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I worked at the same mortuary in South Central Los Angeles, before, during and after Mortuary College.
(Yes, there is such a thing) Anytime, day or night, something was going on "down in the hood." One very warm night, myself and the guy that was on call opposite my nights were sitting up on the upstairs landing of the Mortuary sipping a few beers. Next to the mortuary sat an apartment building that was primarily a brothel. It was a slow mid week night and the girls were sitting on the apartment stairs, staying a little cool and looking for clients. We could here the girls laughing and joking and enjoying the evening.
Suddenly, one of the girls started screaming and crying. This wasn't anything new, they were always getting in fights with clients and each other. But for some reason she kept at it. One of her work associates spotted the two white boys up on the mortuary landing and started screaming for us to help her. Maybe it was the boredom, the beer or our gentlemanly nature, we both tucked a company handgun under our shirts and walked over to the brothel.
One of the ladies, well over 200 pounds, was drunk and had slipped, lodging one of her massive thighs between the iron decorative slats on the stairway hand rail. Try as she might, she and her sisters couldn't dislodge her thigh from the stairs. My co-worker and I gave it a shot and found the leg lard was wrapped around the bars pretty tight. "Why don't you call the fire department?" "No, cause the Sheriff will show up and I've gots warrants...." "We could try to spread the bar with a car jack...." "Huuuuh uhhhh, someone would cut my leg off." I looked at my co worker: "Go get the Stone Oil."
Stone oil was a product we used in the preparation room to prevent razor burn after shaving men. It also prevented discoloration and resultant dehydration. It was slightly more fluid than Vaseline. My
partner took off and returned shortly with the jar of Stone Oil.
So there we were, two White, young aspiring Morticians, deep in the darkest part of South Central Los Angeles. My partner was thoughtful enough to return with a fresh beer for both of us and we got down to business. I explained to the hooker what our plan was and for her to relax while we worked our magic. Both of us slathered up our hands with stone oil and put a big glob on her leg where it was pinned between the bars. We were right up next to her "money maker". Fortunately, modesty wasn't a concern of hers. We mashed and kneaded the ample flesh of her thigh for several minutes, drawing a small crowd of pedestrians walking to the liquor store next door. With a push here and a pull there, she popped free! The onlookers offered their approval and the "lady of the Evening" offered her sincere thanks and a standing offer to stop by for a free one anytime.
For the next year, every time I walked to the liquor store (at great personnel peril) the whores all waved and said hello. Neither my co-worker or I took advantage of the prostitute's gracious offer,
tempting as it was......
A good illustration for BOO MOTHERFUCKER, would be two young blacks all busted up and bloody in a street.
I served my internship as an Embalmer in South Central Los Angeles. The doors of the mortuary were locked 24/7 and my employer kept three loaded handguns in the building at all time. This was in an era where there were no real answering services for mortuaries or cell phones. As a result, someone had to be able to answer the phones at all hours for death calls.
On the night in question, I had locked up the mortuary, watched some TV and got into the shower in my apartment over the funeral home. Through the shower noise , I heard a loud thump on the upstairs landing of the building. Then I heard someone twisting the upstairs door knob. I grabbed a
45 pistol in a hallway closet, wrapped a towel around my, at the time fat body, and waddled towards the door.
The upstairs back door to the mortuary was well lit. There were two young Afro-American gentlemen,
with knifes or screw drivers in their hands. I turned on the inside light near the door, pointed the gun and said "HEY". It was like a cartoon! The Negro's eyes almost popped out of their young heads. The sight of a pasty white, white boy dripping soap and wrapped in a white towel was too much for my young visitors.
Both shrieked like they were on fire, turned and took off running, right off the roof. One hit a parked car, parked at the curb. The other, and less athletic, landed HARD on the sidewalk, with a resounding THUD. What followed was much more screaming and very loud profanity. I ran to my room and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt, then ran out the second floor door to see what happened.
Opening the door triggered out alarm and the alarm company dispatched the L.A. Sheriff's department. The cops arrived within a minute or so to find the fool that landed on the sidewalk screaming about a ghost and about his broken leg and hip. His friend got about 50 feet away, slowed by a nasty bump on his melon and a twisted ankle.
When I figured the Deputies wouldn't shoot me, I got their attention. They listened to my story and busted out laughing. "What do you want to do, Sir?" "Nothing, I figure gravity found justice and their injuries are enough to keep them off the upstairs for a while...." They both were transported to the hospital and released in a day or two.
I saw the concrete kid, walking in a full leg cast while I was standing out front of the Mortuary a few days later. He called me a mother-fucker. I suggested he stop by again, anytime day or night.... My employer gave me a $25 a week raise. Sweet!
I would use the two liner at the top of the story showing a request for a topic or:
HITTING BELOW THE BELT
Can you tell me why my most recent uploads were rejected by KaoticAdmin? The mass beheading and pistol executions from Flames of War 2 and the Khorasan Isis execution where they chop his arms off first are the latest rejections and every single upload that was rejected was set as featured and wasn't a repost. Wtf did I piss an admin off or something?
CUMING WHILE GOING
I was an 19 year old junior mortician, working for the company that made removals for mortuaries and the coroner all over L.A. County. At this point, I was becoming a "seasoned veteran" in dealing with death and it's resultant gut and gore. We were so busy one night, I was sent to a residence by the Coroner on an unknown circumstances death. This could be anything from a homicide to a doctor being out of town and unable to sign a death certificate.
On arrival at the residence, I spoke to the cops that were anxious to get out of that house and on to other matters. There were several people in the living room, including the brand new widow, dressed in a robe. I noted the time, 8 pm, and thought it was unusual. The cops took me back to the bedroom, where the robed woman's husband was dead in bed, flat on his back with a huge smile on his face. The cops could no longer contain their mirth. "She must a fucked him to death." The other officer offered "That is some killer pussy...."
According to the cops and an embarrassing interview with the wife. Hubby was on top of mom and enjoying some spirited missionary position sex, when dad turned purple, gasped for air and collapsed on top of his wife. Dad was pretty fat and out weighed his wife by at least 120 pounds. When he collapsed, he was "dead weight" on top of her. She started yelling for help and it took a neighbor 45 minutes to respond, then boot the front door to the house and call 911. By that time, dad was long gone. "Did my husband suffer?" "No mam, he appears at rest...." It was the best I could do, without busting out laughing.
Yup, we definitely need simple tools like that on site. We'll get it coded in one day. Thanks again, you work too hard man!
Whats more fucked up then the vid is his dad knew that would happen if he ratted still fucked up for sure01/21/2018 02:58