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Chapter 1 - Enter the ManCannon
The Cannonman was not your average man. No, he wasn't even a man. He was a load. A huge ass load for
a huge ass cannon. That was the life of our dear cannon man. He worked carnivals, circuses, from
paycheck to paycheck, day to day. There were those who didn't care about him, in fact, there were very many
who despised him. But the bitches couldnt get enough of his cock. There's nothing more attractive to
a modern woman, then a hugeass human load being loaded into a mancannon and shot out into a trampolne.
When the women would watch him, they couldnt help their poes juices form getting loose, for the
entire act was one big real metaphor for a cumshot. All the money he got he spent in the pub. Jack
and coke was his drink, and on his birthday, he'd drink himself a nice little screwdriver. And on days
when he would be fired out of the cannon, he'd drink a vodka on the rocks, hold the rocks. The reader
may ask itself, why did he drink so much? The answer is simple; he was a miserable sack of shit
human being. Even when some hotass 10/10 topcunt was riding his cannoncock, she'd be smacking him in the nose,
spitting in his eyes, telling him what a piece of shit humanbeing he was. As soon as the bitch in
question would cum 5 times in the course of 20 minutes, she would hop of his dick, throw on her
clothes, and leave cannonman there blueballed and teary eyed. But he never cried. He became a master
of repressing emotions, and would only ever get teary eyed as if cigarette smoke got into his eyes
while he was chopping onions. His ex-wife wouldn't talk to him, she had moved to providence and took
the kids with her. Cannonman hadn't seen the kids in years, let alone talked to them. When the
children of the cannonman asked their mother who their father was, she told them not to ask such
stupid retard questions, and proceded to mock the children, calling them retards and making
retardesque grunting noises. The kids would cry, but they'd get over it, after all, they'd seen worse.
Their mother, Margaret, her friends called her margie. Not that she had any friends. She worked at
an Ice cream parlor. The masthead of the parlor read like this; Ice Cream Parlor (All-Out Balls-to-the-
wall Bonanza, (I'm a filthy little whore and I crave the cum)). That was her trade. 5 dollars for
a tripple scoop cone, 17 dollars to work her little whoreholes. The kids would sit at the tables in
the parlor, watching the men come and go, servicing their mother, sometimes even molesting them.
But they got used to the molestation, for this was all they knew, and anytime they tried to complain
to their mother she would just call them retards and mock them with retardlike grunting noises.
