All tagged grossout

The Cut

I’ll tell you right now that she is going to cut herself. That serrated knife is going to slice right through her flesh till it reaches bone.

Detox

I let myself into Albert’s building and walk up the narrow staircase to his fourth-floor apartment. I undo the padlock, slide open the metal door that covers his mail slot, and push the meat into the darkened apartment. The liver squelches and slaps against the floor. Albert groans from inside.

Girlies

In this episode, the models' challenge is to stay photogenic while spiders crawl all over them, creeping on their flat stomachs and toeing their belly buttons and climbing their breasts and making homes in the little shells of their ears. It's the tall girl's turn.

Rag

There was a moment when he could have taken me out of her throat, or at least not stuffed me in so far, but he needed to cross the line. I helped him, I admit. He left me inside her; that is where they found me, distending that narrow passage. Covered in her cells and his.

The Eye

I never meant to take his eye. It was just sitting there in a dish next to the bathroom sink. I guess he took it out to clean it or something. I'm at Uncle Joe's a lot, but I'd never seen his glass eye up close before.

Sheba

When my wife and I separated, we decided to split the dog half-n-half. Lengthwise, so each of us could enjoy at least half his little face, and have only half as much shit to deal with.

Potbellied Medusa

Instead though, because my mouth is full of blood and Celia’s Sixlet candies and pieces of my molars, it sounds a lot more like, “Podow—tha—” as the rest mutely bubbles up and out and gets lost in a frothy human sangria that spills from my lips. 

Western

The vigilantes corner us and the rest of the gang. “YOU COWARDLY BASTARDS,” I yell at my gang after they surrender. I shoot it out and bullets fly through me, ending up dead, my blood among nettles and scrub.

B-Movie

We can be teenagers again in 1985. You are a beautiful computer hacker riding her moped and infectious laugh to my house in Arlington, where I am a champion Ms. Pac-Man player with a pocketful of quarters. We will use my Tandy 1000 to dial into the Pentagon because we don’t know the difference between binary fission and love. I’ll accidentally launch a cluster of missiles at the USSR because we don’t fully understand that there is no difference between Inky, Blinky, and thermonuclear war. The FBI will take us into custody and call in the army to destroy everything. We’ll be saved when you persuade the President to let me have one last crack at a kill screen. As everyone watches those bombs spread their hot brand of death across the globe, we’ll make out while everyone remembers to forget we are in the room.

Method of Exhaustion

On Pi Day, Mr. Porter brings pumpkin pie. Andrew brings Ding Dongs, Marcello brings whipped cream, and the twins, Hannah and Greta, bring spice cake. Oliver Banks was supposed to bring cupcakes but he came late and he brought a gun.

8 > ∞

When I first heard they were sending an octopus into space, it sounded like a James Bond movie. The eight legs of it pressing levers and pulling decelerators and twisting valves and recording oxygen levels and adjusting manifolds and toggling toggles and jotting down memoirs and scratching itself. The bulbous bubble of its helmet resting on its bulbous head.

Dumpster Donny

What shocked me was that he actually followed through with something: that he began, worked through the middle and then finished it. And shoved me in the dumpster at six in the morning on a Sunday.