Big Bill was out on I-90, fighting traffic again. Big Bill was more of a reactive type with no more malice than a school boy. He was only a problem because he stood three-stories tall and could dead-lift a couple Mac Trucks. My sister, Anna and I were more or less his babysitters, in that we figuratively put him to bed when he got up to nonsense, like tearing up the mall or in this case, flinging cars left and right. He probably wandered out on to the interstate and got himself hit. He’s a big fellow and probably would have done more damage to the car, than the car to him, but he’s reactive like I said and he’d probably he saw something like that as an attack.
The Army had redirected traffic away from I-90, which was all that they could do when Big Bill got in his stride. Apparently, Big Bill had a couple cars pinned down. They were flipped on their roofs and were crushed so the people inside couldn’t get out.
Anna was the better flyer and got down before I did, which I had advised against. Big Bill and her had a testy kind of relationship. She’s the type that’d break a jaw rather than let the owner talk. I could sometimes get Big Bill to calm down if I were alone, but that possibility goes out the window when she’s around. I was frustrated about that to start with, that she insisted on coming along. I descended down on a full mile of busted up road, busted up cars and torn up trees littering the road. I-90 stretched through miles and miles of maple wood forest and low hanging rock faces which kid came out to spray paint their names on. The sun was low in the sky and washing everything in dull shades of red and purple. Big Bill had gone off on the interstate, tearing up great chunks of pavement and driving cars into the dirt. A dozen roadside lanterns had been knocked over and sparked harmlessly like sparklers. Bill probably would have tired himself out if Anna hadn’t come. She had one of the torn up trees in her arms and she was swinging it like an oversized baseball bat. Big Bill took the hit she was giving and splinted the tree, sending wood shards all over. He was swatting at her like she was a bee. She was a quick one, so I wasn’t too concerned. Big Bill did end up catching her and she flipped him. His body hitting the ground shook the Earth beneath my feet, so I figured that she had him. I went to the trapped people and started flipping them right side up. Couple of the cars needed their doors ripped off. I personally hit doing stuff like that. People work hard for their money and Insurance Companies are bastards when it comes to paying out for repairs. My sister, who’d seen far too many Hollywood movies, was of another mindset. She was actually ripping more trees up out of the ground to chuck at Big Bill. The way I figure it, I pay taxes. Therefore, it’s partly my interstate, or at least the government is going to take money out of my check to repair the road and re-plant those trees she was breaking over Big Bill’s head.
I had freed all of seven people and all of them wanted me to fly them away. I used to not mind doing that, but if you so much as touch any of them, they start going around saying you’re their personal friend, or they start saying you copped a feel. It’s better to have the Army come in and take them off. Once they were clear, I thought ‘d help out with Big Bill who’d smashed my sister straight into the ground. She looked a little dazed, but she had worse. Bill was advancing on her and I flew up and popped him in the chin. His head snapped back, but he kept on his feet. He swatted me out the air and I bounced into the field that my sister and Bill had just made. I recovered before I got too far away from the action and then sped back at him, aiming for his gut. My shoulder connected with him and that sent him on his ass. By this time, Anna was up and ready brought him down completely, driving a fist across his jaw. Spittle flew from his mouth like in those Boxing movies and he thudded against the road.
“Eric!” Anna yelled breathlessly. “Took you long enough.”
The Army came rushing past us with their rifles drew once they saw that he was out. They carted him off and we had our post brawl thank you from one General or other. This particular one was surprisingly small compared to the one’s we’d seen. Normally they’re big fellows with their chest puffed out like blowfish. I offered my hand to the man and he shook it, not trying to overpower me like some of his predecessor had. Big man of power tend to make a bad habit of trying that with me and instead of explaining that my hands can crush diamonds into powder, I let them squeeze as much as they like. Anna got the same treatment and she’d broken a couple hands.
This particular General told me his name was Arthur Greenberg. I had decided I liked General Greenberg after Big Bill was carted off on a flatbed truck and my sister and I flew up into the night’s sky.
My sister and I were inexorably linked together or at least power wise. The best we could explain it, we were like battery chargers for one another. We didn’t grow up together. I grew up down South in Atlanta and went to school in New York. My sister, on the other hand, lived in New York and got arrested in Boston. Anna didn’t like talking about why she got arrested. What I gathered was, she moved to Boston with a man who ended up beating on her. She took this abuse for the whole a couple weeks before she got herself an idea to scare him. Or I believe that she meant to scream him. In any case, she was officially charged with Man-Slaughter. I don’t know how he died or how long she was in jail. All I know is, she found her way back to New York while I was still in New York and the two of us started to have dreams.
It’s a vague sort of clairvoyance that the two of us got. It’s hardly ever been useful except for us finding each other. That clairvoyance itched in the back of our heads like little bugs, invading our dreams. The two of us met in the world famous Time Square, with a bustle of tourists bumming shoulders with me and her. My eyes drew to her and her eyes clung to me. To the outside observer, that fateful meeting might have been confused for the beginning of a love story. She was a pretty enough girl with her long dark hair flowing down her back and her emerald eyes like pond water and me, I’d like to think I’m a good looking fellow. I’m a tall one with broad shoulders and I keep my hair short in the army fashion. That habit, I got from my foster-parents, an ex-military man and his wife. Well, the two of us went into a Pizzeria and made awkward small talk for an hour before she claimed that she need to be somewhere. The two of us somehow kept running into each other after that, in line at the ATM, at a corner liquor store, at the odd party. The way we figured it, we were two incompatible pieces that the world was trying to force together. We forged a flimsy sort of friendship based partially on her love of my beer and how neither of us knew our real parents. More and more people kept thinking that the two of us were siblings and it started to make more and more sense that we might be. A blood test proved it and proved that something was different about our blood. For one, they had trouble putting the needle in our arms. They couldn’t figure out our blood types and they noticed how rich our blood was with oxygen. If they tried to do the same tests now, they wouldn’t be able to. Our skin would snap the needles. That would be an issue, if we ever got sick. We don’t.
MATTHEW H. JONES presents...
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Excerpt From My Boyfriend Had A Kit
My boyfriend, Paul had a kit, which he hid in a closet in the basement. He kept the kit inside a locked box, but brought it out for me one night. It was a heavy thing and stank of tobacco. It was a bit big to be a cigar box, but had been fashioned to look the same as one. He had placed the box on our shared bed and creaked the lid open on its rusted hinges. He opened it so I couldn’t see and the deference he showed kept me where I stood. His fingers shook as they disappeared into the reddish wooden box. They reappeared holding a long folding knife. He opened the blade and placed it to one side. His hands disappeared again and another knife appeared. This one was smaller and had a clouded pearl handle.
Next, he removed a clear, plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol. Next, he removed a bundle of fluffy, white gauze. Next came a box of double-edged razors and scalpel in a protective plastic covering. Lastly, he removed two stacks of Polaroid photographs secured together by crisscrossing rubber bands. These he offered to me, his hands shaking. I undid the bands as he settled down on the edge of the bed, staring off toward the wall. The first photo was of a girl with blonde hair down past her shoulder. She was thin and beautiful in a sickly sort of way. Dark shadows hid beneath her eyes which made her smile somewhat hollow and eerie.
The next one was of the same girl, nude on a motel bed. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, concealing her scanty breasts. Her head rested atop her knees and again, she smiled for the camera. I could see every how thin she was. I could count her ribs and could see the sharp curve of her pelvis. The next photo was of her bleeding. Cuts etched along her breasts and arms, drizzling rivets down along her body. She bared her arms for the full effect and again, she had a smile plastered on her face. I looked to Paul, understanding, without asking, that he had done this. It was one of those understanding similar to fitting a puzzle piece and seeing that it belonged in that spot all along.
Next, he removed a clear, plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol. Next, he removed a bundle of fluffy, white gauze. Next came a box of double-edged razors and scalpel in a protective plastic covering. Lastly, he removed two stacks of Polaroid photographs secured together by crisscrossing rubber bands. These he offered to me, his hands shaking. I undid the bands as he settled down on the edge of the bed, staring off toward the wall. The first photo was of a girl with blonde hair down past her shoulder. She was thin and beautiful in a sickly sort of way. Dark shadows hid beneath her eyes which made her smile somewhat hollow and eerie.
The next one was of the same girl, nude on a motel bed. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, concealing her scanty breasts. Her head rested atop her knees and again, she smiled for the camera. I could see every how thin she was. I could count her ribs and could see the sharp curve of her pelvis. The next photo was of her bleeding. Cuts etched along her breasts and arms, drizzling rivets down along her body. She bared her arms for the full effect and again, she had a smile plastered on her face. I looked to Paul, understanding, without asking, that he had done this. It was one of those understanding similar to fitting a puzzle piece and seeing that it belonged in that spot all along.
Excerpt From Paranormal Magnet, Episode 1: “Mr. Alien”
Characters:
Ernest Jay Mason –
Alison Cole
Andy Murphy
Mr. Alien
ACT 1: SCENE 1 – ERNIE moves through the forest, a rifle in his hands. He’s clad in an orange hunting vest and army camouflage shirt and pants.
SETTING: A sprawling forest, evergreens ebbing in a gentle wind. Sunlight spills downward through the branches, causing the light to glitter on the soil and rocks. In the distance, a stream babbles and shimmers like diamonds.
ERNIE breaks though a thin wall of undergrowth and peers down the babbling stream. In the distances, a vague shape bows its head and drinks from the stream.
ERNIE aims his rifle, lining the shape in between his crosshairs. A crow caws and it echoes off into forever. Ernie pulls the trigger. The creature falls and makes an implicitly human cry.
ERNIE gasps, then drops his gun. The creature continues to make human noises as Ernie hurries over to it. As he approaches it, he realizes that it doesn’t look like a human being. Maybe a man in a costume? The creature writhes and cries, bulbous and gray. It appears more like a large lizard with long, strong hind legs. It’s tail swishes as it wriggles and rolls. Its blood is green and is splattered across the reddish dirt.
ERNIE – Oh, god.
ERNIE moves slowly to the creature, removing his hunting vest.
MR. ALIEN – (Long strings of improvised profanity mixed in between gasps of pain.)
ERNIE - (Notable fear in his voice) Are you okay?
MR. ALIEN rolls to look up to Ernie. His face was all large black eyes screwed up in anger.
MR. ALIEN – You shoot me?
ERNIE – (Stepping backward ) What?
MR. ALIEN – (Leaning forward) You shoot me!
ERNIE – (Stepping back again) No. No. Of course, not. I mean, I had a gun.
MR. ALIEN – Did you use it to shoot me?
ERNIE - I should appeal pressure to the wound.
MR. ALIEN – You really shot me. Motherfucker, you really shot me.
Ernie moves in and presses his hunting vest into the gushing wound on the alien’s massive leg. The alien twitches and moans as he presses down.
MR. ALIEN – (Pounding what would be an arm on a human against the ground.) Fuck you. That hurts.
ERNIE – What are you doing out here? Are they filming a movie or something?
MR. ALIEN – What the fuck are you talking about?
ERNIE – You’re in a costume, right?
MR. ALIEN – What the fuck are you talking about, asshole?
ERNIE moves his hand onto the flesh of the alien and instantly recoils, realizing that it’s flesh.
MR. ALIEN – Hey, pervert. Keep your hands under control.
ERNIE re-appeals pressure on the wound and MR. ALIEN moans aloud.
ERNIE – (Breathless) What are you?
MR. ALIEN - What do you think I am, dick-head?
ERNIE – (In a whisper) Not a person.
The two remain silent except for their shuttering breaths. A crow caws in the distance and sweat beads and rolls down ERNIE’s cheek.
ERNIE peers down a fleshy, cylindrical mass extrudes from between MR. ALIEN’s legs. The mass is throbbing and sliding toward ERNIEE’s hand. The fleshy mass pokes ERNIE in the hand.
ERNIE – Jesus. Is that…? Are you getting off on this?
MR. ALIEN – How could it be? I’m not a person, right?
The fleshy mass ebbs over ERNIE’s hand.
ERNIE – God, it’s warm.
MR. ALIEN – It’s not that bad.
ERNIE – It’s heavy.
Ernest Jay Mason –
Alison Cole
Andy Murphy
Mr. Alien
ACT 1: SCENE 1 – ERNIE moves through the forest, a rifle in his hands. He’s clad in an orange hunting vest and army camouflage shirt and pants.
SETTING: A sprawling forest, evergreens ebbing in a gentle wind. Sunlight spills downward through the branches, causing the light to glitter on the soil and rocks. In the distance, a stream babbles and shimmers like diamonds.
ERNIE breaks though a thin wall of undergrowth and peers down the babbling stream. In the distances, a vague shape bows its head and drinks from the stream.
ERNIE aims his rifle, lining the shape in between his crosshairs. A crow caws and it echoes off into forever. Ernie pulls the trigger. The creature falls and makes an implicitly human cry.
ERNIE gasps, then drops his gun. The creature continues to make human noises as Ernie hurries over to it. As he approaches it, he realizes that it doesn’t look like a human being. Maybe a man in a costume? The creature writhes and cries, bulbous and gray. It appears more like a large lizard with long, strong hind legs. It’s tail swishes as it wriggles and rolls. Its blood is green and is splattered across the reddish dirt.
ERNIE – Oh, god.
ERNIE moves slowly to the creature, removing his hunting vest.
MR. ALIEN – (Long strings of improvised profanity mixed in between gasps of pain.)
ERNIE - (Notable fear in his voice) Are you okay?
MR. ALIEN rolls to look up to Ernie. His face was all large black eyes screwed up in anger.
MR. ALIEN – You shoot me?
ERNIE – (Stepping backward ) What?
MR. ALIEN – (Leaning forward) You shoot me!
ERNIE – (Stepping back again) No. No. Of course, not. I mean, I had a gun.
MR. ALIEN – Did you use it to shoot me?
ERNIE - I should appeal pressure to the wound.
MR. ALIEN – You really shot me. Motherfucker, you really shot me.
Ernie moves in and presses his hunting vest into the gushing wound on the alien’s massive leg. The alien twitches and moans as he presses down.
MR. ALIEN – (Pounding what would be an arm on a human against the ground.) Fuck you. That hurts.
ERNIE – What are you doing out here? Are they filming a movie or something?
MR. ALIEN – What the fuck are you talking about?
ERNIE – You’re in a costume, right?
MR. ALIEN – What the fuck are you talking about, asshole?
ERNIE moves his hand onto the flesh of the alien and instantly recoils, realizing that it’s flesh.
MR. ALIEN – Hey, pervert. Keep your hands under control.
ERNIE re-appeals pressure on the wound and MR. ALIEN moans aloud.
ERNIE – (Breathless) What are you?
MR. ALIEN - What do you think I am, dick-head?
ERNIE – (In a whisper) Not a person.
The two remain silent except for their shuttering breaths. A crow caws in the distance and sweat beads and rolls down ERNIE’s cheek.
ERNIE peers down a fleshy, cylindrical mass extrudes from between MR. ALIEN’s legs. The mass is throbbing and sliding toward ERNIEE’s hand. The fleshy mass pokes ERNIE in the hand.
ERNIE – Jesus. Is that…? Are you getting off on this?
MR. ALIEN – How could it be? I’m not a person, right?
The fleshy mass ebbs over ERNIE’s hand.
ERNIE – God, it’s warm.
MR. ALIEN – It’s not that bad.
ERNIE – It’s heavy.
Excerpt From Speechless
The wind banged on the window like it had a grudge and was looking to kill someone. It might just do that, considering the storm behind its dusty, but blood-sticky surface. Beyond the window, there was a man stumbling around in the gale, getting the sense beaten out of him by hale and rain. Becky flicked her eyes to the door, making a silent command. Luke took up a poorly cut board up off the floor and then worked a hammer from his tool belt. The poorly cut board had a few nails peering out from it and Luke hammered them into the door and into the frame beside it. He doubled up on the nails with new ones from his belt, while Becky search for more boards to barricade the door with. They’d have to do the same to the window, which might have been bad considering that they wouldn’t be able to see strangers coming.
The man outside didn’t seem to be trying to make his way to the door that Luke was barricading. No, the man was just trying to keep his feet under him. He kept failing, falling on his backside and rolling with the violent wind. He got to his feet for a moment and caught a newspaper or a diaper or something white in the face and he hit the ground hard. He wasn’t moving for a while and Becky held hope that he had died. No Luck. He rolled on his belly and apparently realized that he’d have better luck with staying low. He crawled on his hands and knees toward the house and Becky made nervous puling sounds with pointing out the window.
Luke had the door secured and gripped Becky by the elbow, pulling her away from the dusty, bloody window and toward the stairwell. She understood what he might and started up the stairs, her feet pounding on the thin wood. Luke spun around, searching around for something to secure the window. He noted the man had made it to the porch and was soaked to the bone and was shivering painfully. Luke spotted the coffee table, made from particle boards and stained with blood and spilt milk. He lifted it to the window and put it up against the window, awkwardly driving nails through it and into the wall. The table didn’t much hold, but that was just to get it up there. Luke worked nail after nail into the table, locking the light out from the house.
The man outside had noticed the bang-bang-banging of Luke’s hammer and moaned aloud.
“No. No. Stop.” He said breathlessly, from the soaked, soggy wooden floor of the porch.
The man outside didn’t seem to be trying to make his way to the door that Luke was barricading. No, the man was just trying to keep his feet under him. He kept failing, falling on his backside and rolling with the violent wind. He got to his feet for a moment and caught a newspaper or a diaper or something white in the face and he hit the ground hard. He wasn’t moving for a while and Becky held hope that he had died. No Luck. He rolled on his belly and apparently realized that he’d have better luck with staying low. He crawled on his hands and knees toward the house and Becky made nervous puling sounds with pointing out the window.
Luke had the door secured and gripped Becky by the elbow, pulling her away from the dusty, bloody window and toward the stairwell. She understood what he might and started up the stairs, her feet pounding on the thin wood. Luke spun around, searching around for something to secure the window. He noted the man had made it to the porch and was soaked to the bone and was shivering painfully. Luke spotted the coffee table, made from particle boards and stained with blood and spilt milk. He lifted it to the window and put it up against the window, awkwardly driving nails through it and into the wall. The table didn’t much hold, but that was just to get it up there. Luke worked nail after nail into the table, locking the light out from the house.
The man outside had noticed the bang-bang-banging of Luke’s hammer and moaned aloud.
“No. No. Stop.” He said breathlessly, from the soaked, soggy wooden floor of the porch.
Where And When
Earth and Heaven would shake and burn. The indescribable fear would be pungent in the air and it’d happen far before anyone else would know about it. So reeking of that fear we walked forward in hopes of proving our fear unjust. The char and blood stained walls of the mausoleum proved a trusty sanctuary from the horror beyond the horizon. The screams of Geo rang in our ears and flooded our hearts with guilt and fear. At this time with hell about to erupt from the earth I couldn’t help but think of the way it began those 2 months past.
“SOLDIER!” yelled my father. I knew for a fact that he and myself were never enlisted in any armed forces, but he liked to pretend he was and I humored him. “Sir, yes, Sir, sir!” I barked making an over gestured salute. “State your full name, soldier.” This crap again I thought. “ Sir, Benjamin Soer JR Sir, sir.” He grinned and nodded “Good now remember that. I really don’t care what you become up there in Boston, just remember that soldier.” It gets a bit awkward when he gets to be sentimental. “Sir, Soldiers don’t cry, Sir, sir.”
“Of course, Soldiers don’t cry.” I thought I should try to get out of here before more feel goods came out his ass.
A few hours (6 and a half hours to be exact.) I was on my plane and waiting to take off. I was in coach and somehow ended up in the centerest of center seats between a fat guy and a fatter guy with digestion problems. I practiced Zen meditation and just with all my being wanted to find my core center. Remember your breathing, through your mouth, through your mouth I told myself. Breathe in through your mouth, breathe out through your mouth, and don’t think about being so god damn uncomfortable that you might kill someone. I repeated these words over and over again until I noticed the whispers. “Oh god, what is he doing.” I hear from one end of the plane. “Oh god, you think he’s going to try and hijack the plane?” A stuadess tapped me on the shoulder and whispered “ I really think any signs of religion would be a bad idea right now.” “ I was meditating?” I looked at her with all the fear and confusion I could muster. “ Still, It would be best to do that sort of thing in the lavatory.” I daftly nodded my head and climbed over fat guy A and made my way to the bathroom.
Sitting in that bathroom smaller than a coffin and that smelled just as bad, I realized that I could hear the wind rushing by outside. It wasn’t a very heartening feeling. I just wanted off now and than it happened. The entire plane shook and everything not nailed down flew everywhere. “Oh god, He set off a bomb!” I heard from the cockpit. I thought that I’d yell that I had nothing to do with that but I also thought I was about to die and didn’t see much point in it. The plane seemed to be in complete free fall and everyone (including myself) is screaming ourselves hoarse and suddenly it all stops. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to leave the coffin-sized bathroom but something was blocking the door. I tried forcing it and I heard a low hoarse groan and a guy shout "Stop!"
“Can you get up?” I asked, my face pressed against the door. “Can you get up at all?” I heard some shifting and groaning “No” I never thought myself clositaphobic, but I could actually feel the walls closing in. “ How badly are you hurt?” “I’m.. I’m not hurt, I just can’t get up.” “Why” Then that familiar smell crept into my nostrils. “Fat Guy?”
“Are we still in the air?” I regretted asking that question the millisecond it exited my mouth. “ I don’t think we are.” But that would have made no sense. We were I don’t even know how high in the air and we would all be dead if we were on the ground. “Are you sure?” Also a ridiculous question. “People are getting off the plane.” He said trying to get up again. “Why isn’t anyone helping you up?” I asked with my shirt over my nose. “Is anyone else there?” I shouted trying to get someone to free me. I was starting to freak out in there, desperate for clean air and a space wider than 2 by 3 feet.
I spent an hour just patiently waiting for someone to get him out of the way and when I got out I found he wasn’t as big an idiot as I thought. The entire plane was completely landed in a field somewhere in Ohio. On that day, for what ever reason no man made aircraft (not even paper planes) would fly.
But that was only the beginning, things took more clarity just before my friend Jonah’s death. He had described a dream he had. It involved the apocalypse and the horrors that would precede it. He spoke of a giant being with awesome and terrible powers. Its existence in this world would herald the death of millions and hell on earth. Jonah desperately wanted someone to believe him. He kept repeating that he knew exactly where it was going to start and that He, I … anyone needed to stop it from happening. Later that month, he was placed in an insane asylum and on the 31st of November, he committed suicide.
I spent time just thinking of the unfortunate way he had died. He spent his last days alone and considered insane. I wanted to see how much of what he said was madness and how much was fact. He had described a night in which there was no moon, but the sky stayed bright enough to see. The night would be cold and foggy. The creature of which he spoke would emerge from a mausoleum in New Jersey. He spoke of fanatics who would come to the beast’s aid and he spoke of the need for help. I found the mausoleum of which he spoke. It was nothing to be impressed by, but I did get the feeling of danger and doom from that place. I knew that something had or will have happened there. It’s Grey stones were completely engulfed in vines and dirt. It smelt of ash or soot and I feared approaching it.
Well, you can imagine what happened from there. I got that desire to find things out and got a couple friends together and we pried that thing open.
Oh, Geo. I mentioned him. Let me tell that story. This was the night everything was supposed to happen. We, Geo Joe Bobby, and myself had gone down into the mausoleum several times prier to this night and knew its ins and outs. But this night we weren’t alone. Outside sitting patiently and wantonly were thousands of cats. Just a ridiculous amount of them. So at this point, the score card read one for Jonah’s sanity and one for Jonah being completely insane.
“I thought you said Fanatics” Geo said slightly disheartened. “ I thought they were fanatics” I explained. Geo ran over haphazardly to the site hoping to scare the cats off. Poor Geo.
In moments, thousands of cats were pouncing on him scratching his face, eyes, ears, everything. Thousands jockeying for prize position on him. He screamed in horror for relief that could not come. Joe wanted to assist Geo and had to be restrained. Anyone near that horrible mass of fur and claws would suffer the same fate.
But something like that makes for a great distraction. We slipped into the crypt and closed the door behind us. But we could still hear him screaming for help. “ Christ, we need to help him.” Joe protested. “ Then go out there.” Kenny said “Hell no.” Joe retorted. I admit that I was ashamed to leave him there, but those cats weren’t messing around.
I closed my eyes and prayed for some kind of solution. Then the ground began to quake and crack and groan with the sudden ferocity of a car crash. The ground split open and black ash spewed from the ground and fire embers floated into the air. It stung at the eyes and we had to evacuate. We stepped around the ferocity of thousands of cats when the Geo problem solved itself. The cats poured into the mausoleum and away from Geo. Joe and I approached Geo after the bulk of the cats left him. Thousands of tiny cuts ran across his face, neck, arms and chest.
“It doesn’t look that bad.” Kenny said, half distractedly. His and our eyes and mind stayed square on the door to the crypt. The black ash died down and the earth steadied. The cats rushed out of the crypt as if in blind fear. The four of us watched as the cats raged past us and down the streets to where even they came from.
The next sound had nothing in common with the shifting of the earth or the spewing of ash but seemed to compliment them. As if destruction and chaos was it’s native tongue. Fire, that was all that could be seen, but it was understood that there was more underneath the flame, more than just mindless burning. Then the flame extinguished and standing there was a man, nude and chard. “Name thyself.” He uttered in his chaotic voice. “ Ben Soer” I said nervously. “Name thyself” He said again. We looked at each other and each of us in turn gave our name. But still he asked us to name ourselves. He stood there in the archway, smoldering.
“What are you?” I finally asked. “Name thyself”. I was perplexed to say the least. This man continued to say these three words without fail. Then I understood. “ I an Benjamin Soer JR, son of Benjamin Soer SR of the United States of America sir?” I had hoped he just wanted me to give my name and affiliation. “ I am the Dark traveler, the lone rider, The keeper of villainous men, The reader of dark knowledge, the mouth, mind and heart of the Apocalypse, I am Zelmone Tutimki” The man announced proudly.
I wondered if he knew that him being naked weaken his position of power. It seemed that he was going to stand there waiting for something. In honesty, he didn’t look all too formidable, more like bony. I thought back to the cats. “Jonah might’ve just been crazy.’ I approach the steps of the crypt and he began to back away until he was completely inside the mausoleum. I grabbed the door handle and closed the door. “ I guess Jonah was just crazy. We can go home guys.” I announced and we did.
We marched into the sunset fulfilled with our new knowledge.
“SOLDIER!” yelled my father. I knew for a fact that he and myself were never enlisted in any armed forces, but he liked to pretend he was and I humored him. “Sir, yes, Sir, sir!” I barked making an over gestured salute. “State your full name, soldier.” This crap again I thought. “ Sir, Benjamin Soer JR Sir, sir.” He grinned and nodded “Good now remember that. I really don’t care what you become up there in Boston, just remember that soldier.” It gets a bit awkward when he gets to be sentimental. “Sir, Soldiers don’t cry, Sir, sir.”
“Of course, Soldiers don’t cry.” I thought I should try to get out of here before more feel goods came out his ass.
A few hours (6 and a half hours to be exact.) I was on my plane and waiting to take off. I was in coach and somehow ended up in the centerest of center seats between a fat guy and a fatter guy with digestion problems. I practiced Zen meditation and just with all my being wanted to find my core center. Remember your breathing, through your mouth, through your mouth I told myself. Breathe in through your mouth, breathe out through your mouth, and don’t think about being so god damn uncomfortable that you might kill someone. I repeated these words over and over again until I noticed the whispers. “Oh god, what is he doing.” I hear from one end of the plane. “Oh god, you think he’s going to try and hijack the plane?” A stuadess tapped me on the shoulder and whispered “ I really think any signs of religion would be a bad idea right now.” “ I was meditating?” I looked at her with all the fear and confusion I could muster. “ Still, It would be best to do that sort of thing in the lavatory.” I daftly nodded my head and climbed over fat guy A and made my way to the bathroom.
Sitting in that bathroom smaller than a coffin and that smelled just as bad, I realized that I could hear the wind rushing by outside. It wasn’t a very heartening feeling. I just wanted off now and than it happened. The entire plane shook and everything not nailed down flew everywhere. “Oh god, He set off a bomb!” I heard from the cockpit. I thought that I’d yell that I had nothing to do with that but I also thought I was about to die and didn’t see much point in it. The plane seemed to be in complete free fall and everyone (including myself) is screaming ourselves hoarse and suddenly it all stops. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to leave the coffin-sized bathroom but something was blocking the door. I tried forcing it and I heard a low hoarse groan and a guy shout "Stop!"
“Can you get up?” I asked, my face pressed against the door. “Can you get up at all?” I heard some shifting and groaning “No” I never thought myself clositaphobic, but I could actually feel the walls closing in. “ How badly are you hurt?” “I’m.. I’m not hurt, I just can’t get up.” “Why” Then that familiar smell crept into my nostrils. “Fat Guy?”
“Are we still in the air?” I regretted asking that question the millisecond it exited my mouth. “ I don’t think we are.” But that would have made no sense. We were I don’t even know how high in the air and we would all be dead if we were on the ground. “Are you sure?” Also a ridiculous question. “People are getting off the plane.” He said trying to get up again. “Why isn’t anyone helping you up?” I asked with my shirt over my nose. “Is anyone else there?” I shouted trying to get someone to free me. I was starting to freak out in there, desperate for clean air and a space wider than 2 by 3 feet.
I spent an hour just patiently waiting for someone to get him out of the way and when I got out I found he wasn’t as big an idiot as I thought. The entire plane was completely landed in a field somewhere in Ohio. On that day, for what ever reason no man made aircraft (not even paper planes) would fly.
But that was only the beginning, things took more clarity just before my friend Jonah’s death. He had described a dream he had. It involved the apocalypse and the horrors that would precede it. He spoke of a giant being with awesome and terrible powers. Its existence in this world would herald the death of millions and hell on earth. Jonah desperately wanted someone to believe him. He kept repeating that he knew exactly where it was going to start and that He, I … anyone needed to stop it from happening. Later that month, he was placed in an insane asylum and on the 31st of November, he committed suicide.
I spent time just thinking of the unfortunate way he had died. He spent his last days alone and considered insane. I wanted to see how much of what he said was madness and how much was fact. He had described a night in which there was no moon, but the sky stayed bright enough to see. The night would be cold and foggy. The creature of which he spoke would emerge from a mausoleum in New Jersey. He spoke of fanatics who would come to the beast’s aid and he spoke of the need for help. I found the mausoleum of which he spoke. It was nothing to be impressed by, but I did get the feeling of danger and doom from that place. I knew that something had or will have happened there. It’s Grey stones were completely engulfed in vines and dirt. It smelt of ash or soot and I feared approaching it.
Well, you can imagine what happened from there. I got that desire to find things out and got a couple friends together and we pried that thing open.
Oh, Geo. I mentioned him. Let me tell that story. This was the night everything was supposed to happen. We, Geo Joe Bobby, and myself had gone down into the mausoleum several times prier to this night and knew its ins and outs. But this night we weren’t alone. Outside sitting patiently and wantonly were thousands of cats. Just a ridiculous amount of them. So at this point, the score card read one for Jonah’s sanity and one for Jonah being completely insane.
“I thought you said Fanatics” Geo said slightly disheartened. “ I thought they were fanatics” I explained. Geo ran over haphazardly to the site hoping to scare the cats off. Poor Geo.
In moments, thousands of cats were pouncing on him scratching his face, eyes, ears, everything. Thousands jockeying for prize position on him. He screamed in horror for relief that could not come. Joe wanted to assist Geo and had to be restrained. Anyone near that horrible mass of fur and claws would suffer the same fate.
But something like that makes for a great distraction. We slipped into the crypt and closed the door behind us. But we could still hear him screaming for help. “ Christ, we need to help him.” Joe protested. “ Then go out there.” Kenny said “Hell no.” Joe retorted. I admit that I was ashamed to leave him there, but those cats weren’t messing around.
I closed my eyes and prayed for some kind of solution. Then the ground began to quake and crack and groan with the sudden ferocity of a car crash. The ground split open and black ash spewed from the ground and fire embers floated into the air. It stung at the eyes and we had to evacuate. We stepped around the ferocity of thousands of cats when the Geo problem solved itself. The cats poured into the mausoleum and away from Geo. Joe and I approached Geo after the bulk of the cats left him. Thousands of tiny cuts ran across his face, neck, arms and chest.
“It doesn’t look that bad.” Kenny said, half distractedly. His and our eyes and mind stayed square on the door to the crypt. The black ash died down and the earth steadied. The cats rushed out of the crypt as if in blind fear. The four of us watched as the cats raged past us and down the streets to where even they came from.
The next sound had nothing in common with the shifting of the earth or the spewing of ash but seemed to compliment them. As if destruction and chaos was it’s native tongue. Fire, that was all that could be seen, but it was understood that there was more underneath the flame, more than just mindless burning. Then the flame extinguished and standing there was a man, nude and chard. “Name thyself.” He uttered in his chaotic voice. “ Ben Soer” I said nervously. “Name thyself” He said again. We looked at each other and each of us in turn gave our name. But still he asked us to name ourselves. He stood there in the archway, smoldering.
“What are you?” I finally asked. “Name thyself”. I was perplexed to say the least. This man continued to say these three words without fail. Then I understood. “ I an Benjamin Soer JR, son of Benjamin Soer SR of the United States of America sir?” I had hoped he just wanted me to give my name and affiliation. “ I am the Dark traveler, the lone rider, The keeper of villainous men, The reader of dark knowledge, the mouth, mind and heart of the Apocalypse, I am Zelmone Tutimki” The man announced proudly.
I wondered if he knew that him being naked weaken his position of power. It seemed that he was going to stand there waiting for something. In honesty, he didn’t look all too formidable, more like bony. I thought back to the cats. “Jonah might’ve just been crazy.’ I approach the steps of the crypt and he began to back away until he was completely inside the mausoleum. I grabbed the door handle and closed the door. “ I guess Jonah was just crazy. We can go home guys.” I announced and we did.
We marched into the sunset fulfilled with our new knowledge.
Excerpt From This Beach Girl
The sex her and I had was wholly unremarkable. I was a little too drunk and she keep calling me Robin. My name is Steve. I would have been satisfied with the idea of never seeing her again, but that wasn’t the case.
I had first seen Rachael at a beachside bar near midnight. The bar’s soured yellow lights spilled across the sand and only the bartender and I had shoes on. She had lovely feet, though it was her legs that caught my attention. She was alone at the end of the bar like all the special girls are. Once I got pass her long legs, which were made longer by her black leather mini-skirt, I saw emerald eyes like sea glass. The two of us were the closest to the same age, the next youngest person was at least 20 years older. I sat beside her and put two fingers up for a beer.
I said something like, “I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t say hello to you.” I can’t remember all that well because I’d been drinking a little at another bar higher up the beach. Whatever I said, she’d smiled at it and offered me her hand. I took it in mine and I spent two hours with her, getting drunk and swooping dirty jokes. I thought I was filthy minded, but she never ran out of Dead-Baby Jokes.
What’s the difference between a dead baby and a elephant? You can punt a dead baby.
What’s the difference between a pile of dead babies and a goat? One goat can fit in my garage.
By the end of the night, the two of us were falling over each other and everyone else along the way to my hotel room. The two of us spilled on my bed and she left me there for the bathroom. She left the door open and hiked her skirt around her waist to pee. I was near sleeping when she mounted me.
I had first seen Rachael at a beachside bar near midnight. The bar’s soured yellow lights spilled across the sand and only the bartender and I had shoes on. She had lovely feet, though it was her legs that caught my attention. She was alone at the end of the bar like all the special girls are. Once I got pass her long legs, which were made longer by her black leather mini-skirt, I saw emerald eyes like sea glass. The two of us were the closest to the same age, the next youngest person was at least 20 years older. I sat beside her and put two fingers up for a beer.
I said something like, “I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t say hello to you.” I can’t remember all that well because I’d been drinking a little at another bar higher up the beach. Whatever I said, she’d smiled at it and offered me her hand. I took it in mine and I spent two hours with her, getting drunk and swooping dirty jokes. I thought I was filthy minded, but she never ran out of Dead-Baby Jokes.
What’s the difference between a dead baby and a elephant? You can punt a dead baby.
What’s the difference between a pile of dead babies and a goat? One goat can fit in my garage.
By the end of the night, the two of us were falling over each other and everyone else along the way to my hotel room. The two of us spilled on my bed and she left me there for the bathroom. She left the door open and hiked her skirt around her waist to pee. I was near sleeping when she mounted me.
The Girl Of My Dreams Prt. 2
It ended with me on a single sized bed, saying something stupid to some who had seen two of his friends leave in the back of an ambulance. His face was painted yellow to make him look more like a smiley face.
“I’m sorry all your friends are hurt,” I had said to him while he sat on his bed and I sat on mine. I had realized that that was a stupid thing to say, though I don’t remember why it was now. Possibly because it’d tempt fate. He looked at me with a benevolent face filled with understanding and grace and then he began to sing some stupid little tune better suited to send children to sleep.
“Sometimes bad things fell in my blanket.
And I’m not sure if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and I seal them all in.”
I don’t know most the details to this story, but it’s worth telling for one reason. Someone out there wants me to know it. She’s been trying to get through my thick skull for a while now and I feel like I should start listening.
I know that her and I didn’t met prior to the Marina. That’s what I’m calling it because that’s what feels right. It was a hotel by the water and as soon as I got there, some of us had hoped in and were splashing about. The Marina, every time I’ve ever seen it, has been under a gray sky. I don’t know where it is in real life or if it exists in real life. I keep on dreaming about it and this girl who goes there.
I knew her name for a moment. She had blonde hair, not black and she looked as though she jumped in the water with all her clothes on. She wore a dripping wet, tan foi-fur coat and black eyeliner. She looked up to me as we past on the stairs. Before I descended, I took a flyer for a tattoo shop. I didn’t read it. I ought to next time. I need to compile clues. I need to find her. I almost had her name. Someone had said t and I knew it, but dreams take place in the short term storage section of the brain. If you don’t do something fast they’re gone forever.
I want her to know that. I’m not being intentionally dense. Dreams just go there like she goes to the Marina. I want to know her name. I want to now where is. I feel as though I need to protect her. I don’t know if I’m too late. I’m getting the messages, but they might be echoes. I think that that’s why the man with the yellow smiley face sang his song. He was soothing a failed protector. Those girls weren’t hurt, they were dead. They were n body bag, but I wanted to believe that it wasn’t…
“Sometimes bad things get in my blanket.
I don’t know what to do. Don’t know if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and then I seal them all in.”
I wasn’t alone and she wasn’t alone. She was with friends and I was with family. I’m not sure if that’s important, but I need to remember as much as possible. It was my sister and my elder brother. I can’t remember if my young brother was there. She had another friend, one who I didn’t make any connection with. She had black hair and might have been…
This is crazy, but so is trying to connect with a dream. The girl with the black hair might have been the original girl, the one I failed. I believe she was in the body bag, being carted away. The blonde girl is the new one. She’s important because I can still help her.
The frustrating thing is, there are so many disunited details; the tattoo shop, the yellow faced man, the dripping wet blonde, the Marina, the color yellow itself, light bulbs. The paramedic had yelled something. He sounded angry with me as I tried to tell him that the girls had swam in the river.
Die Or Swim
I had thrown a girl in the river and my Aunt had shouted either Dive or swim which I think would be meaningless or Die or Swim, which would be meaningful. I don’t know which, but I think the girl I threw in was the second girl in the body bag.
“I’m sorry all your friends are hurt,” I had said to him while he sat on his bed and I sat on mine. I had realized that that was a stupid thing to say, though I don’t remember why it was now. Possibly because it’d tempt fate. He looked at me with a benevolent face filled with understanding and grace and then he began to sing some stupid little tune better suited to send children to sleep.
“Sometimes bad things fell in my blanket.
And I’m not sure if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and I seal them all in.”
I don’t know most the details to this story, but it’s worth telling for one reason. Someone out there wants me to know it. She’s been trying to get through my thick skull for a while now and I feel like I should start listening.
I know that her and I didn’t met prior to the Marina. That’s what I’m calling it because that’s what feels right. It was a hotel by the water and as soon as I got there, some of us had hoped in and were splashing about. The Marina, every time I’ve ever seen it, has been under a gray sky. I don’t know where it is in real life or if it exists in real life. I keep on dreaming about it and this girl who goes there.
I knew her name for a moment. She had blonde hair, not black and she looked as though she jumped in the water with all her clothes on. She wore a dripping wet, tan foi-fur coat and black eyeliner. She looked up to me as we past on the stairs. Before I descended, I took a flyer for a tattoo shop. I didn’t read it. I ought to next time. I need to compile clues. I need to find her. I almost had her name. Someone had said t and I knew it, but dreams take place in the short term storage section of the brain. If you don’t do something fast they’re gone forever.
I want her to know that. I’m not being intentionally dense. Dreams just go there like she goes to the Marina. I want to know her name. I want to now where is. I feel as though I need to protect her. I don’t know if I’m too late. I’m getting the messages, but they might be echoes. I think that that’s why the man with the yellow smiley face sang his song. He was soothing a failed protector. Those girls weren’t hurt, they were dead. They were n body bag, but I wanted to believe that it wasn’t…
“Sometimes bad things get in my blanket.
I don’t know what to do. Don’t know if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and then I seal them all in.”
I wasn’t alone and she wasn’t alone. She was with friends and I was with family. I’m not sure if that’s important, but I need to remember as much as possible. It was my sister and my elder brother. I can’t remember if my young brother was there. She had another friend, one who I didn’t make any connection with. She had black hair and might have been…
This is crazy, but so is trying to connect with a dream. The girl with the black hair might have been the original girl, the one I failed. I believe she was in the body bag, being carted away. The blonde girl is the new one. She’s important because I can still help her.
The frustrating thing is, there are so many disunited details; the tattoo shop, the yellow faced man, the dripping wet blonde, the Marina, the color yellow itself, light bulbs. The paramedic had yelled something. He sounded angry with me as I tried to tell him that the girls had swam in the river.
Die Or Swim
I had thrown a girl in the river and my Aunt had shouted either Dive or swim which I think would be meaningless or Die or Swim, which would be meaningful. I don’t know which, but I think the girl I threw in was the second girl in the body bag.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Sexy Myths And Misconceptions
I intend to discuss a number of truly surprising myths and misconceptions concerning sexually transmitted disease and sex itself. When I first started my research into this topic, I didn’t expect, how odd and sometimes foolhardy some of these myths might be. For example, I came across a myth regarding pregnancy, a belief that being pregnant protects a woman from sexually transmitted diseases. It’s this ignorance and naivety that is a major cause of STDs prevalence in our society, people fail to understand how these diseases are spread and in effect continue to spread them. It is my goal and the goal of this paper to bring these misconceptions to light and expose them for their inaccuracy.
I’ve decided to start this paper by discussing the more forgivable misconceptions and gradually moving toward the more ridiculous. The first myth I’d like to address is concerning safe sex and monogamy. It’s a belief that if one only has sex with one person and uses some sort of protection with that person, one is completely safe from sexually transmitted diseases. This makes sense and one would be blameless for believing it, but it is also untrue. Although practicing safe, monogamous sex is a good way to stay safe, there also is not guarantee for safety beyond abstinence and in some cases that’s not even true. For example, god forbid you were in a car accident. If someone in the car has AIDS or HIV and they’re bleeding and you are bleeding as well, you run the risk of contracting the disease. Also, just because you are practicing safe, monogamous sex doesn’t necessarily mean your partner is.
Another misconception is that once an infection appears cleared up, you’re cured and don’t have to continue with prescribed medication and don’t have to go to a follow up visit. This is slightly more foolish, but is at least based off of apparent reality. The experience most to all people have with disease is the cold or the flu and with both up, you take the medication (cough syrup, aspirin etc,) until you feel better and then you stop. Why? Because you assume if it’s not doing damage it’s not there. But STDs are completely different animals, (well, to be accurate they’re bacteria, viruses, algae, so on and so forth.) The M.O of a lot of STDs is laying low and spring up later, for example, Clamidia and Syphilus. Only a trained professional like a doctor can tell you for sure.
The next myth is similar to the last, in that it’s based off of apparent reality. This myth is if an infection is clearing up on it’s own I don’t have to seek treatment. This is obviously untrue. As I stated before a lot of STD’s M.O is laying low and waiting. Syphilus, for example, can remain in your dominant in your body for 10-15 years without a single sign of further infection, but left untreated it can lead to blindness and insanity.
The next myth, I laughed when I heard it. This myth concerns doshing with soda and other carbonated drink to kill sperm and infections. The only logic I could think of to defend this line of thought is cola is sometimes used to clean pennies. Okay, true- sodas have a decent level of acidity and in theory could kill something, but most sodas are sugary and will most likely feed the infection and encourage growth. Also, introducing a foreign fluid into the vagina will in a high likely-hood change the PH balance and make thing far worse.
I’ve refrained from using the terms “stupid” or “dumb”, but I think I have to his next myth. This myth is that oral Gonorrhea can not survive on the gentiles and Gentile Gonorrhea can not survive in the mouth or throat and therefore its safe to perform oral sex when infected. There is absolutely no logic, I’ve found or can think of that would justify this train of thought, it foolishness beyond foolishness. Gonorrhea is caused by a bacterium known as neisseria gonorrhoeae. When someone is diagnosed with gentile or oral Gonorrhea, that oral and the gentile part of it is just stating where the gonorrhoeae bacteria is. So, therefore performing oral sex on an infected person is wildly unsafe. Gonorrhoeae Bacteria, likely all bacteria enjoy dark, wet places like your mouth and gentiles.
I hope that armed with information presented above, the reader is more prepared to protect themselves and advance others. As I stated in the opening paragraph, most of the spread of STDs can be attributed to ignorance of STDs and how they are transmitted. I know I am safer and more entertained for writing this paper and I hope the same can be said for the reader for reading it.
I’ve decided to start this paper by discussing the more forgivable misconceptions and gradually moving toward the more ridiculous. The first myth I’d like to address is concerning safe sex and monogamy. It’s a belief that if one only has sex with one person and uses some sort of protection with that person, one is completely safe from sexually transmitted diseases. This makes sense and one would be blameless for believing it, but it is also untrue. Although practicing safe, monogamous sex is a good way to stay safe, there also is not guarantee for safety beyond abstinence and in some cases that’s not even true. For example, god forbid you were in a car accident. If someone in the car has AIDS or HIV and they’re bleeding and you are bleeding as well, you run the risk of contracting the disease. Also, just because you are practicing safe, monogamous sex doesn’t necessarily mean your partner is.
Another misconception is that once an infection appears cleared up, you’re cured and don’t have to continue with prescribed medication and don’t have to go to a follow up visit. This is slightly more foolish, but is at least based off of apparent reality. The experience most to all people have with disease is the cold or the flu and with both up, you take the medication (cough syrup, aspirin etc,) until you feel better and then you stop. Why? Because you assume if it’s not doing damage it’s not there. But STDs are completely different animals, (well, to be accurate they’re bacteria, viruses, algae, so on and so forth.) The M.O of a lot of STDs is laying low and spring up later, for example, Clamidia and Syphilus. Only a trained professional like a doctor can tell you for sure.
The next myth is similar to the last, in that it’s based off of apparent reality. This myth is if an infection is clearing up on it’s own I don’t have to seek treatment. This is obviously untrue. As I stated before a lot of STD’s M.O is laying low and waiting. Syphilus, for example, can remain in your dominant in your body for 10-15 years without a single sign of further infection, but left untreated it can lead to blindness and insanity.
The next myth, I laughed when I heard it. This myth concerns doshing with soda and other carbonated drink to kill sperm and infections. The only logic I could think of to defend this line of thought is cola is sometimes used to clean pennies. Okay, true- sodas have a decent level of acidity and in theory could kill something, but most sodas are sugary and will most likely feed the infection and encourage growth. Also, introducing a foreign fluid into the vagina will in a high likely-hood change the PH balance and make thing far worse.
I’ve refrained from using the terms “stupid” or “dumb”, but I think I have to his next myth. This myth is that oral Gonorrhea can not survive on the gentiles and Gentile Gonorrhea can not survive in the mouth or throat and therefore its safe to perform oral sex when infected. There is absolutely no logic, I’ve found or can think of that would justify this train of thought, it foolishness beyond foolishness. Gonorrhea is caused by a bacterium known as neisseria gonorrhoeae. When someone is diagnosed with gentile or oral Gonorrhea, that oral and the gentile part of it is just stating where the gonorrhoeae bacteria is. So, therefore performing oral sex on an infected person is wildly unsafe. Gonorrhoeae Bacteria, likely all bacteria enjoy dark, wet places like your mouth and gentiles.
I hope that armed with information presented above, the reader is more prepared to protect themselves and advance others. As I stated in the opening paragraph, most of the spread of STDs can be attributed to ignorance of STDs and how they are transmitted. I know I am safer and more entertained for writing this paper and I hope the same can be said for the reader for reading it.
Excerpt From A Short: First Church Of The Scalpel
The sunlight broke through the stained window glass and washed over the congregation. Reverend Elton Mills shone before the red-green glass as his hand rose high above his head. Those of the congregation that could rose slowly, raising their own hands above their hands. Reverend Mills rolled himself to the middle of a carpeted platform and gripped a microphone stand. He struggled with the stand’s adjustment for a few moments, causing the microphone to knock and whine.
Jessy Phillips scurried over to aid the Reverend and adjusted it with ease, though he had three less fingers than Reverend Mills. The old man placed a wrinkled hand on the younger man’s arm, winking his single, good eye.
“God bless him.” Reverend Mills announced into the microphone and there were random hoots of amen for Jessy.
“Wish I didn’t have to mess with these things.” Reverend Mills began with Jessy returned to his seat.
“There was a time when I could put something like this…” He said, waving the microphone around from everyone to see. “…to shame. I had a booming voice like thunder, once upon a time.” Some old women cackled their agreement. There was another round of hooting amen.
“Today, we ain’t talking about ‘Once upon a time’ though. Congregation, we’re here to somebody into our fold. A lovely girl who yall are going to love dearly. Luke. Bobby. Can you gather Crystal.” Luke Allen and his younger brother, Bobby Allen rose from their seats closest to the back exit. Mama Mills started up the pipe organ, applying wait pressure on the keys and weaving the music beneath her husband’s sermon.
“It warms my heart like nothing else when a young person is shown the light. Is saved from the darkness. This world we live in. I shutter at it. Young people today, they are so utterly lost. Amen?” The congregation answered Amen in unison.
“Reverend Mills, don’t take this poison from my lips. It is so very sweet. Amen?” The congregation answered again, louder this time.
“Reverend Mills, don’t take this yoke from my back. It’s garnished with jewels and gold. It is beautiful. Amen?” The congregation called back and their combined voices made the air shutter.
“Reverend Mills. Don’t make them stop lacing my back. It makes my cum, though it makes my bleed.” He didn’t ask for an amen and the congregation remained silent.
“I get passionate about it because, as you know, I was lost along with them once upon a time.”
“And I!”
“And I was lost, too!”
“ I was lost, too!” People stood in the pews and called to the Reverend as if he’d asked for it.
“Ain’t nobody perfect. Near all of us were lost in sin at one time, but now we’re here. Nobody’s perfect but God and God…” The Reverend paused for a moment, attempting to summon something, but soon decided that he couldn’t
“And God said, if thy right hand should offend him, thou would do better to enter his kingdom minus one hand than go on to hell with the two.” There were cries of amen and applause.
“Strong Jessy Phillips. Good a man as any there ever was. Jessy came to this fold with his full ten fingers and he’s got the most of all of us.”
Jessy Phillips scurried over to aid the Reverend and adjusted it with ease, though he had three less fingers than Reverend Mills. The old man placed a wrinkled hand on the younger man’s arm, winking his single, good eye.
“God bless him.” Reverend Mills announced into the microphone and there were random hoots of amen for Jessy.
“Wish I didn’t have to mess with these things.” Reverend Mills began with Jessy returned to his seat.
“There was a time when I could put something like this…” He said, waving the microphone around from everyone to see. “…to shame. I had a booming voice like thunder, once upon a time.” Some old women cackled their agreement. There was another round of hooting amen.
“Today, we ain’t talking about ‘Once upon a time’ though. Congregation, we’re here to somebody into our fold. A lovely girl who yall are going to love dearly. Luke. Bobby. Can you gather Crystal.” Luke Allen and his younger brother, Bobby Allen rose from their seats closest to the back exit. Mama Mills started up the pipe organ, applying wait pressure on the keys and weaving the music beneath her husband’s sermon.
“It warms my heart like nothing else when a young person is shown the light. Is saved from the darkness. This world we live in. I shutter at it. Young people today, they are so utterly lost. Amen?” The congregation answered Amen in unison.
“Reverend Mills, don’t take this poison from my lips. It is so very sweet. Amen?” The congregation answered again, louder this time.
“Reverend Mills, don’t take this yoke from my back. It’s garnished with jewels and gold. It is beautiful. Amen?” The congregation called back and their combined voices made the air shutter.
“Reverend Mills. Don’t make them stop lacing my back. It makes my cum, though it makes my bleed.” He didn’t ask for an amen and the congregation remained silent.
“I get passionate about it because, as you know, I was lost along with them once upon a time.”
“And I!”
“And I was lost, too!”
“ I was lost, too!” People stood in the pews and called to the Reverend as if he’d asked for it.
“Ain’t nobody perfect. Near all of us were lost in sin at one time, but now we’re here. Nobody’s perfect but God and God…” The Reverend paused for a moment, attempting to summon something, but soon decided that he couldn’t
“And God said, if thy right hand should offend him, thou would do better to enter his kingdom minus one hand than go on to hell with the two.” There were cries of amen and applause.
“Strong Jessy Phillips. Good a man as any there ever was. Jessy came to this fold with his full ten fingers and he’s got the most of all of us.”
Thursday, September 1, 2011
It's All Okay, Folks
I couldn’t help but think, ‘She’s someone’s daughter.’ I’m not sure how evil a man that makes me, that I thought that and enjoyed the sight all the more.
She was a thin one with fleshy cheeks, both on her face and on her haunches. She wore a silken sun dress, but that was only a pretense for the creamy tanned skin that rested beneath. She stripped it away slowly, the process had to last and all she had was that sundress and a thin pair of cotton panties. She broke the thin spaghetti cords that held the dress up one at a time. The dress fell, sliding past her modest breasts to a stop at her waist and she helped it the rest of the way to the ground. Once she was free of her dress, she did a slow dance, turning around to show the camera her ass. She rolled her hips side to side, looking over her shoulder to show she was smiling.
It’s all Okay, folks.
She stripped out of her panties rather unceremoniously, peeling them from her wide buttocks and allowing them to drop to the ground. She kicked them out of view once they reached her feet. She gave a playful laugh and smiled to the camera.
It’s all Okay, folks.
She then rested herself on an orange two person couch and began rubbing at her breasts and abdomen. She teased herself again and again, venturing ever closer to the destination it would eventually find. She danced her fingers around her belt line as the camera focused on her navel and exposed lap. The very tip of her middle finger brushed the hood of her clitoris and she raced the finger to her mouth and sucked on it. She moved her hand along her frame and rested it in between her spread legs. She breathed out a cool shutter and started playing with her labia, started dragging her nails along her inner thighs, started rubbing the areas of least sensitivity and working towards the areas of most. She omitted breathy moans, each one arriving sooner than the last. The camera adjusted to reveal the whole picture. Her eyes were shut and her lips were parted.
A man walked into frame wearing the pretense of a black t- shirt and blue jeans. A long, rod shaped bulge disturbed the fabric of his jeans and gave the tacit impression than he was enjoying the show along side me. He remained wordless as he extended a hand to her left breast and with the other hand, he fondled himself. She continued playing with herself with one hand and aided him in stroke himself with the other. He backed away and hastily stripped off his cloths. As the last article fell to the ground, he re-approached her, masturbating his large manhood as he walked. He removed his hand and his penis hovered stiff and throbbing, waiting for her mouth’s approach. She stared at it and smiled to the camera.
It’s all Okay, folks.
Her lips tentatively tasted the tip of his penis, tonguing the helmet. Her moist fingers brushed around the shift, softly and slowly. As she dragged her tongue along the tip, he began slowly thirsting his member into her mouth, heralding the fall of the pretext of filesio. She gripped the hard shift and allowed the large piece to slide into her mouth. She had her hands serve as an extension of her mouth, mouthing only a few inches and masturbating the rest. As her tongue, lips and hands worked the man, he took firmly grasped her strawberry blonde hair at the base and aided her moving more of himself into her mouth. It seemed he had pushed her too far in this action because she took the dick out of her mouth and coughed, but she smiled to the camera and put him back in her mouth.
It’s all Okay, folks.
He started up shoving his cock deeper down her throat and she gagged on it, eyeing the camera as she did so. When it reached as far as it would go, the man created a small space between himself and her and palmed the back of her head. Once the proper footing and area was found, he began thrusting himself vigorously in and out of her mouth and throat, her eyes wetting all the while. He gave her a number of good thrusts before backing away, grunting heavily and saying in a deep baritone, “Turn around.”
She obeyed the command and presented her full buttocks and pudendum to the camera and as high as she could. He fingered at her vagina with his thumb, shoving it in before moving it to the clitoris, pushing the hood up and stimulating it directly. She exhaled noisily like icy, cold water was being poured on her unexpectedly. He slid his hand upward toward her anus and plunged his thumb deep into it. She moaned deeply and inched slightly away from it. He gripped her at the waist and started rubbing the perimeter of her anus. She moaned louder and then pressed her face into the orange fabric of the couch to stifle herself. The man wrenched her head back by her hair and she yelped in surprise.
He dragged the fingers he used to play with her asshole along the crack of her buttocks and up toward the small of her back, cooling her loud cries. He moved the hand from her back onto his hard member. He stroked it twice and then shoved it down to the testicles into her anus. She pressed her face back into the couch and scream out. He thrusted slowly, in and out, making her feel all of his manhood as it worked itself deep into her. He repeated the slow action a few more times before picking up the rhythm up high, being more and more forceful with each throw. Her moans and cries remained muted by the couch padding until the man gripped her back the hair again and pulled back, holding on this time and letting the screams burst further from her and drown out the sound of their flesh smacking against one another. He eased up on her, released her hair and gripped her round the waist, lifting her off her feet and turning. He dropped onto the couch with her on his lap. She eyed the camera, but forgot to smile.
It’s all Okay, folks.
He scooted forward to widen his lap and began bouncing her up and down on his dick. She moaned with her eyes shut and her mouth closed, breathing wildly through her nose. He removed his arms from around her waist and left her to the task of bouncing herself. He moved his strong hands around her neck and closed tightly. She continued bouncing as her eyes wetted more and grew red. He aided her slightly from where he held. Her face started to burn red before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she stopped bouncing altogether. His heavy breathing was the only sound as he released and let her flop to one side. He stroked her unconscious body. He exited her quick and began stroking her breasts at first while stroking her penis. He then moved to her abdomen and to her pussy. He rubbed the clitoris directly and re-entered her limp body via her flower. He thrusted slowly and smoothly, his breath was unsteady like waves breaking against rocks. It grew louder and louder, more and more shaky. He exited her quickly and ejaculated on her side. He moved swiftly to shot the last of it onto her slumbering face. The warm fluid dripped down the valley of her lips as her eyes opened, dazed and hesitant. It took her a moment, but she smiled.
It’s all Okay, folks.
THE END
She was a thin one with fleshy cheeks, both on her face and on her haunches. She wore a silken sun dress, but that was only a pretense for the creamy tanned skin that rested beneath. She stripped it away slowly, the process had to last and all she had was that sundress and a thin pair of cotton panties. She broke the thin spaghetti cords that held the dress up one at a time. The dress fell, sliding past her modest breasts to a stop at her waist and she helped it the rest of the way to the ground. Once she was free of her dress, she did a slow dance, turning around to show the camera her ass. She rolled her hips side to side, looking over her shoulder to show she was smiling.
It’s all Okay, folks.
She stripped out of her panties rather unceremoniously, peeling them from her wide buttocks and allowing them to drop to the ground. She kicked them out of view once they reached her feet. She gave a playful laugh and smiled to the camera.
It’s all Okay, folks.
She then rested herself on an orange two person couch and began rubbing at her breasts and abdomen. She teased herself again and again, venturing ever closer to the destination it would eventually find. She danced her fingers around her belt line as the camera focused on her navel and exposed lap. The very tip of her middle finger brushed the hood of her clitoris and she raced the finger to her mouth and sucked on it. She moved her hand along her frame and rested it in between her spread legs. She breathed out a cool shutter and started playing with her labia, started dragging her nails along her inner thighs, started rubbing the areas of least sensitivity and working towards the areas of most. She omitted breathy moans, each one arriving sooner than the last. The camera adjusted to reveal the whole picture. Her eyes were shut and her lips were parted.
A man walked into frame wearing the pretense of a black t- shirt and blue jeans. A long, rod shaped bulge disturbed the fabric of his jeans and gave the tacit impression than he was enjoying the show along side me. He remained wordless as he extended a hand to her left breast and with the other hand, he fondled himself. She continued playing with herself with one hand and aided him in stroke himself with the other. He backed away and hastily stripped off his cloths. As the last article fell to the ground, he re-approached her, masturbating his large manhood as he walked. He removed his hand and his penis hovered stiff and throbbing, waiting for her mouth’s approach. She stared at it and smiled to the camera.
It’s all Okay, folks.
Her lips tentatively tasted the tip of his penis, tonguing the helmet. Her moist fingers brushed around the shift, softly and slowly. As she dragged her tongue along the tip, he began slowly thirsting his member into her mouth, heralding the fall of the pretext of filesio. She gripped the hard shift and allowed the large piece to slide into her mouth. She had her hands serve as an extension of her mouth, mouthing only a few inches and masturbating the rest. As her tongue, lips and hands worked the man, he took firmly grasped her strawberry blonde hair at the base and aided her moving more of himself into her mouth. It seemed he had pushed her too far in this action because she took the dick out of her mouth and coughed, but she smiled to the camera and put him back in her mouth.
It’s all Okay, folks.
He started up shoving his cock deeper down her throat and she gagged on it, eyeing the camera as she did so. When it reached as far as it would go, the man created a small space between himself and her and palmed the back of her head. Once the proper footing and area was found, he began thrusting himself vigorously in and out of her mouth and throat, her eyes wetting all the while. He gave her a number of good thrusts before backing away, grunting heavily and saying in a deep baritone, “Turn around.”
She obeyed the command and presented her full buttocks and pudendum to the camera and as high as she could. He fingered at her vagina with his thumb, shoving it in before moving it to the clitoris, pushing the hood up and stimulating it directly. She exhaled noisily like icy, cold water was being poured on her unexpectedly. He slid his hand upward toward her anus and plunged his thumb deep into it. She moaned deeply and inched slightly away from it. He gripped her at the waist and started rubbing the perimeter of her anus. She moaned louder and then pressed her face into the orange fabric of the couch to stifle herself. The man wrenched her head back by her hair and she yelped in surprise.
He dragged the fingers he used to play with her asshole along the crack of her buttocks and up toward the small of her back, cooling her loud cries. He moved the hand from her back onto his hard member. He stroked it twice and then shoved it down to the testicles into her anus. She pressed her face back into the couch and scream out. He thrusted slowly, in and out, making her feel all of his manhood as it worked itself deep into her. He repeated the slow action a few more times before picking up the rhythm up high, being more and more forceful with each throw. Her moans and cries remained muted by the couch padding until the man gripped her back the hair again and pulled back, holding on this time and letting the screams burst further from her and drown out the sound of their flesh smacking against one another. He eased up on her, released her hair and gripped her round the waist, lifting her off her feet and turning. He dropped onto the couch with her on his lap. She eyed the camera, but forgot to smile.
It’s all Okay, folks.
He scooted forward to widen his lap and began bouncing her up and down on his dick. She moaned with her eyes shut and her mouth closed, breathing wildly through her nose. He removed his arms from around her waist and left her to the task of bouncing herself. He moved his strong hands around her neck and closed tightly. She continued bouncing as her eyes wetted more and grew red. He aided her slightly from where he held. Her face started to burn red before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she stopped bouncing altogether. His heavy breathing was the only sound as he released and let her flop to one side. He stroked her unconscious body. He exited her quick and began stroking her breasts at first while stroking her penis. He then moved to her abdomen and to her pussy. He rubbed the clitoris directly and re-entered her limp body via her flower. He thrusted slowly and smoothly, his breath was unsteady like waves breaking against rocks. It grew louder and louder, more and more shaky. He exited her quickly and ejaculated on her side. He moved swiftly to shot the last of it onto her slumbering face. The warm fluid dripped down the valley of her lips as her eyes opened, dazed and hesitant. It took her a moment, but she smiled.
It’s all Okay, folks.
THE END
Sexy, Sadistic September...
Since August kind of Sucked, I'm going to make it up with Sexy, Sadistic September. All September I'll be posting on a theme: Sex and Cruelty. Get your ball-gags ready, because September is going to be brutal!
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