Paint CHiPs
Viva Le Me
Registered: Jul 2000
Location: Location Location
Posts: 26378 |
Even More Required Reading
I was going to post this over in Feral's thread, but intelligent conversation was happening, and I didn't want to kill it.
By the way, I am the only person under the age of 25 who read this book before seeing the movie. I just read the book last week, and believer it or not had never seen the movie until a few days ago.
Here you are:
"Chris plunged down the hall and burst into the bedroom, gasped, stood rooted in paralyzing shock as the rappings boomed massively, shivering through the walls; as Karl lay unconscious on the floor near the bureau; as Regan, her legs propped up and spread wide on a bed that was violently bouncing and shaking, clutched the bone-white crucifix in raw-knuckled hands, the bone-white crucifix poised at her vagina, the bone-white crucifix she stared at with terror, eyes bulging in a face that was bloodied from the nose, the nasogastric tubing ripped out.
“Oh please! Oh, no, please!” she was shrieking as her hands brought the crucifix closer; as she seemed to be straining to push it away.
“You’ll do as I tell you, filth! You’ll do it!”
The threatening bellow, the words, came from Regan, her voice coarse and guttural, bristling with venom, while in an instantaneous flash her expression and features were hideously transmuted into those of the feral, demonic personality that had appeared in the course of hypnosis. And now faces and voices as Chris watched stunned, interchanged with rapidity.
“No!”
“You’ll do it!”
“Please!”
“You will, you bitch, or I’ll kill you!”
“Please!”
“Yes, you’re going to let Jesus fuck you, fuck you, f--“
Regan now, eyes wide and staring, flinching from the rush of some hideous finality, mouth agape shrieking at the dread of some ending. Then abruptly the demonic face once more possessed her, now filled her, the room choking suddenly with a stench in the nostrils, with an icy cold that seeped from the walls as the rappings ended and Regan’s piercing cry of terror turned to a guttural, yelping laugh of malevolent spite and rage triumphant while she thrust down the crucifix into her vagina and began to masturbate ferociously, roaring in that deep, coarse, deafening voice, “Now you’re mine, now you’re mine, you stinking cow! You bitch! Let Jesus fuck you, fuck you!”
Chris stood rooted to the ground in horror, frozen, her hands pressed tight against her cheeks as again the demonic, loud laugh cackled joyously, as Regan’s vagina gushed blood onto sheets with her hymen, the tissues ripped. Abruptly, with a shriek clawing raw from her throat, Chris rushed at the bed, grasped blindly at the crucifix, was still screaming as Regan flared up at her in fury, features contorted infernally, reaching out a hand, clutching Chris’s hair, and yanked her head down, pressing her face hard against her vagina, smearing it with blood while she frantically undulated her pelvis.
“Aahhh, little pig mother!” Regan crooned with a guttural, rasping, throaty eroticism. “Lick me, lick me, lick me! Aahhhhh!” Then the hand that was holding Chris’s head down jerked it upward while the other arm smashed her a blow across the chest that sent Chris reeling across the room and crashing to a wall with stunning force while Regan laughed with bellowing spite.
Chris crumpled to the floor in a daze of horror, in a swirling of images, sounds in the room, as her vision spun madly, blurring, unfocused, her ears ringing loud with chaotic distortions as she tried to raise herself, was too weak, faltered, then looked toward the still blurred bed, toward Regan with her back to her, thrusting the crucifix gently and sensually into her vagina, then out, then in, with that deep, bass voice crooning, “Ahh, there’s my sow, yes, my sweet honey piglet, my piglet, my—“
The words were cut off as Chris started crawling painfully toward the bed with her face, smeared with blood, with here eyes still unfocused, limbs aching, past Karl. Then she cringed, shrinking back in incredulous terror as she thought she saw hazily, in a swimming fog, her daughter’s head turning slowly around on a motionless torso, rotating monstrously, inexorably, until at last it seemed facing backward."
---The Exorcist
William Peter Blatty
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