"Animalgram for JR 'Bob' Dobbs! Animalgram for JR 'Bob' Dobbs!" Jonny, the famous Hollywood bellboy midget and spokesperson for Phillip Morris cigarettes, yelled in his signature way across the lobby of the equally famous Beverly Wiltshire Hotel. It was August 19, 1947, and things in Los Angeles that afternoon were just swell. 82 degrees, clear and bright, and vacuum cleaner salesman and handsome, personable actor/ model J.R. "Bob" Dobbs was picking his teeth after a fine post-coital luncheon with a young starlet named Marilyn something-or-other, looking over the headlines of the L.A. Times. Hmm. So it was a weather balloon, after all, according to those know-it all army boys. Goodness knows he'd seen some strange sights himself in that same desert. It was at that moment that he realised his name was being called.
"Over here, boy!" he exclaimed, thrusting his hand in the air.
"Animalgram for ya, Mister Dobbs!" said Jonny, cheerfully, striding up to the chiselled, well-groomed salesman.
"Animalgram, eh? Gee, never received one 'o THEM before." Dobbs took the small, yellow, oblong box. There were perforations and holes punched along the side.
"Sign here, please, Sir," said Jonny. Dobbs clenched his pipe in his mouth and did as he was instructed, his hat at a jaunty angle. A stray blivet of leftover sperm dripped from the tip of his urethra into the seam of his fine silk Brooks Brothers boxer shorts. He found himself recalling fondly the way that Marilyn girl smiled right into his eyes, as she cheerily slipped his dick between her perfect little pouty lips. Damn, that girl was gonna go places, he could just feel it.
"Thanks," said "Bob", flipping a nickel to the midget as he turned. Jonny glared at the nearly empty gesture, but by the time he could begin to articulate an appropriate response, Dobbs was halfway across the lobby, sitting down in a comfy armoire by a large picture window, inspecting his "animalgram".
There was obviously some sort of creature, or creatures, inside it. It smelled of cedar, wet cardboard, and some sort of very potent male animal urine. Curious, he tore the perforated tab off the narrow end of the box, and opened the flap.
Immediately, a high pitched squealing overwhelmed his senses. Dozens of ribbon thin, high speed, nearly clear parasitic brain worms shot out, dove under his sleeves, and headed, under his clothing, straight for the hapless salesman's ears, where they immediately slithered their two and a half foot lengths into his aural canals, all in the space of less than two seconds. A rabid Venusian Sphincter-Ferret popped out of the box immediately thereafter, foaming and giggling maniacally, and dove into the dumbfounded male model's trousers, gnashing its teeth, and, utilising its slobber as lubricant, forcibly burrowed its way straight up and into Dobbs's anal cavity.
"Opening you, we are opening you," hissed the parasitic worms, "we must prepare you for your coming immanesilazation, yesss, yesss...." and as the creatures relentlessly bored their way into the man's brain and digestive systems, they grew silent, and comfortable. The only witness to the event was a little old lady sitting across from him, and her eyesight wasn't very good, so she could never really say for sure just WHAT happened. "Bob" eventually just forgot about it, as it didn't really hurt that much.
So. There WAS an animalgram for JR "Bob" Dobbs... and it was the event that paved the way for what He was to become.
Original file name: ANIMALGRAM for JR BOB DOBBS
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