days of carefree pee, I wish I'd have payed more mind to Kegels. I shall regret that to the day I die of health complications due to a callused bladder. My legs are doing that thing again. Talk about "Southern Discomfort".

I'm leaving you now.

Byeee.

Prologue

The blog, as it is described by the Urban Dictionary is:

"A page on the interweb, regularly updated by someone who, ostensibly, can find nothing better to do with their time."

"Senationalized minutiae."

And so it was with great reticence that I, S. Little, set out to publish a blog. I have often been criticized for my unwillingness to move forward, as it were, with the rest of the world. I still refuse to accept handicap accessibility being installed in historic landmarks merely because Betty or Myrtle can't climb the bump in the landing without traumatizing her monopedal robotic gait. If a chair lift wasn't intended in the papal basilica of St. Peter in 1626, it shouldn't be considered now. But I digress. This blog was created for the express purpose of exposing the actor/writer S. Little to the world, as he so attempted in the early 90's with his unpublished memoirs "Full tits and minge: back to the discotheque". But who is S. Little, I hear you ask? He is a man of no extraordinary abilities, but merely one of modest acclaim and infamy; how curious you are. So here, I invite you, the bloggee, to meet Mr. Little, the blogger, and to praise or damn him at your own discretion.

For a dramatic reading of this transcript, please call me.


Editor-in-chief ... Mr. B. Arkell