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Pooped Goons
by Jay Riggio
Despite all the menacing acts they carry out daily, like unprovoked violence, rape, murder and all-out belligerence, there has to be at least one saving characteristic in the personality of the very bad person that commits them. Sure, a maniac may occasionally hold a door open for a stranger or say “thank you” to a sales clerk when buying a pack of smokes. But seriously, who gives a pile of horseshit about things like that. What really matters are the things that grab an observer, and tug on their heart strings until a thick shiny liquid made up of envy, wonder, passion and breathtaking emotion is released all over their neck. To the seasoned lunatic, these human acts of absolute splendor are few and far between. So where does one find beauty in the Mike Tysons, John Wayne Gacys and Hitlers of this world? Let me explain.
A good friend of mine has always had a reputation for being a lunatic. He’s known for taking his dick out and pissing on his own bare chest at parties, knocking opponents out with a single blow in random bar fights and saving his own shaved pubic hairs in Ziploc bags under his bed. I’ve always thought him to be a sort of bad person, until I passed out one night at his house. I got up in the middle of the night to piss, when I caught a glimpse of him sleeping in his bed. The moon’s light shined through the bedroom window illuminating his face. He looked so gentle and peaceful. Tucked in tightly under his comforter, he was precious. Absolutely adorable really. I put my piss on hold and sat on the edge of his bed. Resting my chin on my open palm, I gazed intently at the face of a sleepy angel. He was such a buttercup when he slept.
There are many notable maniacs in this world. However, most people have never witnessed the angelic quality that exists once these lunatics close their eyes and board the sleepy train.
John Wayne Gacy is probably the easiest to point out as a lovely sleeper. Charmingly overweight and baby faced, he was like a giant Beanie Baby. After a good day’s worth of ill behavior, his chin would fold into thirds, and his mouth would part in such a way that could make Suge Knight smile softly and whisper under his breath, “Sweet pearl of a man…golden. Where’s love, John? Ah, yes. In your tender eyes.”
John Wayne Gacy was in fact a fucking madman. He killed over 30 boys and young men. But not before handcuffing them, stuffing their mouths with underwear and viscously raping them. He was a big fan of chloroforming his victims before he carried out his silly little acts of insanity. Perhaps Mr. Gacy even chloroformed himself in order to achieve such a wonderful sleepy face. I like to believe that when the police raided Mr. Gacy’s home, they barged in on him napping. Entranced by the sweet sight of his unconsciousness, the Sergeant called off his men, “so John can get in an extra ten minutes of sleep time.” The group of policemen filled Gacy’s bedroom and quietly observed. Some of the officers may have even cried.
Mike Tyson is a bad man. He knows it, too, calling himself, “The baddest man on the planet.” Four rape charges, various out of the ring street brawls, biting off Evander Holyfield’s ear and sucker punching Lennox Lewis at a press conference. But what most don’t know about this former heavy weight champion is that he is borderline narcoleptic. And lucky for everyone around him, it doesn’t take much to get Iron Mike all tuckered out. He is an absolute sweetheart once he drifts off into a deep sleep. It is rumored that when Mikey was incarcerated for rape, he would often fall asleep in the lunchroom and land face-first in his mashed potatoes. Those who sat with him would take turns turning Tyson’s head to its side so all could get a glimpse of that delightful sleeping face. Cafeteria riots were often bought to a halt once Mikey would pass out. One inmate is quoted as saying, “How can you go and shank a nigga when that little baby face is doin his mothafuckin sleepy time?”
As a boy Tyson was referred to as “Fairy boy” by his peers, on account of his soft voice and silly lisp. Perhaps this name was not meant as an insult, but as a tribute to the look of a boy during his slumberous state.
Adolf Hitler issued the annihilation of two thirds of the European Jews. It doesn’t take a sharp asshole to point out that Adolf was not a kindhearted man. But let’s not dwell on the negative here. Hitler was a stomach sleeper. Simply put, he slept on his stomach. This meant that it was tough to observe the miraculous look that came upon his mass murdering face once he buried that tiny little moustache into his pillow. But it is said that on restless nights (perhaps when he didn’t make his weekly Jew killing quota), Hitler would end up on his side. When this happened many Nazi soldiers would sit around his bed Indian-style and admire the shit out of the delicate looking Kraut sleeping before them. The stoic look on Adolf’s face would transform into something faultless, like that of a newborn puppy.
Slipknot is composed of nine men with nine different spooky masks. I’m not sure if they are bad people, but they seem to try their hardest to look bad. Despite creating some of the shittiest music in the past eight years, the one saving grace for a band that undeniably sucks, is the way they all sleep..........together. When it’s time to get some shuteye, those scary masks come off, and goddamit, it is glorious! I’m talking a nine-man spoon here. Not ones to break a habit, the boys of Slipknot also have theme costumes when they sleep. From Hello Kitty nightgowns, to Power Puff Girl booties, these boys sleep in style. And you better believe that they look their cutest when doing it. Boys’ Life magazines, an Easy Bake Oven, and various My Little Pony figurines are usually scattered around Slipknot’s bedroom as they get ready for bedtime. “Goodnight number 4, Goodnight number 2, Goodnight number 6, etc.,” each band member softly wishes each other. Then one by one, they each extinguish their Sponge Bob Squarepants alarm clocks. Fucking breathtaking.
Ted Bundy is the man behind the murders of more than 40 women. He slept on a waterbed his entire life. I don’t know if the water filled mattress was responsible for Ted’s twisted psyche, but it did transform a mysterious serial killer into something darling. It wasn’t often that Mr. Bundy would get comfortable, but when he did, Jesus Christ it was like staring at a wondrous fawn. It was almost as if he was sleeping on a floating cloud. His movements on his waterbed were rhythmic, so much so that they seemed choreographed. An amateur photographer and former girlfriend of Bundy’s often spoke of her inability to sleep on a waterbed. During her frustrated state of insomnia she would photograph her sleeping boyfriend. Today some of these original prints are being sold on eBay for thousands. In one particular photo sequence, a snuggled Ted Bundy gently suckles on his thumb, and then rubs his left eye. It is hands down, the most wonderful thing ever documented on celluloid.
Do you have a child, a significant other, or a mom and dad? If you do, next time you walk in on them fast asleep with the most pleasant look upon their tired little face, think of what they are capable of doing when a good night’s sleep is not an option. And then you better pray to the fucking heavens that they don’t go and do something bad.
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Volume 2, Issue 1 contents |
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