all the way live #12
a couple weeks ago, i head that Gomez was coming into town. and i would have really liked to have seen them in my semi-right mind, but as the fates would have it, i had been up for something like 50 hours, was hallucinating, and violently paranoid on the day of the show. to make matters worse, the Doktor leaves a message on my phone that went something like: “[mumble] Gomez [mumble, mumble] got tickets [mumble] women [mumble, belch] bring that limo, cunt mussel.”
i figured at that point, what’s a few more hours without sleep, right? their new record is really good, and i really wanted to see them. so i get to his place, and he comes out all hands waving and buttoning his shirt, with this red mark on either side of his mouth, extending back towards his ears.
“St. Clair, you’re the motherfuckin’ MAN!!!”
“…”
“wait until you see what i got for YOU!!!”
“…”
“what’s your problem?”
“nothing man…i’m just sleepy. who’s opening up?”
“hmmm? oh fuck that. listen…can you drive?”
“why the fuck not. i drive everywhere else. it’s seems to have become my job. i really like it. you know, i’ve begun to think of driving, of the road, as a metaphor for…”
“fan-fucking-tastic. look, the ladies are…”
“ladies?”
“yes indeed…the ladies are inside. let me go get them and we’ll…”
“can’t i come in to get a drink or something?”
“no.”
“…some water or…”
“fuck that…let me go get them and we’ll be on our way.”
“awwright, i guess. hey man…the new Gomez record is good. can’t wait to see them.”
“yeah, listen. about your ticket…”
“what?”
“i had to give it away.”
“you had to give it away?”
“i had to give that fuckin’ ticket away.”
“to who?”
“to the girl i’m taking tonight.”
“…”
“come on, don’t be like that.”
“she ball-gagged you, didn’t she?”
“what? i don’t know what you’re…”
“yes, you do. yes, you do, and yes, she did. you’re disgusting.”
“what?”
“you’re an ape.”
“i’m offended that your would say something like that.”
“she fuckin’ ball-gagged you. that’s what those red marks are from, aren’t they?”
“HEY!!! that’s my business.”
“whatever.”
“come on, don’t be like that. wait until you see…”
“so i gotta fuckin’ drive your ass around all night AND miss the show?”
“yeah but wait until you see what i got for YOU!!! bi-coastal babe, speaks no Inglés.”
now, i’m understandably irritated, but i figure i can get to Millvale, drop them off, park the limo, smoke a joint, and fall asleep. fuck the drive home, ya know, cuz once i’m out, i’m out for like twenty hours or so. the Puerto Rican girl can do the drive home.
so whatever - we get there, the Doktor gets out, trying to be all suave and shit. suit and tie, opening the door, real dignified, you know the routine. motherfucker was ball-gagged twenty minutes earlier, but now all of a sudden he’s little lord fauntleroy.
i found the most inconspicuous and secluded spot possible to park a beat limo, i got out of the driver’s seat and headed into the rear, locking the doors. i almost forgot about the chica in the backseat. very fine, by the way. nice body, tan, blonde hair, brown eyes. normally, i don’t like blonde hair, but i wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eatin’ crackers, youknowwhatimsayin? [let me get a fist bump] but anyway, i just wanted to unwind and pass out. i flipped on the television, smiled politely, lit up the joint, and settled in. the whole time, she was looking at me, smiling sweetly, but i wasn’t about to get into all that “language of love” bullshit, myself. i offered the joint but she just shook her head, giggled, and stuck her tongue out at me. on the tip, there was a little blue pill.
great.
i don’t even remember falling asleep, but i do remember i was dreaming about being on the beach. i was walking right at that point where the water wets the sand. there’s beautiful women everywhere. all over the place. and the sky is blue and it’s warm. i’m just flapping my big old feet in the sand, squishin’ it beneath my toes, enjoying the sights, rubbin’ my belly, right. all of a sudden, the girl from the limo – the Spanish girl – she’s in front of me, walking backwards, throwing sand at me. and it hurts. it hurts. it hurts real fuckin’ bad. but not like you think it would. she doesn’t mean to be mean, you see. she thinks it’s the fun fuckin’ thing to do at the beach, i guess. so i keep walking and she keeps throwing sand, and it keeps hurting. i try to block it, but i don’t really wanna block it that bad and, anyway, it’s no use. it’s sand. then the Doktor is up in a lifeguard chair and he’s yelling and all of a sudden it gets dark and there’s a storm. his yelling is right in time with the thunder. St. Clair, boom boom boom, St. Clair, boom boom boom, St. Clair.
and then i wake up.
the girl’s got her head in my lap and my junk is on fire. i mean, bless her heart and all, but it had to be the worst head in the all-time history of dick sucking. she was like, i don’t know, chewing on my nut sack or something when i managed to pull back and get myself free. it was like raw chicken down there.
“St. Clair!!!” pound pound pound
so i get this girl off of me and she looks more confused now than anything. i try to get a look at the damage in the lowlight of the streetlamp shining through the window, but that’s no use. the fuckin’ Doktor is pounding, screaming hysterical at the car window, “St. Clair!!!” pound pound pound “OPEN THE DOORS, you lousy pigfucker!!!”
i’m all disoriented and in pain. i get my pants buttoned and try to get this girl situated before i open the door. every movement, every wisp of fabric against my crotch feels like someone is lightin’ me up with a blowtorch. i get the door open.
“oh Christ…it hurts.”
“what?”
“nothing.”
“what have you been doing?”
“nothing.”
“you…her…hey!!! way to go boy!!! look at you, come here…” the Doktor grabs at me for some sort of celebratory jostling, but i ended all that shit real quick with a punch to the gut.
“[gurgle] WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR???”
i was limping my way back towards the driver’s door. “don’t touch me,” i whimpered, “Fuck. it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my dick head.”
“good times, huh? i Told you…”
“fuck you. ouch,” i whimpered. i felt like crying. i imagined all my nerve endings permanently damaged. my nut sack scarred. how long had that brute been at it, Lord? HOW LONG? i worried that my dick would become like the Elephant Man. women would whisper. there would be pity in their hearts. they would turn away in disgust. children would run shrieking in horror.
uhhh…scratch that last part.
i shuffled my way to the door, hunched over and fell into the driver’s seat. the Doktor got in on the passenger’s side. i could hear the females hurriedly speaking in Spanish in the back. i raised the privacy glass.
“fuck,” i whispered, cupping my hands over Ground Zero.
“stop being a baby.”
“but it hurts. do you have any chapstick?”
“you’re disgusting.”
“every time i move, it feels like a massacre in my pants.”
“…”
“how was the show?”
“hmmmm?”
“ouch. son-of-a-Bitch. Gomez…how were they?”
“hmmmm? oh. no. i don’t know. we didn’t go in.”
“you didn’t go in?”
“no, we didn’t go in. i banged her by the dumpster.”
“oh. ouch.”
i figured at that point, what’s a few more hours without sleep, right? their new record is really good, and i really wanted to see them. so i get to his place, and he comes out all hands waving and buttoning his shirt, with this red mark on either side of his mouth, extending back towards his ears.
“St. Clair, you’re the motherfuckin’ MAN!!!”
“…”
“wait until you see what i got for YOU!!!”
“…”
“what’s your problem?”
“nothing man…i’m just sleepy. who’s opening up?”
“hmmm? oh fuck that. listen…can you drive?”
“why the fuck not. i drive everywhere else. it’s seems to have become my job. i really like it. you know, i’ve begun to think of driving, of the road, as a metaphor for…”
“fan-fucking-tastic. look, the ladies are…”
“ladies?”
“yes indeed…the ladies are inside. let me go get them and we’ll…”
“can’t i come in to get a drink or something?”
“no.”
“…some water or…”
“fuck that…let me go get them and we’ll be on our way.”
“awwright, i guess. hey man…the new Gomez record is good. can’t wait to see them.”
“yeah, listen. about your ticket…”
“what?”
“i had to give it away.”
“you had to give it away?”
“i had to give that fuckin’ ticket away.”
“to who?”
“to the girl i’m taking tonight.”
“…”
“come on, don’t be like that.”
“she ball-gagged you, didn’t she?”
“what? i don’t know what you’re…”
“yes, you do. yes, you do, and yes, she did. you’re disgusting.”
“what?”
“you’re an ape.”
“i’m offended that your would say something like that.”
“she fuckin’ ball-gagged you. that’s what those red marks are from, aren’t they?”
“HEY!!! that’s my business.”
“whatever.”
“come on, don’t be like that. wait until you see…”
“so i gotta fuckin’ drive your ass around all night AND miss the show?”
“yeah but wait until you see what i got for YOU!!! bi-coastal babe, speaks no Inglés.”
now, i’m understandably irritated, but i figure i can get to Millvale, drop them off, park the limo, smoke a joint, and fall asleep. fuck the drive home, ya know, cuz once i’m out, i’m out for like twenty hours or so. the Puerto Rican girl can do the drive home.
so whatever - we get there, the Doktor gets out, trying to be all suave and shit. suit and tie, opening the door, real dignified, you know the routine. motherfucker was ball-gagged twenty minutes earlier, but now all of a sudden he’s little lord fauntleroy.
Doktor Fauntleroy
i found the most inconspicuous and secluded spot possible to park a beat limo, i got out of the driver’s seat and headed into the rear, locking the doors. i almost forgot about the chica in the backseat. very fine, by the way. nice body, tan, blonde hair, brown eyes. normally, i don’t like blonde hair, but i wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eatin’ crackers, youknowwhatimsayin? [let me get a fist bump] but anyway, i just wanted to unwind and pass out. i flipped on the television, smiled politely, lit up the joint, and settled in. the whole time, she was looking at me, smiling sweetly, but i wasn’t about to get into all that “language of love” bullshit, myself. i offered the joint but she just shook her head, giggled, and stuck her tongue out at me. on the tip, there was a little blue pill.
great.
i don’t even remember falling asleep, but i do remember i was dreaming about being on the beach. i was walking right at that point where the water wets the sand. there’s beautiful women everywhere. all over the place. and the sky is blue and it’s warm. i’m just flapping my big old feet in the sand, squishin’ it beneath my toes, enjoying the sights, rubbin’ my belly, right. all of a sudden, the girl from the limo – the Spanish girl – she’s in front of me, walking backwards, throwing sand at me. and it hurts. it hurts. it hurts real fuckin’ bad. but not like you think it would. she doesn’t mean to be mean, you see. she thinks it’s the fun fuckin’ thing to do at the beach, i guess. so i keep walking and she keeps throwing sand, and it keeps hurting. i try to block it, but i don’t really wanna block it that bad and, anyway, it’s no use. it’s sand. then the Doktor is up in a lifeguard chair and he’s yelling and all of a sudden it gets dark and there’s a storm. his yelling is right in time with the thunder. St. Clair, boom boom boom, St. Clair, boom boom boom, St. Clair.
and then i wake up.
the girl’s got her head in my lap and my junk is on fire. i mean, bless her heart and all, but it had to be the worst head in the all-time history of dick sucking. she was like, i don’t know, chewing on my nut sack or something when i managed to pull back and get myself free. it was like raw chicken down there.
“St. Clair!!!” pound pound pound
so i get this girl off of me and she looks more confused now than anything. i try to get a look at the damage in the lowlight of the streetlamp shining through the window, but that’s no use. the fuckin’ Doktor is pounding, screaming hysterical at the car window, “St. Clair!!!” pound pound pound “OPEN THE DOORS, you lousy pigfucker!!!”
i’m all disoriented and in pain. i get my pants buttoned and try to get this girl situated before i open the door. every movement, every wisp of fabric against my crotch feels like someone is lightin’ me up with a blowtorch. i get the door open.
“oh Christ…it hurts.”
“what?”
“nothing.”
“what have you been doing?”
“nothing.”
“you…her…hey!!! way to go boy!!! look at you, come here…” the Doktor grabs at me for some sort of celebratory jostling, but i ended all that shit real quick with a punch to the gut.
“[gurgle] WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR???”
i was limping my way back towards the driver’s door. “don’t touch me,” i whimpered, “Fuck. it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my dick head.”
“good times, huh? i Told you…”
“fuck you. ouch,” i whimpered. i felt like crying. i imagined all my nerve endings permanently damaged. my nut sack scarred. how long had that brute been at it, Lord? HOW LONG? i worried that my dick would become like the Elephant Man. women would whisper. there would be pity in their hearts. they would turn away in disgust. children would run shrieking in horror.
uhhh…scratch that last part.
i shuffled my way to the door, hunched over and fell into the driver’s seat. the Doktor got in on the passenger’s side. i could hear the females hurriedly speaking in Spanish in the back. i raised the privacy glass.
“fuck,” i whispered, cupping my hands over Ground Zero.
“stop being a baby.”
“but it hurts. do you have any chapstick?”
“you’re disgusting.”
“every time i move, it feels like a massacre in my pants.”
“…”
“how was the show?”
“hmmmm?”
“ouch. son-of-a-Bitch. Gomez…how were they?”
“hmmmm? oh. no. i don’t know. we didn’t go in.”
“you didn’t go in?”
“no, we didn’t go in. i banged her by the dumpster.”
“oh. ouch.”
Johnny St. Clair wuz here at 11:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home