Deaf And Dumb Danny Does Christmas – David Irons

Danny was still pounding away, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he drilled deeper into the teacher. “Dasher! Dancer! Prancer!“ Mrs. Williams gritted her teeth, sweat running into her mouth as she turned away from seeing the demented Danny drilling her. Then Danny stopped his reindeer chant and yanked her around to face him.

His big, leering face pushed down into hers, and a string of drool spilled from his lips into her mouth. “Pretty!“ he dumbly grunted. Mrs. Williams began to cry in deep, horrified sobs. Tardy Marty kicked in the glass that sealed away the fire axe with a burst of shattering shards and grabbed the weapon inside; then he ran to the door, kicked the chair away that blocked it, and yanked it open.

“What the fuck is—“ was all Principal Pritzker could get out. Tardy Marty brought down the axe with retard strength, swiping its sharp blade straight into the principal’s chest with a cringing crack. The principal screamed like a teenage girl as blood burst in every direction. Tardy Marty’s fire bucket helmet slipped down over his demented eyes, and he quickly pulled it up to sit atop his pinhead, leaving a smear of blood up his face. As the principal fell to the floor, his face veiled in pale death, Bambie, the truancy officer, was standing right next to the principal, covered in his blood, screamed with everything she was worth and bolted down the hall.

Tardy Marty cried, “I’ll show you I’m not gay!“ and waddled after her down the hallway with the axe raised, fire bucket helmet on his head with a hard-on in his baggy pants. Danny thrust into Mrs. Williams faster and harder than a locomotive trying to make a new land speed record. All the kids in the yard ran to the window of the second-grade classroom, spiteful glee in their eyes that with their numbers, they could bully and tease the big freak.

Shock and terror replaced any meanness as they stared into the classroom. They all watched as, with a mighty bellow, Danny unloaded his balls into Mrs. Williams. She let out a horrified scream as the huge load filled her, then with nowhere else to go, the sickening seed spurted up and out of her cunt like a spermy firework display, covering Danny’s filthy Christmas sweater.

without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover designed by Jorge Find more books by the author at: www.davidironswriter.com/books OceanofPDF.com OTHER TITLES FROM THE AUTHOR: DON ’ T GO TO WHEELCHAIR CAMP DON ’ T GO TO WHEELCHAIR CAMP COCKBLOCKER THE SKIN ON THE SKELETON THE BLOODY TRACKS OF BIGFOOT POLYBIUS WOLF MOON GRAVEYARD BILLY NIGHT WAVES OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com DAVID IRONS OceanofPDF.com Chapter One Chicago, December 25, 1975 “Merry fucking Christmas, you fucking bitch!“ Big Ron Davenport bellowed, punching his wife Fran so hard she fell through the Christmas tree.

Tinsel looped around her neck like a noose and bound her wrists like cuffs. Ornaments burst into splintered shards that dug into her ass as she thumped to the floor. ​“Goddamn it!“ Big Ron shrieked, shaking the meaty paw he had just clobbered Fran with. “You busted up my drinking hand!“ ​Fran sat up amongst torn tinsel, a bloody-nosed mess, her glasses cracked and cockeyed on her face. ​“I can’t believe you hit me! And on Christmas!“ Fran wailed. ​Big Ron gritted his teeth to the shattering point.

Fran’s nasally voice would run down his back like nails on a chalkboard, and her moaning and crying would make his body run white hot. Why did he marry this milksop in the first place? Oh yeah. Because she was the only woman stupid enough to put out for a loser like him. Big Ron was a high school dropout and couldn’t pour water out of a boot if it had instructions on the heel.

He had the I.Q. of a mannequin with a head injury and was about as sharp as a bowling ball. Not that Big Ron could really help it. He was just a new generation of loser from bygone generations of losers. Every past Davenport had naturally earned the moniker ‘Deadbeat Davenport’ from their peers and contemporaries. It was a through line of their breed, like male pattern balding and beer guts.

If any one line of genetic thread was woven through time, it was the modern-day Davenport who had much in common with his caveman brethren. Although there was no real hunter- gatherer mentality, just a tendency to scrounge, plead, and steal to make ends meet. Also, a primordial barbaric streak that once that wedding ring was popped on a woman’s finger, she was as much your property to abuse as a run in second-hand car that needed to be push started.

That was all Big Ron saw the pounding he gave Fran as — a little push start. He’d warned her that there’d be trouble if she didn’t wear the present he got her for Christmas. He’d refused months in advance to go to any other family member’s home or let any family members come to theirs.

Big Ron had planned this Christmas to a T.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 7557a0aedd4eb2f5
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,985,316 bytes (2.847 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 177
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 239.81 minutes
• Total Words: 47,963
• Total Characters: 268,350
• Average Words per Page: 270.98
• Average Characters per Page: 1516.1

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