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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.

 

A Duck Tale

9 Feb

mallard

 

A handsome adolescent Mallard duck was swimming in his pond lamenting the trash floating around him that was washed in during the last rain storm. He was surrounded by empty water bottles, empty trail mix packages and cigarette butts. These were all left behind by self proclaimed “nature lovers” who entered these woods to escape their own trash filled urban streets.

A small yellow duck caught his eye. The duckling´s movements were not very natural and it seemed to be swimming on its side. The Mallard swam over to see if he could offer assistance to the possibly injured young duckling.

“Are you all right?” The Mallard asked. No response was given. The Mallard dipped his head under the water and lifted up as to right the injured duckling.

“There you go, now you are upright my little friend” the satisfied Mallard said to his new young friend. There was no response from the duckling.

“You´re welcome” the Mallard said, a little peeved by the duckling’s lack of manners. The young duckling just bobbed up and down. The Mallard shrugged and swam away.

The Mallard went on with his day not giving much attention to the young duckling. As the day started to retire the Mallard noticed that the young duckling was very close to the shore bobbing up and down and still without any sign of a mother duck.

The Mallard swam back over to see if he could be of any help to the duckling. “Where’s your mommy?” he asked. No response. The Mallard was getting impatient. “I just want to help!” he said. No response. “Let me at least help you onto the shore. It´s going to get dark soon” No response.

With that the Mallard started to nudge the yellow duckling to even more shallow waters. He didn’t notice that sprinkled into the rocks of the shallow water was a lot of broken glass. As he pushed the yellow duckling towards the shallow rocks the yellow duckling let out a pssssssst noise. The Mallard noticed a bunch of air bubbles rise from the belly of his young friend. The Mallard went into a panic. He was frustrated with the duckling but surely he didn´t want to do any harm to him.

The yellow duckling started to flatten out and sink to the bottom of the shallow water. The Mallard was very upset. He had never caused bodily harm to anything save a minnow. He started to cry out for help.

In the meanwhile on the shore, two young boys laughed hysterically as they watched a Mallard duck quacking his beak off while nudging a flat rubber ducky.

 

Serfs Up!

7 Feb

serf

 

Merek was a serf that lived in what is today a suburb of Munster, Germany. He was tied to an estate owned by Lord Althalos where he had to work the land and hand over around 25 percent of what he produced. If you look at today´s tax rates, that´s not so bad, but it is beside the point. Merek was married to the beautiful Ryia. She was one of the most beautiful serfs in all the land. Her beauty transcended her poverty in a way that female beauty has a tendency of doing.

But like most men, 5 years after taking the nuptial nose dive, Merek grew tired of performing his husbandly duties with Ryia and his eyes grew for Duraina, the wife of his boss and essentially owner, Althalos. Merek knew that the feeling was mutual. Many hints were given. At the same time, there was a lot of social upheaval going on. They didn´t know it at the time, but the end of an epoch was upon them and the birth of another was awaking. Serfs were breaking their chains and going onto other fiefdoms in search of better conditions. In the way Merek was tired of making love to Ryia, he was tired of making such low wages.

He was being courted by the land owner Xalvador who was not only offering a more fertile land to work, but would ask for a lower percentage of the yield making the deal extremely attractive. Merek not only wanted to go to Xalvador´s land, but he wanted to do so alone. He knew what he would have to do. Althalos would never let him go and neither would Ryia without a really good reason. Merek thought he knew what would motivate them to let him move along.

Summer came and went and autumn gave way to a brutal winter. Spring offered much relief. As the land was thawing and Merek was preparing his tools to work the land a messenger came on horseback.

“Merek, you presence is being demanded in Lord Althalos’ main quarters” the messenger said gravely.

Merek prepared a snack for the day long journey, gave a kiss on the cheek to Ryia and was on his way.

He was met at the front door by Althalos who was red in the face from drink and rage.

“You bastard, lowly serf!” Althalos said. “I should have you burned at the stake!”

“Whatever is this all about, my lord?” Merek asked, faking ignorance.

“My eyes are blue and my hair, golden blond! The baby…well the baby has black peasant eyes and the dark locks of poverty!” Althalos was stumbling as he spoke. “You are to get off my land by sunset or you shall meet they maker”

“I am sure you are mistaken, my lord, but as you wish” Merek said, faking concern.

“As you wish” Merek thought to himself and had to turn his back quickly as to hide his grin. Both his feudal boss and faithful wife never wanted to see him again.

My Right Wing Canary

24 Nov

When I was young I had a canary who I wanted to train to sing. I purchased an audio cassette with mature birds singing because I read that would really bring the song out of him. When I would leave for school, I would put the tape on for him and off I would go to get my programming much like the bird.

Little did I know, there was a problem with my boom box. The function switch seemed to go from Tape to Radio by itself. Instead of hours of mature birds singing their mating song, my bird was subjected to hours of Rush Limbaugh and other conservative talk radio.

I did not realize this was happening and it went on for six months. That’s how many months the book told me to do this process. I stopped the planned training and waited for my ears to be tickled by the whimsical chirpings of my canary.

Weeks went by. Nothing. I was not too sad because my new feathered friend was a least fun to observe. And I was getting life lessons from caring for another living being. Then one day, something peculiar happened.

All of a sudden, my bird would make mildly racist comments. Out of thin air! He would also say disparaging things about the poor, as well. Not a single song sang, but there was a lot of talk about how great the Reagan administration was. That to me was the biggest affront to my young sensibilities. I detest poor revisionist history more than anything. It got really annoying.

What I ended up doing was giving him to the lonely old man on the corner of the block. He had one of those confederate flag stickers on his pickup truck so I figured him and the bird would get along famously. As for me, I got a dog and called it a day.