Where the Brain Goes, the Heart Will Follow 
 
Author: docfarquar
Email: docfarquar@my-dejanews.com
Date: 1998/12/19
Forums: alt.tasteless 

I don’t remember what I was doing when JFK was shot, but I’ll never forget
what I did afterward. As a young intern at Bethesda Naval Hospital, I
happened to have the duty when the ex-President’s cadaver was brought in for
the autopsy. The details of that are public record, so I won’t rehash them.
However, there is one anomaly which has intrigued so many for so many years:
the disappearance of John F. Kennedy’s brain. And I know what happened to it.
I should, because I still have it.

Pandemonium reigned during that hectic time. Admirals vied for positions of
power, doctors scrambled to put their vast wells of knowledge to the test,
nurses panicked, the free world hung on the brink of disaster and I was
eating a peanut butter, pickle and cheese sandwich when I got the call: the
autopsy was complete and now would I for crissakes clean up the fuggin’ mess
and make sure fer gawdssake I didn’t misplace anything, Farquar you miserable
bastard. So I did and I didn’t. Misplace anything, that is. But that brain
intrigued me. I mean, sure, it was a little fucked up what with the bullet
hole and the spattered lobe, but, Jesus!, it was JFK’s! I mean, this was the
brain that boosted the US space effort, won the Cuban Missile Crisis,
masterminded the Bay of Pigs, came up with “Ich bin ein Berliner”, and
channeled massive quantities of blood into the Presidential Pecker to the
delight of Ms. M. Monroe and countless other cuties. I was in awe. I had to
have it. I had a raging erection. So I fucked it.

I slowly inserted my turgid penis into the entry wound and watched in
fascination as the right parietal region swelled. The tip of my dick forced
blood and brain cells forward on the instroke and produced an extremely
satisfying sucking sound as I withdrew. In and out, slowly at first, then
faster, I shook with paroxysms of pleasure until the climactic moment arrived
and I spurted deep into the former Commander-in-Chief’s beautiful brain. Oh
God, it was great! I was ecstatic. I was invincible. I was in love. I was in
deep trouble.

“Well, that does it”, I thought, as my prick slowly dwindled and dropped out.
Flecks of gray matter, blood, and semen slowly oozed from the ersatz cunt. “I
can’t let anyone find out about this. I have to get rid of it”, I mused. But
I couldn’t just trash it. Someone might find it and, besides, it was the best
fuck I’d ever had! So I stole it. A simple matter, really. In all the
confusion and to-do surrounding the events of those days, no one noticed me,
so it was easy to put it in a jar, cover it with formaldehyde, place the jar
in my bag and carry it home.  It’s there now.

My love is undiminished and the brain and I still enjoy wild love-making
sessions well into the night. Of course, in my advancing years I’m not as
full of vim and vinegar as I once was. And the brain, well, the formaldehyde
has helped, but I couldn’t always get all the semen out and a few  rather
ill-advised attempts at douching it with Summer’s Eve didn’t help much. So
it’s seen better days. But we still celebrate every November 22nd with a
candle-lit dinner followed by tender love-making. Then we watch the Zapruder
film. I wish I had gotten Oswald’s brain, too. JFK’s brain would have
forgiven him, I’m sure. And I think I’d like to try a threesome.