A Curse To Craven Creators

Inspired by the 11th Century Malediction of Bishop Ernulphus, here's a

750 Word Contemporary Curse

To those persons with Literotica authorly ambitions, writers past, present and potential, scurrilous scribblers of sex, with vast unreasonable expectations of writerly recognition and wanton wishes for immortal fame, yet whose grandiose visions exceed their meager talents by immense margins, who find new and imaginative ways to violate time-honored literary conventions of the language, who recklessly run rampant through natural and normal rules of grammar, employ both clichés with impunity and plots rife with logical inconsistencies, develop character motivations of the flimsiest fabric, sodden prose of the most execrable flavour, stories of repulsive depravity - may you be cursed.

Those, who in their desperate attempts to elicit erotic emotions amongst their readers, deploy descriptions of female mammaries involving double-letters as adjectives, who cannot resist mentioning

membrum virile

dimensions of exaggerated and unwholesome magnitudes, who blithely toss around phrases such as 'well-hung' and 'cumdumpster' and 'bubble-butt' with willful abandon;

Who describe seminal emissions in terms normally applied to woven hemp cordage, who include descriptors such as 'passionate' without the slightest evidence of such in their characters, who mangle metaphor, abuse alliteration, sycthe through synecdoche, pulverise plot or otherwise desecrate normal accepted rhetorical conventions;

Those who cannot resist such tiresome tropes as 'poker night' or 'pizza delivery' boys or innocent church-going damsels who turn into harlots of unspeakable depravity at the drop of a condom or the sight of a well-slicked staff;

For sins against grammar, rhetoric and dialectic, and those authors dwelling in the Forum whose anti-socially mediated behavior devolves into name-calling, insinuations of ill intent amongst their authorly companions, who express hostility of astonishing intensity in hair-trigger situations of conflict, who routinely abandon benefit of the doubt, who hijack threads for tangential and unnecessary aggrandisement to their own meager and otherwise deficient abilities, who mention 'Wars' of celestial complexion or otherwise introduce popular cultural references of the most banal and plebian sort into discussions better devoted to the topic of the writerly craft;

To all these exemplars of human degeneration, may voracious lice afflict your most sensitive and hairy nether regions, may sexual pleasures become dry, painful and elusive, may malignant warts appear all over your most treasured parts, may your sense organs be rendered inoperable, not only now but for all time;

May you find yourself responding to the truculent taunts of trolls and making a fool of yourself for all to witness;

May this curse be eternal, may your organs of generation be festooned with suppurating sores, entrails pierced by a heated poker thrust through your fundament, your skin afflicted with boils; may your writing instruments of creation - whether these be accursed phone, tablet, laptop, even pen, pencil or paper - may these be engulfed in flames, reduced to cinders, rendered useless; may hard drives destruct, cloud storage dissolved into tiny, irretrievable droplets of disconnected electrons, and all traces of your misbegotten so-called erotica disappear from sight, memory, and existence itself;

May your community abandon you, treat you as the pervert you are, scorn and avoid you, spit upon your creations; let the townspeople's dogs and pigs trample your lawns, soil your doorstep, deface your possessions and property;

May your urge for hedonistic gratification be hampered, hammered and harmed, your lust laid low, your salacious sensibilities stunted, stymied and squashed like a cockroach under a boot;

May your service provider of internet usage sue you for content violations, breach of decency, obscenity, and desecration of culture; may your cryptocurrency investments turn to dust, all passwords become ineffective, your social media accounts hacked and made worthless;

May your dog leave you, your method of transportation break down, your spouse or lover betray you, leaving you naked and hopeless on the deserted road of life;

May your spouse or partner, legal or illicit, discover your clumsy clandestine efforts of erotica in a manner most given to embarrassment and laugh with scorn at your dismal stories of arousal, unbelievable and exaggerated; may your climaxes remain elusive, your excitement unbearable, your own satisfaction denied, yet your itch to produce literature shall remain incessant and unsatisfying;

May your misguided followers give up in disgust and abandon you; may commentary on your stories be those of the Loving-Wives readership, replete with scorn and derision, may you be despised by one and all, not only now but for all time, eternal and infernal.

May this curse be countered and lifted with the production of a single substance-worthy story.