The wild stories in this book are much better, way more demented than some Onion article. Don’t believe me? Just take a good look at that cover. The stories deliver on that imagery. This book is for all the Santas out there that had to endure hours of piss, farts, and leaking diapers.
Hey, tell aunt Sally to put down the eggnog and get ready to share, because Cthulhu is coming to pay a little visit. Don’t be alarmed, the Ancient One just wants to partake in the Christmas festivities, spread some joy, and enjoy the merry spirit of the holiday. So what if he wants to devour you and your family, right? You’re gonna wish he could after spending the holiday with them.
(Characters are completely fictional. This is a work of parody and satire.)
Taylor Swift doubled over as she raced to the bathroom. Her stomach churned. A sharp pain pulsated within her abdomen, while her sphincter was one wrong move away from opening like a backed up dam. With the toilet in sight, her fingers fumbled with her belt buckle. The motion caused her asshole to pucker against her undies with a wet kiss. Taylor Swift squirmed and hurried, gritting teeth as brown water trickled down her leg. Dropping her pants, she sat her ass on cold ivory and sighed in relief as a waterfall of shit flowed through her. She held on to her thighs, and gave a little prayer, as her chocolate starfish wept.
While her turdpipe dumped gallons of butt juice similar to how Harvey dumped on Houston, all she could think about was that burrito. That fucking goddamn burrito! A mega burrito purchased from a taco truck parked out in the middle of nowhere, and of course she had to ask for extra jalapenos.
Rocking back and forth, she felt the mexplosion go from mild to hot, while her poop chute sang soprano. Sweat dripped from Taylor Swift’s brow. Teeth clamped shut while she seethed. Her fingernails dug into flesh. Her heart pounded, but the shit ride just wouldn’t stop.
Taylor Swift felt a warm wetness wafting from below and looked down to find her body’s recreation of mexican bean dip getting closer. A frantic flush sucked the burrito shlits down an inch only to rise like a shit tide at shit noon. Brown latte overflowed from the toilet, while Taylor Swift quivered in absolute disgust. She tried to stand, but lost her footing and fell into deuce juice, all the while a shit gusher sprayed from her ass.
“Help,” she cried, bitter tasting ass gravy splashing her lips as she crawled towards the door. “I can’t stop shitting.”
Clutching the sink, Taylor Swift pulled herself up.
“Sweety,” she said, glancing into a mirror where a brown Al Joleson stared back, mortified. “I think I’m dying.”
A sudden torrent of sphincter chocolate exploded with enough force to slam her against the door. Lost to an awesome buttgasm, she quivered as her limp body collapsed to the floor.
The door cracked open.
“You’re stinking up the whole house.” Kanye West said, before gagging and covering his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ. I hope you’re not expecting me to clean up this shit!”
Taylor Swift, slick with layers upon layers of shit, looked up at her lover. “It won’t stop. My ass, it’s like broken or something.”
With depictions of extreme graphic violence, moments of sexual assault, and horror targeted towards children, I was worried about what would happen when Deadman’s Tome published Inappropriate Literature.
The SJW Puritan police have come after me before — follow me on Twitter @mrdeadmandt if you don’t believe me — back when Deadman’s Tome published Psycho Holiday. Why was #cancelculture after me? Because I used the word Psycho in a title of a, wait for it, a horror anthology. If we can’t use phrases like psycho and demented in horror then we’ve reached a new low of pathetic virtue signalling.
When Deadman’s Tome released Inappropriate Literature, we received complaints from a few butt hurt snowflakes. All of which came from Twitter, the SJW cesspool, but that’s not surprising. They accused me of enabling or encouraging violent acts towards women and children. Oh my God, would somebody please think of the precious fictional women and children?
Pathetic complaints fallen on deaf ears, because I don’t give a damn.
I think it is this reason why Matt Scott trusted Deadman’s Tome with Darkness Calling. Darkness Calling takes the inappropriate and offensive material in Inappropriate Literature and cranks it up to no-fucks-given.
Now, how long will it take until they keyboard warriors come out with their oh so serious complaints?
SOMETHING EVIL ROSE WITHIN, AN ANCIENT BEING, ONE OLDER THAN TIME ITSELF…
Deep in the mountains of Appalachia, a legend is told about something evil that lurks within the dense woods of Gunrack Holler. A witch is said to live there, one whose appetite for innocent souls dates back hundreds of years.
Sam Fletcher had heard the story his whole life, but he never really believed it. After all, as his father always said, it’s just an old folktale… only a story.
But two years ago, something happened that made him believe.
Repeat after me kids, Satan is your friend. And he’s a friend through the end. Unlike other people that require you to pray and to have faith, Satan is always around to make a deal and he always delivers. The naysayers complain that making a deal with Satan could cost you your soul or the soul of someone you love.
Well, if the person I love isn’t willing to sacrifice their soul for the enhancement of my life or any wish I so desire, then I guess it isn’t love after all. And what’s the point of a soul when you can’t live the life you want, have mountains of cash, or finally get that body enhancement you’ve been looking for.
This sinister issue contains ten disturbing stories all about Satan and his dark influence. Enjoy.
After revisiting my early nerdy years as an otaku, I thought about how I could blend the horror that Deadman’s Tome publishes and anime together. Then it hit me: Camp Waifu. A very simple, straightforward writing contest that spans an intense 60 days (30 days of contest entry and 30 days of competing) where people can submit their work and then have that work read and judged by the people.
Submit a short horror story (3000 to 5000 words in length) about what happens at Camp Waifu. Is it a Friday the 13th situation? Is it a trap that leads to a young virgin strapped into a SAW device? Or does it toss away horror for more of a humorous and twisted fate?
Entry into the contest starts 8/8/2019 and ends 9/8/2019.
The stories that are entered will be posted on this site where readers can like, comment, and share.
The stories will be uploaded on the site on 9/9/2019 and for 30 days they will compete for the most views, likes and comments.