Saturday, November 19th, 2011
|
|
4:01 pm
|
|
|
Sunday, October 23rd, 2011
|
|
9:03 am
|
There are advantages to only having half a face. Only have to shave one side, the expensive facial moisturizer lasts twice as long and the average person runs away screaming before you even say anything. Big Tobacco is growing accustomed to this new look. He's even starting to prefer it.
He's more focused then before. The shiny veneer of what he was pretending to be has been burned away. There's a new sort of madness now. One that brings a calm and a deadly intent to finish the work he's been neglecting for decades.
Kill the mortals faster.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Saturday, October 15th, 2011
|
|
6:53 am
|
BRIIIIIIIIIIIIING THE BOOOOOOYS BACK HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME~
Where the fuck is my wallet?
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Sunday, August 21st, 2011
|
|
11:37 am
|
Locked away in one of his many gilded cages Big Tobacco tries and fails at getting drunk. Alcohol, most beloved of mistresses, partner in crime, other self, favorite addiction has failed him. He isn't surprised. She's always been a fickle bitch and the only time she turns him away is when he needs her most.
He drinks the whiskey anyway. The slow smooth-burn that starts in his throat and works his way into his belly is the only comfort he can get and Big Tobacco in a rare mood of compliance takes it gladly.
They are changing his face. Peeling back the layers of smooth talking Hollywood Star, erasing the foundations of the grizzled cowboy he had been built on and showing the world what he really is. The black disease ridden, stitched up cadaver and should have been aborted fetuses of the slow killing death god he has always been.
He giggles and even more skin rips and falls away in sheets on the floor.
DRIVER! BRING ME SPACKLE AND SPRAY GLUE!
|
|
(6 comments | comment on this)
|
|
Friday, July 8th, 2011
|
|
7:25 pm
|
|
|
Friday, June 3rd, 2011
|
|
7:45 pm
|
I found a shaved cat in my desk drawer this morning. Gave it to the assistant and now she's in the hospital getting stitches.
Women. They don't make 'em how they used to.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Friday, May 13th, 2011
|
|
7:17 pm
|
NO! Tobacco is not that hard to quit! But why would you want to? Put the peace pipe down and you're gonna be wearing size 20 jeans, fatty. NO ONE CARES ABOUT DEAD FETUS ON THE PACKAGING WHEN THERE'S POTENTIAL LARD ASS INVOLVED!
Don't pick a fight with this warlock. I've got tiger blood you see and I will crush this giant earth worm with my WORDS!
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Thursday, April 14th, 2011
|
|
5:15 pm
|
|
|
Wednesday, March 16th, 2011
|
|
2:04 pm
|
He sends postcards to Whitey, Deimos and The Hobo. The pictures don't make any more sense then the scrawled barely legible writing on them. They aren't meant to be decoded, they don't mean anything at all. They are only temporary place holders. Things to remind the people he's left behind that he's gone apeshit crazy and having one hell of a time doing it.
Appearances have to be kept after all. The truth that he's trying to sleep is as boring as it is disappointing.
It never works this little venture of his. If he's lucky he passes out for a handful of minutes that seem to extend into forever thanks to the jumbled images of his subconscious. Big Tobacco doesn't sleep well but he does manage to dream. He dreams of a very different god from the one he serves now. A god long since dead and sometimes right before his eyes flutter open he feels a pang of pity. One that's instantly forgotten as he stares at the empty expanse of ceiling above him.
He knows his slept today. The smell of burned fabric, hair and skin make him feel queasy. If there's pain he doesn't acknowledge. This won't be the first time he's tried to fall asleep with a cigarette in his hand and it sure as shit won't be his last.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Thursday, March 3rd, 2011
|
|
10:39 am
|
Spending a few nights in a jail cell might have been the perfect way to kick off March Madness. He wasn't at all bothered by the griminess of his surroundings or the even filthier people that he was locked away with. In fact he had a grand time before his lawyers managed to spring him and told him of a court date that was so far off he had forgotten it by the time he stepped out the police station and into the wide open world.
He left a note on the fridge for Deimos and a pile of keys on the counter. What they were for would be anyone's guess but if there was one person who understood Big Tobacco's brand of crazy it was the dark twin.
[Note Left on Fridge]
VIVA LA REVOLUTION!
Yo quiero Taco Bell!
Keys to the kingdom are all yours until I get back. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Monday, February 14th, 2011
|
|
8:34 am
|
[Sent to all his fellow New Gods and the Greeks]
Let it never be said that Big Tobacco isn't a giver. The packages themselves are plain and rather unremarkable and for some maybe the contents would be too. Regardless he thinks these are the perfect things to have on a day that is supposed to be filled with hearts and fucking.
A note is included.
"I'll never love you as much as you love me."
Big T
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Monday, February 7th, 2011
|
|
9:07 am
|
|
FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK! SHIT FOR BRAINS! ASS FOR HATS! CUNT PIRATES! USELESS SONS OF BITCHES! I'M GOING TO FIRE YOU! RE-HIRE YOU AND MAKE YOU START THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING FOOD CHAIN LICKING BOOTS AND ASSHOLES!I BITE ME THUMB AT THEE! I BITE YOUR FUCKING THUMB AND SHOVE IT IN YOUR EAR! YOUR FUCKING EAR YOU DAMNED NITWIT! COCKSUCKER!
|
|
(14 comments | comment on this)
|
|
Monday, January 24th, 2011
|
|
7:26 pm
|
Whose running for president in 2012? ME. Health care and free cigarettes for everyone.
Lift the offshore drilling ban and increase the defense budget by 200%. All we've ever needed is oil and nukes.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Monday, January 3rd, 2011
|
|
3:48 pm
|
His crazy driver is still on vacation and that's fine. Today it's just Big T and Whitey. The girl that came in a box and is not quite a girl at all. She's growing faster then she ought to, despite all the smoking (or maybe because of it) and she's less a child and more a teenager.
She's sitting up front in the passenger, not all phased by the maniac driving, the fast talking babble Big Tobacco is currently engaged in on his cellphone or the cacophony of horns that seem to follow them wherever they go. She's calm as she puffs away on her cigar (she's graduated from cigarettes) and counts the number of times they've circled the Food and Drug Administration building.
Thirteen times. It takes thirteen times of driving in circles before Big Tobacco realizes that something weird is happening. It takes another ten for him to get frustrated and realize that they aren't going anywhere else any time soon.
On the 31st rotation he pulls off the road and onto the building's lawn. He's pissed and shouting and finally collapses to his knees, shaking his fist and shouting at the sky.
"WHERE ARE YOU ROOOOOOOOOOOSEBUD!?"
Rosebud, Whitey knows (and isn't going to tell anyone) is the name of his favorite grenade launcher.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Saturday, January 1st, 2011
|
|
11:32 am
|
ITS THE MOOOOOOOOOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAR.
Go on and quit, kids. Put me down and lock me away for a little while. When you come back I'll be just as sweet and you'll wonder why you left in the first place.
The Big T loves you One and all.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Tuesday, December 7th, 2010
|
|
3:39 pm
|
|
|
Saturday, November 20th, 2010
|
|
10:46 am
|
She's back, she's back! Whitey has returned! Dropped off at his door with a six-pack, a dead kitten in a Coach purse and wearing a shirt that proclaims she's with stupid. It is a wonderful day and Benjamin Reynolds lets out a whoop of joy loud enough to wake up the entire building.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
Tuesday, November 9th, 2010
|
|
3:24 pm
|
|
|
Wednesday, October 27th, 2010
|
|
11:20 am
|
|
There is only one way to deal with a He-Bitch. Got to find an even bigger He-Bitch and hope it unhinges it's jaws and eats the other one.
|
|
(8 comments | comment on this)
|
|
Sunday, October 24th, 2010
|
|
9:04 am
|
Passed out cold on a queen size bed that is littered with playing cards, a dozen empty Jack Daniels bottles, fifteen donuts boxes that contain nothing but crumbs and a bright orange traffic cone. Big Tobacco had went on a binge of sorts last night. Locking himself in the $5,000 a night hotel room he called room service every fifteen minutes for three hours making a list of demands and while the staff did their best to cater to Mr. Reynolds there were just some things they couldn't do.
Namely find a dodo bird and bake it into a pie.
When he does wake up he rolls over and immediately reaches for the phone again.
[Phone call to Alcohol]
HEY! MAN HATING HE-BITCH! GIMME MY KID BACK.
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
|
