THE NEW RESIDENCIA

ESTABLISHED – 1711

Editor – ice

Editor chief assistant - pup

Asst. dep editor – scratchomo

Exec. Vice pres. – six

Ace reporter - johnnie

THE TWILIGHT ZONE

Suddenly, she’s helping him; tugging on his pants, pulling them down, her hands reaching for him, gripping him, she guides them together, and raising her hips, she receives him into her.

With long slow thrusts he begins his ritual, starting slow, as he feels her, feels her body around him, as he forces himself on her.  He knows this version so well, though not this woman; this woman who instead of fighting him, and screaming to her god for help; pulls and pushes his excitement higher with each violent move of her body.

He begins to feel his orgasm now, coming on from nowhere, as he revels in the feeling, the feel of sex and power at it’s zenith, even as she changes everything by thrusting harder than before, with shorter thrusts, and a different rhythm, a receding ride back down for him.   

Her body taking over, setting the pace, a different rhythm now, as he merely rides the storm of her orgasm, rising peak to peak, as it claims its rightful place.  It is an experience Larry has never before felt, and she knows it, as she thrusts herself up and hard - into him. 

He will realize it too, in just moments, as she feels herself falling into that monotonous space where no one cares, and nothing matters.

And then, Larry knows; he knows that what he is experiencing is not right, but his orgasm has arrived, it’s on top of him, and has already begun its unstoppable ecstasy.  As, has the girl’s too, for he can feel her body, jerking wildly against his own, and as he releases inside her, he feels her breath on his neck, like tiny pin-like pricks.

She is coming, she knows it, can feel it as her “beginning” – begins, and she feels his coming too; his own hard thrusts to meet her, his excited breath beginning to catch, and she knows its time. 

Her mouth opens slightly, tips of tiny teeth exposed; needle thin teeth, which begin to slowly lengthen, as her mouth opens wider, exposing long upper and lower rows of the needlelike teeth, and then with a odd clicking sound, her mouth opens wide, becoming just an extension of her head, and with a quick small thrust, she pushes the huge mouth hard and deep, into his neck, closing around a huge glob of flesh, as another odd click is heard, and the powerful jaws slam together.

Larry, in the early part of an incredibly strong orgasm, feels her hot, humid breath on his neck, and hears the strange mechanical like sounds as if from afar, and, even before the pain; He knows.

He wants to jump up and run; run as fast as he can from the terror beneath him.  But, he can’t move, he can’t scream, he is unable to do anything, as he feels the animal like head jerk violently into his neck, instantaneously bringing an unbearable pain, that eerily mixes with his continuing orgasm, producing a fear so overwhelming, that in the midst of this, his final orgasm, he feels himself being drained of all energy, as his body falls limp, and useless on top of the monster he is coupled with; and as the unbelievable becomes reality, the singular thought left in his brain, is the knowledge that - she is feasting on his body, as he dies.

It doesn’t take long for Rona now; her orgasms coming one after the other, as her huge mouth tears through the human flesh, and her body slowly pulsates to a stop. 

Slowly, she becomes aware of her surroundings, and begins to hear sounds nearby; the crickets making their strange little noises, a cow shuffling through a nearby pasture, the pleasing sound of a light breeze, ruffling leaves from the tree overhead. 

Standing up, she gathers her clothes, the ripped bra, her blouse, shredded and without any buttons, her pink bikini panties, and the ruined slacks.  Wadding up her blouse, she uses it to wipe the blood from her mouth, and walks over to her car, opening the back door.

Unsnapping the big suitcase that is in the seat, she opens it up, and removes a large plastic bag that lies on top, and stuffs the soiled and shredded mess into it, dropping it in the floorboard. 

From the suitcase she removes a blouse, and a pair of slacks, along with a bra and panties; and hurriedly dresses herself, as she looks around, listening.

Back at her car now, she surveys the area, everything looks good, and she’s already searched the ground around the body and found nothing carelessly left there.  It’s time to go she says silently to herself, and gets into the car. 

Turning the key, the engine spins smoothly, emitting a low throaty growl, and putting it in gear, she pulls out, around the sprawling body, and guns the car toward home.

Rona studies the clock on her dash, and calculates the time.  The whole thing took less than 20 minutes, nodding her head in satisfaction she begins to think of what she has to do once she arrives home.

Easing into her place, the collie dogs barking outside the car, she kills the engine, jumps out of the car, and quickly heads for the front door. 

Mark is standing there, framed by the light from the kitchen, and as she gets close to the door, he opens it for her, and she is past him quick, telling him she has to use the bathroom really bad, asking him to get her things out of the car for her. 

Walking through the hallway toward the bathroom she stashes the plastic sack with her torn and dirty clothes, in a cabinet that only she ever uses, and begins to strip, throwing her clothes on the floor.

In the shower, she soaps up quickly, and lets the steamy hot water run over her, as it removes the acrid animal smell, that always comes after this kind of violent sex.  Her mind reviews everything, one last time, and satisfied, she allows herself a little chuckle, as she thinks about Mark and his fear of the shortcut.

He had never liked her driving it at night, but after the first body had been found, 4 years ago, he had become obsessed with her not using it. 

A friend of his with the Sheriff’s department had told him how it had all been hushed up; the bloodless body, with savage animal like bites on it, which had both amazed, and puzzled the investigators, along with the total absence of any clues. 

Since then, two other murders had occurred on the shortcut, both the same as the first, with the same dead end results. 

Mark had insisted on detailing to her the gory details, to impress upon her how dangerous the shortcut was, especially at night.  And, she had meekly went along with his wishes, promising to never drive it at night, although the silent “promise” in her head, was slightly different than the spoken one. 

Her silent vow was to never get caught driving the shortcut at night, and so far, over the last 4 years, she hadn’t.

But, she knew it was also time to move on, because even before tonight, the details of the previous murders were leaking into public knowledge, and she’d only last week, read where the FBI was now involved.

They would have to sell her business, but she was tired of it anyway, and Mark’s writing could be done from any locale. 

She briefly thought of his first novel, about a vampire named Claudius Papillon, which had inspired him to write 3 sequels, projecting him to the Front of the horror genre field.  They had had so much fun filling out the character, with Rona’s input being vital according to Mark.  And, it had been fun for her, to help her husband and his fledging writing career; but now it was really time to leave.

He had been increasingly restless anyway, ever since the killings had started, so it would be easy for her to orchestrate the move.  She was looking forward to it already; for she herself, yearned for the ocean again.

Yes, it was time to go.

Dazy Checks in to Stream

Dazy the blogstream phenomenon missing in action since late last year resurfaced today, briefly, although with a promise to return in the near future.  Blogstreamers everywhere are anxiously awaiting her permanent return to the ol stream.

DEBUNKEM GOING STRONG

Debunkem has returned in full force and continues to burn brightly in the sky.  To see him just go outside and look toward England.

DIESELMAN STILL AROUND

Dieselman publishs poem co-written by Princess Pook, and continues to be a positive force in the ol stream.

The New Residencia

Est: 1711

Editor - Ice

THE TWILIGHT ZONE

Larry drives slowly along the road, the pickup with wore out shocks, absorbing every bump; not “lost” in any sense of the word, because he doesn’t care if he is or not, he’s just driving, and looking.

He sees the headlights of the approaching vehicle, as it tops a hill in the distance, mildly surprised that someone else beside himself is on this road after dark. 

He is even more surprised, a minute later, when he comes upon a car, stopped in the road, headlights on, and a dark figure with a flashlight, looking under the raised hood. 

As he pulls closer, slowing down to a crawl, his own headlights spray across the car, and shows a woman, smallish in stature, not over 5 foot, her blond hair highlighted by his lights; the car is a Toyota or something along those lines.  She’s waving her arms for him to stop.

As he does, he lowers the window about a third way down, feigning concern and a timid attitude, to reassure her.

“What’s the matter”? He says in a low, timid voice, slouching in his seat to better hide his hulking six-foot body.

“I don’t know”, her voice is strong and unafraid, “it just quit on me”.

“I’ll take a look”, is his response, as he opens his door, and putting a foot on the gritty ground, makes a loud crunching sound, as he steps out of the truck.  

“You’d better turn off your headlights, you don’t want to run the battery down”, he says as he takes the offered flashlight from her hand.

As she opens her door to turn off the lights, she notices that the lights on his truck are off too.  He’s a big dude all right, Rona thinks, watching him as he shines the light around under the hood.  She looks ahead and behind them, nothing but the darkness, which presses against the feeble light of the flashlight.  They are alone on the road.

Larry has no idea why the little car quit, nor does he care.  In his head, options are blazing new trails through his brain.  The girl and him are by themselves on this road; there is nothing out here, no houses, no buildings, and no sign of any other traffic on the road.

Nobody will hear anything, and he can be long gone before anyone finds her.

She walks around the front of the car and he can smell her perfume, can feel the heat her body generates, and he knows that she wants him to take her.  She is no different than the others; the bitch is in heat, demanding satisfaction. 

Fine with him, he thinks as he grabs her, twisting her body around so that she is facing him.  Pushing her to the ground, he is expecting the screaming to start, ready to stick his hand down her throat if need be, but she doesn’t make a sound, as he follows her body down, falling heavily on top of her.

His right hand grabs her blouse at the neck, and rips it down in a powerful jerk, and catching her bra too, he pulls even harder, feeling the cloth coming apart; even before the ripping sounds of disintegrating clothing, penetrates the silent night.

In just a few seconds he has her completely naked, never letting his weight off her for long, and then he begins to pull his pants down, along with his jockey shorts. 

She’s a “submissive” victim, and this realization excites him, for he has never had one of these.  He’s read about women like her, women who when attacked, will merely submit to their attackers wishes, without the usual screams and physical resistance.  Yeah he’s heard about women like her, but he’s never had one, till now.

CONCLUSION NEXT EDITION

Breaking News

Late last night under cover of darkness, mmvi slipped in. We here at this rag commend mmvi for its low entry profile. We hope it remains that way during its stay.

Daze temporarily out of phase – daze a well-known phenomenon located in the blogstream galaxy, is currently out of phase, due to technical transmission problems, but is expected to be back on ultra-spin positive track, within a few days.

Blogs touted by bloggers

Life Happens when you are not looking

Adventures of a Leman

The Purse Posse

Writings

Soulmate Dreamer

Black Sails Against A Midnight Sky

BLOGSTREAM REPORTLY IN DOLDRUMS

Several bloggers have been bemoaning recent events as signs of change and decay to the flow of this stream. 

We are happy to report that a “Delta Translusion” was performed late last night by the esteemed Mr. Snerdley, Vice President, in charge of Public Opinion, of The New Residencia.

Mr. Snerdly now reports that after the translusion process was completed, the blogstream passed the exam, and was awarded a “Satisfactory” for this past semester.

 If any of you bloggers experience future episodes of the doldrums, or hear about bloggers bemoaning the ol stream for changing, or decaying, please call Mr. Snerdly at The New Residencia, extension 666.

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

7^TH issue

EST. 1833

EDITOR – ICE

              IN THE

   TWILIGHT ZONE

Rona Stephens, 38, wife, mother, and successful business owner, is driving home, the long day behind her, night coming on.  She’s been pushing it for the last hour, trying to make the homestead before dark, all the time knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Damn these frigging Friday meetings anyway she thinks, and watches the speedometer slide over the 80 mark.  Mark, her husband of 11 years will be worried, he hates it when she drives at night, and for some reason the cell phone has not had a signal since leaving Raleigh, as even now she stares at it, willing a signal that won’t come.

The shortcut is coming up, decision time again.  Mark has forbidden her to use it after dark, but, it saves 20 minutes of drive time, and Rona has used it many times before, at night, without a problem. 

She makes the turn, down a lonely road, with trees on both sides, wrapping long, dark fingers around her, car and all.  Thirty minutes from home Rona Stephens takes a shortcut into the Twilight Zone.

Larry Bryant, a 26-year-old loner, steers his old pickup down the same road, but going in the opposite direction, heading for a meeting he neither expects, nor can stop.  Just out of prison, Larry is mad. Mad at the world, mad at everyone, and especially mad at women. 

Women have always meant trouble for Larry, starting with his mother right on up to Angelic; the smart-ass talking little sister of Jenks, one of his running buddies from High School.

Angelic was the reason he had been a ward of the state for the last 2 years.  She had gone to the police after he raped her on a cold winter night in her parents cabin.

A night when she had fucked with him for hours before finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer he’d taken her, “rough”, just as she’d wanted him to, and then when he’d left the next morning for Vegas, refusing to allow her to go with him, she had ran to Jenks telling him that Larry had raped her. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d raped a woman, but it was the first time he’d actually been locked up for it.  They’d almost had him when he was 19, but fortunately for him, Paula the twelve year old daughter of the town’s one and only preacher, had went home and bathed after the incident, plus her Daddy, citing the Bible on one hand, and holding out the other for a donation, had received enough money from Larry’s Dad, to not file charges. 

Even so, the local Sheriff had wanted to hang him, but without an official complaint, and no evidence to speak of, nothing happened, other than Larry being told to leave town.

The road is mostly asphalt, but stretches of it are nothing more than hard packed dirt mixed with gravel, and though she has driven it many times, Rona treats it with respect, never taking her eyes from the road, watching for deer, cows, horses and dogs in that order, for hitting an animal is the most dangerous thing about the shortcut.

She looks at the digital clock on the dash, thinking just a few more minutes and she will be pulling into the driveway at home; Mark standing in the doorway, framed by the light from the kitchen, and their two collie dogs barking at her car, as she eases into her space underneath the carport.  Just a few more minutes.

To be continued……

Saturday Morning

Man I love Saturday mornings, especially New Year Eve Saturday’s, lol.  No big parties or anything for us here in our little rural area, we will probably have a little “Crown” tonight to help ease the New Year in, but nothing in the extreme; just a nice, mild, closing of one door, so another one can be opened. 

Wish I could peek behind that new door and see what was headed in our direction, but, alas, all I can do is the same as you; just take it one day at a time.

Not much going on after our little skirmish yesterday with Calvin, who has since “apologized for his taking “Johnny Reb’s” name in vain, lol.  I really wasn’t all that offended, but it was good of him to retract what he said, and for that he should be commended. 

It appears now; in retrospect that Mamamiah could have been correct in her assessment that we here on the ol stream might be a little quick to circle our wagons, when coming across an objectionable blog.  From reading some of his and Debunkems comments, it might be that most of it was “silly fun”.  If it was, I guess the joke might be on us.  Wouldn’t be the first time those Englishmen have pulled one on us colonists.lol

Diesel was up late last night on my blogsite conversing with me for a while, but I had to get some sleep, had been running on empty for the last few days.  Six, Pup, and Colo=connect were around too, and Dariana was there for a while.  Scratch, Johnnie and Laurel stopped in and left comments also. 

Laurel was still “steaming” about Calvin, and “sitting in her bubble spitting fur”, lol, too cute; that lady is a keeper.  Her blog is a pure delight to read, as so many are on this ol stream. 

Is the Diesel leaving?  I don’t know for sure.  I tried to get him to talk regular talk with me and stay away from the “traintalk”, but it didn’t work too good, for he kept dropping back into that peculiar railroad/jockey talk, and I was so tired anyway; just couldn’t really get a handle on anything.

Icey Ridge

just a picture

on my desk

a juncture

from the past

another ice

some other place

another similar face

just a roll of the dice

the knowing smile

the glint in his eye

and all the while

hello and bye

grandpa in his time

done his own thing

made it all rhyme

this ice he did bring

Serious Editorial

God… how I hate to write a serious editorial (for I prefer to take life on the  “light” side), but… alas, that is exactly what I am going to do.  This is one of those “Serious” Editorials; the reason for it - is two things going on – on the blogstream. 

The First is the departure of my good friend Diesel.  What can anyone do or say – when somebody says they have made up their mind to do something? 

The thing that pops up in my mind is, “reconsider”.  Simple.  Just reconsider your decision, and in doing so - ask yourself - if the decision - “is the only option”? Or, is there another option - other than what I’ve decided to do? 

If the answer to those two questions are “yes and no” in that order, then the discussion is done, and there is no reason for anyone to try and persuade anyone - to do something different.

And so, I will not try to persuade Mr. Diesel to do anything other than what he has to do.

We’ll miss you Diesel.

The Second thing - is this “overblown - big ta-do” over the blogger known as “Calvin Tatsey”, and his blog called – “The Sovereign Post”, which is a blog I’ve read on occasion although I’ve never “bookmarked” it, and certainly do not plan to now.

Anyhow…. You guys may have been following the antics about all this - in Blogstream News, Debunkem’s Blog, and in “The Sovereign Post”.  I’m not going to get into “the whole story” in this editorial, cause frankly, it’s not that big of a thing to me.  

But… I am going to give a little attention to an exchange between me and ol Calvin today.  Early this morning as I was rushing around trying to get out of the house - to go to work - I was reading  “Blogstream News” and I came across the piece written by Mr. Tatsey alleging that he was being discriminated against by Blogstream and John.

Intrigued by his wild claims I went over to his blog.  In the comment section Debunkem had written an excellent piece about the situation, and being in a hurry and thinking that Debunkem had pretty much hit the ol nail on the head, I added my own comment, which was just an endorsement of Debunkem’s, and never thought nothing about it, till I got home this evening and read what ol Calvin had said in response to my comment.

So… in this editorial I am just going to “present” ol Calvin and ol Ice.  I have posted my original comment, and Calvin’s rebuttal and last of all, my rebuttal to his rebuttal, Hmm.. a lot of butts around here, step lightly folks. 

So…. Here they are, in all their glory, and I’ll just let you all make up your own minds about them.

 Icemelts:

"I agree with what Debunkem said, and "I too -- would like to see substance instead of wild accusations.-----ice"

Ol Calvin’s response;

As for you, here's a short incident: This morning I watched a large-strong-courageous dog. He ran up to another dog, who displayed identical attributes. They faced each other, growled, snarled, and finally, the other dog walked off. While this incident was occurring, I noticed a second dog, behind the first, a small-mangy looking cur, every time the first dog would growl or snarl, the cur would echo him. All the while, remaining behind the first. That's it.

In closing, I looked at your photos, and "Caucasian/Republican". Front page blog, or not? Yeah I've seen your's there, a-time-or-two.

All Someone Else's,

Calvin Tatsey

Icey’s Response to above Response

So…. My brief encounter with Ol Calvin has ended, for like I said in my response, I do “prefer” – man to man – talking.  In addition, I love talking face to face with people.  It seems to somehow “change” things, as opposed to using the little white screen or a telephone to hide behind.  End of Story. Ice

THE NEW RESIDENCIA IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY SLANDERDOUS CONDUCT AND TAKES ABSOLUTELY NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANYTHING SAID OR WRITTEN IN THIS RAG.

ESTABLISHED APRIL 1^ST, 1822

EDITORIAL

This Rag takes great pleasure in endorsing  Johnnie” as the Judge to preside over the upcoming trial of “Pup” and we know without a doubt that Judge Johnnie will be fully impartial and fair, in said trial.  ---However, Judge Johnnie does have some competition. 

MammouthMouth Diesel and his new partner SIX have both nominated I.C. Mann, who we have been checking out ever since his nomination was proposed. Mr. ICMann is a known confederate of Mr and Mrs MammothMouth, er; I mean Mr Mammouth Mouth Diesel and Ms SIX, my apologies. 

While this race for the judgeship seems somehow to be somersaulting into a fixed race, we at the Residencia beseech yall to cast your vote for Judge Johnnie.  Judge Johnnie will make a judge that yall can be proud of.

OLD CHARTER CLUB

By default, it seems that the Old Charter Club heretofore known as CCC will not be the respectable one that we here at the Residencia envisioned, but will be filled with innuendo, bribery, skullduggery, and back room politicking.  In any event, the first proposed member has been put forth as MS Six.  Since there seems to be no rules or regulations, her nomination is hereby put forward and we will be tabulating votes.  5, count them, 5 votes are needed to induct MS SIX into the “Hall of CCC”.  So far she has one, count it, one vote.  Polls close at midnight, December 31^st, so cast your vote, if you so desire for MS SIX. 

THIS JUST IN

Mr. Snerdly, newly appointed Vice President in charge of personnel has just nominated the following for the “Hall of CCC”.

Colo=Connect, prominent local attorney.

Ms PuP - prominent - Top Canine Distributor

Ms Pie prominent ex- Sheriff Ice RamRaider, and German Helmet Owner

Mr. Snerdly informs us that more nominations are in the works as this rag is hitting the newsstands.

jj

JUDICIAL NOMINATIONS

Here ye, Here ye, Here ye, this rag has just received the nomination of “JEEVES” for Judge.  We here at the Residencia believe that Judge Jeeves would make an excellent Judge; he has been the Head Butler/CarWaxer, 1st for our Editor in Chief, Mr. Ice for 23 years without missing one day of work.  So, we hereby duly note his nomination.  Any seconds? So far the candidates are as follows;

Mr. I.C. Man

Our own editor – Ice

Ms. Pup

Johnnie

Jeeves

In keeping with the flow of things this rag endorses Pup also as Judge.  We think Judge PuP would make an excellent Judge and hereby duly note it. Thank you Thank you

PARTY TIME

FULL BLOWN PARTY OVER AT DARIANA’S IN HER HOT TUB.  BRING SHOVALS, PICKS, AND THONGS.

NOTE ALL MEN OVER 50 GET IN FREE, IF THEY WEAR THONGS TO PARTY, YALL COME YOU HEAR!

DEAR ICE;

Mr. Ice, sir, my problem is that my boyfriend is very possessive and I cannot even wink at another guy without him popping a diesel plug from his engine.  Any suggestions? Signed MsSix

Blogstream World

Dear MsSix – might I suggest that you find your boyfriend another girlfriend, and since he is so possessive you could have free latitude to do whatever you desired. Right? Wink,wink.

Dear Mr. Icey

I have a problem sir, that I don’t know what to do with.  My little problem is that nothing gets done around my house anymore because my dear darling wife is constantly on blogstream.  What do you suggest.  Judge Ice, husband of MsPuP. Somewhere in the ol stream.

Dear Judge, that’s Mr. Ice to you and begone with the damn Y - have you ever thought about getting up off your judgeship and doing something yourself around your adobe?  Perhaps you could start with supper.  Ms PuP happens to be a good friend of mine, wink/wink/wink and I happen to know she loves Steak, tators, salad, and corn on the cob.  Get with it boy, and that wasn’t Leroy!