Grimm Fairy Tales? Shit no, grim Alaskan tales that ain't fiction, nor funny.

Top of the morning gents,

I'm chuckling at myself, and the nicknames I've
collected over the years.

A ways back, some funny fucker with gray eyes
triggered my name to change from Karl to Gil. First
assumed to be derivative of Gilligan's Island or some
shit, not a famous serial child rapist in Kotzebue.

I kinda liked earning a nom de diarhea plume identical
to Gil Hall, my neighbor that fucked a lot of little
boys. Mr. Hall also got indicted on a slew of charges
related to his closet hobby of taking core samples
from live specimens yielding single digit ring counts.


Only a faggot with 2 gonads could possibly be crueler
than Hitler, who also preferred stank over tang and
ate pistols and dicks. Suicide by food poisoning. Both
Hitler and Hall could've eaten a bad weenie.

After my shift: graveyard shift mates, I headed
upstairs to snag a ride from Mack or Eunice. They had
some killer pictures they wanted to show me.

Here was Gil Hall's teeth and brains, Gil Hall's burnt
mouth, and Gil Hall's fragmented and distorted face
with bugged eyes and black hole for a mouth. Both Mack
and old man Eunice watched me with anticipation, like
I was gonna puke or some shit.

I almost did.

Goes to show you: wrapping yer head with towels and
biting down hard on a 357 will suppress pert near a
hunnert percent of the report. All the sound and
energy compressed within that child gomer skull and
Muslim all cotton head dress brain container proved
quieter than a wet fart.

Can you tell I like happy endings?

Call me Gil. Gil from Kotzebue, if you know what I
mean. What a guy, what a nickname. A town famous for
gaped babies cursed with brown potential.

My nicknames heretofore have devolved to Oochuk Boy,
Karlukmun, and Negro. Blessed ain't I?

Most grim Alaskan tales that are best described as
moments of no hope. Just plain wrong onall levels
with morons at the helm. Much like this computer
laboratory north of 70 lat.

Karl.