Untitled (Part XI)

“Excuse me, sweetheart, while I pop my Cialis,” Harvey Whinestine said to Patricia. “They say that you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and medication. But I say that’s poppycock.”

The two were sharing a daiquiri and a plate of nachos at Chili’s before they went back to her place. Harvey’s wife was at home, so naturally they couldn’t go there. “I should probably pop a Beano too,” he continued, “don’t want to be bustin ass while we’re boinking.”

“Bartender, can I get a bourbon?” Patricia asked. Harvey disappeared to the bathroom while she pounded the drinks at the bar.

He reappeared minutes later in a panic. “I clogged the toilet,” Harvey said, “we better dash. Oh, by the way, I forgot my wallet. Can you pay?”

Instead of calling an Uber, or riding together in the same car, the two drove drunk to Patricia’s place in their respective vehicles. She arrived first.

The late Don Lemon’s 4 cylinder Honda CRV was still parked in the driveway, as was Kenny’s Del Sol.

Patricia rushed into the house to give warning to Eric. She found him still shirtless and cackling with Kenny. The two were covered in blood.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” she said, “but Harvey Whinestine is on his way. Unfortunately I have to fuck him to keep my job. So you two keep it down.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, for putting you into this situation,” Kenny said. “But Eric and me have been talking and we both agree: it’s time for us to grow up. So Eric’s getting a job, and I’m quitting the drugs. That is, if we get away with killing a guy.”

Patricia would have been moved by her son and lover’s revelations had she of not been so drunk and in a rush. “That’s such a relief…” she said, “but what’s this about killing a guy?”

At that moment, there was a loud crash outside and Harvey came stumbling into the house with tears streaming down his face. “I just smashed my Bentley Continental GT into a 4-cylinder Honda CRV,” he cried, “I just killed a guy!”

Eric and Kenny both smiled and gave each other a high five.

TO BE CONTINUED…

the first coming (part iv)

For the record, you’re going to hell for reading this.

“Great tits,” Geoff said while glancing through his binoculars.

“Excuse me?” Becky asked.

“There’s a titmouse nest in that tree.”

Being spurned by their original canoeing partners, Becky and Geoff were fuming while floating down river. Geoff was trying to forget that his sister was with a strange man. Becky, meanwhile, wanted to make that same man jealous.

She opened her cooler and dug out a few wine shooters.

“Have you ever drank alcohol, Geoff?” she asked.

“Never. The Bible forbids it.”

“But Jesus was a wino,” she replied.

Becky then stripped off her t-shirt, exposing her bikini top. Noticing this, Geoff shifted in his seat to hide his boner. “I think I’ll try one of those,” he told Becky.

“How old are you Geoff?” she asked.

“Almost 40.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“Once. I met her online. I sent her $10,000 and a picture of my butthole. I never heard from her again..”

“Aww. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Becky said. She stood up and removed her shorts, leaving only her bikini bottom. Geoff tried to disguise his glances as he sipped his wine.

“It’s a little warm out here Geoff,” Becky said. “Why are you wearing khaki pants and a pea green polo?”

“The Lord says that we should be modest at all times. I don’t even look at my penis in the shower.”

“God wouldn’t blame you for taking your shirt off.”

Geoff thought for a moment. Finally, he stood up and removed his polo, exposing his white, pasty body and hairy man boobs for God and everyone to see.

“Now that’s much better, isn’t it?” Becky said. “You can take off your pants too.”

Geoff took a deep breath, stood up again, and dropped his khakis. He sat back down in the canoe, wearing only his mildly urine stained tighty-whities.

Staring at his disgusting body, Becky continued to pound the wine. “Maybe we should stop off at this cove,” Becky said. The two paddled towards the river’s edge.

Geoff pulled the canoe out of the water while Becky laid down a towel in the grass. “Why don’t you come sit by me?” she asked. Geoff poked his glasses up to his face and waddled towards her.

Becky was relaxed while Geoff awkwardly sat up with his arms around his knees. “You have nothing to be worried about, Geoff. I don’t bite,” she said.

“Shucks,” he replied, “this is the closest I’ve ever been to a woman, other than my sister.”

Becky cozied up to Geoff and he began to relax a bit. Then she placed her hand on his thigh, uncomfortably close to his dong. “How do you feel about John being with your sister right now?” she asked him.

“Well,” he started to say while adjusting his glasses, “I don’t like it. Mom and Dad wanted me to look out for her while they’re gone.”

Becky took his hand and placed it on her boob. “And how do you feel about your sister?” she asked.

It took a moment for Geoff to gather his thoughts. “Uhh, well,” he said, “she never let me feel her boobs.”

“What do you think about my boobs?”

“They’re squishy.”

Becky removed her bikini top and Geoff quickly withdrew his glance. “You can look,” she said. Geoff slowly drifted his eyes towards her chest.

“Have you ever been touched down there before?” Becky asked.

“I touched myself once. It didn’t go well.”

“Well let me try”. Becky then removed Geoff’s disgusting, hole-y underwear which exposed his uncut, partially erect penis. The smell was ungodly.

Becky tried to hold back from vomiting as she placed his pathetic excuse for a penis into her mouth. Geoff thought that this was unnatural, but something was happening…something that he never experienced before. Becky stroked him once, maybe twice. Before he could say anything, 40 years of backed-up semen was UNLEASHED all over her boobs.

“Jesus Christ, Geoff!” Becky screamed.

“Wh-wh-what just happened?! Did we make a baby?”

“You did the right thing, Geoff,” Brother Ted said from behind the bushes. Startled, Becky instantly covered herself. “Were you watching us the entire time?!” she exclaimed.

“Sure was!” Ted said as he climbed out from the bushes. “And while I don’t approve of premarital sex, I think you two handled this perfectly.”

Geoff stood up and dusted the dirt off from his flabby butt cheeks. “How so, sir?” he asked.

“You see,” Ted continued, “Onan unleashed his seed all over the ground, which angered God. But you, Geoff, busted ALL over Becky’s boobs. This pleases God. And never mind my erection, it’s a side effect of my ED medication.”

“So premarital sex is okay?” Becky asked.

“Woah woah woah, I didn’t say that!” Ted said. “For the record, God says that a man should always bust in a woman for the purposes of procreation, and you SHOULD be married for procreation. Let’s just get that out of the way. But there’s a loophole: if two…or more…people are having sexual intercourse, if the man can’t bust INSIDE the woman, he must bust ON her. Additionally, if outside of marriage, all sexual activity must be monitored by one’s pastor. Or, in this case, me. This is 100% biblical.”

Geoff exhaled. “I am so relieved,” he said.

“I can tell! That was a lot of sperm!” Ted said. “But we got bigger problems: Alyssa and John are missing. We must find them before John deflowers your sister without my supervision.”

“No!” Geoff said adamantly. “They must not have any sex whatsoever.”

“Or whatever dude,” Ted said. “I’m just here to move the plot along.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

pennies for the dead (part iii?)

“Sorry babe,” I said to Sheila. “I got the whiskey dick.”

“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” she replied. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink before sex.”

“I wouldn’t know. Never tried it.”

Sheila climbed out of bed and got dressed. As she put her shirt on, she noticed the crap on the floor. “What’s this stuff?” she asked.

“Don’t touch it,” I said, “that’s a spirit box and a Ouija board. You might awaken a demon from hell. Trust me, that’s one can of worms you can’t close.”

“What are you doing with that?”

“It’s some case that I’m scamming *ahem* I mean helping some old lady solve.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh yeah, totally.” I looked over to the clock and noticed it was 7:30pm. “Speaking of, gotta get to work.” I got out of bed and threw my pants on. “You can stay here for the night,” I told Sheila, “but remember: DO NOT touch that damn Ouija board.”

I was running late. I had to meet Pete at the Morris estate where he was going to shed some light on Jezebel’s identity.

I arrived 45 minutes later. It was nearly pitch black. I grabbed my flask and flashlight and got to work. “This better be worth my time,” I told Pete.

“I told you that you’re not gonna need that .38,” he said.

“You let me be the judge of that.”

We began venturing into the woods. There was allegedly a cellar back behind the mansion that contained the remains of Jezebel. “I’ve been told all my life that this is an old Indian burial ground,” Pete said.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before I pissed on that hedge?” I asked.

“There it is,” he said. I shinned my flashlight in that direction. The cellar was only a few yards ahead.

“How far down is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I never been down there.”

I lit up a cigarette. “You go first,” I said.

Pete gathered up his courage and proceeded towards the cellar. He took a deep breath before going down the stairs. The cellar was deep. Too deep for my liking.

I put one hand on the .38.

Finally we reached the bottom. We were standing in a wide, musty corridor with multiple chambers. “What the hell was this place used for?” I asked Pete.

“Supposedly this was a torture chamber for runaway soldiers during the Civil War. Many slaves lost their lives down here.”

“Pete, I’m beginning to think that your family deserves to be cursed.”

“What’s this?” Pete asked. I shined the flashlight over to an old fire pit littered with ash and bones.

Then the cellar door slammed close.

I pulled out the 38. “Stay calm,” I said.

“I told you there’s something strange going on here!”

“Shut up Pete.”

“I can’t die down here! The Celtics are in the playoffs!”

“Pete, so help me god, if you don’t shut up I’ll shoot you myself!”

Suddenly my flashlight went out. Then something grabbed Pete. “Damn you Brad Stevens!!!!!!!” he screamed before disappearing into the dark.

I started firing indiscriminately into the shadows.

“Pete!” I screamed out.

There was only silence.

The flashlight kicked back on and I shined it all around the corridor. Pete was nowhere to be found. “Fuck this,” I said as I sprinted back up the stairs and to the car.

I floored the Geo Metro back to the apartment. I rushed in through the door and began frantically looking for the Ouija board. “Damn it Sheila!” I yelled. “What did you do with the Ouija board?”

Sheila stumbled out of the kitchen with a glass of wine. “The planchette began moving around,” she said as she slurred her words. “It started spelling out ‘You’re next’, ‘Hail Satan’, and ‘I heart ass’ I didn’t know what that meant so I threw it into the fireplace.”

“Sheila,” I said, “I might’ve opened a portal to hell.”

TO BE CONTINUED