Butter Knife Bouncing Dies On Dull Points 1990-2022
Buster Cherry, the choleric butter knife wielding bouncer whose claim to fame was being a foot fetish model to internet degenerates, finally got his permanent identification Thanksgiving. He was found dead alongside his beloved gerbil from asphyxiation complications ingesting a limited edition turkey flavored condom from a vending machine at the prophylactic age of 32.
Distant coworkers reverently remember him as a staph infection that wouldn’t quit. Estranged relatives describe him as the most compelling reason why abortion should be legal after the ninth month. Despite shared consensus from neighbors that his remains aren’t even fit for crows to pick at, associates that knew Cherry consider him buying the farm an early Christmas present for humanity.
The middle child of parents that never claimed him after conception, Cherry’s early years were spent learning the importance of civic activism. His father Buck Cherry was the founder of the Denominational Liberation Navy, an anti-surreptitious insurgent group dedicated to overthrowing the government’s control of open seas through maritime houseboat revolt. After being incarcerated for the remainder of his life on a morals charge smuggling canned mackerel inside his colon, Cherry bounced from pillar to post with his siblings as his mother, Golden Cherry, attempted to support them on her meager earnings collecting glass bottles for recycling.
Dumpster diving for pennies was the stroke of luck Cherry needed to find his alternative God. Parishioners from the SCUM Church of God Hates Men welcomed his family with open arms after catching them sieving discarded cooking oil for topical ointment. Founded by Valerie Solanas, Cherry took to the teachings and gave his life over to the religion. At age eleven he was a preaching prodigy, stirring up the congregation with moving benedictions from the church’s SCUM Manifesto bible. Sources say not a Tuesday worship commenced without Cherry’s sermons brooding on the deterioration of modern life from masculine sin. Sources say he was groomed in several menial waged jobs that included praying over holy piss and reproducing castration literature in preparation for saint eunichhood.
Cherry’s teenage years found him on a mission of faith from his higher power; under spiritual advisement he dropped out of high school for a part-time position at a wayward 1980s camp for unwed lesbians. The position showed his high level of leadership aptitude until an act of faith with a holy butter knife led him to maim a teen couple having sexual relations with their dirty pillows. Despite having no prior criminal record, his subsequent arrest and politically motivated incarceration led to a seven year stint at a boys home for troubled religious youths of which his rectal cavity never recovered.
Abandoned by his mother and his religion, Cherry used his stint of incarceration to prepare himself for the adult world waiting for him upon release. Trained to do nothing but hate men he gravitated into prison martial arts in hopes of potential employment as a stand in heavy bag at boxing establishments. Try as he might to learn the fine art of taking a punch, fate had other plans for him. Former prisoners say he became a master kitchen utensil wielding maniac with dull cutlery that couldn’t even cut butter. His dedication and drive led to a solitary confinement interment that allowed him to work on his upper body development and get into the best physical shape of his life.
After serving his time, a parole based prison work release stint at Jack Hoff’s Spit Shoot Car Wash gave him adequate employment to the level of abject poverty he’d grown accustomed to his entire existence. Playing in the water was beneath him but led to a once in a lifetime opportunity for his dilapidated, toe jammed, train wrecked heels to spark the attentive proprietor of an eighty and over foot fungal fetish model for feet freaks sex site. With no lotion and lots of crust Cherry was a hit, earning enough income to afford eating off any fast food restaurant’s dollar menu once a day. Grateful fans petitioned for his employment at Chafey’s, which led to his introduction into the seedy underworld of nude foot to ass exploitation.
“Have you ever seen an elephant’s ass? Those were Buster Cherry’s foots!” said Jim Shue, owner and operator of Chafey’s. “I had seen him in one of those foot flicks. I figure with clog hoppers like his he would be good at kicking the drunks in the ass. So I brought him into the stripper world bouncing hard dicks on their hard asses. Money was flowing longer than Viagra jizz with those eagle claws of his!”
Feet industry life was hard for Cherry; live cam accident involving rusty nails for metal aficionados led to Cherry contracting the nastiest bout of tetanus seen in the United States since the 19th century, effectively ending his career. With the support of his die hard fan base he returned triumphant to Chafey’s, taking the bouncer profession to another level. According to his parole officer, he enrolled in several mail order tough guy training programs to be certified at any door of ill repute. His hard work to earn a nonaccredited education paid off, resulting in Cherry being an afterthought temp hire in every foot fetish strip joint in his neighborhood.
Buster Cherry found himself choking to death on life’s little turkey flavored prophylactic joys resulting in his final dull cut. While celebrating his first thanksgiving having his own abode in the storage room of Chafey’s he prepared a spread of his childhood favorites including boot soup, which he brewed with limited edition holiday flavored condoms from the bathroom vending machines to familiarize his palette with super tasting. According to his autopsy stomach impactions from ingested lambskin led to involuntary spontaneous colon rupture during his first fancy feast of all foot saints, killing him instantly. His beloved gerbil Slappy was by his side, ensuring no food he lovingly prepared went to waste. Cherry’s death is a brutally staunch reminder that boots are made for walking, not eating.