The Land of NeverWas

Where all the "Might Have Beens" live

Archive for the category “satire”

Zombie Dick

*quite possibly the stupidest story I have ever written…yet…it still cracks me up*

Dick Peters’ dick was dying.

He could feel it slowly mortifying even now, a cold numbness working its way up his dick and into his balls.

He sat in the examination room in the paper gown they had given him, his head in his hands absolutely terrified.

“Oh my God!” he thought to himself in a panic. “They are going to have to amputate! I’m not going to have a dick!”

There was no way. He’d just die. How could he live with no dick anyway? He wasn’t about to become a girl.

Speaking of girls, why oh why, did he fuck that bitch? Not like she was all that to begin with. He could have done without. And he thought her pussy had smelled funny at the time, but did that stop him? No. It was there, he was horny. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now he was going to lose his dick over it.

The examination room door opened and the doctor walked in, his face a grim mask. That was enough for Dick to understand the severity of the problem, but when the door swung open a little more and he saw the armed officer behind the doctor what was left alive of his scrotum shriveled into nothingness.

“Mr. Peters, I’m afraid we have a very serious situation on our hands. You have contracted a disease called Necrophilis. There is no cure. It is highly contagious, but only in the case of sexual contact. You’ve given us the name of your partner, but unfortunately you didn’t know her address or number…or her last name, so we’ll have to work quickly to find her. Hopefully, you’ll still be able to help us identify her by then.”

Dick Peters sat there in complete shock, unable to speak, his thoughts racing. He had ZD! He had caught ZD! Zombie dick!  How could this have happened to him? He’d heard of Necrophilis vaguely on the news and his friends had laughed at the street term, zombie dick, created for it, but he didn’t actually know anybody that had caught it or even knew of anybody that knew anyone that had caught it.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming panic grip him. He had to get out of here! Run away, far away. This couldn’t be happening! It was all a bad dream. Oblivious to the fact that he wore nothing more than a paper hospital gown, ass showing to the world, he screamed and bolted off the examination table and towards the door. The doctor moved smoothly aside and the security guard stepped fully into the doorway, blocking Dick’s exit, raising a taser. The guard apparently hadn’t taken into consideration the sheer measure of adrenaline strength that panic had given Dick Peters at that moment. Absolutely nothing was going to stop him from getting away. Before the guard could fire the taser he was bowled over and Dick Peters was howling down the hallway of the doctor’s office. Mass confusion followed as the doctor screamed at the prone security guard, the shouting in turn drawing others out in curiosity, who in their turn, got knocked aside by the panicked patient careening madly towards the door to freedom. As he burst into the lobby, looking crazed and desperate, the waiting patients drew away from him in horror. This made for a clear escape and soon Dick Peters and his Necrophilis were free in the world once more.

Dr. Tom didn’t bother chasing after his escaped patient. With a sour look at the shame-faced guard as he strode by, Dr. Tom made his way into his office, flipped through his Rolodex until he found the number he was looking for then picked up the phone and dialed. After a short ring, the other end clicked and a voice began to recite a list of choices. Exasperated, he waited for each choice, filed away in his mind the one’s he thought were possibilities, then, since he had forgotten those by the time all the choices had gone around, stabbed his finger down on the “to listen to these choices again” button. Damn those automated voice systems. After listening to the choices one more time he just randomly stabbed a number out of frustration. Then he had to go through a seemingly endless process of question answering followed by the slowly dawning realization each operator came to that they indeed weren’t the ones that could help him. Finally, after being transferred and bounced around like an electronic ping pong ball he got to his destination.

“Center for Disease Control – Extermination Unit”


Hi! My name is Rufus McDingle and I’d like to tell you about the new self-help book I just wrote to help men with romance.

“Bumblin’, Stumblin’ and Faceplantin’ for Her Heart.”

It’s impossible for men NOT to fuck up so I decided to help you recover with grace, dignity and to look good doing it.

It’s only a buck fitty so buy your copy today!


there will be nothing left for you to see.
no inkling of anything to do with me.
nothing here, nothing there,
there will be nothing for you anywhere.
you have made your choice,
so no more will my voice,
share a thing or a feeling,
or pour out of my being,
in heartfelt love or pain.
it will wash away with the rain.

in the dark when your heart gently weeps
at the things you denied but which it still keeps
close to itself, all alone does it cry,
asking, with mine, why why why?
something that shall never be answered,
by thought, by deed or even by word.
i can’t fight the enemy of the past
and finally at long last
i just have to let the thing
go and, hurt as it may, become nothing.

The sad life of Sperm A. Tozoa

It must be a hard life, being a sperm. Think about it. Until you pop out of that dark tunnel you’re not sure where you’re going to be. Oh sure. You know where you’re supposed to be. Wiggling your way up that cervix, trying to beat all of your other sperm competition to get at that egg prize. But how many don’t? Those unfortunate little soldiers pop out and see a bathroom sink rushing up at them right before they end in porcelain death. Screaming all the way down. “Siiinkkkk…you son of a biiittttchhh!!!” Or a floor. Or a sheet. A face. Boobs. A back. Ass cheeks. A rubber device of some sort. The possibilities are nearly endless. You might even start out thinking you made it to the right orifice only to realize you’d been tricked as you slide past the tonsils. “Hey, did anyone see George?” “Yeah I think he got stuck in her teeth!” Poor guys. Best not to even think about anal trickery. The horror would be too much to bear. But I bet in all the history of sperm, there have been a few smart ones that said “You know what? Fuck that egg! I’m staying a sperm. You ever see what happens after you become a baby? No thanks!” Sadly, those would be the ones you’d want to fertilize an egg and propagate the species. We’d all be much smarter then.

The Meaning of Life

At a very early age I was led to the toilet by my mother so that I could go from being a pet to being a child and thus hopefully becoming a human being one day. (My poor dear mother is still waiting for that latter to occur.) Over the many years of visiting the toilet, I have come to an amazing, some would say perhaps even an astounding conclusion. The meaning of life is shit. Everything we do revolves around it. We eat shit, we watch shit, we listen to shit, we talk shit, we buy shit. Some people even actually give a shit (or so I hear). And then when we can consume no more shit. We take a shit.

So there you have it. The Meaning of Life.

Glad to be of service.

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