Bloody punchlines

**Warning and Caution:**

**Content Warning:**
This piece contains extremely graphic and violent content, including detailed descriptions of physical harm, dismemberment, and other forms of intense violence. It also includes dark humor, mature themes, and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

**Caution:**
This story is intended for mature audiences only. It may be particularly upsetting or triggering for individuals sensitive to themes of violence, gore, and psychological torment. Please proceed with caution and be aware of your own limits regarding graphic and unsettling content.

Bloody Punchlines.
An experimental Poetic - porse Hybrid.

He was born with a thickening head, his dick in his hand, sticking it at the nurse lifting him off the bed. 
Slapping his ass got her kicked in the face; that butch bitch was sickeningly mad. 

Thinking of that still makes me laugh; I hear her screaming in the back, 
Locked, chopped her hand in half—bait in my gaff. 
“Yeah, bitch, what’d you think? One can’t hold a grudge? 
You laughed at me when I couldn’t punch. Laugh, bitch, laugh! Ha ha!” 

"Nobody. I'm nobody. A tramp, a bum, a hobo. I'm a boxcar, and a jug of wine. And a straight razor if you get too close to me, I am chrono".
I am a menace, gonna fuck a man’s ass for revenge. 
Deranged, disarranged in the department of rage; I inflict damage. 
They ain't aging, fucker. I remember all of you shitbags; 
I’ve got a list of 3,052 names on a page. 

Killed 3,000, scrapped more than that; 
I’m on a rampage, dancing like Jackson, 
Glancing at Manson’s poster on my wall, 
Now jerking off with that chopped hand of Madison. 
Mixing pleasure with pain, my pleasure and her pain (ha, ha). 
Come on, hop in—her boyfriend? Oh wait, Samuel ain't breathing. 

I hear a knock on the door, not gonna answer though— 
Not being rude or nothing; it’s that freak who nuts on toes. 
Hold on, let me take a quick peek—“Here you go, Madison’s hand; sit!” 
It’s that nose-picking, toe-nutting goof down the hall. 
“What the fuck, Joe? I’m working; don’t you hear the screaming, you dimwit?” 
“Oh, sorry, Mr. I just wanted to ask if you’ve chopped off any new feet.” 
“No, Joe, but I’ve got a hand that I’m using. Do you want it? 
Do you want to smell my junk’s scent on it?” 
“No, Mr. I a—” 
“Shut the fuck up, Joe! Leave, come on, skeet!” 

Wait, is that a siren I hear? “Joe, guard that piece of hand on my bed.” 
I need that bitch to shut the fuck up. 
“You coming, Mr.?” 
“Yeah, go ahead.” 
Shut the fuck up, bitch! You won’t? Here it goes then—woo, home run! 
Shit, blood all over my bat. “Joe! Come clean this up for fun".  

Joe stares at the mess, eyes wide, a grin creeping across his face, 
“Can I use the hand to play catch, or is that against the rules of your space? "  
“Shut up, Joe! Quit being a creep; we’ve got company soon, and I need to sweep" .  
Why the fuck is he laughing, a high-pitched cackle? 
Fuck it, I'll toss the bat aside, my mind racing like a frantic tackle. 

“Mr., I found another foot in the scrambles! Can I keep it?” 
My racing mind came out like, "Wola!" Uff! He’s smelling that foot! 

A sudden bang rattled the door, it made us jump, 
“Open up! This is the police!” It echoed like a thump. 
“Joe, hide the hand! Quick, don’t let them see!” 
He clutched it close, eyes wide with glee. 

“Can I play with them, Mr.? I’ll show them my skills!” 
“Shut up, Joe! Focus! Not a peep, not a sound. Stand still!" 
In seconds, chaos spilled like bloodshed. 
“Get on the ground!” one shouted, moving in fast. 
They wrestled me down, "Where's the nurse, where's Mrs. Vast?" 
"Somewhere in pieces." Why am I the only one laughing? 
Well, not quite; this stupid Joe giggled too. He is... something! 
“What was that?” the first officer asked, pressing me harder. 
“Who’s there? Come out!” The second officer advanced toward that nutter. 
"It's me! Hi, officers.” What the fuck, he's waving with that foot in hand. 
Is this officer stupid? He stepped back right ahead of me—okay, here I go, bite! 
One! Two! Three! Bangs! This idiot just shot in the air, screaming 'bite! 
"Yeah, bite his neck off, Joe; I'll give you more feet!" 
"Haha, no officer, it’s between Joe and him. I won’t let you stop it!" 
"Let me go! How did you get a hold of me? I had you!" 
"Stop screaming and moving so much, you bitch! You let Joe's jump on him scare you too!" 
Joe's munching on him like dinner, damn, blood splattering like a fountain. 
"See, officer, what a sight for a date—do you have a wife, a girlfriend?" 
"Stop, stop it, you psycho fucks!" Fool, does he think screaming stop will stop it? 
"Aye Joe, ain't he dead yet?" 
"What's dead, Mr?" Goof's looking at me with blood dripping down his teeth. 
"Has he stopped breathing?" 
"Nah Mr, he is wheezing." 

“Wheezing? That’s not good, Joe. We don’t need a half-dead man here.” 
Joe grins wider, blood smearing his lips, “But he’s making music, Mr.! A beautiful sound!” 

“Music? You call that music? It sounds like a dying cat!” 
Joe cackles, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s just him trying to sing along!” 

"WHAT THE FUCK! ARE YOU BOTH EVEN HUMAN?" 
"No, officer, we are demons, you fools, you came here, only two men." 
"Mr! He stopped singing." 
"Good Joe, now go bring the rope and the thing." 

Now, here we wait for him; Joe sometimes is really a light beam. 
"Here Mr, rope and the thing." 
"Good, now tie him up, come get him." 

"Stop, no! Please let me go, I have a wife and child." 
"Stuff something in his mouth first, and for God's sake, quit with that smile." 
"Why, Mr?" 
"WHY? Coz it's gross as fuck, nutter." 
"Okay, Mr." 
"Whoa, whoa, stop that, Joe." 
"But you told me to stuff it with something, Mr." 
"Yeah, not with your di—" 
"Ow, I am sorry, Mr!" 
"Good, so you need a foot or feet?" 
"I need foot and a foot." Look at the goof, excited with red teeth. 

"Joe, watch over this one. I’ve got to check something inside.” 
“Yes, Mr. I’ll make sure he behaves,” Joe says, his eyes gleaming with sick delight. 

All this mess has turned me on; now where's Madison's hand? 
Ow, that idiot is holding on to it. Fuck, I got to go back to my friend. 
I think I expected too much of him. I thought Joe would still be guarding the officer. 
But the officer is gone. 
“Joe! What the fuck happened? Where’s the officer?” 
"He pushed me and escaped, Mr.” 

“What, how? You are at least twice the size of both of us combined!” 
"Come down, Mr., I need to talk to you," he says. Wait, is he hiding something behind? 
"What the fuck, Joe, you just stabbed me! Why, fatty?" 
“Because he said you were calling me names, and that is hurtful and you always told me to make revenge a priority.” 
I’m speechless, staring at Joe, trying to process what he just said. 
“Joe, you idiot, I don't care, whatever, fuck that. Why did you use a blade?" 
“But Mr. I just told you...” 
“Shut up, Joe. Just... shut up. Why that way? There's nothing grotesque." 
"What do you mean, Mr?" 
"Revenge should be brutal—shit, piss, blood, screaming, and lots of aches."

The lights are shutting, I think it's the end.
Wait, I hear sirens, this time in tens, damn, if ain't dead, i pretend.

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