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Comments on Bond18's blog |
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Back to blog entry | Add blog entry
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Anonymous says
lmao wtf
Saturday, November 17, 2025
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Anonymous says
Whatever that was, I read it all and regretfully enjoyed myself.
Saturday, November 17, 2025
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Have you tried writing for the movie studios? Thay can use your kind of talent. Keep em coming.
Sunday, November 18, 2025
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| The Zpaceman Holland Casino Story, ghost written by Bond18 |
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Authors note: Since Zpaceman was good humored enough to supply details to his latest story of social misanthropy it seemed only appropriate to continue the ghost writing saga. I give you part 2, The Zpaceman Holland Casino Story, enjoy.
Today I ran hotter than Jamie Gold with a horse shoe jammed a mile up his ass, which upon further consideration would mean he also couldn’t talk. In order to celebrate my dominating performance in the 100R I called up my blacker than night friend to make plans for the evening
“Theo, don your most metrosexual of apparel, tonight we are painting the town lavender!”
I meet Theo at the casino and we approach the VIP lounge. The enormous security guard eyes me suspiciously and stands in my way as I try to enter.
“Sir, may I see your membership card?”
I laugh in his face.
“Membership card? Oh, I don’t think I’ll be needing one of those. Now quit obstructing my path you dim witted behemoth, I have gambling to do!”
“Sir if you don’t have a card there’s no entry. We make no exceptions.”
“Now you listen and you listen good you monkey suit wearing pathetic excuse of a rental cop, this is Z fucking spaceman you’re fucking with, don’t make me take off my Gucci jacket and bitch slap you!”
The security guard reaches for his microphone.
“I need assistance at the VIP entrance, I have a disorderly.”
Within seconds we are surrounded by a pack of guards who seemingly appeared from nowhere, but I have an ace up my sleeve for them.
“WAIT! The reason I started shouting is because this guard called my friend the N word! He said ‘We don’t let N words in a place like this’! Tell em Theo!”
Theo nods in agreement “Yep, it’s true, this guys a bigot! He called me the N word and I’m more offended than Jesse Jackson at a KKK rally!”
Suddenly the guards turn on their own and grab him.
“NO! THEY’RE LYING YOU FOOLS! I’M NOT RACIST AGAINST BLACKS! HE’S LYING! I ONLY HATE ASIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANS!!!” but his protesting is an effort in futility, and the others carry him off to a back room as we sneak into the VIP during the confusion.
We move towards the baccarat tables so I may have the simple pleasure of crumpling the cards into pieces as I gamble my money away like a Macau degenerate. I look for a waiter and wave him over
“What can I get you tonight sir?”
“Bring me two bottles of your most pretentious and self congratulatory champagne!”
“Very good sir.”
Theo and I take a seat next an older gentleman and his wife. The man is dressed in a bland but expensive looking black suit and his wife is wearing a ring large enough that I’m considering mugging her on her way out of the casino. She’s draped in an expensive black dress that tastefully matches his suit, but her face is obscured by a heavy pair of glasses. I notice he’s playing nothing but banker and decide to take an opportunity to ruin his shit by betting heavily on player. For a while things are uneventful as Theo and I chug down champagne and rack up a nice series of wins on player while the guy betting banker plunges further and further into misery. The more he loses the larger his bets become, as does his infuriation with my betting player. When I hit my third straight natural nine I exploded into a raucous celebration with Theo, smashing down a full glass of champagne and screaming “EAT IT BITCHES! I GOT MORE NATURAL NINES THAN A COPY OF PLAYBOY!”
Finally the older gentleman’s frustration with me comes to a head.
“Hey! Do you mind?! I’m losing my ass while you dance around like a monkey playing the other way. Show some respect!”
“Respect!? I spit on your paltry little bets you pauper! Why don’t you make a mans wager!?”
“Pauper!? I’m easily worth 100 times your Euro trash ass!”
“Not for long! Keep this up and I’ll make you busto you hopeless old man! I’M Z FUCKING SPACE MAN, AND KING KONG, AIN’T GOT NOTHING, ON ME!!!”
And with that I throw a glass of champagne directly in his wife’s face. She recoils in horror and confusion as she rubs her eyes screaming
“IT BURNS! MY GLASSES, THEY DO NOTHING!”
The husband immediately grabs the champagne glass and throws it at me. It hits me in the shoulder, exploding like a crystal grenade while champagne goes everywhere, soaking through my jacket.
“NOOOO! MY GUCCI! I’LL GIVE YOU A THRASHING TO REMEMBER!”
As I lounge towards the man I am suddenly seized from behind by Theo, desperately trying to keep me from starting a fight and ending up in jail again, where last time I was passed around like a joint at a Phish concert. The mans wife grabs him to, and before we can get at each others throats security swarms us and drag us apart.
Security throws me out the front door like a cheap drunk and tells me not to come back for a year.
“Oh yea!? I’m gonna go urinate on the side of your building you assholes! You haven’t heard the last of Zpaceman!”
The largest guard comes over and stares me straight in the face. “Quite frankly you asshole, we don’t give a damn.”
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