Tom is hopped up and happy; he’s been offered an interview at the local discount cosmetics store, and he’s determined not to fuck up like he did the last time. He has it set in stone that this time, he won’t molest anyone’s children and if he gets told they’ll get in touch he won’t burn the shop down for a laugh while masturbating in the high street.
He’s not that thick (OK, perhaps he is that thick, and maybe a little more so, yes that’s it) so he’s picked out some decent clothes from his wardrobe. He’s made particularly sure that he chooses the clothes that haven’t previously been used as jizzrags, and that he wears a strong deodorant and aftershave to cover his usual odour of pig shit and overripe Brie, once famously mistaken for an early warning of an overflowing sewer. This time, he tells himself, he’ll get a job. A well paying job, that doesn’t involve sexual favours or much degradation.
Early on the morning of the interview, Tom wakes up, bathes in the requisite 400 gallons of cologne and prepares himself for a conversation that might well change his life. He walks into the shop, and comes out an hour later… employed! Happy with his newfound success, Tom is immediately set upon by a gang of drunken, psychotic neo-Nazis who especially like violence, who spend a good three hours ripping every single soft piece of tissue on Tom’s massive stinking body into ribbons, every so often pausing to take a pneumatic drill to where his balls would be if they were visible to the naked eye. Not entirely content with this level of beating, they take the still conscious Tom over to their newly built torture centre, where they make him swim for fifteen days solid in a gigantic vat full of broken glass, TCP and lemon juice, only allowing him to stop so as to give him his only allowed form of sustenance; fresh piss delivered right into his mouth by a man with chronic cystitis and herpes. After this fifteen days, Tom is allowed out of the torture center, where he is buggered senseless by a deranged junkie with a fifteen inch penis, who even in his addled state hates Tom; he’s only too happy to give the by now grotesquely dismembered little cunt speed AIDS, causing his immune system to fail over a period of 25 seconds. Finally, as his last 25 seconds passes, a feral cat scratches the little shit’s eyes out, leaving him alone, blind and bleeding in an alleyway; a fitting way to die, and the way he should have been born, really.
