Read chapters 1-12
COPYRIGHT 2009 Larry Fisher
Monday, June 01, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 1 -Jerking Off After Finding A Corpse In My Backyard
Category: Religion and Philosophy
Menage A Trois A La Mode -
Chapter 1 –
Jerking Off After Finding A Corpse
In My Backyard
I didn’t think that finding a corpse in my backyard would actually be so sexually arousing… When I found the arm, my chest was beating hard, I did feel flush like when I’ve been sexually excited by a woman…
I didn’t get my erection right away… First, I dug in my yard a little deeper to see if the arm was attached to a body. It was…
That was when I got an erection… I’m not proud that I find a corpse in my backyard and am too embarrassed to call the cops because I have a woody…
I am a fifty year old man with a wife and two little kids… We just moved into Bed-Stuy because we could get some more room and it had a backyard… Little did I know that there was a tenant in that yard, living there for an undetermined amount of time… By the state of his corpse, I’d say he was in that yard for a good twenty years… I sort of know my corpses because of what I do… I’m a tour guide in New York of Death, Doom And Destruction.
That is the title of my business: Death, Doom and Destruction… I love answering the phone, “Death Doom And Destruction, how may I help you?”
I take folks on a tour of famous Mob joints where hits were made, or a weird murder tour of things like Son of Sam, Bernard Goetz and the East Village dude who cooked his girlfriend and served it to the Homeless in Tompkins Square Park…
The Germans love my tour… They can’t get enough of Death, Doom and Destruction… Really, I’m pretty busy shoving Europeans around on the subway system and buses throughout the greater New York area.
So, now having a corpse in my backyard was sort of like bringing my work home with me… There was a problem with the corpse and that was… my wife’s brother had been missing since New Year’s Eve and she has not been herself…
Usually she is bubbly… She does tours for Green people. She takes them around and shows them all the fucked up areas that are full of pollutants… She even carries a Geiger counter around with her and shows the Green people fucked up radiation sites… She’ll take people to the Gowanus. She’ll take them to Newtown Creek, she’ll take them to America’s largest Sewage Plant in Greenpoint that also has a large oil spill underneath it…
The name of her company is Miss Bubblies Goody Two Shoes… I don’t like the name or her tours really…
Even though my wife and I have the same job of schlepping people around to weird places in the city, we are day and night… My wife takes people on bicycles and gives them juices to drink… I am taking people to sleazy bars and hoping they drop out of the tour by picking up a hooker or at least decide to stay in one of the bars I start my tours in… Getting the tourists drunk is my key to success… Keeping people on edge and angry is my wife’s approach… To each his own…
I needed some air after I found the corpse. My wife was eating a frozen can of Diet Coke and my kids were playing with matches… Somehow, my wife didn’t mind the kids playing with matches because there was no box to strike it on…
Personally, I thought she was crazy… I didn’t know what to do with her, or about the way she was handling her brother’s disappearance. I did know that after I figured out what I was doing about the corpse in the backyard, I was going to take those matches away from those kids… I just didn’t want to make a scene at the moment…
I walked out in front of my apartment and Old Man Nettles was still sitting on his crack on the steps of the brownstone…
“How are you today, I nervously asked Mr. Nettles?”
“You are even whiter than yesterday,” he said to me… What happened to you? You look like you saw a ghost… Yesterday, you were a cool white man and today you look like the rest of the white people.”
Old Man Nettles was an old black man from the South and I just moved into a predominately black neighborhood in Brooklyn.
“Um, I don’t know how to put this Sir.”
“Don’t call me Sir, the only people call me Sir, want to borrow twenty dollars from me and not pay it back… Blurt it out young man.”
I felt like a kid and not a fifty year old man,
“I was cleaning up the yard and getting it ready for Barbecue season… and well I found a corpse in the yard…”
“Old Man Nettles looked at me seriously and said,”Son, I am from North Carolina and I want to teach you how barbecue with vinegar… It’s not for everybody, the State is divided, some go vinegar, some go sweet tomatoes… I am on the vinegar side of the fence.”
“Mr. Nettles, perhaps you didn’t understand my discovery. It is unrelated to the actual barbecue procedure… It is more related to me having to disrupt my whole day by going to the police and causing a whole commotion in the neighborhood… My wife would probably make us move… She has not been the same since her brother disappeared.”
“He’s probably in Puerto Rico.”
“No, he’s probably in someone else’s backyard… My wife comes from a family of missing family… Mr. Nettles is there something you want to tell me about who is buried in the backyard?”
The less you know the better. I told Elwood not to get white people… They start digging into your shit and have this whole phony righteousness garbage that they want to pawn on you…”
“Hey, I got no problem digging a bigger hole for our friend in the backyard and let sleeping dogs lie.” I lied about that. I knew that I would have to figure out who was back there even if Old Man Nettles didn’t tell me…
“That’s more the spirit young man. Now, go dig that hole another two feet at least and flip that mastodon back in time…”
He pointed to the Church across the street,”That is a big building, with a lot of secret passageways… That Priest in there goes way back… He’s got devils locked down in that basement since the beginning of time…”
“Mr. Nettles, you are fucking with this white man.”
Old Man Nettles laughed,”I had you going didn’t I son…. I have sat on this here crack since before it was a crack… I probably cracked this crack with my old man farts… You do what you gotta do… I’m telling you nobody wants that fool dug out, but I gotta feeling you have to find out for yourself . Typical white man shit…”
“You’ll see, I am not your typical white man shit,” I said…. But I knew I was…
“When the Church goes through periods of having too many devils piled up in their basements, they move them out one by one…”
“You are sounding like a bullshit tour guide,” I said. “And let’s not forget, I am a bullshit tour guide.”
“Go bury your problems in that backyard, that’s what they are there for.”
I went back to the yard and moved that fool into a bigger hole. He had a huge ring on his skeleton finger and I took it and put it in my pocket. It was huge. This was a massive man at one point. Now, I just shoved his bones into a deeper hole.
My wife came out looking spaced out and on another planet,”What are you doing in that yard so long?”
“I’m turning the soil, and killing all the weeds. You have to dig deep to kill the weeds.”
“Well, chop-chop, we have to give these kids baths and put them to sleep.”
I reburied my big man and as I came back into the apartment, I realized that I was a new man. I had a new purpose in life. I had a ring, I had a church, I had a corpse, I had an erection that needed attention…
We put the kids to sleep and I tried seducing my wife. She laughed at me and said,” I already told you, go out there and find yourself a girlfriend. I am in too weird a place right now to even go down on you… You are on your own son.”
And on my own I was. I jerked off about a fantasy girl who would help me solve the mystery as to who was buried in the backyard… I have to say my assistant Detective was like a grown up Nancy Drew.
End Chapter 1
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 2
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
Chapter 2 – White Bitch
The mouse was having his way with the cats…Sure he was about to be eaten and spit out. Still, he was in charge of the show… He was running around trying to escape but knowing he was a goner.
My wife was on a chair screaming at me… I cursed and said I was taking the kids out. She could stand on the chair all day long as far as I was concerned…
Out I went, with the four year old girl and the two year old boy. I was taking them to the park to play on the swings, fly a helicopter, and show them some trick basketball moves… Once upon a time, I wanted to be a Harlem Globetrotter…
That should give the cats enough time to fuck around with the mouse while my wife stood in the bleachers and screamed her head off…
I put my keys around my neck on my chain and threw the ring of Big Jake on the chain because I thought it looked cool. I was going to be the white guy with the big ass ring around his neck.
The ring said “Big Jake,” on the inside as well as the outside…. What makes a person put his name on the inside of a ring when the ring is already letters that spell “Big Jake.”
Fuck if I know… Big Jake’s ring was around my neck with the keys when I left with the kids.
I felt like Big Jake. I am a proud Pappa and my kids love my antics with a basketball… I will teach them everything I know. I want them to grow up and be Harlem Globetrotters…
So, it was disappointing when I crossed the street with the kids and one of the teenagers playing ball walked over to the fence looked at me and said,”White Bitch.”
My four year old knew that was not appropriate. She probably could tell by tone.
W.W. O. D.? What would Obama do?
Fortunately, I am not a normal dude. I’m kind of dead, so I looked at this kid and said,”My white bitch family is coming in to kiss the basket and Horse around.”
“White Bitch cannot come in this territory. You may have bought some shit across the street, but you gotta keep your ass in your backyard. Put up a basket there. This here is Bed-Stuy and we mean business on this court. This here is where a Nigger can get himself an education. This here is where a Nigger can get him some dope and fly aways…
Kids around him were jumping and laughing. I represented shit… I was shit that grew up in shit like they grew up. We were all dead together but because I was a middle aged fat fuck with a couple of little kids, I had a little more perspective then they did. Not much more though…
I spun my basketball on my finger and said,”I am coming in with my kids… If you are going to call me,’White Bitch,” then you best be a friend of mine. Just like when I call you,”My Nigger,” I best be a friend of yours.”
“This Nigger is crazy. You been watching too many Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder movies…”
“White Bitches can’t jump but I will spank your ass in a game of Horse.”
My kids looked a little spooked. They were biting their nails and not quite understanding what was going on… Probably nobody knew.
I did not win the game of Horse but I represented. I represented that the white man could be as dead as the Black man… I represented a man who was against the odds and still could compete even if he was outnumbered and humiliated. I did well.
I do trick shots. I spin the ball on my finger and tap the ball in with my other hand. I stand on the foul line backwards and shoot the ball over my shoulder with one hand… I have a great outside shot. I told you I wanted to be a Harlem Globetrotter… That was my dream… I don’t think they ever had a white man on their team… It doesn’t matter because I was never good enough, but I did have a few tricks rolling down my sleeves.
The real point to all this was not really my ability to create peace in a possible difficult situation. The reason I even brought this whole thing up was because when I took off my shirt, the black kids were freaked out… Now, I am a hairy white man and I have had good luck in taking off my shirt and doing well in “One on One” in basketball against black people. They do not respond well to my hairiness and do not want to defend against me.
This was different. I took my shirt off and a ten year old kid pointed at my chest,”Ain’t that Big Jakes ring. “
There was a commotion, a little meeting and then everybody left the playing ground.
My little girl said,”You scared everybody away.”
I’m not so worried about who I scared away, as much as I’m concerned about who wants to know how I have Big Jake’s ring.”
My two year old said,”Spin, spin, spin.”
I spun the ball on my finger and tapped it into the basket with my other hand.
The kids applauded.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 3
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
I was disappointed in my ejaculation. It wasn’t a dud, on the contrary, since I have hit middle age, my orgasms feel stronger and are more satisfying than ten years ago.
My disappointment was not in how it felt but in how far it didn’t travel. I used to be able to hit you in the eye from across the room. My sperm would rocket out of my cock. I might not have the largest cock but if I had a target, my sperm was going to crack that egg…
My orgasms now discharge like lava flowing out of a volcano… I’ll take it but I miss the flight of distance.
The only reason I brought this whole subject up was because my wife accused me of jerking off on the bed and missing my “girlfriend” Bounty.
“I need a better target than my “girlfriend” Bounty.
“Your sperm is just too rich and thick… I can’t deal with your stuff right now.”
“Then I will get rid of my “girlfriend” Bounty and jizz all over the sheets. You’ll be changing sheets day and night.”
“My brother is missing. Can you not threaten coming all over the sheets day and night.”
“I’m a middle aged man going through crisis… If you want me to stick around, you are going to have to put out.”
“I am going to put my foot up your ass. I do not have to put out… You know what, you need to get laid?”
I approached her as if she wanted me to come on to her.
She pushed me away,”Get the fuck away from me.”
I don’t understand.
“You can go out and get a girlfriend?”
“Huh?”
“You can go out and get yourself some pussy. One night a week, I will let you go out and date a girl. You won’t have to be responsible for the kids and we will have a “Don’t Ask, Don’t tell policy.”
“This is a trick.”
“Do not get any tricks. No whores. Don’t bring any disease into this house. Find someone, who you like. Who knows, the same person who made my brother disappear, might make me disappear.”
“Your brother fucked around with a lot of people.”
“Well, regardless, now you can go out there and fuck around. Just stop jerking off all over my sheets.”
“I am not jerking off all over “our” sheets. You are so right. I am going to find a bullseye to shoot my loads at.”
I wished it was ten years earlier and I could just jerk off and hit my wife in the eye with a shot of sperm.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 4
Category: Games
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 4
Old Man Nettles caught me by arm as I exited my apartment on my way to my fake date…
I was pretending to have an affair with a woman in order to keep my wife happy. She was in the middle of insanity and insisted on my going out and getting laid. Instead, I was going to movies, shooting pool and generally relaxing during those few hours a week I had to myself.
“You are doing yourself an injustice son. I’ll tell you right now that your wife suspects that you are not having an affair. You always come home on time. You always have more energy the next day after one of your bogus dates. You are too happy to actually have been with a woman… You are going to get caught not sleeping with anyone. You have got to make some adjustments.”
“Oh shit. It was that obvious?”
“How old are you son?” He dug his claws into my arm. I was trapped. I knew that I had better answer all of his questions if I was going to make the Imax Star Trek movie.
“I’m fifty.”
“Then you have to start preparing to die.”
“Fifty is not old anymore sir.”
“Hogwash, most men die by the time they turn fifty. You look like you could drop at any moment.”
“Sir, how old are you?
“Eighty-two.”
“And you are still here.”
“Son, don’t get smart with me. You may be an educated white man and all I did all my years was sell belts but I know all men die when they are fifty. They either go into a box or become teenagers. Either way it is a death… Which way you going son?”
“I wanna go teenager.”
“Right answer,”Old Man Nettles said digging his long nails deeper into my arm.
“So, can I go now? I don’t want to miss the opening credits. I like being there right when it starts. I get excited.”
“Stop acting like a little boy.”
“I thought that was the idea.”
“There’s a difference between a little boy and a teenager. A little boy can be saved. There is no salvation for a teenage boy… There especially is no hope for the Zombie middle aged teenage man. He is lost to his dick for what he thinks is his final swan song. Thirty years ago I thought the same thing… Son, you are making it difficult for me to show you the way.”
“And what is the way?”
Old man Nettles rounded his fingers and stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled. Out of the top of the brownstone, a little mutt of a wire terrier came running down the stairs.
I petted the cute crazy happy dog.
“Walk this dog for me.”
“Sure, five minutes before I leave for my movie.”
“Walk this dog for two hours.”
“Two hours!”
“Walk one hour in one direction and then walk back.”
“But.”
“There is no but. I will kick your butt if I have too. If you walk this dog, I know that your wife will think that you went out there and got laid, You will come home all sweaty and smell like an old dog. Your wife will be happy.
I took the leash that Old Man Nettles handed me,”You won’t ever need the leash for the dog. The leash is for you, so that the dog will be able to bring you home alright.”
“Gee thanks,” I said.
“The dog’s name is Milo. In an hour, get him a snack. He likes Boar’s head honey turkey.
“Great, I have a date with Milo,” I chased him down the block. He was heading towards Fort Greene
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 5 – Lagniappe
Menage A Trois A La Mode: Chapter 5
Lagniappe
Like the last thrust after orgasm has already been achieved:Lagniappe!
That what was like my night walking Milo was like…
It had been a cool spring which was really good for the flowers on this warm evening. The trees were rustling, and the flowers budding.
I am someone who can get sexually aroused by fresh cut grass… I was smelling some fresh cut grass, and I was smelling people in Bed-Stuy smoking grass and I was chasing this freaking dog who I was trying to keep up with…
This Milo dog was taking me somewhere… I did feel like Dorothy. I wondered what would happen if I clicked my heals together…
The dog ran into a large Church on Lafayette and there was gospel music playing but it had a New Orleans bounce to it…
The whole Church was decked out like The Garden of Eden. There was an apple tree growing in the church. I looked up and saw a skylight. It was a Church and a Nursery… Fruits and Vegetables were growing everywhere. The stars were winking at me.
I didn’t realize it but I said out loud, “Where the fuck is this place?”
The Gal with the great rack and the Collar said,”This is Paradise. Want a bite?”
“You are not offering me an apple are you hon?”
“Finest apples in Brooklyn.”
“Wrong season for apples.”
“Not here.”
“They say it wasn’t an apple in the Garden of Eden. Some say it was a peach.”
“You’re making it up,” my Crumbesque irReverend said letting me smell the apple as well as her gospel.
Persperation around her nipples. I saw her nipples, sort of. This nature trail had lead me to quite a woman… and I was sweating myself.
I picked up Milo and petted him to try to calm me down. I needed calming down.
“Sit down. You look like you need to calm down.”
“Vegetation gets me aroused.”
“Beautiful night. Reminds me of back home.”
“Where are you from in Brooklyn?”
“N’awleans.”
“New Orleans? Shit, you have a serious Brooklyn accent.”
“They sent me to New York because everybody thinks that I have a serious New York accent. We got the same accent in New Orleans.”
“No shit.”
Milo went running off to play with a cat.
We sat down by a pond. There were little gold fish in the pond. One splashed at me. I thought he was going to come out of the water and talk to me. The fish was going to say,”Ask her out stupid.”
“So you are cardboard carrying member of the Church?”
“No, I’m not really a Reverend. The Reverend is an old friend of the family’s from back in New Orleans. He thought it would be funny if I dressed up as a religious woman because I got the big tits and all and baby got back.”
“Membership double tonight?”
“Sold a ton of apples to the heathens.”
“How much for a ton of paradise?”
“That will cost ya?”
“I’m loaded.”
“You look drunk.”
“I ain’t drunk. I’m in love with the rustling leaves and the sweet smell of the blossoming flowers.”
“In New Orleans, in The Garden District, we have tons of sweet smelling flowers to cover up the smell of the rotting corpses.”
I mumbled,”I could use that in my back yard.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I got some dead weight I have to get rid of and nobody wants to do any heavy lifting.”
“I do heavy lifting.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m really a Cop from New Orleans on special assignment.”
“Wow! What is the special assignment?”
“Confidential.”
“Come on, I’ve eaten from your apple, before I get banished from the Garden, tell me why you are in New York?”
“There’s a serial killer in New Orleans, New York and maybe Amsterdam who is removing people’s skin where they have tattoos and sewing them onto other people.”
What?”
“I told you I was doing some heavy lifting.”
“Milo, we gotta get the fuck out of here. Milo, come on boy we gotta find old man Nettles before I have a heart attack.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“Are you fucking kidding me. I have seven tattoos.”
I picked up the dog, ran all the way home and threw the dog at Old Man Nettles.”
Old Man Nettles said,”Now you look like a man who has just had an affair. Congratulations son. Your pants are falling down. I’ll sell you a belt tomorrow.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 6 – Blackout Loving
Category: Life
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chap 6
Blackout Loving
I know I’m in serious love when I blackout while arguing with my loved one… It’s hard to even know what started the argument or what it was about… I blackout… I mean I’m standing there still talking and maybe even yelling and I haven’t the slightest idea where I am or how I got there… I am removed…
I know that my job in love is to be the Knight in shitty armor… I know my love will call me for a solution to a problem. I will supply the solution. Something that makes sense to most. My wife will take that solution and rip into my guts, as if I were the problem and not the solution.
Let me give you an example of this a few days after I took Milo the dog out for a walk…
My wife takes care of the two kids,Betty and Benny, while I take people out on tours of unusual places… I am an international man of the people, while my wife stays home and deals with monsters, cute monsters but monsters none the less.
Her mom comes over to the house once a week to help with the kids. She doesn’t like taking the kids to the park or to museums. She called me and said,”My mom doesn’t want to take the kids to the park or the museum.”
“She doesn’t do that… She’s great with the kids, so just leave her there in the house with the kids and you go out and relax in the park with a book and a coffee.”
“Are you fucking out of your mind. It’s a beautiful day to have to leave the kids in the house.”
“Yeah, but you take them out on your bike tours and you take them out to museums and parks and events the other days of the week. Let them chill out at home with your mom and you can get some down time for yourself at the same time.”
“You are fucking crazy! It’s a beautiful day, the kids should not be locked up in the house all day.”
I start to blackout at this point. I realize that my wife is just angry with her mom and worried about her missing brother, and worried about money, and the future and the pollution of the neighborhood, and that I’m fifty and overweight and could drop dead, and that we have no medical coverage and that the world has gone to hell in a wastebasket etc. etc. etc. and now my solution equals dropping me to the floor and wiping shit over my “Welcome” mat.
I drift off at these moments… I’ll try to remember the good parts of the relationship… And not like the sick stuff, like one night when I considered putting a pillow over my wife’s head to shut her up, only to be surprised to have her sucking my cock…
How did that happen. One minute she was yakking, yakking about something so banal, like our sheets.
“Get fucking sheets. We don’t have much money but if you want to get sheets, get sheets. No, I don’t have to be there when you get the sheets. Spend all our money on sheets and if you want a new towel, get some fucking new towels. I don’t care what you buy once the bills are paid. I really don’t fucking need anything except the bills to be paid. Then buy whatever the fuck you want.”
It was at this point that I fluffed the pillow to put it over my wife’s head, but her head was no longer at the head of the bed because she decided at the moment that I was going to kill her to give me head.
Well, certainly she got a reprieve that night. Not that I really was going to kill her. I was going to put the pillow over her head and shut her up about sheets and pillows… I was in a Bed, Bath and Beyond any sense of reason. I was in my Blackout Love…
Since her brother went missing, every day was filled with pain. The phone rang and we thought it was the morgue.
If there was a knock at the door, we half expected some mob guy to stop by with cannoli’s, and ask us if we heard from the missing.
We’d look at these guys wondering if they thought we knew where he was, or wondering if he became an informer, or wondering whether he was knocked off. Sometimes, the guy bringing the cannoli’s looked like he may have knocked off Gary and was just looking at us and wondering if we knew…
We didn’t know. Gary was missing, that was all we knew. We didn’t really know his Mob business.
My wife focused in on his disappearance,”Why don’t you find out what happened to him?” She asked me.
She asked me, as I was thinking about Big Jake buried out in the backyard. She asked me as I was thinking about the woman cop from New Orleans with the great tits. I thought about the case she was working on and began counting the tattoos on my body to make sure that I still had all seven of my tattoos. Then I realized that I could wake up one day out of my blackout love with a couple of extra tattoos.
The Tattooist Serial Killer was scalping one person of their tattoos and putting them on another person. There were bars with people starting the rumor mill of this new Serial Killer.
Since, I was the tour guide of Serial Killers and Mob guys, and people knew my Brother in Law was in the Mob, it seemed that everywhere I went, people were talking to me about death…
I looked forward to my Thursday Night date. I wondered what Old Man Nettles had in mind for me next.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 7 Charles Mansonesque Beach Party
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 7
Charles Mansonesque Beach Party
Most of my life is trying to find a way to be distracted from my inevitable death. Ironically, my work is all about murder and mayhem. I tour Europeans and any one else who wants to know about the fucked up Underworld.
The city is filled with carcasses that don’t have a tombstone on it. I give the Europeans addresses.
Of course, I could direct them to my backyard, but have chosen to ignore the body in my own line of vision. (He’s buried, but I know where he is.)
Instead, I’m enjoying my vision blurred from drink…
Drink is a great distraction from death, even as it can lead you to it. Many distractions from death, actually lead you to die. From drugs to jerking off with a rope around your neck, distractions can be costly, but on the plus side, you are dead and don’t give a shit. It’s only when you survive that it really is costly…
I’m a survivor. Fuck.
I survived that first date with the dog Milo and was anticipating something for the next Thursday. Would Milo bring me back to my Amazon lovely?
What paradise I had been datedreaming in since meeting that woman cop from New Orleans. dressed as a Priestess.
Imagine, my datedreaming abilities since meeting this woman of man’s law and God’s sexy ways.
It involved hand cuffs, Oddfell cuff links, and spirited hardcore fucking. A combination plate of fusionary delicasies…
So, the bottom line was that I was still only dealing with my mortality by jerking off. I sure hoped the dog would lead me to a woman who would be fucking me this week.
Where was Old Man Nettles dog going to have me sniffing around this week. I sure hoped it was going to be some tasty pussy.
People in the hood were starting to call me “Big Jake.”
“Hey, it’s Big Jake being reincarnated into a littler white man’s body… Hmm,hmm,hmm. That boy sure as hell went downtown. instead of up to the glories of God,” the little white haired old black woman said to Old Man Nettles sitting on his crack of the brownstone.”
Old Man Nettles looked like he was going to get up for a moment but instead said to the Old woman holding her bible.”If in you opened that book once in a while instead of being so nosey, maybe you won’t end up at the glory hole of God.”
“You heathen. You Voodoo hassle. You are as bad as Red Foxx.”
“You slept with that nasty man, not me. Open up that bible, jam your heart in it and then start your thumping.”
I had walked in on a dark version of Sanford and Son. The old woman popped a wheelie and scooted into her ground floor apartment.
“I’m gonna marry that bitch one day,” Old Man Nettles said. “She is hot.”
I looked at him cross.
“Don’t worry son. I’m sending you on a different kind of mission. I brought you down a belt with a thick piece of metal at the end of it.”
I held the five pounds in my hand,”This is too heavy. It will give me a backache.”
“I will whip you with that AMOS if you don’t take it and put it on.”
I looked at the buckle. It was strange allright. There was an owl on it, with a couple of scimitar’s below the owl and he was sitting on a pyramid.It said,”We Never Sleep.”
“I am a GUOOF… and I want you to be one too.”
“I’ll wear it as a goof,”I said.
I used to sell a lot of belts in this neighborhood. The kids are foolish not to wear a belt. I don’t see how that is supposed to be tough with their pants falling down and revealing skid mark underwear. They have become clowns instead of warriors… How are you supposed to run away from the Police if your pants are falling down? How are you supposed to fight if everytime you punch, your black ass is showing… Cops are laughing at the young black man… The fattest white cop can chase a sixteen year old stud down now faster than a fox catches a chick. That is ridiculous.
I got Grandchildren with criminal records all because their pants are down to their ankles instead of hightailing it out of the crime scene.”
I put on my Oddfellow belt and it felt good. Even though it was hefty in weight, I thought I might be able to outrun a fat cop.
“Where am I taking Milo tonight?”
Old Man Nettles stood up. I never saw him stand before and I glad I had a belt on because I thought I might be able to outrun him.
He said emphatically, “My dogs don’t get taken. They will take you and tonight, I am giving you the privalege of taking Maia. This is no ordinary dog. I saw this dog get hit by an ambulance. It hit the owner of the dog as well. The driver just put the owner and the dog in the back and drove off without filling out a report. I did the detective work and got this dog back. Do you understand what I’m telling you.”
I nodded, but like most things this Oddfellow said, I didn’t have a clue as to what he was saying.
He pointed at me and laughed,”You don’t understand that the ambulance driver killed the man and in return for him not going to jail, I asked for the white puff of a dog.”
“Oh.”
“Maia, will not walk the streets. She will direct you to the subway. She likes being underground. Let her go and follow her to the trainshe says to go to. If you don’t… Just follow Maia.
“She talks?” I asked. I really thought maybe the dog would talk to me.
The dog will whine it’s way to the direction she wants you to go in.”
“Like my wife?”
Old Man Nettles stood up and walked up the brownstone steps. He came out with a little white poof of a dog. He handed Maia to me and said,”Take care.”
“I will,” I said.
“I was talking to the dog,” Old Man Nettles said.”
The little poof whined until we got down to the Subway. She popped out of my arms as soon as we got down to the Subway. She did dog tricks for the people on the subway all the way to Coney Island. She flipped. She flopped. She bounced a coin off her nose. This was a circus dog leading me to Coney Island…
There was something going on with the people who were on their way to Coney Island. Alot, of people were dressed in animal suits. It was kind of freaky. I asked a lion what was going on, the lion said,”There’s a Convention on Coney Island.”
“What is the Convention?”
“Furries, Clown Porniacs and the Santa Bashers gonna talk about the Fuzzies and then we’re gonna kick their asses when the full moon rises tonight.”
Maia barked at the animal suit.
The furry backed up and pointed at Maia,”You Fuzzies.”
“I’m fuzzy alright. I got a fuzzy middle aged head and a fuzzy hairy body. I got a fuzzy dog and you just said all kinds of fuzzy things. You see this cash of money Maia just made on the train, I will give you a hundred of it if you just fill me in as to where this dog is taking me tonight.”
The lion took off his head, and exposed a sweating nerdy guy. He held out his paw and I gave him a hundred dollars in mostly singles,
We got off the train and I bought the furry a hot dog and cheese fries in Nathans as I listened to his story.
“Fuzzies are new to the scent. I say scent instead of scene because they think they are so special. They like to sniff us Furries out and bite us.”
“Huh? I don’t get any of this. What are Furries and the rest of you?
The Lion put his head back on and flirted with a Tiger and a Bear who passed by.
“Is this all about sex and diversion? I asked.”
The Lion nodded.
“I get it. People are dressing up and fucking. You dress like animals, or clowns, or whatever and you fuck indiscriminately.”
I looked at Maia who was scarfing up cheese fries with ketchup and asked her,”Is that why we are here. Are we here to fuck people dressed as clowns. Cause I forgot my red nose.
Maia barked and ran towards the beach.
I ran after her.
The Lion took off his head and screamed,”Beware the Fuzzies, if they don’t bite you, watch out for the Furries who may mistake your hairy ass for a Fuzzy.
I screamed,”Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh my!”
I tightened my belt and felt the outline of the owl on my buckle as I ran after Maia who ran towards the howling wolves on the beach.
I figured I ran into the Polar Bears in the summer taking a dip in the Atlantic. Uh-Uh. These were naked people dancing around a fire and barely looking human.
A wolf man picked up Maia and was about to bite her.
I took my belt off and swung it over my head. I was surrounded by wolf people. My pants fell and I saw them look at my very hairy legs. Maia ran towards me and jumped into my arms. This dog could really get around for an animal who was hit by an ambulance.
Naked Wolf people on the beach of Coney Island around a camp fire. The city really didn’t have any money left. I was in the world of Warriors and people who had chosen different… I kind of liked the naked hairy chicks. The men I could have done without.
The papers reported about the increase of real wolf packs living in inner cities and decreasing the rodent population. They were running in the cracks of the city and avoiding capture. They hid down alleys during the day and roamed deserted streets at night. No one had yet reported about The Fuzzies.
“Put your belt low and come to the fire. Come be with the Furies.”
“Wait, I thought you are Fuzzies.”
“Furries call us Fuzzies but we are Furies.”
I felt like a teenager and said,”Whatever.”
I walked down to the fire and smelled the meat burning,”Guy, you are ruining this meat. You are just sticking it to direct heat. May I recommend marinating and then indirect heat.”
The Wolves howled at the moon.
“Look, I know I just got here, but why destroy good meat. What do we have here anyway?”
“We have what crawls and what hides in the cracks of the city.”
“Still, if you maranade in yogurt or sour cream, with some onions and lemon, you are going to get a better tasting rodent… I don’t mean to tell you what to do.”
“Tonight we eat dog.”
Maia growled.
“No, we know furries come, we will kill one and you can maranade with yogurt and onions.”
“Hold on boys, I didn’t sign up for the Charles Manson Beach Party.”
“Why are you here.”
“I thought I was here to possibly get laid by one of the wolfen, then I thought I was here as a chef, but I guess I’m here to stop you from cannibalizing a furry… You know you are all men.”
The Wolf Men howled at the moon. The leader was a short man with a red beard, “My heart does not beat of man no more. I have distant memories of my man years. I only eat when hungry. We all howl at moon. We are Wolf pack of twenty but there are twenty and twenty and twenty more. When the moon full, we hear all wolves and know we are stronger and more of us.
We know we are strong on full moon because no one comes to kill us. Let them try. The Furries will not come here. They might come in their own skin or with the Clowns but they will not come here. Our howling lets them know where we are. Most of the time we hide in the shadows and eat the darkness… On a full moon we eat the light and let everybody know we are here. Man can see us and do nothing. We let the world know we exist with our running and with stopping to howl at the moon…”
Three Cop cars pulled onto the beach and the wolves dispersed. I was left holding Maia with my pants still down to my ankles.
Special Officer BeeBea Bodin from New Orleans got out of the car and said,”This guy is mine.”
“Are you going to handcuff me Officer.”
“Maybe. What are you doing here?
“Hanging with my homeboys.”
“Oh yeah, well there was murder tonight and his tattoos were scalped off his body. Got an alibi for tonight between 9 and 9:30.”
“Oh shit, is it that late. I got to get home and tuck my kids in.”
“You aren’t going anywhere till you have an alibi.”
“Let’s see I was with Maia the whole time and that wolf man that just ran away.” I snapped my finger and said, “Wait, I was with a Furry eating hot dogs at Nathans.”
“Was he a lion.”
“Yep, do you know where he is.”
“Yeah, you were last seen with him before he was murdered.”
“What?” I felt like I was just shocked with a jolt of electricity but it was just Maia biting me and running off.”
“There goes my alibi,” I said.”
The End Chapter 7
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 8 – Blinded By Orgasm
Category: Parties and Nightlife
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 8
Blinded By Orgasm
I sat quietly in the back of the Police Car. I wasn’t sure if I was under arrest or on my first date with Detective BeeBea Bodin from New Orleans.
Just because I was in handcuffs and there was talk of murder charges, didn’t mean that this all wasn’t part of some kinkiness on the part of the big breasted doll of a detective who put me in cuffs and then rubbed my throbbing constricted fingers into her crotch…
And as hard as it is to believe, this wasn’t the first time in my life, that I wasn’t sure if I was being arrested or seduced. I’ll get into that story later…
In the mean time:
Nobody read me my rights,and the Cops were outside the car surrounding the corpse and smoking confiscated pot.
Bee Bea Bodin opened the back door and got in the car. She pressed her breasts against my body and asked,”O.K. do you want to confess to the murder of the Furrie out there.”
She rubbed my thigh three or four times and then grabbed my crotch. She played with my hard-on and then kissed my neck.
A cop came to the window and tapped on it. He said,”O.K. you kids let’s move it along.”
In a New Orleans drawl Bee Bea said,”But Officer we were only necking.”
The Cop said blowing marijuana smoke into the window,”Well stick his neck back in his pants and get him out of here.”
This was an old timey Police joke. I was getting nervous. These couldn’t really be Cops. There was no CSI team roping off the area on the beach. All the Cops were hanging out around the body and getting high. They were destroying evidence, and implicating themselves as the murderer with every footstep they took around the poor dead geeky Furrie.
BeeBea took out her keys and opened the hand cuffs,”We’ll use these later,” she said and winked at me.
“Who the fuck are you people? Your not Cops.”
“Hey, just cause I rubbed your dick, doesn’t mean that you can raise your voice to me.”
She slapped me across the face.”
“I want to go home.”
“Try clicking your heels Dorothy.”
“Where’s my little dog.”
“That dog sure can do some tricks. She pulled my wallet out of my pants. Does that dog know how to scalp tattoos off bodies. This crazy motherfucker skins tattoos off of crazy hipsters and sews them onto God fearing sorry ass motherfuckers… I don’t know who to feel more sorry for. The tattooless dead or the niave living… Wanna kiss?”
Disgusted, and wanting to puke, I kissed Detective BeeBea Bodin of The New Orleans Homicide Division. I could taste the pot she smoked and wanted some, so I sucked on her tongue, trying to get high.
“It’s a beautiful night for a walk on the beach. Let’s look at the corpse and howl at the moon.”
She opened the door and pulled me out on the beach breeze.
Half a dozen Cops were smoking Pot and drinking Tequilla out of a bottle they passed around.
“What is going on here? I know some Cops. This is not a typical murder scene.”
Officer Bodin rolled her tongue in my ear and gave me a wet willie, then she said,” We are fucking with the killer. We know he’s watching.
We know it is the same guy I have been after since New Orleans. We are fucking with him. You were never a suspect really. We just wanted to make him jealous. You were gator bait. We are trying to disrespect his work in the hope that he’ll flush out or that he will blame you and come after you after we let you go.
My knees buckled, “You bitch.”
“Don’t worry Big Jake, I like you, I’m going to protect you, I am here to throw my body on you and take a bullet that is meant for you, even if it comes when we’re fucking.”
“This is very, very weird.”
“Grab my tits and rotate them as if you were doing a song and dance number from the thirties.”
“Huh,”
She put my hands on her tits and rotated my hands counterclockwise. I could feel her nipples getting hard,”He’s close. He’ll follow us. You have tattoos right.”
“Seven.”
“Any you want to get rid of.”
I stopped spinning her wheels,”Lady, I am just a sorry ass middle aged, pot bellied, balding guy with a sort of loving wife and two little kids.”
“He is going to want to rip you from ass to mouth.”
I fainted…
I woke on the floor of a strip club that was made from five old Subway Cars in a lot in Bed Stuy. Maia was licking my face and I knew I was close to home. I could feel someone’s eyes burning on the back of my head. I touched my head. Oh, it wasn’t someone’s eyes, it was dried blood.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 9 – The Soul Caboose
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 9
The Soul Caboose
I’m experienced of waking from a blackout, and things being weird. I even once woke up on top of a subway car that was traveling very fast under the East River. (A long story in which I don’t know all the details.)
Still, this was the weirdest of them all. I was in a Strip Club, that was a Subway car. I woke french kissing Maia. I didn’t know it was a dog I was kissing. The dog was licking my face because it had a lot of barbecue sauce on it. At first, I thought I must have eaten barbecue, because I was in fact smelling it.
I sat up and a great ass was in my face wiggling. I used the pole in the middle of the subway car to right myself. Alot of people catcalled me to lie back down on the ground.
Officer BeeBea Bodin pulled me down next to her on the old straw seats of this very old subway car. I remembered these from when I was a kid in the sixties.
“I’m listening,” I said.
Officer BeeBea Bodin said,”You are back in your neighborhood in Bed Stuy. You are in a place called Big Jake’s Soul Caboose. You are being used as bait by N.Y.P.D. and N.O.P.D. in affliation with the F.B.I. to track a Serial Killer.
You were shot in the head with a paintball gun or something stronger that knocked you out back at Coney Island…In recent moments, a stripper dumped barbecue sauce on your face and then sat down on your head. You must be hungry because you started chewing her cunt.”
“Thanks for looking out.” I sniffed the air, but I do smell barbecue.”
“They make barbecue here. You hungry?”
“I’m famished. I always get hungry after eating raw clams of a chick I never met. At least, I didn’t wake in the middle of eating a pussy of a girl whose face I never met.”
“You did. You did wake up.”
“I did? Which girl was it?”
“Look for the girl with a cheerleader outfit on and pon pons. She also had red hair and matching red high heels.”
“Could she dance?”
“Billie Marston, you are one unusual man. Most people who just ate pussy of someone they didn’t know and never saw the face of would ask other questions, but you wanna know if she can dance?”
“Well?”
“After you ate her out, she had a very relaxed way about her. She was a very good dancer.”
We were in a fantastic place. The Club was nine old Subway cars strung together in a circle. It was in a big empty lot, so the soul music playing could play real loud. The D.J. had my taste in unusual obscure Soul Music. The crowd was a mix of young black folk and older white people. People were looking at me and laughing. I guess I was the guy who ate the pom-pom girl with the pumps out while he had a concussion.
A brother walked over to me and said,”So, this is what Big Jake has come back as. He slapped me five, as if it were 1975.
“Welcome back. You waz missed.”
“Are they laughing at me cause I ate pussy while I was dying of a concussion, or because they know I have a dead body buried in my backyard?”
“Excuse me?,” Detective BeeBea Bodin asked emphatically.
“Yeah, since I’m helping the cops out with putting my ass in a hook as if it were half a worm, perhaps the Department Of Injustice could help me remove a body from my backyard that has been there for 25 years or so.”
“I’ll send CSI over to your house in the morning.”
“Did you use CSI for the corpse on the beach? No. You figured you’d use me to set up your boy and make him jealous and mad about how disrespected his murder scene was treated. I’m the bait because he has a thing for you and we were making out. Is he here. Is he watching us. Is he going to shoot me in the back of the head again. No, the deal is I’ll stay on this case, if you help me with my case. I want that body out of my backyard all quiet. Apparently, nobody wants to deal with the body and if I went to my Precinct they would tell me to use Big Jake as mulch.”
We kept walking around and around the nine Subway Cars. It was like the way I used to go to Clubs in the seventies and eighties and every floor had something else going on, on it. The Subway cars were playing songs like, Knock On Wood, and Johnny Jones And The King Casuals playing their tremendous version of “Purple Haze.
The place was lit in black light and where the windows were on both sides of each subway car, the windows were covered black light paintings of animals and naked chicks…
I whispered in BeeBea Bodin’s ear,”Those eyes in the paintings are following me.”
“Yeah, that’s for the peeping Tom’s. We think are killer is peeping right now.”
“Well, round everybody up. Get this guy and then I can tour this great joint. Fuck, you know I tour Europeans of famous New York homicides. This is the best fucking place I could bring them. I’m starving.”
We exited into the circle. I could see the barbecue smokers and my mouth watered, until I saw where they were cooking. The middle of this yard was a Cemetery. Fuck, I had to cross twenty dead folks to get me some cajun smoked chicken feet and macaroni and cheese.
“Best hand that dog over to me now.”
“That’s the second time tonight somebody wanted to barbecue this sweet dog. He is not up for grabs.”
The lid of the smoker came down and Old Man Nettles face revealed himself.
“You the smoker.”
“Give me the dog. You in a heap of trouble. You ate the pussy of the owner of the club.”
“I thought I was the owner. Everybody keeps calling me Big Jake because of this ring I dug up.”
I pulled it from around my neck.”
“Well the guy’s woman whose pussy you ate is the same guy who might have killed the first Big Jake in the first place.
“You know just because I ate a girls pussy when I was in the middle of a concussion, and just because I found a dead body in my backyard, does not mean that now I have become that dead person
“Krustwall might thing differently.”
“And who is that?”
“He’s the prophet in the little shack over there.”
“That shack is someone’s final resting place.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be yours,” Old Man Nettles said handing me my chicken feet and mac and cheese.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 10- A Sweetcar Named Desiree
Category: Life
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 10
A Sweetcar Named Desiree
So far, I made out with a vivacious, sultry Cop from New Orleans at a homicide location, I gave head to a Cheerleader in a Soul Club despite the fact that I was unconscious, and now I was eating chicken feet in the middle of a cemetery that was a makeshift barbecue joint. The night was young.
There were a couple of hundred people eating chicken feet and macaroni and cheese. People were sitting on the dead and leaning their plates on angled tombstones.
Old Man Nettles was making some kind of pie on the grill. Oh, you heard me right.
“Mr. Nettles…”
“Just call me Old.”
“Old, now I’ve done some grilling, I have never seen the pie attempted.”
“Can she bake a cherry pie, billy boy, billy boy. Can she bake a cherry pie my darling billy… Krustwell, wants a word with you before anything else.”
“Who is Krustwell?”
“Krustwell is going to tell you your future.”
I wiped my brow. Cayenne heat from the chicken feet. Sultry summer like day.
Bee Bea came over to me and put her arm around mine. She was only wearing her bra. She’d been dancing. Her gun was in her holster under her arm. Her badge was around her neck.
“There’s a couple of people who want to talk to you inside.”
“Did you catch the Stitch Killer?”
“No we are pretty sure he followed us here. We think he will come after you tonight. We feel prepared. We know he’s probably hot because of how we disrespected his collection.”
“Great. Do you think you can stop drinking and taking drugs if there’s a guy who wants to slice off the tattoos off of my body.”
“Not so loud,” Officer Bee Bea said. “Squeeze my titties to calm down and follow me where they point you to go.”
I did just that and despite the fact that I was bait for a serial killer, I felt kind of calm after squeezing the Officer’s tits. I began to follow where they pointed.
Old Man Nettles said,”The Oracle of Krustwell is where you should be going.”
“My dick is pointing in this direction.”
“Famous last words on a tombstone somewhere in this here cemetery,” Old Man Nettles said taking the cherry pie off of the smoker. People surrounded him and devoured the pie as if it were a bloodbath for vampires.
Back inside the wheel of nine subway cars that made up this unusual club, the music of Reverend Charlie Jackson was playing and I became furious. I know my scratchy records and if there was one thing more nerve racking then waking up from a blackout and giving head to a woman who I didn’t know, or more nerve racking than the knowledge that I was set up by the Police to find a killer, is the knowledge that someone had stolen my record collection and was playing it in this smokey club.
I don’t let anyone touch my rare Northern Soul or Gospel records. No one… I barely play them myself. They are sacred items that are to be only played for the Aliens who come down to the planet during the end of the world. Some mother fucker was playing my Charlie Booker Jackson single of “I Gave Up All I Had.”
I recognized the scratch Sht…Shtt…
I turned to Detective Bee Bea Bodin and said,”No matter how much I love those big yummy titties you have, I am going to get back my record collection.”
I ran off from the Detective who pointed to someone up ahead and nodded.
Between two Subway cars I saw the D.J. booth. The D.J. just started playing “I’ll Take You There,” By The Staple Singers
Brothers around the Club saw that I was hot under the collar and said,”It is true. It is Big Jake come back from the dead as a smaller fat white man.”
“Somebody give me a gun, I’m gonna smoke the D.J.”
Nobody seemed too flustered by what I was saying. People seemed like they were fumbling for their weapons.
“Mercy, I’ll take you there”
I looked into the D.J. booth and I saw my wife’s ass looking through my record crate for the next gem she was going to play.
“I know a place
Nobody crying
I’ll take you there”
Well, I froze. Who was taking care of the kids. How the hell did I get in this mess. I thought about backing away from my wife in the D.J. booth and thought it might be more interesting to have a run in with a Serial Killer who only wanted to peel off my Mark Ryden tattoo of Abe Lincoln and try to sew it on Madoff or Trump.
Oh fuck it. I was going to go up behind my wife, whose behind was covered with the dental floss of a g-string and I was going to whisper in her ear,”What the fuck are you doing with my records with a shitty sound system.”
No, I was going to kiss her on the ear and said,”Remember, when we were going out and being in weird places like this.”
I went up behind my wife and kissed her neck,”Don’t forget to put that stack back in it’s inner sheath.
My brother in law turned around and kissed me on the lips. He had developed tits since his disappearance and not the same kind of man tits that I had.
“You miss me.”
“What are you doing here ? How did you get my records? Since when is your ass the same as my wife’s?”
“Let’s go to the Caboose and talk.”
“I don’t want to go to the Caboose. We can talk right here.”
Detective Bee Bea Bodin walked into the D.J. booth, “We have to get you out of here. There has been a strike in the Club against one of my Undercover men and I’m worried I won’t be able to protect you.”
“Fuck You Officer Bee Bea Bodin. I am going to go with my brother-in… my sister in law and find out what has been going on… So, call back up or whatever you have to do. You set up to trap this cocksucker using me, so use me. Trap him. I’m the cheese, now reset your trap… He… She is family and those are my fucking records. I ain’t leaving till I get my crate and find out what happened to my brother-in-law and get acquainted with my sister in law.”
“This is the brother-in-law I was supposed to find who had gone missing? I guess I did my part of the job. If you want to stay and work this out with Stitches, I’m all for it.” We haven’t been this close ever.”
I went and sat down with Louie. I mean Desiree. I didn’t fucking care that he had become a woman. I was pissed that she took my records and was a great problem in my family by disappearing.”
I told her off,” I don’t fucking care who you are. Your sister loves you no matter what you are. By disappearing, you made everybody think of the way your Dad disappeared. You made everybody think it was a hit. You didn’t disappear, you misappeared and that is fucked up to do to people who love you and don’t give a fuck what you are.
Desiree cried,”Yeah, but that is not how everybody in the family is. You two are different.”
I cut Desiree off from telling me important shit about here evolution, to the woman side,”Taking my records, was just plain dirty.”
“I needed to work. Your soul and Gospel records afforded me to be able to start a career as a D.J. and make all kinds of money, I never made before. In a year or two, I’ll be able to get the operation.
“I have another Officer down, Billy. We have to get you out of here.”
“How many Cops do you have here.” “Me and two others.”
“I’m staying. I still have to talk to Desiree and I am supposed to talk to the Oracle before I leave.”
“You must have really gotten hit in the head hard.”
“Was that you giving Pom-Pom head on the floor. She loves you now. You know what song I played when you were going down on her?”
“I was unconcious. There was barbecue sauce on her snatch, I thought I was eating barbecue briscut… What were you playing Shama Lama Ding Dong.”
“Fuck, you weren’t unconscious. That is exactly what I played. Then I played…”
“Shout.!” I yelled.
“You were up.”
“No, I just know my records. Sometimes, I think they know the sequence of how they should be D.J.’d.
Desiree said,”I felt that.
“You have five minutes to catch up and then I have to get you to a safe house.”
I put my arm around my sister in law,”What happened?”
“My life could have gone this way or that but because I was living a lie my entire life, I went that way and this… I was visiting with your kids and I just felt like I was coming to a dead end and I was out of gas. I was seeing your kids and how much life they had, and I just didn’t want to lie to myself anymore. I saw your records and I had this idea. And now here I am, with a half a tank of gas and on the highway to becoming a woman.
Pom- Pom girl came out of nowhere. For a moment I thought that Officer Bodin was going to shoot my cheerleader. She jumped up on me and said, “Eat me.”
She was a little cute girl with a strong grip. She said,”I want you to come to Krustwell with me. I wanna ask him if you are my man for all time.”
Bodin shook her head no.
I said,”Old Man Nettles told me to go speak to Krustwell too. You want to come Desiree?”
“I lived in darkness a real long time. My whole life I kept this secret that I felt I was a woman… I already went to Krustwell. He said, “Have the balls to cut them off.”
“He’s the real deal Pom-Pom said and started pulling me back into the Cemetery.
I walked over to my sister in law. Call your sister tomorrow and tell her that you are fine and that I want to come home but can’t. Don’t tell her that somebody wants to cut off my tattoos and stitch them onto other people.”
“That’s terrible. You love your tattoos and they cost so much money to replace.”
Pom-Pom dragged me out into the middle of the Cemetery past the barbecue smokers. We were almost at the Mausoleum where Krustwell gave out his wisdom.
Officer Bodin had her gun out and was talking on her walkie talkie right before I saw stars.
Before I passed out a dark voice whispered,”Beulah peel me a grape.”
I knew my tattoos were in trouble.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 11 – PreparingThe Sacrificial Fuck
Category: Romance and Relationships
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 11
Preparing The Sacrificial Fuck
“Destruction can be very seductive,” said the man who kidnapped me and who was known as “The Stitch Killer” by the cops because he removed tattooes from one person and sewed them onto other people.
“How so?” I asked knowing full well that my only chance of survival was to keep the dialogue between us open. I had to make him believe that I was a real person and that my tattooes were not like postage and could be removed from a book of stamps.
Now, I did have an advantage because I studied and taught about criminal psychopaths, so I knew exactly what he was talking about when he said,”Destruction is seductive.”
Destruction is seductive because it can help one forget about one’s own problems… In fact, that’s why I studied these kooks and why people from around the world would come on my tours… Everybody was looking forward to forgetting their own past… Serial Killers were a new hobby and pastime for many people.
Well, I’m sure if I wasn’t on the chopping block as his next victim, I would have been scoping out the tour I would give.
Oh fuck it… Let me give you a tour…
First of all, everything with this madman was out in the open. He wasn’t a loner and he didn’t drag me to some underground tomb. He brought me in a car service to a makeshift motel in Greenpoint Brooklyn. Greenpoint was my wife’s enemy. Don’t forget she is also a Tour Guide of New York’s most polluted areas. So, I heard about Greenpoint and its soil contaminants and its Sewer Treatment Plant. I knew this neigborhood like the back of my hand if I didn’t have toilet paper and I had to use the back of my hand.
It was a fucked neighborhood with lots of Yuppie type kids not knowing where they were planting their roots… I mean their roots weren’t going to grow in Greenpoint.
Anyway, my killer introduced himself to me in the Cab ride over to this Condo building that was converted into a makeshift Motel because after the collapse of the Sub Prime Mortgage debacle, nobody was buying shit anymore and these monstrosities of new buildings were all empty… A perfect home for a Serial Killer if you think of it.
He sure talked like a madman. A smart one though. He had something on the ball. There was something in that head of his that he was trying to get too but when he spoke it felt like a thousand ping pong balls were bouncing around after falling out of overturned truck…Or like popcorn being made without a lid.
The Cab ride over went something like this:
“When I kill, I forget about my dreams.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t kill, you would still have your dreams.”
I don’t want my dreams. I dream that machines are made from blood and guts. I had to come for you today because last night, I dreamt that my toaster had a charred human heart in it. I put my hands in it to get the heart out and the toaster went on automatically. I tried reaching for the heart that was getting more charred and burnt. It was smoking and getting smaller and crisper and my hands were burning as well. Finally, I gave up and pulled out my hands which could only be comforted by putting butter on them and eating it.
I pissed my pants when he told me this story. I was laughing really hard but I also realized that I was a dead man real soon.
The driver of the cab broke in,”Professor Yougoth, are you alright?”
“I’m sorry Marty but you are going to have to clean the car again.”
“I think we need to put plastic down from now on.”
“I don’t like the feel of plastic. I always pay the piper.”
I felt the warm piss turn cold real fast. The Car Service guy was his Egor. I thought the best thing I could do was try to get into an accident…
“Hey Egor, you going to let this Fu Man Chu guy tell you what to do. You should get plastic and I’ll tell you what, you might want to get some barf bags too.”
I leaned forward and threw up the chicken feet I ate at the Soul Caboose on Sid the driver. He actually did swerve around a little but didn’t hit anything. Fuck, I was hoping for a major accident. The way I was seeing my future, a major accident was sounding real good.
Sid turned around and looked at me. I gave it my best shot but my chicken feet were not flying far from the mark.
“Sid, you don’t have to listen to anything this man says. He’s not your boss. You don’t have to deal with the guilt of killing me.”
“He is my boss and this is a guilt free job.”
I was in a lot of trouble. I thought Sid looked like a Yid, and so I’m a Yid and so I thought maybe if I could arouse Sid with some Jewish guilt, I could get him to turn around and drive me to my Baubie’s house for latkas…
“Sid are you a Yid?”
“Sure am.”
“You know there are still some people who dream about Hitler and it isn’t a nightmare for them,” I nudged my head to the Fu Man Chu guy with his glistening Yul Brenner egg.
“He’s alright once you get used to him… But then again, you won’t have a chance to do that, will you?” Sid laughed.
Fu Man Chu laughed and I thought he was going to break into a song from “The King and I.”
I wanted to piss some more but I was drained. I tried shitting but I was spent in that area… Apparently, at some point earlier I left a load in my pants.
I tried screaming but who was I kidding, I was in Brooklyn. Nobody is going to notice a man screaming in the back of a dark sedan,sitting next to a Fu Man Chu looking Serial Killer who seemed to have a staff working for him, even during these hard economic times…
So, we get to the makeshift motel and Professor Yougoth takes a gallon of water and pours it over his head like a scene out of Flashdance.
“Do you think I could get some of that? I got chicken feet and shit in my crotch.”
“We will clean you up for the sacrifice.”
“Nice.”
We walk into the abandoned Condo that was turned into the makeshift motel. Hipster kids with Ipods on in the lobby, crazy crack heads and Europeans all hanging out, doing nothing.
A German guy I know from showing him a previous tour of famous dumping grounds for mobsters walked over to me and said,”It’s me Harry from Bavaria. We just got in town and we need to book a tour with you. Something different… Maybe the Serial Killer Tour…
Professor Yougoth pulled out his water and poured it on his head.
Harry gave the Professor a hairy eyeball,”Is everything o.k.?
Yes, this is Professor Yougoth.”
“Call me Mi-Go,” Yougoth said.”
“Listen, this guy is a killer. Call my wife and tell her to call the Police or just call the Police.”
“O.K. you Americans with your weird humor. I know that you want me to call your wife to give the Germans the tour of pollution in Greenpoint. We don’t come to America to see your garbage. We come to your killers.”
“Well then take a picture of this guy and call for Detective Bee Bea Bodin.”
The Orthodox Jewish man who was twirling his payas stood up from behind the desk and said “Is everything alright.”
I know some Yiddish and I tried sputtering something. Finally, I said in English, “Call the Police, this messhuganah is going to kill me.”
The Orthodox man laughed and turned to Professor Mi-Go Yougoth,”Your experiments are trying to run away even before they get to the lab.”
Professor Mi-Go Yougoth who looked Asian and said in perfect Yiddisn,”Guteh tsolen, shleteh monen.” The three of these idiots thought that was the funniest thing they ever heard. Nice to see Germans and Orthodox Jews yucking it up with Yiddish speaking Fu Mans…
Oh, by the way he said,”The good ones pay, the bad ones complain.”
What the fuck was so funny about that. I think it was they were surprised that Mi-Go said anything in Yiddish… It was kind of funny in other circumstances.
So, that was disappointing. I run into people who could have saved my life but didn’t understand the severity of my situation. Maybe, I didn’t try hard enough, I should have collapsed onto the floor and foamed at the mouth…
Maybe, I just wanted to see what the rooms looked like in here. I was curious
We walked into Professor Mi-Go Yougoths room. I kind of want to say that it was worth it to be peeled of all my tatooes like a corn husked and then to have my skin wrapped around someone else’s skin and sewed onto them, just to see the room that Yougoths had.
He had a crew working on a garden in the room. There were bags of dirt and rolls of grass. There was an old tree that looked familiar to me growing in the middle of the suite.
A couple of young black dudes were working on the planting some bushes next to the bathroom door,”Man, are we glad to see you… You gotta key us up. We’re running low. You got the key?”
Yougoth pushed me towards the guy,”Here’s your key. Have Mitzi prepare him.”
“What about the lock?”
“She’ll show up.”
“Just get that tree rooted before she gets here.”
“We did the best we could. You wanted the burning bush planted, just in case, you know.”
“Fine,”Yougoth said. “Get him ready for sacrifice.”
I gulped. I guess I was crying because Yougoth said,”We aren’t going to kill you today. You are to be prepared for a sacrificial union between first man and woman.”
It was all over my head but I knew there was either a chance my life was going to be spared or I was about to be slaughtered.
Mitzi came out of the bathroom and said,”Let’s see the sacrificial Fuck.”
“Oh lord our Adam stinks… Get him in the bath.”
Mitzi removed my clothing and put it in a garbage bag.
“Could you pull out my wallet.”
“You won’t need a wallet where you’re going.”
“Where am I going?”
“You will go to the land of the gone. You will be our messenger.”
“Yeah, right?”
“Detective BeeBea Bodin walked through the door but her gun was not drawn and she did not look happy.”
“Here come the lock,” the one black dude said to everybody in attendance.
Detective Bodin did not look happy.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Menage A Trois A La Mode – Chapter 12 – Finally, Sacrificial Fucking
Category: Sports
Menage A Trois A La Mode
Chapter 12
Finally, Sacrificial Fucking
“Yes! I am really happy, no, I don’t know.” This felt like the truth. It really did.
“Is this the truth?” the half naked black bald woman washing me in the bathtub asked. She was assigned to me, as part of some Sacrificial Fucking that I was supposed to be a part of.
I did not come up with the name or the concept. I had somehow landed at some weird orgy that was tied into The Stitch Killer and a Cultish religious
thingy going on.
I had no idea what to say to the hot bald chick.
When she asked me if I was happy, she was in the middle of soaping and stroking my cock. So, even though it was explained to me, that I would be killed after the Sacrificial Fucking, I still couldn’t help feeling actualized by the soapy strokes of the young woman.
She kicked open the door and said,”His erection is fine.”
Applause from the next room.
“What was that about? I asked as the young woman pulled me up from the bath, and began toweling me off.
“If you wouldn’t have been able to get an erection, we would have had to let you go.”
“Now you tell me. What is your name?”
“June Acres.”
“That’s a pretty name,” I said. I was trying to find an in with June. I figured that maybe she would know how to save my life.
“I was named after an Insane Asylum.”
“That’s unusual,” I said taken aback.”
“O.K. now it’s time for your honey.”
I thought she was going to continue stroking me some more, but instead she dumped a large jar of honey on me, and then she threw all these feathers on me.
I looked like an Owl. I felt really weird and a little down but frantic at the same time,”Um, is there anyway I can get out of here June… I’d prefer not to die looking like a Thanksgiving Turkey.”
“You have been chosen for a reason.”
“Look, I’m just a horny middle aged guy with a wife and two kids. I just wanted to feel vital and young, I didn’t want all this.”
I looked out into the bedroom which these maniacs had converted into a garden. People were out in the other room either having some form of sex, or exhibiting weird behavior that may or may not be sex but… but… but you’d have to assume they meant it in a sexual way just based upon the circumstances.
So, the guy who had a spinning wheel of fireworks shooting around his ass like a roulette wheel, must have been getting off, but to me it just looked like a man who just ate an entire jalapeno chilli pepper farm.
What else did I see through my honey dipped feathers?
A grown man in a high chair being spoon fed by a woman dressed in just an apron… There was a ton of drama in the room. It was a combination of Ringling Brothers and a Dominatrix popularity contest.
Then I saw her. My Detective, Detective Bee Bea Bodin was in some kind of bubble.
I walked over to her,”I’m gonna get us out of this.”
Detective Bodin rolled her eyes.
“Fine, if you are going to act like this, I’m not going to talk to you.”
I walked back to June Acres,”What exactly, is going to happen here.”
“They is going to kill you.”
“Let’s stick to before they kill me. Once they kill me, I no longer have interest in the future.”
“You should.”
“Why is that?”
“The future decides your fate.”
“Is that right.”
“Yeah, after the Sacrificial Fuck, the Oracle will ask you a question to see if you are a Prophet. He will pull out a sword and ask you,’When are you going to die?’
“What’s the answer.”
“Don’t say,’Not now’ or ‘Never’.”
“Why shouldn’t I say,’Not now’ or ‘Never’
“Cause the last two guys who said that,had their tattoos ripped off their body and stiched to the next guy. So, I’m guessing that’s not the answer the Oracle is looking for.
“Oh, O.K. that’s not the answer, you got any ideas?”
“I liked what you said when you were in the bathtub.”
“What, what I say?” A couple of guys were pulling me away from June Acres and placing my feathery ass near Detective Bodin’s bubble.”
Damn, if I wasn’t about to get killed, this would have made a great New Wave video.
Martin Denny type exotica music played. Professor Mi-Go Yougoth poured water over his head. The water drained down his body and into the grass that covered this entire Condo converted into a motel room, converted into a Sacrificial Fucking Chamber.
Jeez, some things in Greenpoint never change. I say that because Greenpoint has had its share of kooky history. Its always been a great place to dump a body because it had a ton of manufacturing and so was desolate at night. It has America’s largest Oil spill, America’s largest Sewage Treatment Plant and America’s largest Hotel of Junkies and former Homeless, though many of the residents still call them Homeless.
In this room, with these nut jobs, Hipster kids, Poles who thought they were at a free rock show in McGolrick Park,Sacrificial Fucking must go on here all the time.
My cock had to break the bubble that seperated me from Detective Bee Bea Bodin. It did and I lay next to her.
“Well, this is awkward, me dressed as a bald eagle and you just revealing your bald eagle.”
Detective Bodin said,”Best if you start kissing me and start making love to me, but go slow, so we can figure out how to get out of here with our skin intact.”
We kissed. We kissed for a long time. We stopped occcassionally to whisper a detail of our predicament or to remove feathers from our mouths.
Professor Mi-Go Yougoth poured water over his head and said,”You must perform coitus for us or both your head will be removed.” He pulled out the sword that looked like it wasn’t sharp enough to get through neck bones on the first cut.
I went down on Detective Bodin. I thought that might buy us a little time. My mouth and tongue seemed well suited for Detective Bodin’s pussy.
After a while, I feathered my way up her torso and said,”Well?”
“That was great,” she said.
“Are cops coming or do you have a plan?”
“Enter me and we’ll think of something, just don’t come too fast.”
“Are you kidding me, I am a practicing Tantric Sex masturbator.”
I was in her body, her head tilted back, I kissed her neck. I rolled my hands over her large great tits. Her nipples were hard and erect. This was going to be a great way to die. I was kind of in a dream state. I touched her lips and started to think about what I said in the bathtub to the mental patient that might get me out of this unusual situation with my skin intact.
I kissed Bee Bea on the neck and said, ” I said,’Yes, I am happy, No, I don’t know.’”
Bodin said as she reached orgasm,” Do you think that is the answer, the Oracle is looking for…”
I achieved orgasm and rolled my feather bed off of Bodin.
The Oracle rushed to the bed. June Acres, poured cold water over his head.
He said to me,”Tell the truth or you die. When will you die. If you lie, you will die.”
“Well, I know I’m not going to die now,” I said.
He raised the sword higher over his head,”How do you know that?”
“Because I will die three days before you die!”
Professor Mi-Go Yougoth lowered his sword.
June Acres was about to pour water over his head and stopped her.
I took the bucket of water and poured it over my feathery ass. It was time for the chickens to fly the coop.
