i'm not sure how long i've been sleeping for when i decide to roll over and check my phone that has been dropped so many times it is permanently set on silent. it's 11:30 on a friday night so i've been asleep for three hours. once friday comes around being asleep by 9 is a set routine thanks to a new landscaping job. counting by the days of the week or weeks in the month the job seems to get easier as time goes on. isolate an individual day and it's close to but not quite the opposite. if it was the opposite you would think by each hour's passing it would gradually get worse, as if each hour was one floor down on the elevator of dante's inferno parking garage, but this is a job and there's very little logic in the world of jobs. there's really no words to describe what takes place when such a change swiftly occurs after a twenty minute climax known as lunch.
LUNCH
directly to the left of the 11:30 time on my cell phone is the new text message symbol.
Christineeeee (916 227 5433)
how's the party?
- i'm not there yet. let me know how it is after you talk to someone who is.
Christineeee (916 2i2clearly7made5this4up33)
your brother says he's there and it's kool
- if you go we should car pool
at this point i have not consumed food since 5pm and she's on the way over. i quickly shower using the shampoo from my hair to double as body soap and only stopping at the essentials armpit-armpit-balls rinse. with no time for real food i take a vitamin c pill and one of my nephew's peanut butter ritz bitz snacks, that are otherwise reserved for his fourth grade lunches. i down both with with a glass of water and get a text that she's outside before i've realized the water came out warm from the faucet. the car ride conversation was just like any other conversation that happens between two people that have hooked up when they were young, each later being guilty of hooking up with their counter part's sibling, oh and a friend for good measure. everyone knows how that conversation goes down so i can skip ahead. we arrive and i part ways with my chauffeur christine for the night. everyone i meet has hit the stage of annoyingly drunk. one girl in particular is flirting with the line of emotionally unstable.
the girl wasn't new to me. she was the same girl from my first experience of combining roofs and sex, and has played a role in other stories. just the previous weekend i ignored her while i was out with my ex girlfriend which i think may be playing a part in the craziness i see in front of me on this night, but to let me walk around guilt free i'll rationalize that it's problems with her own ex who is at this party i'm at now. whoever is responsible is probably an ******* in some sorts because she's now in the driveway sitting against the front wheel of a car crying with only her friend willing to console her. a wiz khalifa "the thrill" and a blackout later i'm in a back room alone with her. i'm not sure how we got there but i am sure i couldn't name three pokemon, which as far as i'm concerned is the truest field sobriety test, but i manage to mumble something to the effect of
"condom. we need one but there's none. i know there isn't one and we need one because of joe rogan. yeah joe rogan that's why. give me head"
as far as i know that while drunk works the same as "it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are" to someone sober. my sample size is limited to one emotionally unstable drunk but i'm now laying back with my eyes closed getting worked on down below so you write the conclusion. i'm out of my mind drunk. i can't even tell if my dick is hard so i keep looking down to confirm it for myself. at this point i know there's no way i'm finishing. wait! she's already giving me head, and 69 is my favorite position from back when i had a girlfriend, so drunk logic says i'm only one step away from cumming. i think it goes without saying that the rule of eating out a vagina is only doing it with someone you trust or my personal rule is only a girlfriend. just like you need someone to tell you not to drive after "the thrill" you need someone to speak out on this. i didn't bring a car to this party so i'm now 69'ing. she's working harder on me now that she's getting something in return but it's not enough. in the closest i'll ever get to my ape instincts i flip her over and put in hard thrusts from behind. savage thrusts from behind. i'm gaining leverage by using one hand against the wall for support. i pull-out out of instinct and finish on the side of a bare leg as reality starts to creep in. i thought i told myself only condoms from here on out? before i can even reprimand myself i notice there's blood on my hands. not figuratively but literally. flash backs from falling on the street cutting my hand with a bombay bottle come rushing through me. i manage to let out a what the ****. i look down and that situation is covered in blood as well. what the ****. wait really what the ****. while finding articles of clothing and putting them on she sheepishly says i tried to tell you. tried to tell me? when? wait what the **** was it another time or did i go down on her tonight? i rub the only non infected area, the back of my hand, onto my face. it goes from white skin to indian war paint. what the ****. oh what the ****. i grab my pants that have my boxers inside of them and go to the bathroom. putting neither on but instead using them as a shield for my bloody embarrassment. i walk into the bathroom and flick on the light switch in a simultaneous motion as i turn to my left where i know the mirror is. what the ****, what the ****, wait no. oh my god i'm going to... i put my head down to the toilet and brace myself for volcano to erupt. nothing comes out.
i want to stress i haven't sobered up at all through this so logic is more out of the window than any job world that could exist in any universe.
i must have swallowed some of the blood during this experience. oh god i have aid's guts. huaahhhhh echos as i dry heave by the toilet. i need this out of me it's the only way i can live with myself. i've stuck my finger down my throat to get rid of alcohol before surely it's the same. i stick the finger down and nothing comes up. wait.. there's nothing to even come up i only had ritz peanut butter crackers that are proportioned for fourth graders. wait something even more alarming is setting in. oh god! i just stuck a vagina blood finger down my throat. what a twister mind ****. huaaaahhhh! the only thing that could have saved me was the very problem to begin with. i'm in my own personal SAW movie. i look to my right and i see the shower. i'll baptize myself away from this and at worst i'll slip on a bar of soap and end it all for good. i turn on the water, jump in and just begin taking water to the face. i have my face as close as i can physically get to that shower head. i first spit the water out as much as i can and then begin swallowing it which i can only now rationalize as a method of cleaning my insides or the weakest attempt at suicide ever recorded. as my head is held back and eyes closed my mind is going through all types of thoughts as fast as the water itself is coming down onto me. when i stop to crack a smile and think... i bet i look like a human blastoise right now. oh blastoise! only two more to go before i'm all good.
Last edited by GoodGame; 08-25-2011 at 11:47 PM.