The ABSOLUTE Edited Re-edited Edit of Night Owl.

This guy Brandon wrote this story called Night Owl. Here is a link to it. http://www.diceybrownmagazine.com/gorrell.html
Then some other people edited it.

He talks about what some people have been doing here: http://brandon-alien-fine.blogspot.com/2008/02/links.html

Sam Pink said "people have been editing b scott gorrell's NIGHT OWL. so i did too.NIGHT OWLby Sam Pink II, His Lordship of Rigsby upon Yorkshire" Here is a link to his version. http://www.impersonalelectroniccommunication.com/2008/02/new-revision-of-night-owl.html

Then Brandon suggested I could write a new version of it. So I did. Here it is.

One day, I was sitting on my bed and looking at my computer. A whole day passed. I was sitting on my bed and looking at my computer. Another day passed. I went to work. Another day passed. Then I was sitting on my loveseat looking at my computer. The Media Nazi sent me an email and then another email and then another email and they were all links to videos on youtube and I watched each one and then responded to his emails saying, “That was hilarious, thank you for letting me in on this piece of American Culture.” He sent out some men to assassinate me.

I put on my plastic Miss Piggy mask and my long pink gloves and put my gold and silver diamond rings over top of the gloves on my fingers. I posed in front of the mirror. I said, “I guess I’d better get out of here before something bad happens again.” It was time to find my pants. I pulled my pants up over my thick, charred and black flaky dick. Some might say my dick is thin but it is really thick and those people can suck it.

I stuffed my oozing bloody puss filled face-hole with some gauze that I got from my medical job at the hospital. I put some rubber gloves in my pocket for later, just in case. Laying a finger aside of my nose, I headed out of my house to the store. I bought beer at the grocery store. The lady at the check out told me that usually she gets men late at night coming off work and buying beer and she thought it was strange that I was buying beer because I am a woman. I showed her the bulge from my charred and black flaky thickness. She also asked me if I wanted her to bag my beer. I think this was supposed to be code for "Do you want people to see that you are buying beer." But I might just be paranoid because I don't like people to see me buying alcohol. I was embarrassed. I also bought toilet paper and feminine hygiene products (for my male-asshole when it is bleeding) and something for my yeast infections and my hemorrhoids and condoms for my charred black, flaky thin, I mean, thick penis,
and this:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=13206&catid=100831&trx=PLST-0-SEARCH&trxp1=100831&trxp2=13206&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-SEARCH,
and this:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=70506&catid=103094&trx=PLST-0-SEARCH&trxp1=103094&trxp2=70506&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-SEARCH,
and this:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=80029&catid=105884&trx=PLST-0-SEARCH&trxp1=105884&trxp2=80029&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-SEARCH,
and this:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=27196&catid=103249&trx=PLST-0-SEARCH&trxp1=103249&trxp2=27196&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-SEARCH,
and one hundred of these:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=85831&catid=103096&trx=PLST-0-CAT&trxp1=103096&trxp2=85831&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-CAT.

I told the checkout lady, “These are all for a friend. I am normal.”

The cashier nodded slightly and said, "Whatever, I don't care about you—you're just a customer. Please don't make me repeat that."

I went back to my room and drank all the beer. I had to pee so I opened one of the packages of the traveljohn disposable urinals for men, women, and children. I lay back and masturbated into the urinal and then spent one half hour gently tugging on the benign tumors that grow near my asshole. I still had to pee. I went to the bathroom. I sat down to pee and said “No hands! Ta-da!” and stood up as if I had done something amazing.

My roommate walked in a few seconds later.

“I’m in here.”

"I know. You aren’t invisible. What show are you watching?" he asked. He had on pants that said across the ass “This is where my poop comes out."

"Just some video," I said looking into the toilet as if a video were playing in the ripples of my urine.

"Your penis is charred and thin and black and flaky, kind of like—" he began.

"Thick, you mean? Like a big thick charred black flakey dick?" I offered.

"Bingo."

I sat back down on the toilet and he sat on my lap.

“I’m glad we are so close.” He turned around and straddled me. I sodomized him on accident.

“Woops, my bad,” I said.

As he wept, I found my orange hoodie that says, “May you be confident knowing you are a child of God” on the back. I put it on and traveled outside of my house to a bar so that I could get my drink on some more.

At the door a man said “It’s $7 tonight.”

I showed him the bulge of my charred black flakey thickness and squeezed him out a handful of this:
http://www.revolutionhealthstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=70506&catid=103094&trx=PLST-0-SEARCH&trxp1=103094&trxp2=70506&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-SEARCH.

"Put the button on him," the man at the door said then went back to playing his electronic hand held version of Simon.

The lady had a big box of buttons that had different sayings on them. Some were heart shaped and said “Be Mine” or “Hot Stuff.” Others were red white and blue and said “Obama” or “Bob Dole.” She pulled out one that was shaped like a shamrock and said “KISS ME, I’M A RAPIST.”

I went into the bar and was easily the coolest person there. I did a great dance routine that started out with a toprock, transitioning into a downrock. I displayed some power moves like the swipe, windmill, and the rimjob and then ended in a climactic freeze.

“I need something to drink after all those power moves,” I said to my clenched fist.

"What can I get for you," said the bartender.

"Can I get the tears you cried after losing your virginity?" I asked.

“I’m still a virgin.” She said.

“I want to pay a group of homeless men to gang rape you.”

She reach out and gently traced the words on my button. “I thought you were the rapist.”

“Touché.”

“I’m going to serve you a bloody mary.” She pulled out an old jar with dust on it. There was a label on the jar with the words “One year’s worth of Menses” written in Calligraphy. She poured some vodka into it and added a stick of celery.

“How much is it?”

“How much do you have in that sack?” She gestured to the sack I keep tethered to my belt loop at all times. I haven’t mentioned it yet but it was there the whole time.

“This sack? This is a sack of assholes. They are mementos from my rape victims.”

“Why do you keep a sack of assholes with you at all times? That’s not normal”

“Just in case.”

I walked to a table with my refreshment. There was a problem with the music. A DJ ran to the stage and touched a laptop for a while. New, louder music began playing.

"I really like this song," I said into the sack. The sack looked into me. I thought, “This is unsuccessful.”

Then I thought, "I want to leave." I walked out of the bar. I pointed at someone passing and said, "You’re next."

The Man at the door said I could keep my button.

“You really earned it,” He said.

“Do you allow rear entry?” I queried.

“For you, anything.” I sodomized him. Some of my roommate’s shit was still on my dick from before. This played to my advantage in the long run.

I walked towards my house. Then I was in a grocery store. It was like 2 A.M. I got a basket and put some food items in the basket. I went to the bulk foods section and put a handful of assholes into the bin marked “OATS.” I went to aisle six and relieved myself.

“Clean up on aisle six,” I whispered into my sack. Each asshole in the sack stretched itself into a smile. “You get me,” I said, “You really get me.”

I paid for the food items in the basket and left. I woke up and there were two bags of groceries on my floor. My jeans were by my couch. I had my shirt and hoodie and socks on. My computer was open on my bed. I felt confused because I wasn't sure if I had vomited the night before or if I had dreamt that I vomited. I knew I dreamt that I gave a presentation to my former coworkers about why my former employers decided to lay me off. They felt bad. I had to 'let them down easy.' I let them all touch me on my way out the door.

The assassins were at my door that morning. This is how I spent my last day on earth and I am writing this from heaven.