He was fucking her.
As she lay flat on her back, he held her ankles and spread her legs as wide as possible. He liked it that way because it showed that he was fucking her, that his cock was going deep in her pussy.
You could say he was drilling her, hammering her, nailing her, plowing her, pounding her, screwing her, spearing her: All of those gerunds of aggression, if not violence, often used to describe sexual intercourse, especially when one partner wants to orgasm without concern for the sexual desires of his (usually) partner.
As he said, "Take it all, you hot little fuck. You know you want it..."
He came.
Three years later, he met his son...the one he had fathered that moment...the one he never knew he had...
So he must have plowed her, because he had planted a seed that had grown.
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
An Old Friend Returns
As Alanna sat on the bed, she thought:Why is my marriage over? How? What exactly did I do to cause him to walk out?
She felt dejected and sad enough to cry when she felt a heavy, furry thing on her shoulder.
She turned and saw Teddy, aka Theodore T. Urso, her imaginary friend from her childhood
"Teddy!" she exclaimed.
"Alanna," he said to her calmly, the way he always talked with her. "Do you remember when you were five years old?"
"I...uh...barely," she said. "Oh, sorry about the pun, Teddy!"
"No problem," he said. "Now if you don't remember, I do. Your family had moved into a hew house in a new neighborhood across town. Few children your age in the neighborhood wanted to play with you. Your older sister hated you because you had taken all the attention away from her. Your older brother ignored you. And sometimes your parents didn't pay the best attention to you because they were busy.
"I came to you then. I became your friend. I helped you get through those sad, bad times.
"I am truly sorry about your marriage. Now that you need some friendship, I've returned. Because I never left you. I'm a part of you. And if I helped you through some bad times when you were a girl and knew nothing, I sure can help you now because you're an adult and you know more...and better."
Alanna put her hand on his paw and sniffled. "Thanks, Teddy. You're a good bear."
"You're welcome," the bear said. "And when you get over this guy and you might be looking for a new romance, I'd recommend that you get a dog. Project your love onto him or her and he or she will return it. They are truly man's best friend. And I won't be jealous. I'll be happy that my friend has a good buddy.
"Though I've learned this through the years...men sure w0uld love to be our friends in real life. I think it's because we're big but cute."
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Look At The Floor
Adamas was on the way to Florida for a vacation he deeply wanted because he had tolerated a hard winter in the Midwest.
Halfway through Georgia, he checked into a motel.
He was dozing off and his attention was halfway focused on whatever was on the television set when he heard from the room next to his a slap-slap-slap sound along with a man and a woman moaning.
After Adamas realized that they were fucking, he heard a man's voice say, "Don't look at me. Look at the floor."
He heard someone mumble, slightly. He couldn't tell if it was "Rye?" or "Why?"
Then he heard the man said, "Because you're guilty."
That definitely caught Adamas' attention.
After a brief silence, the slap-slap-slap of their bodies, along with their moans and groans, started up again. The man moaned loudly. Afterward, all was quiet.
Then Adamas thought, for the first time in decades, of a woman who lived in his dormitory when he was a freshman in college. Her name was McSomething -- McKenzie, McIntosh -- he didn't remember. She had reddish-yellow hair, a larger-than -average nose and a slightly chipped front tooth. She was a little overweight and also wore too much makeup because her cheeks were a prominently darker-than-usual pink.
He didn't see much of her after his freshman year and had not thought of her since he left college. But when he thought about her in the motel, his cock grew hard.
Adamas imagined McSomething kneeling on the bed with a white nightgown hiked up to her waist and covering her head. Her ass and thighs were big. They and her pussy were exposed to him.
He stroked his cock and came as he imagined the two of them fucking to a mutual climax.
Halfway through Georgia, he checked into a motel.
He was dozing off and his attention was halfway focused on whatever was on the television set when he heard from the room next to his a slap-slap-slap sound along with a man and a woman moaning.
After Adamas realized that they were fucking, he heard a man's voice say, "Don't look at me. Look at the floor."
He heard someone mumble, slightly. He couldn't tell if it was "Rye?" or "Why?"
Then he heard the man said, "Because you're guilty."
That definitely caught Adamas' attention.
After a brief silence, the slap-slap-slap of their bodies, along with their moans and groans, started up again. The man moaned loudly. Afterward, all was quiet.
Then Adamas thought, for the first time in decades, of a woman who lived in his dormitory when he was a freshman in college. Her name was McSomething -- McKenzie, McIntosh -- he didn't remember. She had reddish-yellow hair, a larger-than -average nose and a slightly chipped front tooth. She was a little overweight and also wore too much makeup because her cheeks were a prominently darker-than-usual pink.
He didn't see much of her after his freshman year and had not thought of her since he left college. But when he thought about her in the motel, his cock grew hard.
Adamas imagined McSomething kneeling on the bed with a white nightgown hiked up to her waist and covering her head. Her ass and thighs were big. They and her pussy were exposed to him.
He stroked his cock and came as he imagined the two of them fucking to a mutual climax.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Everything In Its Place
Hammond was one of Rogers' first bosses when he started working fulltime after college. He was hired after Rogers' old boss was fired.
But Hammond had some quirks that came to dismay him.
The first was when Hammond complained that a local drug store was selling beach balls and metal folding chairs alongside drugs and other related items. Rogers thought: Hey, buddy -- are you a commie? Are you against someone making a profit?
Practices like that didn't bother him, and his bosses at the home office were strongly professed capitalist -- especially in their monopoly position.
But rogers began to think things were strange when Hammond had a strong reaction against female sexual display. It came after a discussion of a playmate of the month and other pictures of women either half naked or half dressed.
Rogers later found out that Hammond was Catholic and was against the changes that Vatican II had made to that church. He wondered if Hammond's reaction was that of a devotee to the sin of sexual desire.
Another Catholic who tugs his forelock to the priest, Rogers thought. What a fool. He's either not a very sophisticated thinker, like St. Thomas Aquinas or a Jesuit priest, or he's scared of the top dogs.
Such obedience to authority would help him advance at the company.
Later, after he got another job at a different place, he wondered if Hammond's reaction was from latent homosexuality -- fear and hate of a female sexual body. Or possibly it came from a combination of the two. And what percentage was what.
But Hammond had some quirks that came to dismay him.
The first was when Hammond complained that a local drug store was selling beach balls and metal folding chairs alongside drugs and other related items. Rogers thought: Hey, buddy -- are you a commie? Are you against someone making a profit?
Practices like that didn't bother him, and his bosses at the home office were strongly professed capitalist -- especially in their monopoly position.
But rogers began to think things were strange when Hammond had a strong reaction against female sexual display. It came after a discussion of a playmate of the month and other pictures of women either half naked or half dressed.
Rogers later found out that Hammond was Catholic and was against the changes that Vatican II had made to that church. He wondered if Hammond's reaction was that of a devotee to the sin of sexual desire.
Another Catholic who tugs his forelock to the priest, Rogers thought. What a fool. He's either not a very sophisticated thinker, like St. Thomas Aquinas or a Jesuit priest, or he's scared of the top dogs.
Such obedience to authority would help him advance at the company.
Later, after he got another job at a different place, he wondered if Hammond's reaction was from latent homosexuality -- fear and hate of a female sexual body. Or possibly it came from a combination of the two. And what percentage was what.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Pick Up, And A Shameful Transaction
Hedges once picked up a girl in a bar.
"Hey, ya wanna ... sleep with me?" she asked him.
"Sure," he said. He was desperate and she wasn't fat or ugly.
"Let's go to your place," she said.
However, he was impotent and she had passed out, so they didn't fuck that night.
When Hedges woke up, he said, "I got a headache!"
She said, "Shit -- I got a HELL of a headache."
He said, "So ya don't wanna ..."
She said, "No. But -- can ya get me some aspirin for my headache? And some water to wash it down?"
He said, "Let's make a bargain."
*
Sometimes prostitution doesn't involve only money. It might involve such goods as a painkiller, some water to wash it down, and a glass.
"Hey, ya wanna ... sleep with me?" she asked him.
"Sure," he said. He was desperate and she wasn't fat or ugly.
"Let's go to your place," she said.
However, he was impotent and she had passed out, so they didn't fuck that night.
When Hedges woke up, he said, "I got a headache!"
She said, "Shit -- I got a HELL of a headache."
He said, "So ya don't wanna ..."
She said, "No. But -- can ya get me some aspirin for my headache? And some water to wash it down?"
He said, "Let's make a bargain."
*
Sometimes prostitution doesn't involve only money. It might involve such goods as a painkiller, some water to wash it down, and a glass.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Flip For The Nickle
Burke was a trust officer for a bank in a small midwestern town. He handled trusts, estates, and other things like that.
Most of his work was routine and peaceful. One case, however, exasperated him greatly.
He handled the estate of a man who well call Smith. It was worth between $30 million and $35 million.
He had two heirs -- a son and a daughter.
In the middle of probate, however, Smith's daughter and his daughterinlaw started to disagree about who would get a few things in the estate. And as it sometimes happens in these things, the disagreements became a strong conflict.
It got the point where Burke was in his office with Smith's son, his daughterinlaw, and his daughter, going through the contents of a jar that held some assorted loose coins.
He got to the last coin. It was a nickle.
In exasperation, he took it in his hand and said, "Who gets this?"
Smith's daughter said, "Flip for it."
Most of his work was routine and peaceful. One case, however, exasperated him greatly.
He handled the estate of a man who well call Smith. It was worth between $30 million and $35 million.
He had two heirs -- a son and a daughter.
In the middle of probate, however, Smith's daughter and his daughterinlaw started to disagree about who would get a few things in the estate. And as it sometimes happens in these things, the disagreements became a strong conflict.
It got the point where Burke was in his office with Smith's son, his daughterinlaw, and his daughter, going through the contents of a jar that held some assorted loose coins.
He got to the last coin. It was a nickle.
In exasperation, he took it in his hand and said, "Who gets this?"
Smith's daughter said, "Flip for it."
Friday, July 31, 2009
An Incident
He went into a tavern on a dark, damp night when halfway wanted to go home and sleep, but his soul felt darker than the night and he wanted the two of them to be equal. He though a few beers and some food would help the balance.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw people scattered throughout the tavern. He took a seat at the bar.
As he drank a beer and ate a sandwich, he looked at the liquor bottles behind it, then at his reflection in the mirror behind them.
In the mirror, he noticed that a man who was sitting at the bar was holding a shot glass and toasting his own reflection. The hand that held the shot glass was trembling as the man lowered it to the bar. Then he leaned his head back and whipped it forward, quickly but awkwardly.
He saw the man's flushed face and red eyes.
That man has just walked in the door of the House of Intoxication, he thought. He'll stay there for a while, stumble around and hit the walls, then fall asleep with his hangover around him like a sleeping bag. He was trying to stop his awareness if only for a short time.
He wondrered if if should help the man, but decided he wouldn't because the man wouldn't want it. The best way he could help was not to end up like him.
He drank his beer, ate his sandwich, paid his bill and left the bar -- for bed, for sleep, for waking and for action, so he could live another day and drink another might at a nother tavern.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw people scattered throughout the tavern. He took a seat at the bar.
As he drank a beer and ate a sandwich, he looked at the liquor bottles behind it, then at his reflection in the mirror behind them.
In the mirror, he noticed that a man who was sitting at the bar was holding a shot glass and toasting his own reflection. The hand that held the shot glass was trembling as the man lowered it to the bar. Then he leaned his head back and whipped it forward, quickly but awkwardly.
He saw the man's flushed face and red eyes.
That man has just walked in the door of the House of Intoxication, he thought. He'll stay there for a while, stumble around and hit the walls, then fall asleep with his hangover around him like a sleeping bag. He was trying to stop his awareness if only for a short time.
He wondrered if if should help the man, but decided he wouldn't because the man wouldn't want it. The best way he could help was not to end up like him.
He drank his beer, ate his sandwich, paid his bill and left the bar -- for bed, for sleep, for waking and for action, so he could live another day and drink another might at a nother tavern.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
A Few Things At The Gas & Go
The time was nearing 7 on a weekday evening, and Art was late getting home. After work, he had browsed a bookstore, then stopped to buy some grtoceries.
As he was driving home, he saw that his gas tank was about three-fourths empty, so he stopped at a convenience store to buy some fuel.
As he stood in line to pay for his gas, he realized that he stopped at convenience stores for one big reason:
Restrooms accessible to the public.
And when he used the restroom of a convenience store, he often bought something. It was usually a candy bar or a soft drink. If he used the restroom of a fastfood place, he usually bought a small drink to go.
He did that as an obligation that he must fulfill. He used their services, so he had to buy something. If he didn't do that, he often felt guilty because he was ripping them off.
He didn't know how or where he ever got that idea.
As he got closer to the clerk at the cash register, he moved by a food display case that contained sandwiches made at the store and ready to be eaten after they were bought. Often when he was hungry, he bought one of them, but usually didn't do that because the bread in the sandwiches was dry and white and the meat was often tasteless and sometimes a sickly shade.
He saw one of the sandwiches had been squished into a shape that resembled a ball.
Then he chuckled at a memory.
In high school, he played halfback on the freshman football team. A teammate who also played halfback had a bad habit; he didn't carry the football close to him, so when he was tackled, he often fumbled.
The coach, Dan McGraw, would scream at the player:
"DAMN IT, SON -- DON'T CARRY THE FOOTBALL LIKE IT'S A LOAF OF BREAD!"
McGraw was nicknamed Goon. He was a minorleague Woody Hayes. He thought yelling and screaming at his players was the best way to motivate them. This was during the time when half the high school football coaches in the Midwest were minorleague Woody Hayeses.
And now, after all those years, in front of Art was a loaf of bread that looked like it had been carried like a football.
Then he remembered that the player was often nicknamed Loaf or Loafer or Light, as in light in the loafers -- a slang phrase for an effeminate homosexual.
When Art got to the clerk, he decided he wanted some change for a $20 bill. He asked for two $5 bills and ten $1 bills. Then he said, "I'm not going to use them all at a titty bar."
Right after he said that, he wondered:
Why the hell did I tell him that? He didn't need to know what I was going to use the bills for. Besides, if the clerk had been a woman, I wouldn't have told her that.
The clerk gave him the change and then replied:
"Hey, if you were going to a titty bar, you'd want all ones."
As Art drove home, he thought:
I told that guy what I wanted out of habit. I usually tell people why I do something or what something done to defuse their possible objections. because they have objected in the past. Because what I want from life is often different that what most people I know want from it. So I must explain so they might understand it and therefore approve it because most people usually don't approve of things they don't understand.
BUT
From now on, if no one asks me for a reason or an explanation of my actions, I won't give them one. And if they want a reason, I'll tell them the truth, no matter how they'll react.
And another thing: Quit feeling guilty for using the rest rooms at those convenience stores. That is what they are there for. If they weren't for the public to use, they wouldn't be so easily accessable.
After Art made those decisions and followed them, his life became a little less smooth that it was before. But he felt more satisfaction as he lived it.
As he was driving home, he saw that his gas tank was about three-fourths empty, so he stopped at a convenience store to buy some fuel.
As he stood in line to pay for his gas, he realized that he stopped at convenience stores for one big reason:
Restrooms accessible to the public.
And when he used the restroom of a convenience store, he often bought something. It was usually a candy bar or a soft drink. If he used the restroom of a fastfood place, he usually bought a small drink to go.
He did that as an obligation that he must fulfill. He used their services, so he had to buy something. If he didn't do that, he often felt guilty because he was ripping them off.
He didn't know how or where he ever got that idea.
As he got closer to the clerk at the cash register, he moved by a food display case that contained sandwiches made at the store and ready to be eaten after they were bought. Often when he was hungry, he bought one of them, but usually didn't do that because the bread in the sandwiches was dry and white and the meat was often tasteless and sometimes a sickly shade.
He saw one of the sandwiches had been squished into a shape that resembled a ball.
Then he chuckled at a memory.
In high school, he played halfback on the freshman football team. A teammate who also played halfback had a bad habit; he didn't carry the football close to him, so when he was tackled, he often fumbled.
The coach, Dan McGraw, would scream at the player:
"DAMN IT, SON -- DON'T CARRY THE FOOTBALL LIKE IT'S A LOAF OF BREAD!"
McGraw was nicknamed Goon. He was a minorleague Woody Hayes. He thought yelling and screaming at his players was the best way to motivate them. This was during the time when half the high school football coaches in the Midwest were minorleague Woody Hayeses.
And now, after all those years, in front of Art was a loaf of bread that looked like it had been carried like a football.
Then he remembered that the player was often nicknamed Loaf or Loafer or Light, as in light in the loafers -- a slang phrase for an effeminate homosexual.
When Art got to the clerk, he decided he wanted some change for a $20 bill. He asked for two $5 bills and ten $1 bills. Then he said, "I'm not going to use them all at a titty bar."
Right after he said that, he wondered:
Why the hell did I tell him that? He didn't need to know what I was going to use the bills for. Besides, if the clerk had been a woman, I wouldn't have told her that.
The clerk gave him the change and then replied:
"Hey, if you were going to a titty bar, you'd want all ones."
As Art drove home, he thought:
I told that guy what I wanted out of habit. I usually tell people why I do something or what something done to defuse their possible objections. because they have objected in the past. Because what I want from life is often different that what most people I know want from it. So I must explain so they might understand it and therefore approve it because most people usually don't approve of things they don't understand.
BUT
From now on, if no one asks me for a reason or an explanation of my actions, I won't give them one. And if they want a reason, I'll tell them the truth, no matter how they'll react.
And another thing: Quit feeling guilty for using the rest rooms at those convenience stores. That is what they are there for. If they weren't for the public to use, they wouldn't be so easily accessable.
After Art made those decisions and followed them, his life became a little less smooth that it was before. But he felt more satisfaction as he lived it.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
a real pissing contest
bobby was 10 years old and his brother billy was 8 when they started to play a new game.
just before they went to bed, they went to the bathroom, drank a lot of water, and started to pee into the toilet. then they would move farther and farther away from the bowl to see how long their streams could go.
often they would cross their streams -- must like the light sabre battles in the star wars movies.
now THAT is what you'd call a real pissing contest.
but one night, their father came into the bathroom and saw them in action.
he yelled, "GODDAMN IT, DON'T DO THAT HERE!"
the boys stopped.
he said, "do it at school. let the janitors clean it up!"
just before they went to bed, they went to the bathroom, drank a lot of water, and started to pee into the toilet. then they would move farther and farther away from the bowl to see how long their streams could go.
often they would cross their streams -- must like the light sabre battles in the star wars movies.
now THAT is what you'd call a real pissing contest.
but one night, their father came into the bathroom and saw them in action.
he yelled, "GODDAMN IT, DON'T DO THAT HERE!"
the boys stopped.
he said, "do it at school. let the janitors clean it up!"
Saturday, November 15, 2008
whims usually don't pay off
al once had a lover. her name, for the sake of this story, will be anna.
one time after they had swived, anna was walking around her place topless. that was all right with al, but some of the shades of her windows were up and he didn't want her to display her charms to the world.
(by the way, she wore a 34c bra.)
"sweetheart, do you like showing off the twins when the shades aren't down?" he said.
"i used to do it a lot more," she said as she got back into bed and snuggled against al. "let me tell you a story.
"one friday evening afterwork -- it was in late april or early may when i was in my 20s and had just gotten fulltime work -- as soon as i walked into my apartment, i took off my blouse. then i took off my bra. then i went onto the balcony of my apartment -- i was on the third floor of that apartment complex -- and stood there for a while before i waved my boobs for all the world to see.
"i did it because i could sense that life was returning. winter was gone for now. the grass was newly green and the air was fresh. and i was frustrated by things -- work, my weight, lack of a boyfriend -- i could go into more details but i won't -- now.
"i waved them freely and with no shame.
"now on saturday morning, the day after i shook my boobs, i was taking my laundry room to the laundromat at the apartment. while i was going there, my path crossed with an older man who lived in the same complex.
"as we passed, he gave me a steady look. he was definitely measuring me.
"then i thought -- he must've seen me waving my boobs! because i remembered that he usually walked his dog about the same time that i got home from work.
"damn -- was i embarassed!"
one time after they had swived, anna was walking around her place topless. that was all right with al, but some of the shades of her windows were up and he didn't want her to display her charms to the world.
(by the way, she wore a 34c bra.)
"sweetheart, do you like showing off the twins when the shades aren't down?" he said.
"i used to do it a lot more," she said as she got back into bed and snuggled against al. "let me tell you a story.
"one friday evening afterwork -- it was in late april or early may when i was in my 20s and had just gotten fulltime work -- as soon as i walked into my apartment, i took off my blouse. then i took off my bra. then i went onto the balcony of my apartment -- i was on the third floor of that apartment complex -- and stood there for a while before i waved my boobs for all the world to see.
"i did it because i could sense that life was returning. winter was gone for now. the grass was newly green and the air was fresh. and i was frustrated by things -- work, my weight, lack of a boyfriend -- i could go into more details but i won't -- now.
"i waved them freely and with no shame.
"now on saturday morning, the day after i shook my boobs, i was taking my laundry room to the laundromat at the apartment. while i was going there, my path crossed with an older man who lived in the same complex.
"as we passed, he gave me a steady look. he was definitely measuring me.
"then i thought -- he must've seen me waving my boobs! because i remembered that he usually walked his dog about the same time that i got home from work.
"damn -- was i embarassed!"
Friday, October 24, 2008
mom and 'roids
ten years ago, my mother had hip replacement surgery. the doctors prescribed steroids to help her heal.
it was legitimate. doctors often prescribe steroids for a patient to help bone growth and to built up muscle tissue after surgery.
before i went to visit her in the hospital, i was scared. i was afraid that she would reach out from her bed, grab me, and say:
"WHAT'S THE IDEA OF THIS CHEAP 99-CENT GET-WELL-CARD YOU GOT FOR ME? GET ME AN AMERICAN GREETINGS CARD OR A HALLMARK CARD -- AND MAKE SURE IT COSTS $3.95 OR MORE. I'M YOUR MOTHER, YOU CHEAP JACKASS!"
as i imagined it, she called me a jackass because -- well, she couldn't call me a son of a bitch or a bastard.
i was also afraid she'd say:
"WHAT IS THIS CHEAP POTTED PLANT? I'M YOUR MOTHER! BRING ME SO DAMN ROSES! AND MAKE IT AT LEAST A DOZEN OF THEM!"
but neither of those things happened.
i was glad my mother didn't get addicted to steroids. i don't think my father would've enjoyed shooting them into her rump.
*
for the record: patients like my mother are prescribed from 2.5 milligrams to 14.5 milligrams of steroids a day. athletes who take steroids often take from 20 to 2,000 milligrams a day.
it was legitimate. doctors often prescribe steroids for a patient to help bone growth and to built up muscle tissue after surgery.
before i went to visit her in the hospital, i was scared. i was afraid that she would reach out from her bed, grab me, and say:
"WHAT'S THE IDEA OF THIS CHEAP 99-CENT GET-WELL-CARD YOU GOT FOR ME? GET ME AN AMERICAN GREETINGS CARD OR A HALLMARK CARD -- AND MAKE SURE IT COSTS $3.95 OR MORE. I'M YOUR MOTHER, YOU CHEAP JACKASS!"
as i imagined it, she called me a jackass because -- well, she couldn't call me a son of a bitch or a bastard.
i was also afraid she'd say:
"WHAT IS THIS CHEAP POTTED PLANT? I'M YOUR MOTHER! BRING ME SO DAMN ROSES! AND MAKE IT AT LEAST A DOZEN OF THEM!"
but neither of those things happened.
i was glad my mother didn't get addicted to steroids. i don't think my father would've enjoyed shooting them into her rump.
*
for the record: patients like my mother are prescribed from 2.5 milligrams to 14.5 milligrams of steroids a day. athletes who take steroids often take from 20 to 2,000 milligrams a day.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
newton's first law
larry wasn't ready for the quiz in his physics class.
he was a sophomore at state university and had spent most of the first few weeks of the semester partying with friends instead of studying. therefore, he knew very little about physics.
he received the quiz. the only question on it was:
explain newton's first laws of motion in your own words.
a thought came from the back of larry's mind, and he wrote:
fleep gorble gorble dibba dabba dubba wubbya grugg grugg megagrugg -- avec savoir fair, my amigos y amigas.
he loved loopholes like that.
p.s. -- larry was a pre-law student.
he was a sophomore at state university and had spent most of the first few weeks of the semester partying with friends instead of studying. therefore, he knew very little about physics.
he received the quiz. the only question on it was:
explain newton's first laws of motion in your own words.
a thought came from the back of larry's mind, and he wrote:
fleep gorble gorble dibba dabba dubba wubbya grugg grugg megagrugg -- avec savoir fair, my amigos y amigas.
he loved loopholes like that.
p.s. -- larry was a pre-law student.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
a good news hooker
mcnair wasn't dating. that was a mutual decision between him and the single women in his small town.
but he often had sexual desires that masturbation couldn't always satisfy. so every once in a while, he went to the big city -- which was about 60 miles from his house -- and solicit a hooker.
he usually went to an area a little east of the main business district. he often had seen hookers there before when he was in the big city on other business.
the last time he went, he found a hooker, who took him to a parked van. there, they did their business.
after they were through and were rearrainging their clothes, she told mcnair, "i have some good news for you."
when mcnair heard that, he thought the good news just might be a discount for the services rendered -- maybe half off the agreed price.
but it wasn't that.
"have you heard about jesus?" the hooker asked him. she then went on about the gospel and the bible and god's plan for the world.
mcnair was halfway listening to her. he didn't like it when people preached the gospel to him because he wasn't a religions man.
he also thought there was somethng strange about the situation, because when hookers start spreading the gospel, they usually stop spreading their legs for money.
"sweet heart," he said, "i'm glad to know that you're getting right with god. but ... why are you still doing this?"
"when the time's right, god will tell me when to get into another line of work," she said. "in the meantime, i'm giving all the money i make as a working girl to my minster. that's the reverend silkie. he's a free-lance pastor who preaches from the front seat of his lincoln continental. you usually see him in this area or just east of downtown. a lot of us working girls are members of his flock."
mcnair paid the full price.
while he was driving back to his small town, he thought:
men never get enough food, sex, and sports on tv. because of those things, i bet the salvation army would be a lot more successful in saving souls if they offered hookers and espn.
but he often had sexual desires that masturbation couldn't always satisfy. so every once in a while, he went to the big city -- which was about 60 miles from his house -- and solicit a hooker.
he usually went to an area a little east of the main business district. he often had seen hookers there before when he was in the big city on other business.
the last time he went, he found a hooker, who took him to a parked van. there, they did their business.
after they were through and were rearrainging their clothes, she told mcnair, "i have some good news for you."
when mcnair heard that, he thought the good news just might be a discount for the services rendered -- maybe half off the agreed price.
but it wasn't that.
"have you heard about jesus?" the hooker asked him. she then went on about the gospel and the bible and god's plan for the world.
mcnair was halfway listening to her. he didn't like it when people preached the gospel to him because he wasn't a religions man.
he also thought there was somethng strange about the situation, because when hookers start spreading the gospel, they usually stop spreading their legs for money.
"sweet heart," he said, "i'm glad to know that you're getting right with god. but ... why are you still doing this?"
"when the time's right, god will tell me when to get into another line of work," she said. "in the meantime, i'm giving all the money i make as a working girl to my minster. that's the reverend silkie. he's a free-lance pastor who preaches from the front seat of his lincoln continental. you usually see him in this area or just east of downtown. a lot of us working girls are members of his flock."
mcnair paid the full price.
while he was driving back to his small town, he thought:
men never get enough food, sex, and sports on tv. because of those things, i bet the salvation army would be a lot more successful in saving souls if they offered hookers and espn.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
stripper librarian
nate used to go to strip clubs a lot more than he did now. in fact, he hadn't been to a strip club since he was busted for drunk driving in the early 1990s. and strip clubs would rather sell alcohol to its patrons instead of, say, bottled water, coffee or soft drinks.
he was at a strip club in the late 1980s on the northeast side of indianapolis, not that far where he was living at the time. while he was there, he saw a stripper who caught his attention because:
"elizabeth," she said.
he noted that she said elizabeth -- instead of some variation of crystal or tiffany.
"do you do this full time, honey?" nate asked. "because you're really good at it."
"no," she replied. "i'm doing this to pay for school. i'm studying to be a librarian."
tell yourself whatever you want to believe, he thought. just keep doing what you're doing now, because ... me like this a whole bunch!
he gave elizabeth a little extra for a tip.
ten years later, nate had to do some research for a project, so he went to the central library in downtown indianapolis. behind the customer service desk was --
elizabeth herself!
now if you've ever noticed it before, librarians usually don't doll up. but she looked good -- very good -- even after 10 years had passed. compared to the other librarians, she was the equivalent of a sports illustrated swimsuit model.
he was at a strip club in the late 1980s on the northeast side of indianapolis, not that far where he was living at the time. while he was there, he saw a stripper who caught his attention because:
- she was a natural brunette instead of a blonde from the bottle.
- her breasts looked natural.
- she didn't wear a thong.
- she wore glasses.
"elizabeth," she said.
he noted that she said elizabeth -- instead of some variation of crystal or tiffany.
"do you do this full time, honey?" nate asked. "because you're really good at it."
"no," she replied. "i'm doing this to pay for school. i'm studying to be a librarian."
tell yourself whatever you want to believe, he thought. just keep doing what you're doing now, because ... me like this a whole bunch!
he gave elizabeth a little extra for a tip.
ten years later, nate had to do some research for a project, so he went to the central library in downtown indianapolis. behind the customer service desk was --
elizabeth herself!
now if you've ever noticed it before, librarians usually don't doll up. but she looked good -- very good -- even after 10 years had passed. compared to the other librarians, she was the equivalent of a sports illustrated swimsuit model.
sanders
nassau went out drinking with his friend, sanders, to celebrate sanders' retirement from a position in the federal government.
"sanders," he said, "since you're now a retiree and on a fixed income, i'll pay for the beers."
sanders had a small laugh at the small joke.
"nassau," he said, "i'll pay for my share because i have enough money to make it through my retirement. but why don't you pay for the first round?"
"okay," nassau said.
as they drank, sanders told him about a benefit he never considered:
"one of the things that i especially liked about working for the feds was the days i was off work for a holiday and a lot of folks working in the 'private sector' were at their jobs. sometimes in the morning after rush hour, i'd drive by the office buildings downtown and thought: i'm getting over on the folks who were working, especially those bastards who bitch about paying their taxes.
"ya know what? sometimes i thought that i enjoyed that feeling a little more than i should have. but other times, i felt so righteous.
"at my first job after i got out of college -- in the 'private sector,' by the way -- my immediate supervisor and the rest of the middle management fools there used to bitch like hell about 'federal bureaucrats.' meanwhile, they were scared of the owner, who used to come by from time to time for an inspection. the office manager was scared to hell of him; he used to be as nervous as a teenager before his first big kiss. and while the owner forbid relatives of the employees from working at the company, his daughter used to work in the personnel department for the company.
"after i got another job, i never contacted those fools again."
"that's interesting," nassau said. "ya know, i've never been tempted to steal things. but as for borrowing -- without returning -- office supplies -- hell, i can't remember how many times i've done that. especially when i worked for x-----."
"that's theft, nassau."
"hey -- those bastards owed me. it was justified and justifiable compensation.
"but i was rasied to have at least a little bit of a conscience, so i had my limits. i'd take one item -- say a pen or a pad of post-it notes. maybe i'd take two of them. but i definitely would not take three or more of them."
"sanders," he said, "since you're now a retiree and on a fixed income, i'll pay for the beers."
sanders had a small laugh at the small joke.
"nassau," he said, "i'll pay for my share because i have enough money to make it through my retirement. but why don't you pay for the first round?"
"okay," nassau said.
as they drank, sanders told him about a benefit he never considered:
"one of the things that i especially liked about working for the feds was the days i was off work for a holiday and a lot of folks working in the 'private sector' were at their jobs. sometimes in the morning after rush hour, i'd drive by the office buildings downtown and thought: i'm getting over on the folks who were working, especially those bastards who bitch about paying their taxes.
"ya know what? sometimes i thought that i enjoyed that feeling a little more than i should have. but other times, i felt so righteous.
"at my first job after i got out of college -- in the 'private sector,' by the way -- my immediate supervisor and the rest of the middle management fools there used to bitch like hell about 'federal bureaucrats.' meanwhile, they were scared of the owner, who used to come by from time to time for an inspection. the office manager was scared to hell of him; he used to be as nervous as a teenager before his first big kiss. and while the owner forbid relatives of the employees from working at the company, his daughter used to work in the personnel department for the company.
"after i got another job, i never contacted those fools again."
"that's interesting," nassau said. "ya know, i've never been tempted to steal things. but as for borrowing -- without returning -- office supplies -- hell, i can't remember how many times i've done that. especially when i worked for x-----."
"that's theft, nassau."
"hey -- those bastards owed me. it was justified and justifiable compensation.
"but i was rasied to have at least a little bit of a conscience, so i had my limits. i'd take one item -- say a pen or a pad of post-it notes. maybe i'd take two of them. but i definitely would not take three or more of them."
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