The Aristocrats

I read an interesting article in the Washington Post the other day about a joke that's been floating around comedy circles for years, the only point of which is to be as offensive as possible. The initial setup and the punchline are always the same, but the middle varies from performer to performer. The article really explains it better than I can (or at least, better than I'm willing to). Either way, I figure now is as good a time as any to try my hand at it. One brief warning, though: if you are capable of being offended, do not read the following. Unless, I suppose, you want to be offended. Not that I really care...

*****

A family (mother, father, six-year-old son, two-year-old daughter, elderly grandfather, and German shepherd puppy) go into a booking agent's office.

"How may I help you?" asks the booking agent.

"We have a family act for which we'd like you to find us a venue," answers the father.

"I'm sorry," says the booking agent, "but family acts are a little, shall we say, passe."

"Perhaps," says the father, "but you've not seen our act."

"No," agrees the booking agent, "and I don't intend to."

"If you just give us a few minutes of your time," continues the father, "I promise you that you will see an act unlike any you've seen."

"Christ," sighs the booking agent. "Fine. But make it quick."

"We'll do what we can," says the father. Then, without skipping a beat, he removes his pants and his boxer shorts, bends over fully at the waist and, with a darning needle he produces from the sleeve of his tuxedo shirt, lances the enormous boil that sits next to his anal aperture. He catches the torrent of pus and sebaceous fluid in his cupped hand, stands up again, and uses his free hand to pry open his infant daughter's mouth, whereupon he pours the contents of his other hand into her gaping maw. The girl chokes and gags briefly, but soon enough has swallowed all the pus--and judging by the look on her little face, she seems to have enjoyed it.

At this point, the mother picks up the son, turns him upside down, and begins to pound his head into the hardwood floor, over and over and over again, like a piledriver, until the top of his skull is cracked and flattened and he appears dead. She drops him to the floor and, removing a pair of rusty tinsnips from her purse, gets down on her knees beside him, cradles his now pulpy head in her lap, and slowly, carefully scalps the boy, then peels away the skin from the crown of his head to reveal his freshly splintered skull. Using an oyster fork now, she meticulously picks away each of the skull fragments, eventually revealing the child's brain. "Your turn, grandpa," she announces calmly.

Grandpa, a distinguished looking septuagenarian with a full head of thick, salt and pepper hair and a luxuriant mustache to match, removes his pants, gets on his knees, and begins performing analingus on the puppy, which in turn is performing analingus on the father (enticed, no doubt, by the prospect of licking up all that salty sebaceous fluid still weeping out of the lanced boil). The father, at the same time, has lubricated his fist with a stick of salted butter and is now viciously punching his two-year-old daughter in the vagina. The mother, meanwhile, is holding the daughter and stroking her hair in a somewhat pointless attempt to stanch the flow of tears. While this is going on, the boy remains prone on the floor.

After a while, the grandfather is sufficiently stimulated and, erect phallus in hand, crawls over to the lifeless body of his young grandson and, after getting himself comfortably situated, grabs the young tyke by the ears and, mad with lust and rage, begins fucking him in the brains. It is a hideously messy undertaking, and by the time the grandfather lets forth a wild roar and, spasming like an epileptic, ejaculates powerfully into the hollow of his dead grandson's cranium, the inside of the boy's head looks like it is filled with cold oatmeal. Not quite sated, the grandfather scoops out handfuls of the stuff and eats of it greedily, until none is left.

The mother, meanwhile, has sought to satisfy her own urges by gradually coaxing the puppy's entire head into her vagina. Alas, as it is only a puppy, this does not quite do the trick, so the husband helps to butter their daughter's head and, with one great shove, insert it into the mother's ass. Driven into a frenzy by the paroxysms of the dog and the child struggling for air deep within the recesses of her foul lower orifices, the mother begins to lick and suck the brain matter off of the her distinguished old father-in-law's withered old knob. This fills her husband with both jealousy and desire. More aroused than he's ever been in his life, he bends his father over and begins fucking him so violently that one can actually hear things snap and rupture inside the old man. It does not take the husband long to reach the point of climax, but instead of cumming in his father's rectum, he pulls out, jerks the old man down to his knees, drives his throbbing member deep into the old man's throat, and erupts with such volume and intensity that the old man literally drowns in his son's semen.

The mother has by now reached her own state of bliss and, well satisfied, removes the dog's now-and-forever still head and her newly departed daughter's head from those places wherein they gasped their final, fetid breaths, and walks over to her husband. They look deep into one another's eyes for a moment, then share a warm, yet tender, kiss.

"Well," asks the father, "what did you think?"

"Jesus... Jesus Christ," mutters the ashen booking agent. "What in the name of God do you call that act?"

"Oh," replies the father, nonchalantly, "we call ourselves, 'The Aristocrats'."