Hiram Johnson, 67, of Kay Moor, West Virginia, heaves back and forth, seized by a coughing fit so intense it flings his massive six-foot-seven frame this way and that like a dog wringing out a chew toy.
It is admittedly the "lowest" form of horror writing but I'd like to think that I was at least somewhat successful in evoking what Stephen King lovingly refers to as "the gross out" with this one.
Holy shit, no kidding! Gave this a listen and the similarity of the imagery is uncanny. Plus, now I've added a great new bop to the playlist. Thanks, Bradley!
As she strove to breathe while retching like her favorite feline struggling to bring forth a tennis ball-sized hairball, she eventually brought forth an impressive serving of lung butter directly onto the awaiting crispy toast.
For having opened this at all, given the title, is the first bravery we readers have displayed. For persevering in the reading despite the uneasy feeling in my stomach is bravery #2. For having gotten through all of it in a sort of grotesque fascination to see what might hatch out of those jars or happen next is the third and final courageous act. So, for all our intestinal fortitude, I'm not sure I want to know what these things ultimately are, or whether I want to euthanize ol' Hiram then burn that house in order to put us out of our misery! Barftastic piece. Or as Tracey put it more eloquently, "Ewwwwwwww"!
I agree with Tracey’s comment. I felt a myriad of emotions reading this.
I feel like the goal of every writer is to seek a visceral sort of response from your reader!
Congratulations you have achieved exactly that!! Ewwwwwww lmao
Ewwwwww, indeed! Thanks, CeeCee!
It is admittedly the "lowest" form of horror writing but I'd like to think that I was at least somewhat successful in evoking what Stephen King lovingly refers to as "the gross out" with this one.
Reminds me of the song "Let's Make the Water Turn Black" by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention.
Holy shit, no kidding! Gave this a listen and the similarity of the imagery is uncanny. Plus, now I've added a great new bop to the playlist. Thanks, Bradley!
Glad to hear tha... hork-hork-hack...
As she strove to breathe while retching like her favorite feline struggling to bring forth a tennis ball-sized hairball, she eventually brought forth an impressive serving of lung butter directly onto the awaiting crispy toast.
Ewwwww lol
Just for you. Enjoy with your breakfast.
For having opened this at all, given the title, is the first bravery we readers have displayed. For persevering in the reading despite the uneasy feeling in my stomach is bravery #2. For having gotten through all of it in a sort of grotesque fascination to see what might hatch out of those jars or happen next is the third and final courageous act. So, for all our intestinal fortitude, I'm not sure I want to know what these things ultimately are, or whether I want to euthanize ol' Hiram then burn that house in order to put us out of our misery! Barftastic piece. Or as Tracey put it more eloquently, "Ewwwwwwww"!
This is easily one of my all-time favourite comments!