Kill Pretty Magazine

On Fridays we tend to run a funny little article about criminals burning in hell or people pretending to puke but today it’s all business because we need help buying a specific brick. We can’t tell you what we’ll be using the brick for, but we can say that it needs to be dense, easy to lift, and heavy enough to crush someone’s head into a big pile of goo. Let’s shop!

Hm. This brick looks pretty normal, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s definitely the kind of brick that we’d want if we were building a brick house or even a brick wall, but it’s not really the best brick for our purposes. Just look at this brick, do you think it could make someone’s brains go splat with one hit?

2. This brick is more of a block, kind of like the blocks that karate men break in high school gymnasiums with the power of God, but it’s a little closer to what we’re looking for. Not only is it bigger than a person’s head (very important), but it looks like it could really do some damage to a skull (also important). To be clear, we’re not trying to smash someone’s head or turn their brains to mush. It would just be great if the big brick we buy can do that as well as our intended application which is none of your business.

3. Okay so this big ass brick is actually kind of perfect. It’s clearly got enough chunk to it that a human skull doesn’t really pose a threat, and it looks like it can be sprayed down pretty easily clean it off in case it gets too dirty (let’s just say with brains, viscera, or general human meat).

Thanks for all your help with buying our new brick. Don’t worry what we’re using it for because it’s not a big deal.

I’m standing in a field near Chico, California with Aileene McConnley. She hands me one of those white air filter masks that people wear while they’re mowing the lawn. “See those?” She points at a pair of white streaks that crisscross each other in the sky. “The trails are going to be heavy today.” When I ask what exactly it is that chemtrails do she scoffs at me and hands me an already opened umbrella.

 “That’s the thing,” she says, “It’s easier to tell you what the trails don’t do.” McConnley says that in some instances chemtrails are meant to seed the air and force rainfall, although in some parts of the country the trails release “nanites” that work their way into the heads of unsuspecting victims and attach themselves to their brainstem. “From then on you vote for who they say you vote for and buy what they want you to buy.”

 As she explains the far reaching implications of chemtrails a plane passes overhead. She hands me a gas mask, which I fit over my head. It makes it hard to hear what she’s saying but I can’t deny that the air suddenly tastes much cleaner. I think back to all the times I’ve stood under a trail pocked sky and breathed in deep. Am I infested with nanites that tell me where to shop and where to eat? I say the exact thing that I just typed out loud, posing it as a question to McConnley and she responds, “probably,” as she drapes a rubber suit over my body and attaches an air pump to a tank that she was keeping in her trunk. I feel much safer now.

Here at Kill Pretty we love crime. It’s the best. Regulars and normals may have an aversion to theft, thieves, and crime-doers but not us. That being said, we also believe that some people deserve to burn in Hell for eternity for their sins against Heaven and possibly even Christ. We’ve rounded up five thieves who deserve to burn in Hell, but not for the crime of committing crime.

This mask clad crime man may have stolen a big bag of laundry from the washing place, but that doesn’t mean he should burn in Hell for eternity. So what did he do to deserve an infinite amount of poking from the big red guy? War crimes in Austria! Specifically, he ate the Queen of Austria when he was specifically told not to during World War II.

2. We don’t condone stealing your girlfriend’s wallet while looking at a fountain during a romantic date or moment during the day, but that’s not going to keep you away from the gates of Heaven. But you know what will? Drowning a pile of dogs and blending them into a dog smoothie and then serving the dog smoothie to the former owners of the dead dogs.

3. To be totally honest, this dork deserves to be ripped off because he’s just leaving his credit card around a guy wearing a mask who’s clearly interested in crime. The one thing he can’t know is that the crime man has wished every day to burn in hell and for that constant drive towards a goal he’ll be rewarded with an eternity of working the heat gauge in the Devil’s best demon room.

4. Wow. Can you believe the gall of this beautiful thief? It’s may be against man’s law to steal from people on the street, but God doesn’t care. Like, at all. He (and never forget that God IS a He), has a major problem with anyone who says the cuss “Shit-Dong.” As in, “That guy over there is a shit-dong, I’m going to steal his wallet.” So that’s why she’s going to Hell. We’ll be fine because we’re quoting this lovely thief and not saying the cuss ourselves.

5. Haunted by his life of crime, this thief will burn in Hell for the sin of coveting his neighbor’s ox. Suicide is actually fine because of overpopulation.

Whoa. Time flies y’all. It’s so crazy that it’s been more than 30 years since Star Trek: The Next Generation gifted viewers with that sexy ass, goo covered Klingon demon Fek’lhr. Was it even legal in 1991 to put something so hot on TV?

What. The Fuck. Look at those hairy ass legs and all that goopy snot dripping from his face. Is it hot in here or is it just me? Sorry guys but I’ve got to log off and go beam myself up, if you catch my drift (what I’m saying is that I’m off to masturbate to these pictures of Fek’lhr).

It’s tough to write a new article for Kill Pretty every week. Aside from coming up with a funny concept our writers also have to find a tone of voice that’s both disaffected and slightly acerbic. It’s not an easy job. Seeing how America is sliding into the July 4th weekend and Kill Pretty’s office are located in America, if you count Los Angeles as America (ha ha ha, a little joke), we figured that if we’re going to coast on one of our classic Friday articles then we might as well do it when no one is online. Without further ado here are a few pictures of people who don’t feel so well and some funny little commentary to go with it.

Wow. This lady is not having a good time. Probably because she’s about to throw up and that’s something that most people don’t enjoy doing. If you are the kind of person who enjoys that kind of thing (vomiting) then you’re probably really into this stock photo and we’re not here to put a judgment value on that! But you do have to admit that you’re a little freak.

Whoa. This guy is definitely having a bad day, not because he’s about to throw up in his favorite red bucket but because he found out that he’s been living in a Truman Show scenario and that all of his friends are actually paid actors and his wife is a paid actor and even his dog is a paid actor. This news is so upsetting that his entire body is revolting, guts and all.

Okay I think this guy is faking it.

They (scientists) say that it’s impossible to vomit so hard that your fillings fly out of your teeth and into the big green bucket, but that’s exactly what happened here. This man has puked so hard that all 27 of his fillings have flown out of his teeth and into the big green bucket. If they (scientists) can be wrong about something as simple as this then what else are they wrong about?

Ha ha ha this is just a little joke. It’s a puppet that can’t actually vomit or puke or even barf but I think you’ll agree that it’s very cute to make an inanimate object look like it’s having one of the worst mornings of its little life.

As of now the cats are quiet. Maybe they’re asleep. Maybe they’ve moved on from the sidewalk outside my front door to catch a mouse for breakfast. Is that a thing that cats really do, catch mice for breakfast? Fry them up with eggs to make their mouse omelets? Or do they simply feast on whatever isn’t rotting in an alley? The cats who lounge outside my apartment at night are demons straight from Hell so nothing would surprise me.

At night I hear the cats mewling. It starts with QB1, the alley cat who’s called this neighborhood home long before I moved in. Am I the interloper? Is that how he sees me? I don’t really care, I’d just like him to shut up. Back to the beginning of this paragraph: QB1 stalks the edges of my home, meowing to alert his friends to his presence. “I’m here. It’s time to begin our ghoulish ceremony.” He repeats this sentence for close to an hour before the others arrive. When his fellow cats come to his side it’s all at once as if they dropped out of the sky or teleported into their preferred area of ritual. It would be awe inspiring if it weren’t happening feet away from my front door.

The ever growing mass of cats sits in the shape of a Maltese Cross, their faces inches away from one another, from the moment that the sun is nothing more than a glow in the western sky to the moment when the sky turns purple. The brief transition from night to day. The cats sometimes speak telepathically. About what, I don’t know. However many of their hours spent in front of my apartment are spent hissing and growling in strange accents. Maybe German? Maybe something older? I’ve stopped shooing the cats away. They return more powerful each night to continue their ritual. I’ve slowly adjusted to their presence even if they continue to make me uncomfortable. Am I under their spell? Has my nervous system adjusted to the felines? Am I smoking too much weed? I’m afraid there’s no satisfactory ending here. This is only a report from the streets of Los Angeles.

Issue Six of Kill Pretty is full of interviews with some of our favorite artists, but our write-up on BAER is not to be missed. Our lengthy discussion touches on everything alien abductions, to sex, and we might talk about art but mainly we just stick to talking about the first two things (alien abductions and sex). Cheapos can check out some of the interview here, but if you want to read the entire piece you’ve got to buy the magazine.