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Hard Digest January 27: Early Access Makeup Sex, the Cryptkeeper, Mocktails, and More
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 01:00:05 +0000 UTCBand Fight Leads to Band Makeup Sex
By Cory Cousins
CHATTANOOGA, Tenn. — Local stoner rockers Dust Buster’s recent argument that devolved into screaming and name-calling ultimately led to hot, steamy, erotic makeup sex, staff for the practice facility confirm.
“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. Never leave practice angry,” mused Dust Buster guitarist Greg Jenkins. “I’m not gonna lie, practice got out of hand with all of the petty insults and yelling back and forth, which all started over something pretty dumb anyway. But once the air cleared a bit, we looked into each other’s eyes and realized just how much love we had for one another, and how horny that made us. Next thing we knew, the four of us were sucking and fucking the night away. We didn’t get much playing in, but I’ll be damned if that wasn’t one of the best practices we ever had.”
The manager of the practice facility was a bit confused by the lascivious cacophony emanating from one of the rented rooms.
“I was doing my usual nightly routine of walking around the facility, making sure everything was running smoothly,” recounted the manager of Rock Of Ages practice facility, Norm Sanderson. “All of a sudden, the sound of yelling from one of the rooms caught my attention, so I decided to investigate a bit further to make sure everything was okay. But when I put my ear to the door, the noise changed from yelling to more like lustful moans of pure ecstacy. I didn’t dare open the door. I’ll tell ya one thing though, I damn sure ain’t paying for that Stanley Steemer bill.”
Dr. Anna Garcia, psychiatrist and therapist for the band, offered some alternatives and coping mechanisms when dealing with infighting and copulation.
“I let the group know that engaging in wild, unadulterated coitus following a heated disagreement isn’t necessarily the healthiest approach to band unity,” noted Garcia. “I’m not sure they took my suggestions to heart, as they were laughing inappropriately and vigorously rubbing each other’s nipples during the entire session. I was annoyed at their behavior, but also a little jealous. Some of the most productive band practices often occur immediately after some hanky panky.”
At press time, members of Dust Buster expressed their desire to introduce role-playing and BDSM to the weekly practices to keep the creative spark firing.
Opinion: I’ve Had My Heart Broken by the Cryptkeeper for the Last Time
By Nathan Kamal
Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m done being toyed with. No longer will I sit around and wait for the Cryptkeeper to resurrect my hopes, only to sit by the phone just waiting for him to call, every single night.
Or should I say every single… FRIGHT!
This is the last time I’m going to let that skeletal, voice-box-having, pun-slinging deadbeat break my heart. No matter how much I’m DYING for him to actually treat me like someone worth living for.
I can’t even get that motherfucker to have a nice normal date with me, he only wants a booty call that hasn’t been dead for fifty years. Just last week I said, “Let’s go for some frozen yogurt, babe, we can make it a thing,” and he said, “Nah, I think I’ll stick to something more CHILLING…like ice SCREAM!”
That doesn’t even make sense, they’re both the same temperature.
We met at a meet-cute of sorts: I was at a Halloween party, a little tipsy on pumpkin spice and existential dread, when I noticed him looming in the corner, only the top half of him showing for some inexplicable reason.
His skeletal frame was hard to miss, but it was his puns and odor of rotting flesh that reeled me in. After a few minutes of chatting me up, he just straight-up asked me home, saying “You want to get out of…FEAR? My place is a real dungeon, you know.”
Ugh, classic Cryptkeeper.
I knew then that this would be the start of something… passionate, torrid, and quite frankly, doomed from the start. At first, it felt like a whirlwind romance. We were inseparable, until I caught him whispering sweet nothings into the ears of some ghoul at the club one night.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” I thought, “I’m just your loving, alive partner, over here with a drink in hand, while you shack up with the undead on the dance floor.” It was the third time in a row I’d found him at some late-night haunt, pawing at a pile of hot vampire chicks.
I talked with my friends about it, and I finally put my foot down.
“No matter how hot he is or how his cackle fills me with more erotic charge than anyone else ever could.,” I said, “I can’t keep dating a guy who’s more committed to his crypt than to me!”
They agreed. It was hard, though—he does have that look. You know, the look that says, “My eyeballs rotted away centuries ago… but, like, in a sexy way.”
Ugh.
I deserve better than that. At least from someone who doesn’t have to re-animate every time I call him. And maybe someone who isn’t obsessed with DEPRAVED stories and breaking the fourth wall.
Or should I say…breaking the fourth MAUL!
Woman Doing Totally Fine Without Alcohol Has Posted About Mocktails 23 Times This Week
By LOS ANGELES, Calif. — Local woman Hallie Phillips is reportedly thriving during an attempt to reduce alcohol consumption despite posting pictures of mocktails to her Instagram account 23 times in the past week, confirmed sources who muted her on social media.
“I kept seeing so many ads for mocktails on Instagram and some influencers I follow kept posting about their alcohol-free experiences. So it looked like fun!” said Phillips while drinking a virgin mojito at 9am. “Oh, and some health benefits, I guess. But it’s going great. You can hardly tell there’s no bourbon in this cocktail. Or rum. Or Vodka. Or single malt whiskey. Or hell, even double malt. I’d even take a sherry. I mean, you can hardly tell.”
Phillips’ Instagram follower/friend Ashley Thomas shed some light on the situation as it continued to unfold.
“Listen, I thought it was a fun little idea for her to give up alcohol for January. It’s good to try new things and see what works. But now I think she might legitimately have a problem,” said Thomas. “I mean, she spent from 3pm to 2am talking about her at-home virgin tiki bar on IG live yesterday. She called it Shirley’s Tiki Temple. She said it like 40 times. It’s like, just take a fucking shot or go to rehab at that point, you know? Look, she just posted again.”
Sheila Duckers, an alcohol recovery expert, offered some professional insight on when mocktails are just a trend or when they’re an indicator of a bigger issue.
“Quitting alcohol cold turkey can have some serious and dangerous outcomes, such as death or becoming intolerable on social media,” said Duckers. “And it can reveal an underlying issue. Sometimes it truly is best to release the vice-like grip on your Salt Lake City Iced Tea and seek help from a professional. It can be difficult to admit you have a problem, or to even recognize you have one. Which is why I have an online guide to help you figure out if you’re just engaging in a fun hobby or spiraling in a public and humiliating fashion. Take my quiz now at mocktailsormockfails.com.”
At the time of print, Phillips agreed to seek the advice of an alcohol recovery professional, and is even going to quit smoking by using a chamomile lavender vape pen 15 times a day.
More From The Hard Times:
Six Songs We’re Catching Up On After Pulling Our Phone Out of the River We Threw It Into Last Week
Opinion: It’s Actually Kind of Ridiculous That Raccoon City Police Would Bother to Cite Me for Public Masturbation
BY Okay, I fully admit I’m in the wrong here, but there’s just been a lot going on lately and I needed a way to release tension. You can understand that, right? I’m not a bad person, and I’m willing to face the consequences of my actions. It’s just that, if I’m being completely honest, it’s kind of ridiculous that the Raccoon City Police would even bother to cite me for public masturbation.
You get where I’m coming from?
Look, I’m not making excuses. Ultimately, this is nobody’s fault but mine. It was a stupid mistake, and absolutely not something I would have done had I known there were sentient beings outside the Carnegie Love Delicatessen where I ultimately got caught. I mean, I’m not a pervert. Go ahead and check my record. I’ve never so much as received a parking ticket before, and I volunteer at the Raccoon City Public Library on Sundays.
Er, at least, I used to volunteer at the library.
How was I supposed to know there would be a huge, fiery accident involving an eighteen-wheeler and a cop car right where I happened to be masturbating? It’s a wonder I wasn’t hurt, and frankly, the officer who cited me should have checked me for injuries (or at least offered me a green herb) before issuing the ticket for indecent exposure and public lewdness. He may have been “doing me a favor” by not locking me up for the night (his words, not mine), but I truly think he just had his hands full with all these zombies stumbling around.
Also, $620?! That’s insane. And where am I even supposed to surrender myself with payment? I can’t imagine anyone is still working at the precinct, and anyway, that place is an incomprehensible nightmare labyrinth. I’ll be lucky if I make it to the front desk, let alone find the appropriate department. This is a disaster. If I wasn’t such an upstanding citizen (which we’ve established is the case 99.9% of the time), I’d just skip town and let the matter settle itself.
I’m not going to do that, though. Looks like I’ll just take it on the chin and accept my punishment. I still maintain that the city authorities have bigger fish to fry than an anxious man masturbating in public, and this Officer Kennedy (if the name adorning the top of my citation is to be believed) should get his priorities in order if he’s looking to restore law and order to this city. I certainly hope he gets his act together once this T-virus thing blows over.
Also, and this is clearly the last thing I should be focusing on right now, but I didn’t get to finish. I know, I know, but you have no idea how close I was right before I was nearly decapitated by that crash. I’m going to sneak into the Kendo Gun shop nearby to take care of business. Hopefully there’s nobody in there.
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