ABSURDIS EXTREME // Case Study #54 [01/08/1962] by B.A. Loney

This is the story of One-Legged Spider who had only… well, you know. Despite this drawback, he was a famous Hollywood star and black belt origami master. And not only had One-Legged Spider starred in smash hits such as ‘Spider Wars: The Empire Skitters Back’, ‘The Bourne Arachnid’ and ‘Webfinger’, he’d also folded a 1,800 square foot replica of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon out of nothing but wet crepe paper with one leg tied behind his back. This was, as you can imagine, quite the feat, and it made him more famous than Elvis and Jesus combined.

In his reckless younger days, One-Legged Spider also starred in a handful of features that some might consider to be questionable at best. ‘Gachimuchi Fibres Wrestling’ was one of these, and ‘Coochi-Moochi-Gachimuchi-Slam’ was another. Naturally, One-Legged Spider didn’t like to recall this period of his life. The mistakes of youth need not forever haunt maturity. And, thankfully, few others seemed to remember this dark past or even care. They loved him for his action roles and his prowess with paper, and that was that.

There was, however, a secret that he hoped would never get uncovered—a potential career killer if you will. One-Legged Spider had only one testicle. He’d had eight testicles at one point in his life but no longer, and One-Legged Spider’s one remaining testicle had been flying solo since at least his porn days. Of course, his recollection was a little hazy so he couldn’t be entirely sure of this. Or maybe it was after his porn days. Maybe COVID-19 had taken his other testicles. Or MPOX. But what about that really rough night in Thailand when he’d woken up in the arms of two transvestites and a pitbull? It couldn’t have been the transvestites could it? They’d saved One-Legged Spider from the trash fox—that pathetic, would-be mugger—and returned his wallet to him, hadn’t they? Perhaps the pitbull then… but the pitbull had been so friendly. But, then again, its version of ‘friendly’ entailed sniffing his crotch. Oh no! So confusing!

But you know what? It doesn’t really matter. What really matters are the words on One-Legged Spider’s tombstone: ‘A dear husband, father and grandpa, your life is a beautiful memory. We love you. Your wife, your 1,024 children, your 1,048,576 grandchildren, two transvestites and a pitbull.’

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

ABSURDIS EXTREME // Case Study #(O)(o) [06/09/1969] by B.A. Loney

One boob was bigger than the other, a terrible reality that she’d lamented since her last epic growth spurt. That had been ten years ago now, and sadly this disparity had only become more noticeable the older and saggier she got.

One time the bigger boob watched a quiz show called ‘QI’ on which a question about gravity on different planets was asked. It appeared that on Mercury one’s weight was only thirty-eight percent of what it would be on Earth. The bigger boob was soon lost in thought…

There was nothing for it. The bigger boob had to move to Mercury. But how could this be achieved? It wasn’t as if the bigger boob could detach itself from its human host. No, that would defeat the whole point. Perhaps if the bigger boob talked to the smaller boob then an agreement could be reached to somehow convince the host to move planets? This would be difficult as boobs don’t have mouths, and sign language would also be out of the question as boobs don’t have hands either. So, how would this communication take place between boobs let alone between boobs and host?

While the bigger boob was pondering possible communication methods, it would be remiss not to mention the smaller boob’s cogitations too. Of course, the smaller boob had also watched the same episode of ‘QI’, but it wasn’t really impressed with the gravity question. But the question about air pressure? Now this was something that really made the smaller boob perk up. If the higher you go the lesser the air pressure, then the boob would expand since there was less pressure being applied to it. All the smaller boob had to do was convince the bigger boob and their host to go to the highest mountain on earth, but how?

Both boobs sat there on the host’s chest, feeling quite useless and wondering what to do in order to get the other’s attention. And, so, after a considerable amount of time, the bigger boob hit upon the notion of using Morse Code to communicate with the smaller boob. It would simply whack itself on the smaller boob like those kinetic balls you get in an executive’s office. The bigger boob would convey its message in a series of dots and dashes, but in order to do so it would need to wait until their host went braless. In bed, late at night, thud thud thud! In the shower, a wet slap slap slap! In the middle of sex, a heaving bang bang bang! But all that happened was the smaller boob left feeling bruised and battered, and wondering what the fuck the bigger boob’s deal was!

Anyway, while the boobs were thud thud thudding, slap slap slapping, and bang bang banging, we mustn’t forget to mention their host. And, let’s be honest here, she was pretty scared. Wouldn’t you be if your boobs were going haywire? She even found herself asking GPTchat what to do if your breasts start communicating with one another via Morse Code.

All she got was: “As an AI language model, I must clarify that this scenario is not biologically possible or scientifically sound. Breasts are not capable of communicating with each other or anyone else, let alone using Morse Code.” Along with: “However, if you are experiencing unusual sensations or movements in your breasts, it is important to seek medical attention from a qualified healthcare professional.”

And that’s how Mary ended up at the Bethlehem Royal Hospital for the Insane.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

100 WORD SKITTLE // Career Slip

Razorblade was sick of shaving pubic hair for a living.

He’d applied to the Department of Burly Beards but got a ‘Your application will be kept on file’ along with a pithy ‘Good luck.’

“Fuck that noise,” declared Razorblade. “I’m takin’ the high road!”

He dipped his sharp edge in red paint, brandished a scary grin and went to Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. “You need me!” said Razorblade. “I’ll get you into the news again!”

“Sure,” said Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. He took Razorblade, went to the bathroom and cut his veins.

Next day they both made the front page.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

Gogga Blend

It began with a tragedy. I truly thought I’d not survive it but I did. Have you ever found a spider in your morning coffee? Or, more precisely, the last spoon of coffee that you scratched from the tin. That’s what happened to me.

First, there’s the awful realisation that it’s not coffee heaped up on your spoon. No, it’s a very angry huntsman. Normally they’re pretty chill but when they’ve been hacked at with a blunt metal implement over and over… well, they’re no longer willing to let bygones be bygones.

Second is the even more awful realisation that there’s no more coffee left. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind so much if the huntsman had escaped when I cracked open the lid. But now, with what little remains of the coffee thoroughly mixed with spider parts and limbs… well, I’m really not prepared to use it, and not even if it was the last spoon of coffee in the world.

So, anyway, the spider skittered out onto my hand with its last remaining legs and hissed at me. I swear, that’s what it did! Are huntsman spiders even capable of this? I don’t know, but if pain could give it wings then I would have much preferred this. Poor little guy! Still, I was pretty pissed off too. So, I thought a little bit and hissed back. The spider stared at me with its last remaining eye, and I could’ve sworn there was something akin to surprise in its look.

I was about to say something when it held out its front fang for me to shake. I didn’t quite know what else to do, so I held out my other hand and extended my forefinger. We shook, and with that the spider hopped off and limped away.

And then I got dressed and went to the coffee shop.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

ABSURDIS EXTREME // Case Study #201 [24/04/2014]

Once upon a time, my belly was made of cookie dough. I don’t know how or why it happened. Or even when. One moment I was crushing whole anvils with mere stomach crunches, and the next I was resisting the urge to bake and eat myself.

It’s thanks to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ that my prayers were heard, and that there were suddenly peanuts and raisins in my belly! I was able to pick these out and be satiated without giving in to the horrifying temptation of chewing on my own flesh. Who chews flat dough without raisins anyway? Nobody but godless heathens, that’s who!

All this to say that this is why I believe in miracles. A real life one happened to me that day and I’ll be eternally grateful for it. I mean, what would have happened if I’d eaten my own belly? I would have had no belly left to… fill my belly. And then where would I have been? Damn. Such a scary thought!

And then they invented chocolate…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023