Suggested Audio Jukebox ♬


[1] Disturbed “Down With The Sickness”

[2] Oingo Boingo “Dead Man’s Party”

[3] Miley Cyrus “Wrecking Ball”




I think my old friend Justin may be feeling the worse for wear, you know. Ordinarily I’m the first to poke fun at him but I think that this time he may really need our help. You see, he’s been looking a little washed out for the past couple of days and recently cancelled two tour dates, stating exhaustion as his reason for backing out. The problem is that I know all about exhaustion and am fairly assured that steady decomposition isn’t a side-effect of a lack of rest. His legions of fans will be beside themselves if anything should happen to their precious idol and I therefore feel obliged to pay him a visit, perhaps offer to take a load off his shoulders. I know it may sound a little out of character as I’m traditionally the one taking every available opportunity to remind the world what a bag of tools he is but a little quiet reflection has provided me with time to reevaluate my stance with regards Justin Bieber. Fret not as I’m not about to announce myself a Belieber or anything preposterous like that. But sometimes you have to help out your fellow-man in his hour of need and, at the end of the day, he’s just a twelve-year-old boy on the cusp of puberty. What do you mean he’s twenty-two? Okay, I stand corrected. At the end of the day, he’s just a twenty-two-year-old boy on the cusp of puberty.




I decided to do a little digging around and my first clue that all wasn’t well was the disappearance of Miley Cyrus. Last seen perched atop a wrecking ball in nothing other than a pair of Doc Martens, Ms. Cyrus then promptly dropped off the face of the planet and nobody has seen hide nor hair of her since. I suspected she had become afflicted with asbestos poisoning from swinging on that rather unsanitary sphere and headed over to her house to offer my sympathies and the uppermost three inches of my schlong. Imagine my distress then when she failed to answer her door and, after a spot of harmless prowling, it appeared that her bed hadn’t been slept in either. Curious, I snuck inside and there seemed no clue to her whereabouts. It was as though she had vanished into thin air and something didn’t feel right. So I played detective and checked her answering machine to ascertain any potential movements. After skipping through a whole host of declarations of love from adoring Hannah Montana fans begging for her return, I finally struck oil. It was Bieber and he appeared to be in the midst of delirium. Here, I’ll play it back and see what you think?




“Hi Miley. It’s The Biebster. Was wondering if you could pop by if you’re not too busy as it has been too long since we last caught up and I’ve got this sudden urge to wanna pick your braiiins about something. I’ve been feeling terribly run-down of late you see and have begun to look a little off-color. Not sure when it started but I guess it was around the time that I snorted sherbet for the first time. Nobody warned me that it shouldn’t be fluorescent green and, while I felt like a million dollars for around twenty minutes afterwards, soon I was left bed-ridden and completely off my food. Eventually my appetite returned but all I seemed to hanker for was fresh meat. That’s where you come in Miley. You see, I saw what you did with that wrecking ball and had no idea you had it in you. I wanna be just like you and have already begun writing my magnum opus. It’s called Cement Mixer and I plan to strip down to my espadrilles just to remind the world that I have a toned six-pack now. Maybe you could help with the choreography side of things as you seemed to have done rather well during your brief spell in demolition. One more thing Miley. Bring your braiiins and, if I’m doing it all wrong, feel free to give me a piece of your mind. Bieber out!”




This was all starting to make sense to me now. Justin was clearly a zombie and that neon sherbet was likely something to do with the consignment of Trioxin that went missing during military transportation down in Arkansaw. Somehow, he had become infected and was about to chow down on one of Disney’s most valuable assets. Something had to be done and fast, before Mickey Mouse caught wind of things and shut down his Clubhouse indefinitely. Perhaps there was still time to save Miley from his cold clutches and place her back on that wrecking ball where she belongs. Moreover, if I was fast enough, I could rush Justin to the emergency room for a short spell in quarantine. Maybe that would straighten him out or, at the least, stop him from doing something he may later regret. Time was of the essence so, after taking a few minutes to sniff Miley’s panty draw, I headed off to Bieber’s crib to save my fair maiden. Actually, that’s not strictly true. It may have been a couple of hours but that girl has a serious collection of lingerie. The dashing valiantly to rescue her part was correct though. By the way, I wouldn’t advise freeway driving with a G-string on your face.


New Look Foundation Holds First Annual World Leadership Awards


On arrival, I instantly felt justified in my deductions as all of Justin’s topsoil appeared to have dislodged and there was a godawful stench of putrid flesh in the air. I may take exception to his actions from time to time but, to his credit, he always washes beneath his armpits thoroughly and this wretched smell was way beyond body odor. Indeed, the only way to explain this funk was to liken it to roadkill. I checked my tires to ensure that I hadn’t picked up any unwelcome skunks on my journey as I hit a couple of bumps while attempting to tongue Miley’s gusset. Nothing, whatever was causing my eyes to water incessantly was not of my doing. That just left one available option – Justin. Maybe his metamorphosis was complete and my best efforts to beat the clock were in vain. Even more ominous was the consideration that I was about to place myself firmly in his crosshairs and I happen to be rather partial to my frontal lobe. Should I smash down the door and announce my arrival with all guns blazing, then he could launch a surprise attack on my cranium and grab himself a bite to eat at my expense. Fuck that shit, when my time comes, it will be midway through copulation and with the scent of sex hanging in the air, not having my forehead suckled by some pimple-faced pissant while retching at his halitosis.




This meant weighing up the options at my disposal. Miley was clearly a priority as wrecking balls don’t swing themselves and I would make it my secondary objective to save her supple skin. That said, if forced to make a choice between her or me, then Ms. Cyrus would come a poor second. Time was evidently not my friend and, sooner or later, I would have to man up and face up to his festering threat. But not before I did a little more snooping around, just to be certain. I peered through his back window and was instantly greeted by confirmation that something was indeed amiss in Justin’s house. While there appeared to be no sign of either him or his house guest, the whole place looked like it had been trashed and the refrigerator was ajar, suggesting that he had been engaging in a spot of midnight snacking. Then I witnessed a sight that I will never forget for a long as I live or until dementia wipes the slate clean at least. It was his housekeeper, that nice Mrs. Esteban. Moreover, she appeared to have picked up her last pay check.




Judging by the teeth marks in her skull-cap and the fact that her cerebral cortex was conspicuously absent, it felt fair to assume that Justin’s hunger pangs had been well and truly catered for. Poor dear never stood a chance and scant deserved such a harsh reprisal. On the plus side, perhaps his appetite had been sated and Miley was alive and well. Much as I felt bad for Mrs. Esteban, she was 250 lbs and not what you want to see sitting astride a wrecking ball with stockings round her chubby gout-ridden ankles. She was regrettably expendable and, if the state of Justin’s kitchen was anything to go by, hadn’t been pulling her weight for some time, at any rate. You can never get the help nowadays. While there simply wasn’t time for an official burial, I snuck in through the open window and swatted any nearby flies that were making a B-line for her rotting cadaver. Then it hit me with the force of a wrecking ball – I was inside and mere moments away from catching Justin in the act of his binge eating exploits. I’d been around and had brushed shoulders with the rich and famous on numerous occasions prior to this expedition but never had I been so close to actually laying one on Justin Bieber.




That’s right, I fully intended to kick the shit out of the little snot goblin just for shits and grins. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t lend a hand, but a chance like this would unlikely ever present itself again and the population of Poland were due some comeuppance after the whole Auschwitz debacle. I even knew what to say as I pounded his kidneys relentlessly. “This one’s for Anne Frank” or words to that effect. Then, while he lay there winded and gasping for precious oxygen, I would offer him a hand, assist him back to his feet, and pummel him a second time. No I wouldn’t, that is not sportsmanlike behavior. One sound kicking would suffice and then I would act dutifully and compassionately. As for Miley, well chances were that she had already been relinquished of her grey matter so, providing her corpse was still luke warm, a spot of necrophilia would be more than justified right? I know it sounds immoral but, if she was anything below room temperature, then I would only use my fingers if that gets me off the hook.




Eventually I plucked up the courage to head upstairs and face my nemesis head on. As I approached his boudoir, my suspicions were confirmed as Miley was very much present and in grave danger to boot. I hung back momentarily so I could get the gist of their conversation and, lo-and-behold, she was pleading not to become his next snack.




“Please Justin no!”

“What’s wrong Miley? I promise it will only hurt for a second”

“I don’t want to”

“That’s what they all say before the Rohypnol takes effect”

“You can’t make me. I won’t do it”

“Then I will be forced to take drastic measures”

“Not the music again please. Anything but that”

“Yes the music Miley. Only this time I’ll play you my B-sides”




“God no! There has to be a compromise surely?”

“I’m afraid not. Did you know I recorded seventeen versions of Love Yourself?”

“I’ll do anything Justin. Just don’t put me through that”

“Then it is time you meet my own wrecking balls”

“But they are so unsightly”

“What these? I shaved them especially for the occasion”

“Okay then but you’d better make it fast”



This was my opening. I could dash in like her knight in shining armor, save her from a fate most horrid at the critical moment, and cross a Bieber beating off my bucket list in the process.

“Unhand her you undead swine”

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my crib?”

“I am here to stop you masticating Miley’s brain, enforce a little internal bleeding, and get you some medical assistance before the zombie virus worsens”

“What do you mean zombie virus? I was just going to feed her my length”

“Is this true Ms. Cyrus?”

“Yes it’s true. But I don’t want that skinny rib anywhere near my nether regions. I’m still a virgin you see”

“You’re shitting me?”

“Nope. Was saving myself for the right person”

“But what about bumping and grinding that wrecking ball?”

“Photoshop. I was fully clothed”




“Oh! Well in that case, you’ve just ruined that video for me and deserve whatever’s coming to you”

“But I thought you were here to save me?”

“I was but, after these fresh developments, I think Justin is justified in pounding your loins. Judging by his slender girth, I’d say it’ll be no more uncomfortable than ingesting a pubic hair vaginally”

“Take that back you!”

“Shut up Bieber. You’re skating on thin ice boy”




“But I haven’t done anything wrong and you’re the one who broke into my crib”

“One – stop calling it a crib as it isn’t becoming hearing you trying to come across street. Two – how do you explain Mrs. Esteban?”

“You mean my maid?”

“Yes. The one lying face down in a pool of her own cranial fluids in your kitchen”

“She was like that when I got home. Nothing to do with me. She must’ve slipped or something”

“Slipped? And I guess the impact was sufficient enough to relinquish the poor lady of her brain?”

“I don’t know. What do you think? You think I ate it?”

“Well it certainly looks a little suspicious”

“I’ve done a few things in my time that I’m not proud of but cannibalism isn’t one of them”

“So what about the toxic green sherbet you snorted?”

“I just took a couple of Alka Seltzer and felt better in no time”

“I don’t know Justin. This all seems a little dubious to me”

“I swear blind, I’m not a zombie. Tell him Miley”




“He’s a spineless little weasel and borderline date rapist. But not a zombie”

“Oh! Well don’t I feel like the douchebag. In that case, apologies for the intrusion and I would recommend calling in Mrs. Esteban’s unfortunate episode before the jackals come sniffing”

“Is that all? Can I get back to business now?”

“Not quite. As a precaution I will be required to remove your milk teeth, just to be certain. Don’t worry, you’ll soon grow replacements but it will keep you out of mischief during the interim”

“But I love my teeth. They’re so shiny and white”

“And they still will be Justin. Just not in the jurisdiction of your jaw. Open wide and say aah”


“There we go. That wasn’t so bad was it?”

“How do I look?”




“Massive improvement I’d say. Your legion of Beliebers will be falling at your feet when they see this”

“Overcome by desire?”

“Nope. Crippling laughter. But think of what you could ask them to do while they’re down there”

“Thanks I guess”

“Don’t mention it Justin. The pleasure really was all mine. Now then, as for you Ms. Cyrus”

“Anything to not have that thing inside me”

“Well I seem to remember something about saving yourself for the right person”

“Yes. I want it to be special”

“Well I can promise you mildly uncomfortable if that’s any consolation”




“You have yourself a deal”

“First things first Miley. We have a video to reshoot you see”



 Click here to read Keeper vs. Bieber




Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill




Click here to purchase All of Me Vol. I, II, III, IV & V



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