Archive for 08/25/2007

What have you done for Spookymeat lately?


hey look, old comments and all

spookymeat and thismayhurt, a behind the scenes extravaganza…


There are quite a few readers of Thismayhurt and Spookymeat that try to talk to us through emails, and IMs. I suppose you think that because you read our site you are somehow on the same level as we are. Well, whatever you want to think is fine with us, just as long as those “donation” checks keep rolling in… (But as far as those personalized letters that you got when you joined the fan club- well, lets just say our secretary has WAY better handwriting than either one of us ever did). I suppose in some way people feel that they know us through our writing, which is understandable. I know that you see us as these amazing, high-status celebrity writers that spend all day on live update writing tours signing people’s computer monitors, and also their tits. I know the desire to get into our pants is overwhelming at times, and any look into our secret, non-internet identities is quite tantalizing for all you screw balls out there. With that in mind we have decided to give you a little peeksy into just some of the things that go on in our world… John (in the wiggly font commonly referred to as “italics”) and I (in the normal non-wiggly font that I like to call “non-italics”) are about to tell you a little story about one of the hardest things we have ever had to go through.

::Cue the film noir music, and black and white filters::

jawnie and the love of our livesBlogging on my award-winning graphic bloggle is a lot more complicated than it looks. Every morning I brew up a pot of coffee, smoke a pack and a half of cigarettes and consult the Comedy Whiteboard, where vaguely funny ideas turn to comedy gold. Sometimes there will be a random word on the whiteboard (like “doodie”), left there in a fit of manic, absinthe-fueled brilliance from the night before. Other times, I just get naked and throw a bucket of paint on it. I create “thought webs” and “idea balloons” and then I’ll call up my agent and threaten to kill myself if my pointless demands (helicopters dipped in fudge, gingerbread houses made of the feces of royalty, etc) are not met. Usually Sarah finds me sitting on the couch with my head in my hands, or attempting to blast the funny out of my brain and onto my laptop monitor with a 12 gauge. Or fucking Candi. Our Real Doll.

She came into our life about a year ago, and was quite a blessing in our lonely, misunderstood world. I came up with the idea after I started getting worried about leaving John home alone (with nothing but his increasingly dangerous “idea balloons” to keep him company). It was the best investment that we ever made, and she quickly became part of the family. I still remember the day that our new best friend arrived in her 150lb wooden crate. There she was, in all her naked glory, hanging by her neck hook. She also came with some extras that proved to be quite handy. I’d say one of the most useful accessories was the vagina plunger that we used when her vagine-gine got backed up with “love”. We also had to install the creepy doll eyes ourselves, but when I held those eyes in the palm of my hand, the look in them said only one thing to us- “I’m home, I’m finally home”. And… she… was.

At first people in the neighborhood seemed to have a problem with our new sex-slave/sister pal… But they’re always whispering stupid shit about us celebrity-types so I never really thought anything of it. Our family was quite happy and the outside world could just suck a warm, live, human cock, as far as I was concerned. Eating dinner together was especially enjoyable to us. Potato soup has always been a favorite of ours, and John and I loved taking turns spooning it into her cold, lifeless mouth. And -ohmygod- watching the chunks of white fingerling potatoes drip down her chin and between her thighs was probably the hottest thing in the world. You HAVE to admit that! You have too!

Some people find a life-sized, slack-jawed sperm receptacle sitting in an easy chair unsightly, especially when I would tell guests to help themselves to some Swedish Fish out of her creepy rubber vagina. But we didn’t have a completely physical relationship with Candi, I mean, it was mostly physical, but there was a special kind of love that only a lifeless meat-y mannequin could give, and the special “single teardrop” eyes that I bought for her off eBay ensured that I’d always have a crying partner when times were tough. But as Sarah said, she really was becoming a part of the family… One afternoon, we loaded Candi up in the sidecar and took her to the park, and maybe it was the way the sun bounced off her 38HHH breasts, but she never looked happier. I pushed her on the swings and I could almost hear her screaming, “Higher! Higher Daddy! I want you inside me!”

That beautiful afternoon was a real turning point in the relationship. I started to notice that things were a little off, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it. I remember clear as day. I was sitting under a lovely apple tree knitting some matching booties for Candi and John, when they came over and sat down beside me. The look on John’s face told me that it was time for some oral, and boy was he right as rain! There really isn’t anything I like better than going down on a cold, cadaver-like vagina on a cool summer’s day. John knows how to twist those knitting needles just right, and needless to say, we all had a great time. Anyway, back to why I felt that something was a little weird. As my tongue gently caressed the inside of her rubbery womb, I could have sworn for a second that I could feel her smooth silicone vulva push back against my face. Just for a second… I thought perhaps the heat was getting to me, and decided we should all go out to eat (literally). It was getting late and I wanted something to help get the taste of fish and rubber out of my mouth.

So we went out to our favorite restaurant, The Chicken House, for wings and brews. Deep in conversation about the masterworks of Crispin Glover and his inability to return our frequent, harried phone calls, we lost track of Candi. In all honesty, sometimes we just leave her places, like face down in the gutter or hanging from a tree, but when our waiter informed us that she was in the back getting her plastic parts worked over by the kitchen staff, I decided to put my foot down. Then I put my other foot down, and I kept repeating the motions until I found myself in the kitchen to see this rubber debauchery for myself. “Don’t come in here, Sarah… you wouldn’t want to see her like this,” I said to no one in particular, but hoped Sarah heard me. Turns out Sarah wasn’t imagining things. Ole’ Slutface Mcgee was alive, or at least alive enough to crave acres of greasy cock.

I couldn’t believe it. Her fake vagina lips had always been ours and ours alone. Now the it seemed the whole town had had a piece of her. John and I left Candi that day and went home, crushed. That was several months ago and we still cry ourselves to sleep. We’ve got a new Doll since then (she’s a diabetic so we only paid half price), and while she has helped fill the void in our hearts that only a cum guzzling 100lb doll could fill, whatever-her-name-was will always hold a special place in our hearts.

The. End.

Dear Sarah,


Why is it that you haven’t updated Spookymeat in such a long time? I mean seriously, it has been over a MONTH now, and still NOTHING! Every morning I wake up thinking that today is going to be the day, the day when I go to my shiny Commodore 64, turn on the burning hot monitor, and see a brand spanking new update staring me in the face. And every day I am completely let down. I don’t know what it is with you high-status website writers, thinking you can just update whenever you want, but I’d like to tell you that if it wasn’t for us readers- you’d be NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING!

Where exactly would you be without us anyway? You’d just be writing your stupid crap for your stupid self. You’d get up every morning and go smile at your hit counter of “1”, and laugh at your stupid jokes, then pat yourself on the back right before you go cry yourself to sleep in the shower. That’s exactly what you’d do and don’t you even try and deny it! You like to pretend that you are above us all, but the truth is that you need us just as much as we need you. You know what, though, maybe this is just the wake up call you needed… Maybe the idea of looking into your computer one day and not seeing a million faces smiling back at you scares you to death- I hope it does. It should. Because that’s what is going to happen if you keep this shit up.

I’m tired of giving you the benefit of the doubt… I’m tired of believing in you, when the truth is that you are never there for me when I need you. Since your lack of updates I have started hitting the bottle again pretty hard. Yeah, you can thank yourself for that one, honey. You haven’t answered any of my emails and I’ve been taking that out on my girlfriend. She hasn’t been able to figure out why she has to have the shit kicked out of her every time I come out of the office, but since she can’t read she’ll never figure it out, either. All this shit could have been avoided had you not been such a cold-hearted, ghost of a friend. You really are a stupid bitch.
I know we don’t really know each other in “real life”, but I really am someone you can call a friend. I know this seems a little fucked up but the truth is I just miss you and want you to come back to me. My life isn’t an easy one and your website is the only real thing left in this cruel, cold world.

Spookymeat Fan #1