Macabre Halloween Madness (Part 4)

Mr. Bones!!!! The Queen cried, she was so horrifically happy to see him sitting in the waiting room. Nurse Ratchet found him propped against the entrance to the Asylum early this morning. There was a note attached to his ribcage. To: The Queen of Macabre, From: The Voodoo Queen. “My Dear Queen, I believe this partial skeleton belongs to you. I found him in your abandoned mausoleum at the local cemetery, (nice wall hangings). The only reason I knew he belonged to you was the stamp on his ass that said “Mr. Bones, property of Macabre Madness Asylum”.  He seemed so sad, so I thought I would send him back to you. Sorry if he’s missing a tailbone when he arrives, I put the Holy Moley, Whammy-Jammmy re-animated Mojo on him and he had to drag his bony ass all the way home. I thought he might come in handy for a Halloween decoration” Yours Truly, Voodoo Queen. P.S. He re-animates every evening at the stroke of midnight”.

The malevolent planning of the annual Macabre Madness Halloween party is well under way. The Lord of Rotted Whales, and Lady of Kentucky Dead-Meat Chicken are in charge of the ass-picking, finger-sniffing, monkey-reeking costumes for our most rotten resident psychos, (the damn monkey has been sleeping in the costume closet again). The Queen is having a hell of a time keeping the Lady and her Lord focused on the dark task at hand. They are still suffering from air deprivation induced by their deadly, any time of the day or night cravings, for incessant copulation. A symptom of the newt humping grave rot they incurred in the Asylums “Wedding Chapel of the Immaculate Damnation”. I told them not to get married in August because the newt humpers were breeding but noooooooooooooooo, they wouldn’t listen. They were warned that it takes nearly a year for the protruding side effects to wear off. Gah! The Gorgon triplets, Spooky, Catacomb and Corpse are once again playing ghost, coffin, spikes, to see who will get to be either Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Bride of Frankenstein, or Elvira, Hottie Ho of the Dark.

The Queen of Macabre, The Professor of Movie Facts and I, the Mistress of Darkness have been busy with the snot-hacking, mucous-dripping decorations. The Queen isn’t havin any of that pansy-ass crafty "Home Shopping Network" shit the nurses put up. Creepy smiling scarecrows, happy pumpkins and festive fall leaves ain’t happening. The Professor busies himself with his maniacal knife wielding, hand carving of the six or so pumpkins in the Graphic Horror TV room. They are wolfishly life-like. He has agonized over the sprouting pumpkin hair dilemma for weeks. Seems as if the ass-picking, finger sniffing monkey, donated his nappy-ass blue fur for the Professors final artistic touch (he, he, he). I have been busy creating disgustingly delicious visual Word Banks out of the decaying entrails I brought back with me from New Orleans. Livers and stomachs and intestines, oh my! The Queen will put the final gag-effect on all of the decorations with her vomit-engorged, pus-filled, corpse swelling, decayed-meat-smelling, eye-popping, belly-bursting, computer screen. She has worked obsessively, pounding day and night for a whole week on her blood-stained keyboard. She has finally finished her belly-bursting masterpiece. It is set to go off at midnight.

The Wicked Bitc…, I mean, Witch of the West sits in her wheel chair, her face looking like a shriveled corpses ass, turned wrong side out. After two months worth of, ahem!, private therapy from Dr. Serious Quack, she is beginning to get a bit of that puke-green tint back into her blackened checks. Not many people know that Dr. Quack is the Voodoo High Priest Poo-bah for the local Baton Rouge area, “I got that Old Black Magic, Honey" Voodoo Lodge. I think the bitc.., I mean witch has taken a liking to our Dr. Quack. The ass-picking, finger-sniffing monkey refuses to wear the new Bell Hop suit the Witch whipped up for him out of her BIG, black-ass bag of horrors. She has tried three times to take his ass-picking purple wig, and finger-sniffing green polka dotted clown dress off of him. She got a butt-blasting, ass-picking, finger-sniffing face full of black-maggot-filled monkey shit in the face for her efforts. Heeeeeee! I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot cattle prod. Well, on second thought! zzzzt....he, he, he. She refuses to have anything to do with our party. It seems the local Holy Rolling Zombies have converted her to the “Church of the Dawning Dead”. She says she doesn’t believe in holidays! Whatever Witchy-poo!!! God, she hates it when I call her that, (evil grin).

It’s midnight and the Halloween party is in full swing. In the name of peace, The Lord of Rotten Whales and the Lady of Kentucky Dead-Meat Chicken, had the Gorgon Triplets all dress alike. They all came as identical Elvira's, Hottie Ho’s of the Dark. They seem to be having a ghastly good time bobbing for weenies and meatballs, but not half as good time as Dr. Serious Quack who is bobbing for yummy yabos. The Professor sits on the spider web covered sofa, butt naked. He makes a ruggedly handsome Wolf Man. Some of the nurses have begun to sprout fine hair on the night of the full moon. Makes me wonder what the Professor has been up too. On second thought, I don’t wanna know. The Queen sits regally upon her alabaster throne sipping absinthe from Mr. Bones Skull Cap. The Professor gave him back his legs because he had worn his bony ass clean off. I think Dr. Quack has ordered a pelvic replacement from, halloweenexpress.com. The Queen seems disgustingly pleased to preside over this gory midnight melee. She looks drop-dead gorgeous in her skin tight "Cat Woman" costume. Her feline silver night vision mode, really sets her costume off. With whip in hand, she snaps off the Wicked Bitc…, I mean, Witches hat, over and over. The ass-picking, finger sniffing monkey grows weary of retrieving it for his ugly-ass tormentor. Hell hath no fury, like a monkey scorned. Lets see how far she can push him before he goes ass-picking ape-shit on her face again.

Oh My! it’s almost dawn. I, the Mistress of Darkness am very satisfied at how this night has turned out. Most of the psychos are wasted on the vomitous absinthe spiked punch and the chocolate mucous covered cannabis brownies. The Cannabis is A-1, Pure-Dee, Top Quality Hydro, grown in our own very own graveyard. Dead newt humpers mixed with Wolf manure makes a great fertilizer. We haven’t seen the Lord of Rotting Whales and Lady of Kentucky Dead-Meat Chicken since 2 am. Three sickening guesses where they are. The Gorgon Triplets disappeared with Dr. Quack into his office about an hour ago. There is an eerie green glow coming from under his door. He better not look because we don’t want to drag his "turned to stone-ass" down to New Orleans for the Voodoo Queen to put the green, stone-shattering, whammy-jammy on him. It would be the fourth time this year. The Professor and all six nurses have long since retired to the woods that border the Asylum property, that vicious horn-dog!

The Queen still sits upon her alabaster throne, skullcap in hand, a wry smile on her face. The sun has risen and off she goes to her beloved blood-stained keyboard. She squeegee’s her wide screen monitor in preparation for her next belly-bursting poem. The printer begins churning out word banks to appease my ODWD (Obsessive Dark Word Bank Disorder) Oh, I never mentioned what my costume was. I came as the Wicked Witch of the West, he, he, he….If looks could kill, I would be laying out in the newt-humping, Macabre Madness Graveyard about now!!!!

Nurse!!!! More Prozac!!!!! Oooooh, sorry Your Highness, my bad…..

NURSE!!!! MORE CANNABIS!!!!