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Sniffing Out A Friend

17 Jan

dog-print

With his nose inches from the ground, Reilly followed the tracks of his best friend Shadow in the semi-soft mud. Even though he knew his nose wasn´t what it used to, he was sure he would find his friend. This isn´t the first time Shadow disappeared, plus it had rained two days ago making easier work of the tracking.

First, Reilly checked all of Shadow´s normal hiding places. He wasn´t in any of them. Shadow had a proclivity for going on mulberry benders. He innocently called it “gone berrying” but in reality it involved him going into the woods and eating fermented mulberries until he had no idea whose tail he was chasing. He would then return a few days later dirty, hungry and a little ashamed.

Next, Reilly checked a few places Shadowed has wandered off to after having had lost one of the normal paths. Shadows nose didn´t work very well. It had almost been bitten off cleanly by a badger and his internal compass was, at best, crooked. Reilly was at a loss. Where could his friend be?

Reilly figured his friend was not in the woods. Although he was truly concerned, he reckoned “Shadow does vanish often, but always manages to find his way home.” Besides, it was the time of year the bitches were in heat. Reilly couldn´t just let that pass by. He decided to call off the search and take a cruise through town.

After wandering around his favorite back alleys, abandoned lots and unfrequented parks and becoming increasingly frustrated that they were all crawling with more brutes than bitches, he decided to give this search up as well and go home. Along the way he heard the familiars yelps of new born pups. They were coming from under a half rotted porch of a house that years ago hosted a family of much more means than today. He decided to scratch his curiosity and give his blessing to the new parents.

When he popped his nose inside he was flabbergasted by the smell. “You dog you!” he cried as his tail went wild.

“I was gonna tell you but it all went down so quick” Shadow said with a bent smile.  The badger hadn´t only gotten his nose that fateful day. He paused as if he said something important to say and wanted the words to come out just right, “I want you to be the god-doggy” he blurted, his eyes visibly glassy from tears being fought back.

Reilly was taken aback. “I´m just glad you´re alive” he paused “and sure I will! It´ll be the biggest honor of this dog´s decade and change on this here planet” he said, not able to keep the tears lodged in his eyes anymore.

That was the last time anybody ever had to search for Shadow. They always knew where to find him, dutifully taking care of his pups and recounting his adventures in the woods.

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Home Is For The Birds

28 Jul

birds

Pilot and Skye had a beautiful home, high up in the trunk of a dead tree. A wood pecker hollowed out an already rotting part in search of a meal. He found what he was looking for and abandoned the site when the food ran out. It was  a perfect home for a young couple of swallows.

One day Pilot went out to look for some food. He gave Skye a kiss on the beak and went his way. He flew almost a full mile until he found a promising location. He looked around for a perch to assess the area. He saw a branch with a wide angle view of the ground below.

Already on the branch was a beautiful female swallow.  Pilot thought he should maybe find another branch but she waved him over with a wink.

“Hello” she said.

“Hello” Pilot said.

“Name´s Libi” she said.

“I´m Pilot” he said, blushing.

“That´s a strong name. Are you a strong bird?” Libi asked.

“Well, not really, I guess I can be” he answered. Libi stayed quite. She knew that silence can drive a male mad.

Pilot´s mind raced, searching for something to say, to break the deafening silence. All he could come up was, “Do you live close?”

“Close to what?” Libi giggled. Pilot blushed again. Libi leaned over and kissed him on the beak. An explosion of emotions rushed over Pilot. The thought that rose to the top was “What am I doing?”

Swallows are hard wired for monogamy. They take a mate for life. This went against thousands of years of evolution.

Pilot pulled away. “I cannot do this! I already have a female”

Libi said with a devilish look, “You do and you don´t now”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the moment you return home, your “ex” will smell my pheromones on you, so you don´t. But, you have me now” she said.

Pilot wanted to protest but he couldn´t. She was right. Dejected, Pilot asked “Where do you live?”

“I don´t have a home, dear” she answered. “You have to make one for us”

“Oh great…” Pilot thought.

Over the course of a week Pilot made a home just as good as the one he left.  Two days after, Libi kicked him out.

“I thought we were going to be together forever” Pilot said.

“That´s so old fashioned. That instinct must have passed over me” Libi said.

“What am I going to do?” Pilot cried.

“I don´t know. Do the same as the others. Go crawling back to your old home” Libi said.

“Others?” Pilot asked.

“Yeah, the others that I tricked into building me a house. I´m just going to flip it for some quick cash” Libi said.

Pilot wanted revenge but realized this would just get more of her pheromones on him. In fact, he was so busy working, he hadn´t had contact with Libi for days. He flew off to see if he could get his life back.

The Long Way Home

27 Jul

*note from author: I debated long and hard if I should post this or not. If you choose to read on, you´ll see it is pretty graphic. X rated, even. A part from a few details in setting, the story is fiction despite the opening line. I really want to make that clear. The exercise was to write a fist person, raunchy story. With that said, reader discretion is advised.

party

The following story is factually true. Take into consideration it is being told through the distorted lens of a drunken teenage boy. Seventeen years already has history distorting powers. Let´s take into consideration the alcoholic soup the story swims in. Reader discretion advised. Enjoy.

It started off as a typical Friday night. Warm ups included whatever was the cheapest thirty pack of beer the store had to offer and taking turns on the gravity bong. The gravity bong for the uninitiated is simply the most ridiculous homemade device for smoking marijuana. Google it. Ours was a one gallon milk jug in a bucket of water. The same bucket we used to clean the house. Who am I kidding, the house never got cleaned.

We were good and wrecked when somebody suggested we go to frat row in down town New Brunswick, New Jersey to “get fucked up”. We were all attending an educational establishment too embarrassing to mention here, so we piggy backed the party scene at Rutgers University. We decided I was not sober enough to drive so someone else, who was probably equally inebriated but could hide it better, did.

At this stage of my life, Friday and Saturday nights had two purposes. Get wasted on whatever I could get my hands and cumming. The former happened regularly, the latter, at least at the hands of others, not so much. We got to the party and I set my internal radar on drugs, alcohol and any girl with self esteem low enough to touch me. On this fortunate night, I scored on all three fronts.

As I said, full recollection of this story is impossible but some things are still clear. The girl I struck up a conversation with was blond, so skinny she could elicit pity and had awful teeth. I remember the teeth because this is a pet peeve of mine, but I was talking and she was listening so I looked away. I remember playing a few rounds of beer pong when she suggested we find somewhere a little more private to enjoy each other´s company.

The Rutgers frat houses are strange structures. They are the old mansions of Johnson and Johnson executives from a century gone by. They are full of little hidden hallways, staircases and rooms that are hard to imagine what purpose they once served. We found an unoccupied room that only fit a bunk bed. You had to contort you body just to get into the thing. Bingo! We found our love nest.

We started making out and I managed to get her clothes off. She was too drunk to get mine off so I was obliged to help. I don´t remember much from this passionate encounter but I remember a few things. First, we did not have sex. As you will see, it would have better if we had because I would have been able to break her evil spell, get away from her and the rest of the night would not have gone down the way it did. We were then interrupted by a chubby fellow and told to leave the ex slave´s quarters immediately.

I pretended to like her for a few more hours with the hopes that she would make that sneezey feeling in my crotch that seemed to be the focus of my life. The party was winding down and I noticed my ride had left. She offered her place to crash. What a coincidence. I wish I could give more details of what happened next but I really don´t remember.

I do doubt we had intercourse because no black out is stronger than an orgasm. No matter how drunk or high I was, I remember them all and file them to be later used in search of manual relief. When I refer to this night in my mind, a message comes up “file empty”. But the story does not end here.

I woke up in a strange place. I was cold. In fact I was shivering. I pulled the covers over my shoulders. Colder yet. What gives. I looked around. I was clearly in a girl´s room but there was no girl. I put my hand down on the mattress. I realized what had happened. Exactly what I feared most as a twelve year old when I slept over at friend´s houses had happened. I made water in her bed, Miss Daisy. It was a gusher too. Everything was wet. My mind raced despite the pounding headache. I thought about gathering my things and jumping out the window. We were on the third story.

I did what any honorable man in my position would do. I pulled my jeans over my pissed in underwear, put the rest of my clothes on and went down stairs. She didn´t even look up from the television. This I remember as if it were yesterday. I told it was fun and it was nice to have met her. I even remembered my manners and told her she had a lovely home despite the fact it looked like a future hoarders episode. It was a few years away from that but that´s ok because the show hadn´t been invented yet. Like the gentlemen I was, I offered my phone number. She told me to write it on the dry erase board on the fridge. It had the grocery list and I felt bad about erasing it so I left it alone.

This was an age before cell phones. I had no cash for a cab and not even the bus. I was a good five miles from where I lived. Talk about walk of shame? This was the Bataan Death March of shame. I put my head down low and took that walk. I threw up a few times along the way but I made it. I was greeted with a round of high fives. I regaled them with my tale and I was awarded the “green hit” from the gravity bong for my troubles.

Nice Cock.

19 Dec

rooster

Murray was a rooster. Actually, he still is but I am telling you a story and in the story, he was a rooster. He lived on a small patch of land in front of his owners house. Most of these facts indeed continue to be true but for the sake of the story I shall use the past tense.

Murray was admired by all the hens. He was a handsome rooster. He really cared about how his feathers looked. He was strong and had a forceful, beautiful crow. Beautiful to another bird at least. To a person they mostly sound exactly the same. Murray would always talk about a love interest on another patch of land as to not approximate to any of the hens on his patch.

One day when he was walking the parameter as he is oft to do he came across a hen with her foot stuck in the fence. Her name Jen. Jen was a voluptuous hen. Big, thick thighs, a bosom so full it made her walk with a forward tilt. Her feathers had a shine that she worked on all the time to get just right. Murray´s attention was her upmost desire.

Murray came upon her, “Hey, Jen! How´d ya go get stuck like that?”

“It´s embarrassing, Murray. I would appreciate if you help me out and then never speak of this again” she said.

“Oh, ok, Jen” he answered.

He scratched at the earth under her foot, nibbled at the fence, pulled her leg and worked to get Jen free. After a few moments of toil he had success.

“Are you ok, Jen?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. My leg is a little sore but I´m ok” she said, shyly.

There was an awkward silence broken by Murray “Well, I guess I´ll get back to my rounds, then”

“Not so fast” Jen said coyly “you haven´t let me say thank you” she continued with her head tilted forward and a wing stretched out just far enough that the tip of a feather brushed Murray’s beak.

Under his feathers Murray was blushing. “I can´t. You know I have a girlfriend”

“She doesn´t have to know” she said as she moved towards him. No rooster has ever rejected Jen. The tip of her feather left his beak and slowly made its way down his chest. Strangely, she felt no reaction from Murray. “What´s the matter, Murray? You don´t like me?”

Murray gulped hard. He could never hurt Jen´s feelings. He couldn´t hurt anyone´s feelings. He saw that Jen would not take no for an answer. With his heart almost working its way up his thin neck and out his beak he informed Jen “Don´t tell anyone…..” he paused. Jen got her hopes up, “This is really going to happen” she thought “A dream come true”

Murray continued “Jen, I´m sorry, but I´m gay”

 

 

 

 

Attack of the Killer Imagination!

11 Dec

teddy

“I wish he could talk to me” Ben told his mother. He was referring to his favorite teddy bear Chase.

“If you use your imagination, Ben, he can” his mother answered, barely paying attention to the boy.

Ben´s eyes lit up with the possibilities. His mother´s words echoed in his head, “If you use your imagination…..”

A few moments passed and Ben snapped out of his trance. He grabbed his teddy bear off the floor and told his mother he was going to his room.

Once in his room, Ben sat the teddy bear at the head of the bed as if the bear needed to relax. He went into his closet. He took a shoe lace from one of his sneakers. He proceeded to tie it around the bears neck.

“You´re gonna talk and you´re gonna talk now” Ben said.

The bear just looked at him with his plastic eyes reflecting Ben´s angry face.

“You´re gonna be a hero, huh?” and with that Ben tightened the shoe lace.

Still, the teddy bear gave no satisfaction to Ben. Ben wound up an elbow and struck it across the bear´s face. “Talk!” he said. He struck the bear a few more times.

“Okay, okay!” the bear finally said. “What do you want to know?”

“I knew you weren´t so tough!” Ben said, triumphantly. “I want to know what Mom got me for Christmas and I want to know now!”

“How the fuck should I know?” the bear answered.

“Hey, watch your mouth!” Ben said.

“It´s your imagination who is doing the talking, pal” the bear answered defiantly.

“Yeah, you right. But back to the subject. What did Mom get me for Christmas?” Ben asked again.

“I don´t know!” Either I am with you or I am in your room. It´s not like I can just get up and walk around the house you know!” the bear said.

Ben thought quickly. If imagining gets the bear to talk, then maybe imagining can get him to move. “You´re gonna figure it out for me one way or another” Ben said.

“Fuck you” the bear said.

“I said stop that!” Ben complained.

“Again, you are in charge here….Hello?!” the bear said in a snarky tone.

“True. But anyway, tonight, when my mom is asleep, I´m gonna want you to go into her room and look in her closet. I need to know what I´m getting” Ben said.

“That´s a stupid fucking idea. You know your mom is a light sleeper” the bear said.

Ben was furious at the bear´s foul mouth. He let it go this time. He simply said, “You´ll make it work. I´ll use my imagination”

Later that night when the house was quite and still, the alarm Ben set on his cell phone went off. He looked over at Chase the Bear´s chair but he was not there. With his legs still on the mattress he leaned off the side of the bed and had a look under. Nothing. He was sure he had put Chase in his chair before nodding off to sleep.

The he felt as if a small animal had jumped on the other side of the bed. He jumped up. There were no pets in the house since his beloved cat died three months earlier. Then he felt a weight on his chest and something fury forcing its way into his mouth. It was Chase!

“I am so sick and tired of you kid” Chase said as he shoved his arm into Ben´s mouth and covered his nose with the other.

Ben couldn´t make a sound. He felt powerless against the otherwise weightless bear. The more he wanted to struggle the more he could not. Tears were streaming down his eyes.

“This is just your imagination, kid” Chase said. “You´re in control here”

All Ben could do was cry. His head started to feel light. He couldn´t hear much. His desperation was rounding the curve and turning into an eerie calm. Then, he felt a vibration by his side. Then he heard a familiar music start to play. Softly at first, gradually getting louder.

All of a sudden he felt sweet air fill his lungs. He looked around. His face was dry. No tears had fallen. He looked to his side. Chase was sitting there just as he had left him there.

That day Ben decided to think twice before using his imagination.

Pot Apocalypse Part 1

7 Sep

Pot

It was 11:00am. Slim’s cell phone barely wretched him out of his cannabis induced slumber. Without even opening his eyes, he reached over to the nightstand and felt for his bong. Splash!

“Damn!” Slim said, now wide awake. Sitting up, he could see the mess he had just made. There was dirty bong water on the carpet and the smell was terrible. “Mom is gonna kill me” he muttered to himself.

He made his way downstairs to get some paper towels and carpet cleaner. He tried his best to avoid his parents. His father would be easy to avoid. He had gone off to work over four hours ago. His mother would be tougher. She was probably in the kitchen making the pre-preparations for tonight´s dinner.

He snuck around the corner and peeked his head into the kitchen. No one was there. He felt relieved. He grabbed what he needed from under the sink and as quickly and deftly as he could, which was not very after years of constantly being under the effects of marijuana, he made his way to his room.

As he entered his room, he was hit with the awful smell of the bong water. He thought to himself that there was no way his mother wouldn´t smell this. He was about to attack his problem when he realized something. He hadn´t smoked yet. For Slim, the most satisfying smoke was the one after he had just woken up. He forgot about the smell, the worry that his mom would find out and about everything for that matter. What he needed at that moment was to get high. So he did.

He carefully picked the buds out of the carpet that had fallen out of the bowl of the bong and put them back to where they once were. He went to the bathroom to replace the water that was now staining the carpet. He was all ready. He went to put fire to the bowl and click…No flame. Click…no flame. “Awwww!” Slim said aloud. His lighter was out of fluid. He got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed for his emergency matches. “There they are” he said to himself, or out loud. At this point, Slim´s internal dialog sometimes made its way out of his mouth.

He struck the match and a beautiful flame danced on the tip of the small piece of wood. Slim marveled at it too long and it burned down to his finger tips rendering the match useless to light the bong. He struck another, this time putting it directly on the marijuana and sucking on the bong. After three massive hits from the bong he felt that familiar tightening behind his eyes.

Everything slowed down to the speed Slim liked to operate at. Concentrating on one thing was no longer easy and that was comfortable to him. Now that he had that familiar feeling, he was ready to go about cleaning the mess. But Slim felt the urge to use the bathroom so he grabbed his cell phone and went. Slim was so engrossed in a video game that he forgot about the mess and his legs had fallen asleep. He looked at the clock. He had been on the toilet for an hour. In that time, he had smoked the other half of a joint he must have started yesterday. Or another day. He really didn´t know. But he was baked. That he was sure of.

He went back into his room to put some clothes on. He was so high, not only did he forget about the mess, he did not notice the putrid smell of bong water and failed to see the cleaning supplies he had left on the floor next to the mess. He did see the lighter on the bed and remembered that he had to go to the store to buy another one.

He got dressed and went downstairs calling for his mother the whole way down. He was hungry and wanted breakfast. There was no response. It was a little odd, his mother usually did not leave to do her errands without having given Slim, a 29 year old unemployed man-child, his breakfast. But, if she had something really important to do, she would leave cereal in a bowl on the table with the right amount milk needed in a Pyrex pitcher off to the side.

Neither the bowl, nor the pitcher where on the table. That was odd. Now Slim was curious. “Guess I´ll have to get that lighter on an empty stomach, then” he said, out loud. And with that he left the house, forgetting to lock the door behind him.

(To be continued)

Pot Apocalypse Part 2 

Dirty Work

15 Aug

maid

“It´s hard to pay the bills sometimes” Sheila said as she nervously puffed a cigarette and stared out of the window at nothing and everything at the same time. “You got to do what you got to do sometimes”

“Aren´t you ashamed of yourself?” Beth asked. She had just found out Sheila´s secret font of income.

“No!” Sheila said turning her head and fixing her gaze at Beth. “Not for one second”

“Calm down, Sheila. I am not saying that you should be. I am just asking as a friend”

“Well, stop asking. I don´t want to talk about it” Sheila said as she freed another cigarette from the pack and lit it with the burning filter of the last one. “What the fuck were you doing there in the first place?”

“I go there sometimes. That´s all” Beth said, now feeling the spot light of shame shining on her. “Listen, we all do things for money that we are not proud of sometimes. It´s ok.”

“No, we don´t! There are many people in this world that do not even have to do anything to get stuff. They were just born with stuff. They do not have to humiliate themselves ever and they even get to live better than those who do!” Sheila said now crying.

“Listen, Sheila, that´s life. Some people are born with everything, some are born with nothing. Some are born healthy, some are born dead! That´s just the way it goes. It is what it is” Beth stopped when she realized she sounded like a cliché reproducing robot.

“Well I was not born to greet people as they come into Wal-mart!” Sheila said, her eyes now furiously pouring tears.