The Ham Sandwich 2000
"Quote the Matt, 'Beat the whore!'"
"Quote the Matt, 'Beat the whore!'"
The Ham Sandwich Volume 4 #5 (November, 2022)
Letter From The Writer, Creator, Ham Sandwich
There are times in my life when I reminisce and look back at some of the fonder periods that I grew up in. Times when I had friends and I wasn't talking to myself so much and actually had human beings that I seemed to care about and not wish dead as much as I do now. Those days are gone and I am forever trapped in a urban hellscape that offers me no respite.
Anyway, we have a poem from the past that was written in the vein of Edgar Allen Poe's famous poem, The Raven. I present you this travesty, this mockery of peotry and how that it does not destroy the space-time continuum for how utterly bad it is.
Good luck.
The Raven Who Loved Too Much
The Raven Who Loved Too Much
by Josh(The love doctor), Matt (da Demon), (By the way the love doctor is in) Brad (Hottie),Nate (Oh god something's gonna break), Kurt (the flirt), Tom (Mac-attack)
Once upon a midnight queer, while I pondered with a beer over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lusty sex. I like whores. While I tippled on her nipple. Quote, the Matt I wanna see MORE! Get it on more!
As of someone gently raping, raping my chamber door.'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Fucking my chamber door only this and nothing more, "
Ah, distinctly I remember I dismembered them in December, And each separate dying embryo was on my porch. Eagerly I wished for the oral delight I had sought to borrow another beer. Quote the Matt, "I wanna drink more."
From my Mad magazines of sorrow(he he he he) - sorrow for the fourth stooge for the rare and radiant Iron Maiden who gave us our booze and our whore. Dick-less here was the poem(till we changed it) it was such a bore. Quote the Matt. Gimme whore.
As the silken panties came off her body it REALLY Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; except with the whore. So that now, to still the beating of my life O.J. said, "You won't talk to me like that anymore." Quote the Matt, "Beat the whore!"
"Tis a twinky which cannot be crushed forevermore, you silly customer. Now go away, forevermore. And thank you, come again. Tis some visitor using their dick as a key to enter through my chamber door; This is education, and nothing more."
Presently my dick grew stronger; hesitating then grew longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam truly your forgiveness I implore; it is your pussy I wish to explore and so gently you came rape-ing, And so faintly you began to moan, beating it at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened another keg. Bud Ice and nothing more.
Deep into that pussy I was peering long I stood there wondering, feeling, Definitely dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, to the whore I gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered turd, "Demi Moore on the floor with the whore."
Then Matt smiled and went to work on Demi MooreMerely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, both my balls within her burning I stuck it in and it startedturningSaid the Matt, "Turn it some more!" soon again I heard someone raping somewhat louder than before, "Surely," said I, "that is someone raping once again at my chamber door.
Let me pee.
Said the Nate, "Pee some more." As Kurt passed the gas Brad went up and licked his ass. Let my heart be still a moment as I wiz upon the floor; getting fury looks from the whore. 'Tis the wind and nothing more!" Said the Matt, "Please No More..."
About here I fucked the shutter, with many a flirt and flutter of the presence of Demi Moore. In there stepped My mother-in-law (also a whore) or Bruce Willis. Oh there is always room For one more. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped but stayed he cummig and came some more.
But with man of fiord, "let's get it on!!!" Or lady, perched above the glistening whore. Perched upon a bust of an omen. Yes, you guessed it, Demi Moore. Just above my chamber door. Perched, and sat, and laid a turd which angered the whore, Said the "Matt yucky Whore!!!"And then he kicked her oyt (which is how they ass in Brooklyn)
Then this ebony bird beguiling my glorious, gaseous, sad, happy, fantasy into smiling, By the grave and sperm degenerate orgasm of the oontenanie o'the whore "Though thy breastesess be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "Shave them some more." Ghastly grim and ancient pussy, what a wussy, wandering from the nightly whore with Tom Brokaw with a report from Demi Moore. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the subject of why don't more women commit indecent exposure!"Quote the Matt, "Why not indeed?"
Much I marveled this ungroinly fowl to hear intercourse so painly, you hear screams at my chamber door. Said the Matt, "Tis the whore and Demi Moore." Though! (Whores! uh! What are they good for? Absolutely nuttin' say it again now! Just had to get that out of my system. thank you.) its answer little meaning - as I looked through the keyhole of the chamber door and the Matt thought "'Women do commit indecent exposure, ya just gotta know where to look! For we cannot help agreeing that no living human, while peeingEver yet was blessed with seeing naked whores above his chamber doorPussy or breast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door. Said the Matt, "Dirty whore."
But the whore, sitting lonely on Demi's bust, spoke only those three words, "yes big papa." As if her orgasm in that one word she did outpour. Nothing further than he fuck her - I'm not a woman then she muttered. Then I screamed and jumped off the whore, "Other friends have had her before." On the morrow, he will leave me as the crying game before. Then the Man said, "Sweet Jesus No! Startled by what I once thought was dickless turned out to be a male whore Doubtless." Said I, "What the hell did I do? I'm going back to the hooker store." Caught from some unhappy master who unmerciful Disaster. God damn it, I fucked a man once more.
Quote the Matt, "Nevermore! Never, never, never more!' Cumming fast and cumming faster till I blew a hole in the whore. As the dirges screwed the whore, or want Demi Moore, More, more, more, more. I want more, more, more, more.
But the whore still smiling got my limp fancy into smiling (fancy, that's what we call our shlongs in France). Straight I jerked the chubby in front of a lady in a wheelchair, blowing a load in her face and nothing more (funny, I thought she ordered extra lumpy?)
Then, upon the Vaseline sinking, she betook myself a licking fantasy unto fantasy, thinking that this woman had a bulge in her pants larger than before. What this grim, ungainly, ghastly bulge and ominous shlong of forgotten lore meant in croaking "Oh my god, again." Quote the Matt, "The tales are true. It is a male whore somewhat larger and hairier than before."
This I sat engaged in wacking, but my dick I was slapping, wack, wack, wacking, somewhat louder than before. To the dick whose fiery flesh now burned into my little buddy's core. This and her mound of love pudding, I gave her head at ease reclining the cushions of the old woman's wheelchair, there as a bolt sticking up, giving me pleasures I had never felt before.
But whose wheelchair velvet-violet lining stained with blood, at least more blood than before. She surely, passed away, this I promise and nothing more. Said the Matt, "Kill the wheelchair whore!" There we offended all the censers for making this poem a disgrace to what it was before. Swinging by a jugular vein whose blood falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Whore," I cried, "thy Iron Maiden has sent me really poor whores.
SEX!! - Sexual metaphors from the memories of Demi Moore. SCREW! Screw all the whores and forget this lost Demi Moore! Quoth the Matt, "Bite Me! " "Prophet!" said I "Thing of evil!" - "Stop calling me that." Said the Matt, "I am not the savior nor devil!" - Quote everyone, but Matt, "Yeah right,"
Don't Temp me' or whether will burn with flames and blood will wash along the shores Desolate yet all undaunted, I fear her pussy may be haunted with the ghost she slept with of the dead men before. On this clit which maybe haunted - tell me truly is your name Laurena Bobbit, or need to know before. Is there - is there a knife behind your back - tell me - tell me, I implorer. Quoth Ms. Bobbit, 'What do you think?" "I think I better fucking run!" I shrieked upstarting.
Get away from me you psycho, butt ugly whoree. Quote the Tom, "This poem is fuckin weird." Leave no Limb as a token. Leave my dick that lies thy soul hath spoken. Try to fool me will you? Uncut! - and only shaking butt above my door.
"Take thy dick from out my pussy, and take thy sperm & on, out my vagina! Quoth the Tom, "How in hell am I going to do that?" The lady in the garter, never died, Stirring in my groiner Quote the Matt, "Kill her some more." On the chamber pot from which I took a crap in earlier and hung above my chamber door. And all his balls with all the semen of a demon's that is dreaming of happy tJ" you rrur^ just explored.
Fuck lamp-light over his spouge streaming down the sides of his bed. And he thought he was giving head then fell flat on the floor. Said the Matt, "The whore! The whore!
As of someone gently raping, raping my chamber door.'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Fucking my chamber door only this and nothing more, "
Ah, distinctly I remember I dismembered them in December, And each separate dying embryo was on my porch. Eagerly I wished for the oral delight I had sought to borrow another beer. Quote the Matt, "I wanna drink more."
From my Mad magazines of sorrow(he he he he) - sorrow for the fourth stooge for the rare and radiant Iron Maiden who gave us our booze and our whore. Dick-less here was the poem(till we changed it) it was such a bore. Quote the Matt. Gimme whore.
As the silken panties came off her body it REALLY Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; except with the whore. So that now, to still the beating of my life O.J. said, "You won't talk to me like that anymore." Quote the Matt, "Beat the whore!"
"Tis a twinky which cannot be crushed forevermore, you silly customer. Now go away, forevermore. And thank you, come again. Tis some visitor using their dick as a key to enter through my chamber door; This is education, and nothing more."
Presently my dick grew stronger; hesitating then grew longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam truly your forgiveness I implore; it is your pussy I wish to explore and so gently you came rape-ing, And so faintly you began to moan, beating it at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened another keg. Bud Ice and nothing more.
Deep into that pussy I was peering long I stood there wondering, feeling, Definitely dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, to the whore I gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered turd, "Demi Moore on the floor with the whore."
Then Matt smiled and went to work on Demi MooreMerely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, both my balls within her burning I stuck it in and it startedturningSaid the Matt, "Turn it some more!" soon again I heard someone raping somewhat louder than before, "Surely," said I, "that is someone raping once again at my chamber door.
Let me pee.
Said the Nate, "Pee some more." As Kurt passed the gas Brad went up and licked his ass. Let my heart be still a moment as I wiz upon the floor; getting fury looks from the whore. 'Tis the wind and nothing more!" Said the Matt, "Please No More..."
About here I fucked the shutter, with many a flirt and flutter of the presence of Demi Moore. In there stepped My mother-in-law (also a whore) or Bruce Willis. Oh there is always room For one more. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped but stayed he cummig and came some more.
But with man of fiord, "let's get it on!!!" Or lady, perched above the glistening whore. Perched upon a bust of an omen. Yes, you guessed it, Demi Moore. Just above my chamber door. Perched, and sat, and laid a turd which angered the whore, Said the "Matt yucky Whore!!!"And then he kicked her oyt (which is how they ass in Brooklyn)
Then this ebony bird beguiling my glorious, gaseous, sad, happy, fantasy into smiling, By the grave and sperm degenerate orgasm of the oontenanie o'the whore "Though thy breastesess be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "Shave them some more." Ghastly grim and ancient pussy, what a wussy, wandering from the nightly whore with Tom Brokaw with a report from Demi Moore. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the subject of why don't more women commit indecent exposure!"Quote the Matt, "Why not indeed?"
Much I marveled this ungroinly fowl to hear intercourse so painly, you hear screams at my chamber door. Said the Matt, "Tis the whore and Demi Moore." Though! (Whores! uh! What are they good for? Absolutely nuttin' say it again now! Just had to get that out of my system. thank you.) its answer little meaning - as I looked through the keyhole of the chamber door and the Matt thought "'Women do commit indecent exposure, ya just gotta know where to look! For we cannot help agreeing that no living human, while peeingEver yet was blessed with seeing naked whores above his chamber doorPussy or breast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door. Said the Matt, "Dirty whore."
But the whore, sitting lonely on Demi's bust, spoke only those three words, "yes big papa." As if her orgasm in that one word she did outpour. Nothing further than he fuck her - I'm not a woman then she muttered. Then I screamed and jumped off the whore, "Other friends have had her before." On the morrow, he will leave me as the crying game before. Then the Man said, "Sweet Jesus No! Startled by what I once thought was dickless turned out to be a male whore Doubtless." Said I, "What the hell did I do? I'm going back to the hooker store." Caught from some unhappy master who unmerciful Disaster. God damn it, I fucked a man once more.
Quote the Matt, "Nevermore! Never, never, never more!' Cumming fast and cumming faster till I blew a hole in the whore. As the dirges screwed the whore, or want Demi Moore, More, more, more, more. I want more, more, more, more.
But the whore still smiling got my limp fancy into smiling (fancy, that's what we call our shlongs in France). Straight I jerked the chubby in front of a lady in a wheelchair, blowing a load in her face and nothing more (funny, I thought she ordered extra lumpy?)
Then, upon the Vaseline sinking, she betook myself a licking fantasy unto fantasy, thinking that this woman had a bulge in her pants larger than before. What this grim, ungainly, ghastly bulge and ominous shlong of forgotten lore meant in croaking "Oh my god, again." Quote the Matt, "The tales are true. It is a male whore somewhat larger and hairier than before."
This I sat engaged in wacking, but my dick I was slapping, wack, wack, wacking, somewhat louder than before. To the dick whose fiery flesh now burned into my little buddy's core. This and her mound of love pudding, I gave her head at ease reclining the cushions of the old woman's wheelchair, there as a bolt sticking up, giving me pleasures I had never felt before.
But whose wheelchair velvet-violet lining stained with blood, at least more blood than before. She surely, passed away, this I promise and nothing more. Said the Matt, "Kill the wheelchair whore!" There we offended all the censers for making this poem a disgrace to what it was before. Swinging by a jugular vein whose blood falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Whore," I cried, "thy Iron Maiden has sent me really poor whores.
SEX!! - Sexual metaphors from the memories of Demi Moore. SCREW! Screw all the whores and forget this lost Demi Moore! Quoth the Matt, "Bite Me! " "Prophet!" said I "Thing of evil!" - "Stop calling me that." Said the Matt, "I am not the savior nor devil!" - Quote everyone, but Matt, "Yeah right,"
Don't Temp me' or whether will burn with flames and blood will wash along the shores Desolate yet all undaunted, I fear her pussy may be haunted with the ghost she slept with of the dead men before. On this clit which maybe haunted - tell me truly is your name Laurena Bobbit, or need to know before. Is there - is there a knife behind your back - tell me - tell me, I implorer. Quoth Ms. Bobbit, 'What do you think?" "I think I better fucking run!" I shrieked upstarting.
Get away from me you psycho, butt ugly whoree. Quote the Tom, "This poem is fuckin weird." Leave no Limb as a token. Leave my dick that lies thy soul hath spoken. Try to fool me will you? Uncut! - and only shaking butt above my door.
"Take thy dick from out my pussy, and take thy sperm & on, out my vagina! Quoth the Tom, "How in hell am I going to do that?" The lady in the garter, never died, Stirring in my groiner Quote the Matt, "Kill her some more." On the chamber pot from which I took a crap in earlier and hung above my chamber door. And all his balls with all the semen of a demon's that is dreaming of happy tJ" you rrur^ just explored.
Fuck lamp-light over his spouge streaming down the sides of his bed. And he thought he was giving head then fell flat on the floor. Said the Matt, "The whore! The whore!
Conclusion
Conclusion
Well. What is there to say after something like that? Except I had nothing to do with it. It was sent to me anonymously by a crazy person threatened to kill me if I did not publish it on this site. I apologize to all who have read it and say I wash my hands of it.
~The Writer, who did not write this, editor, who did not edit this, Ham Sandwich, who did not sandwich this.
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