Jeffrey Ross vs. Martha Tuff
Fatty, Fatty, Fat, Fat By Jeffrey Ross
“Fatty, fatty, fat, fat!”
The words sang from the un-tuned babble of children. They echoed off of the P.E. building’s cream brick and out into the open field. Five fourth-grade classmates were playing a game of kick the dirt at the crying child, a crying child huddled in a ball within their circle.
“Here fatty. Have some dirt. I bet you even eat dirt, you’re so fat.”
“Yeah, you’re so fat you went to the beach and Greenpeace tried to push you back in the ocean,” chimed in another voice.
Read More | Final Votes: 49.9%
Deathmatch By Martha Tuff
He’s got an axe in one hand, dripping, red splashed handle and a club in the other.
“I’m going to fuck you up,” he snarls.
And he does and you know it, well you know as long as you’re still breathing, as long as you’re still alive, which isn’t much.
There’s nothing much left when he’s done, just a messy pulpy pile of what you used to be.
Read More | Final Votes: 50.1%