Hello and welcome back to another issue of Dirty Filthy Snuff. I was gone for two weeks so it's time for me to play catch-up. Since the last time, I guess a lot has happened. The Royal Wedding which is basically the equivalent of Cinderella only with less integrity. But hey, I mean with a family that has had to cover up as many  scandals as the Royals, I guess this is a good thing. I guess the Royals are the British Kennedy's. Anyway, here we are at another installment of "Dirty Filthy Snuff", and there are just so much to cover, like tour guides, sheep skin condoms; I don't know other stuff that chaffs my nuts.

Oh, yeah when there is memorabilia, like this picture shows,  concerning the leaders of a countries nation, and not just campaign crap, but other such things as cheesy coffee mugs, or t-shirts I think says a lot. But anyway, here's something you'll really like:

 I am sorry to say, but this week we will not have any short fiction, so I'll have to find another way to entertain you until next time when I should have more creative fiction to share. With that being said, try this out and see how you like it:

  Yeah!!! What the fuck would you do if you saw this fucking thing crashing up on the shore in front you and your girlfriend? The shark bits your girlfriend and she screams this bloodcurdling scream that hit just the right tone that you blast a dookie outta your ass. You feel the warm mushiness as you frantically run to the rescue of your love. Charging, you jump kick the bear whose Tommie gun bursts chew up the sand before you. As the two of you fall time slows as the two of you kung fu fight in mid-air before slamming to the sand. There's a squeal, and when you look up there is Flipper, all buff, and welding a pair of nun-chucks. As that porpoise twists, flings and juggling the deadly weapon, you hear that Flipper is playing the theme song from his T.V. show with each slice of the air. You use the five point exploding heart technique on the grizzly bear. He firers off the machine gun, as he collapses when his ticker burst inside his chest. His roar echos in your ear as your attention turns to your girlfriend. She grasps on to you as her little bloody stumps kicked feverishly in the air.
"I can't feel my legs!"
As she squirts blood all over the place, her nubs are a blur ....

Okay, let me stop there. Don't know what the fuck happened but at least you got a little creative fiction.


Anyway, I think that it is about time for "What Really Chaffs My Nuts".

Okay, and now it's time for "What Really Chaffs My Nuts".

Ya know what really chaffs my nuts? Tour guides. Yeah the people we pay to load us on a bus, a stuffy bus with a hairy, middle aged driver ( the same 45 your old man we see in all those cheesy Hollywood movies who is on the Blvd. in a Dodge Aries trying to pick up the underage prostitute, the drive is that 45 year old ) while she tells us the edited version of the "famous" history of a sight as she handed out cheap ass head sets for us to listen to while we're walking ruins that have now been overrun by strays, and the mentally ill panhandlers. Then once that is done she proceeds to sell you down the river. What I mean is that have you ever seen the movie "Deep Water" where the two scuba diver where left behind and ended up being eaten by sharks, well that's what she do to us. "Now we'll give you some time to shop for souvenirs" and then she abandons us in a sea of con artist, merchants, and pick-pockets who once they see we are tourist then they start a feeding frenzy.
"T-shirts!"
"You want buy rug"
"Flags!"
"Real gold and silver jewelry. Cheap, I make good deal-good price!"
 After wards she come in like the lackadaisical parent picking up her kids at day care, a smile on her face all excited about what fun we may have had, not caring that one of the worker is actually a Megan's Law applicant.
"Did you buy all the gifts you wanted?"
And we somehow despite all the pain, all bullshit, and the gauntlet of half truths, we all answer "yes". We smile and listen to her conclusion before she asks for the cheap headsets which we later realize were probably just wiped down with Lysol before repackaging them. At the end of the day the bus drops us off at our hotels, our Cruise ships, or our resorts with a hug and a kiss to mask the fact that she's just fucked us in the ass with a soft cock. And That's What Really Chaffs My Nuts.



The last piece of this is "Questions That Make You Go Hummm!"


This issues question is:

Which would you be more willing to do? Would you be more willing to kiss Gary Busey, open mouth, for 30 seconds if it meant you wouldn't have to retrieve Janet Reno's birth control pills that fell out of her purse and into the excrement collected in a porter potty?

Think about it and get back to me.


Until next time,

Lou Ford.