Dan Sroka's Berserk Briefs #23

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Berserk Briefs by Dan Sroka

Berserk Briefs by Dan Sroka

The cupboard was bare. Slob Doughboy has squandered all his money on beer and wine. The fatboy now was ravenously hungry, after sucking up the booze cache. Nothing in the cupboard. The refrigerator had only empty wine bottles and some moldy mayo. What was fatboy going to eat? He had no money. Lardass vaguely remembered reading something in some fucked up humor ezine about cooking up a cheap meal of tree bark. The drunken slob went outside with his ax and started chopping away at the bark. The boozed-up blimp’s ax slipped and the ax went through his ankle. The fucker was dazed at first. He quickly wrapped his stump up in a bed sheet to stop the bleeding. Now he’d have a good meal- his own big fat foot.

Copyright © Dan Sroka 9/5/01

Berserk Briefs by Dan Sroka

Big Bertha’s girdle was growing tighter and tighter. The pants she made out of surplus military tent canvas no longer fit. Munching away on a bag of corn chips she remembered her youth when she was, once upon a time, a sleek sexpot that all the boys wanted to pop. That was a long, long time ago. Now the only thing that pops is the buttons on her canvas pants. But Bertha is a strong willed behemoth. She vowed that after this bag of corn chips, and maybe a second bag, and maybe a 15 pc. platter of KFC, and a box of fudge, and a fried chicken or two, and a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly, a big bag of cheese pop corn, a bushel of mashed potatoes with cream cheese, a bucket of buttermilk, and 200 bowls of shrimp flavored ramen noodles with chunks of pork, a tub of chocolate pudding, another bigger bag of corn chips, an industrial sized box of pretzels, 12 quarts of butterscotch ice cream, a fried turkey, 20 dozen cream filled donuts and a wedding cake she’d start on a diet. More corn chips went in and the girdle grew tighter. Bertha’s canvas pants ripped open right up the crack in her ass. “Ah, fuck it”, she thought. “It’s time to eat more”.

Copyright © Dan Sroka 9/5/01,

10/08

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