Swamp Thing Must Die


Suggested Audio Candy:


[1] Ugly Duckling “Smack”

[2] EPMD “The Big Payback”



I despise Swamp Thing. Not because of his heady scent or the fact that he bathes in mucus; although these are admittedly two good reasons not to invite him to social gatherings or introduce him to my fellow mall rats. You know what really irks my chain about this festering freak? It’s his lack of scruples that makes my blood boil over. Ever since he started knocking about with The Toxic Avenger he has gotten a kick out of acting dishonorably. I guess part of the blame lies on my very doorstep as the reason the two have become as thick as thieves is that I invited them over for poker a few months back just to make up the numbers. Big mistake. Huge! Before I knew it they were getting on famously and since that night they’ve become practically inseparable much to my intense bemusement. You see, while neither are likely to give Robert Redford a run for his money, they possess a potent tool which women find simply irresistible. Sexual prowess. Consequently they have been sowing their seed about time and hardly a busty vixen in state hasn’t ended up a notch on their bedpost.


Let’s start with Swamp Thing shall we? He was an experiment that turned woefully awry; part-man and part-vegetable, a real freak of nature. Unfortunately he took the whole 5-a-day thing a little too literally and began flashing his courgette around town in an attempt at supplying his minerals to any girl who had began to question the validity of red meat. At first I regarded him as posing little threat; my high-school sweetheart was unerringly committed to my cause and we were looking into the concept of shacking up together as it appeared the done thing. She promised me that she was for me and nobody else and, being the sucker I was, I believed that shit. Hook line and sinker! It was all going rather splendidly until Swamp Thing came along and wrecked our proposed happy home. We had had a particularly potent war of words and needed a little time apart to facilitate angry make-up sex. She went to the tavern to let off a little steam at karaoke and I stayed in and caught the late-night Gary Busey marathon, culminating in the thrilling Point Blank. Seemed like a good idea at the time.


She took two showers upon her surreptitious entry into our boudoir that night at 4.20am. At first I thought nothing of it and figured my luck may be in. Nothing; my pickle received no tickle. How fickle. Suddenly it was as though I simply wasn’t up to snuff; she peruse my wares and turned her nose up in disgust. It was then that I noticed the remnants of moss in her chin dimple and challenged her about her true whereabouts. She did indeed visit the tavern and sang her little heart out to 9 to 5 whilst ploughing herself with Sambuca. Nothing out of the ordinary there. However, as she prepared to hang up her mic and wiggle her child-bearing hips off stage, Swamp Thing made his move. A dime in the jukebox was all it took to coerce her from her panty hose. It was a low-down dirty trick selecting a power ballad if you ask me; her inebriation and his audacious bid to pilot her cockpit became the best of friends as Lift Us Up Where We Belong approached its rousing chorus.


It worked for Tony Bennett and it worked for Swamp Thing also. She said it was merely a kiss and, primarily, I believed her but three days later I found a discarded pregnancy test and all signs pointed to “you’re up the duff love”. Her web of lies continued its intricate embroidery and I began engaging in something I never dreamed I would resort to; checking her cell. Swamp Thing…seven missed calls. Message from Swamp Thing “Have you told him yet?” Incriminating photos of Swamp Thing in various states of undress. The proof was fairly damning and many would have kicked her to the curb so fast that her tits would have shriveled. I couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing; not until the DNA results came through anyway. She was potentially carrying my progeny and the kid didn’t deserve a broken home before it even hit the flume. I remained calm and even over-compensated for my percolating vitriol by treating her to a bikini wax. If I’m honest; it was mostly for selfish reasons as her pregnancy had coincided with a disquieting case of fallopian fungus and Vagisil just wasn’t pruning the conifer.


It all came to a head at twelve weeks through term as we were invited for our preliminary scan. I sat by her bedside and clutched her hand dotingly; only to discover that her womb had become somebody else’s grow bag. It is supposed to be a joyous occasion; learning the sex of one’s offspring. I should have been rushing home to paint the nursery but wasn’t overjoyed to discover that I would be required to pick up a tin of garish green emulsion on my way home from the clinic. I cut her loose and the thing that pains me most is that that’s exactly how she took my rebuff; a release. What made him so freaking special? Was I that unsatisfying a lover that she preferred to slum it in the quagmire rather than fake another orgasm? Evidently so as she didn’t bat an eyelid and her parting gesture was a simple “see ya”. I may never love again and I hold Swamp Thing at least partially contemptible on that count.


Every master and commander needs his very own deck boy to mop his plank and this is where my beef with The Toxic Avenger stems from. I was so incensed by being cast aside so unceremoniously that the only conceivable option appeared to be heading down to the mire and confronting Swamp Thing about his indiscretion face-to-face. Alas, for me, Toxie had been egging his buddy on from the stand the entire time as he too is a sexual deviant and piece of garbage. Our affiliation actually went back to kindergarten; back then we used to share lollipops and play together beneath the sycamore with great merriment. Then he had his “accident”. Astonishingly, the chicks seemed to dig his new look and began throwing themselves at his deformed feet, just gagging to take his toxic length. It was a mystery to me how his Facebook friends doubled overnight and, as for the whole cult status thing, well I guess there is no accounting for taste.


“None shall pass”. Who did he think he was? What gave him the right to offer his two cents worth? If I said the thought of skirmish didn’t enter my mind as he stood there gate-keeping his BFF so belligerently; then I would be lying through my gum-shield. I was beyond furious and had every intention of ramming that mop deep into his sphincter and using him to give my lounge a buff. But what would that achieve in the long run? Would it bring back my estranged love? That jaybird had already flown the nest and even shat on my collar as a constant painful reminder that our fleeting courtship had meant less than nothing to her. I decided that the best course of action was to simply walk away. Toxie couldn’t resist a swipe with his mop and clattered me from behind as a reminder never to step foot in this swamp again. I let it slide as I would rather walk away the bigger person than engage in fisticuffs with a mutant. What comes around goes around; I’m sure that was what instigated his public meltdown in the first place.


I do, however, feel duty bound to tell you what these two loose cannons have been up to. Swamp Thing is nothing if not fertile and won’t think twice about skipping alimony payments so forewarned is forearmed. Admittedly he is supposed to be dynamite in the sack but is it worth that moment of passion for the hardship which follows? I say give him a wide berth and, while you’re at it, leave The Toxic Avenger well alone as he too has less than honorable intentions. Don’t allow yourself to be hoodwinked by his patter; he will suck you in with false hope and tender nothings then drop you like an electrified sponge the moment his filthy sperm infiltrates your embryo. If we band together we can take him down; of that there is no doubt in my mind. However, should we turn a blind eye and allow him to continue; then in fifteen years or so it will be his unruly spawn offering to clean our windscreens at traffic signals only to hijack our rides at gunpoint.


Against my better judgement, I have agreed to meet Swamp Thing at a neutral location and have it out with him once and for all. I decided on the local tavern as it is well populated and also the place where it all began. Most of the patrons are already inebriated and submitting their karaoke requests so we should be granted privacy. I’m wise to his dirty tricks; he can attempt to pull the wool over my eyes but will be wasting his sweet time if he does. Because of him I am alone in this world; he snatched my plus one and left me heartbroken without a solitary second thought but I’m banking on karma and, failing that, I shall tamper with his beverage and steal his wallet when he crashes out. Wish me luck Grueheads and don’t allow yourselves to be stymied; he may seem cordial but in truth he is anything but. There he is now, sniffing around like the dirty mutt that he is.

“Swamp Thing”

“You again”

“I thought I might join you for a drink”

“Free world. Knock yourself out”

“So. I thought it was high time we have a little chat”

“What could you possibly have to say that will interest me?”

“I want you to leave town and never show your ugly mug here again”

“Do you now? And what, pray tell, makes you think I’ll listen to a single sniveling word that comes out of you?”

“I know that you dodge your taxes”

“I see. Then this is your attempt at blackmail?”

“If you want to call it that then I won’t stop you. I prefer to think of it as protecting my interests”

“She was crap you know”

“Excuse me”

“Your ex. The one I doinked in the rest room. She was a shit lay”


“That’s funny. She said the very same thing about you”

“A valiant try Keeper. However by the fourth orgasm she was all set to run off back to the swamp with me and marinade”

“You got lucky”

“What seven times lucky? And once in her ass box?”

“I’m not listening to this”

“Maybe that’s why you’re single. If you had chosen not to ignore her pleas for a little excitement then you wouldn’t be sitting here now with your dick in your palm”

“I satisfied her”

“Thirty seconds foreplay on each breast doesn’t count as gratification. When was the last time you went down on her?”

“She didn’t like oral”

“That’s what she told you is it? Then why did she get so wet when my balls were slapping against her chin crease?”

“You’re scum”

“Guilty as charged. But I’m not the one you should be interrogating. Now if you will excuse me, there are a number of women here tonight that I plan to impregnate”

“Makes you feel like the big man doesn’t it?”

“It’s the ladies that remind me of that. You see, I’m packing quite the shag pile”

“Nothing but twigs and berries Swamp Thing”

“When you get a chance, take a peek under the table and tell me you wouldn’t kill for junk like mine”

“That’s all it is though. Junk. Other people’s silage. If you actually gave it a wash you’d likely lose a couple of inches instantly”

“Sticks and stones”

“You’re a real piece of work”

“Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, Toxie just put a dime in the jukebox”


“Yeah I saw you brought your bitch along”

“He tows the line. If I’m feeling charitable I even afford him sloppy seconds. Which reminds me, that night we took it in turns to smash your want-away lover’s trash compactor in, his mop came in handy. She was quite the gusher”

“Take that back you cretin”

“What’s wrong, truth hurt?”

“Not as much as it will when I feed you your spleen in a bap”

“Don’t possess one. I’m Swamp Thing remember? I have no vertebra whatsoever. Your attacks will invariably all prove utterly fruitless”

“That’s what you think. You see Swamp Thing, while you’ve been blathering on, I’ve been spiking your cider with weedkiller”

“Urg. Toxie! Get the fat out of your ears and come beat this punk down”

“It’s no use. I figured you’d have your right hand man present so I tampered with his tipple also. Domestic bleach, reported to kill 99.9% of household bacteria. He’s doubled over with stomach cramps as we speak and can’t save your ass now”

“I’ll get you for this”

“No you won’t. The poison is already coursing around your system as we speak. It’s over for you now. You’ve sowed your last seed”

“I hope your dick falls off”

“Is that the best you’ve got? You’re a sad bitter little man. I’m impervious to your malignant banter. I have the upper hand now. In just a handful of moments you’ll be little more than a pile of sorry surplus. Goodbye Swamp Thing, enjoy the rest of your drink”


That felt good. I have thwarted my nemesis and even achieved the distinguished two-for-one by wiping out the Toxic Avenger in the process. I feel that, in some diminutive manner, I have made the world a better place. Because of his promiscuous ways, countless children will grow up in broken homes and that saddens me to my very core. However, it all ends here tonight. I have decided to be the bigger man and raise that unborn child as though it were my own. Scars heal over time and, with a few sessions of couples therapy and a dash of forgiveness, I still believe we can provide our bairn a contented upbringing. I will teach it right from wrong and, when the time comes and it is old enough to know the truth, answer any questions it may have about its birth father with honesty. Thanks to Swamp Thing spilling the beans about my inadequacies as a lover, I pledge to spend a full minute on each bosom during foreplay and never again take her for granted.


If I have learned anything from this whole sordid debacle then it would be that relationships take hard graft and greasy elbows to develop. That and karaoke nights should be a couples thing from now on. I’ve been practicing my heartfelt rendition of The Power of Love and will dazzle her with my vocal prowess. Then, as she molds into malleable putty in my hands, I shall take her against the urinals and show her the Power of Cock. For all of Swamp Thing’s numerous failings; he has proven to me that this once-innocent alter girl likes it down and dirty. I can do down and dirty; ordinarily I shave my balls but it’s three weeks since they last saw a Gillette. As expected, the additional moss has added another two inches to my totem. Armed now with my three inches, I shall stomp her swamp and avenge my forefathers in the process. Actually I have no intention of doing the latter; just always wanted to use it in open conversation. As for the mighty Swamp Thing? Just a bunch of noxious gases if you ask me.


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  1. The Swamp Thing . . . The Toxic Avenger . . . part man part vegetable . . . And the concept is wicked. That thing impregnating someone’s girl!!
    I totally love it. It is great. The dialogue is precise, sharp, and humorous.

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