So you're not going in blind, here's a taste of what you get at each subscription level:

3$/Month - Swear of the Month


From the special EU Referendum Edition:


GROUP TWO – The Attack Dactyl


Examples:

“incompressible jizztrumpet”

“toupéd fucktrumpet”

“ignorant fuckmuppet”

“weaselheaded fucknugget”

“cockwomble”


The swearers in this group have taken our first technique – the adjective-noun pairing – and further amplified its effectiveness by altering the noun. All the above nouns are compound trisyllables with emphasis on the first syllable - a metrical unit known as a dactyl. The first syllable is always a swear; the latter two syllables can be practically any two-syllable word, provided the first letter of this word does not sound the same as the last letter of the swear.


5$/Month - Short Fiction


From "President Wildman":


President Wildman is going to give a speech. The press have come, with their floodlights and their HD cameras and their raw meat on the ends of fishing poles. They camp on the Whitehouse lawn, all overgrown with weeds and vines and carnivorous plants which stink of meat and buzz with foolish flies. President Wildman is going to give a speech. It will be his first.

10$/Month - Novel Chapter


From "Just Walk In":


I'm pouring the milk when she comes into the kitchen. This big black lady in a fluffy nightgown, she just leaps in and starts screaming at me: “get out, get out, get out.” Her face is all peeled back from her teeth, lips flapping in the wind from her terrible lungs. I take a sip of the milk.


It's pretty upsetting, her being here, but you don't get through these situations by yelling back. You win an argument by being the last person to start yelling. I turn to her and make my eyes real wide – a sign of sincerity. I say, “Calm down, it's not a big deal. I was just walking home and I was thirsty and my fridge doesn't work and you don't have a back gate. Your porch light was on and your back door was unlocked so I got some milk.”


“I'llcallthefuckingpolice,” she screams. It's like it's not even words anymore. Just a shrill siren like what the police blast to shoo junkies out of the park after closing. I sit down at the little kitchen table and take a sip of the milk.


I say, “Look, by the time the cops get here – and they've got better things to do in this neighborhood in the first place – and in the second place by the time the cops get here I'll be done with the milk and I'll be gone.”


This is when she goes for the knife. I stand up and pull out mine. I take a sip of the milk.

By becoming a patron, you'll instantly unlock access to 147 exclusive posts
64
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72
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By becoming a patron, you'll instantly unlock access to 147 exclusive posts
64
Images
10
Links
72
Writings
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