Tag archives for fiction

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Dust

I hate how dusty it is here. Even inside the diner, everything looks hazy. Even the air feels dirty. I never feel clean anymore.

A waitress who looks barely out of high school eyes me as I sit down at the lunch counter. She waits until I've settled onto the stool to approach. Carafe in hand, she gives me a one word greeting.

"Coffee?"

"Please," I say.

She overturns a mug and fills it with the steamy liquid. She watches in silence as I add my cream and sugar. I love this part. Much more than the taste or the caffeine, I love the ritual of coffee. I pour a tiny little tub of non-dairy creamer into the mug. There's an explosion of white that seems to come from under the coffee. The color fades from near-black to milk chocolate. I tear off the end of a paper packet of sugar and stir as I add the sweet sand to the mug.

Finished with my preparations, I sip. It's hideous. The waitress is still staring so I lie by giving her an approving little smile.

"I am a connoisseur of album titles," she says.

"Are you now?"

"Easily the most interesting album title ever is Pete Townshend's All The Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes."

Its my turn to stare at her. We're silent for a moment as we look at each other.

"Yeah, that's a good one," I finally respond.

She stares a moment longer before placing a menu on the counter in front of me. She turns away without a word. I don't really understand it, but I think I was just tested, and I think I failed.

I hate how dusty it is here.

Friday, July 28, 2006

A Bone Crushing Tale, Part 2

[Ed. note: republished with permission from Jenna's blog. Part 1 can be read here.]
 

"Mrs. Isashrew. It's good to see you again," he said without a trace of cheer.

Jenna said nothing.

"The bag, Mrs. Isashrew. Give me the bag."

She took the bag from her shoulder, very slowly, and handed it to him.

A quick glance into the bag caused the man to frown. "Where are the tapes, Mrs. Isashrew?"

Jenna smiled then, the sour look on his face truly entertaining her.

"We'll find the types, Isashrew. You know we will. We always do." He made a hand gesture to the assembled SWAT types, who closed in on her with a black cloth bag and several secure ties. Now these guys know how to keep a captive, she thought morosely.

About twenty minutes later, by Jenna's best guess, the ties were cut and the hood removed. Rough hands forced her into a chair. She was in the center of a large and mostly unlit room, an empty warehouse maybe. A few feet in front of her sat the thin agent, his face still sour. Jenna smiled at him.

"Where are the tapes, Mrs. Isashrew?"

Jenna gave no answer, but looked around the room. In the dim light she could make out at least four other people, and there were sure to be several behind her. They would all be armed and highly trained. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Mrs. Isashrew, I asked you a question. Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

Jenna stared at him.

"The tapes, Mrs. Isashrew."

"I don't have them."

"Of course you don't have them. But you know where they are."

"Go to hell," she spat at him.

"You know how… damaging… could be the contents of those tapes, Mrs. Isashrew. You can't honestly think we'd allow you to take them public."

Jenna smiled. "I wasn't exactly asking your permission."

"We cannot allow that information to become public. You know this."

She did not respond.

"What do you imagine would happen if the public knew? Do you really think your path is a wise one?"

"The truth is always the right way."

The man leapt to his feet. "Dammit, Isashrew! Why can't you understand this?"

"The people have a right to know!" Jenna shouted back.

"This issue is of great personal interest to the president."

Jenna glowered.

"You know as well as I do, the president considers the production of The Dukes of Hazard 2 to be our highest national priority. That movie will never be made if the American people know the truth about Jessica Simpson's extraterrestrial origins."

"That's the whole idea," Jenna replied. "I don't think you realize the damage The Dukes of Hazard 2 could inflict on the American people."

"Of more immediate concern to you, Mrs. Isashrew, should be the damage we can inflict on you," the man said quietly. "Where are the tapes?"

Jenna turned away.

"You know what, Isashrew? I'm tired. And I hate Philadelphia. I cannot wait to get out of this place. Just as soon as we get those tapes we can all go home."

Jenna ignored him.

The man stared. He broke the silence with three words that would stick in her mind long afterward: "Thomason. Hurt her."

One of the men behind her stepped out of the shadows. He grabbed her arm with powerful hands and twisted savagely. She cried out in pain as something in her elbow gave way. The man twisted her arm back and forth as Jenna screamed. She fell to the floor when the man released her.

"Oh, Mrs. Isashrew, look at that. I believe you've broken your elbow. That looks painful." There was no trace of sympathy in the man's voice.

Out of the darkness appeared another suited man, who leaned to whisper into the ear of her tormentor. Both men broke into a grin.

"Well, Mrs. Isashrew, you'll be pleased to know that I no longer have to suffer through Philadelphia. I'll be back in Virginia in ninety minutes."

Through her tears Jenna mumbled, "I'm very happy for you."

"We found your tapes, Mrs. Isashrew. That was an excellent hiding spot, by the way. Inside the light fixture in a maintenance closet. Local cops probably would have missed that. But of course you know that we are much more thorough."

Jenna groaned in both exquisite pain and bitter disappointment.

"It's a shame we were interrupted so soon. I was looking forward to Thomason breaking your other elbow. But since our operatives have already destroyed all three tapes, I see no reason to keep you any longer. And I do so want something to look forward to in our next meeting." Without another word, the man rose and retreated into the darkness. A shuffle of boots and shoes told her the others were leaving along with him.

When the last of their noise died away, Jenna finally cracked a smile. Three tapes, she thought. She tightened her Kegel muscles securely around the undiscovered fourth tape. She cradled her battered elbow as she struggled to her feet. I'd better leave that tape right where it is until I know it's safe. I don't know if I can stand what those men might do to my knees.

Jenna shuffled in the direction the anonymous agents had left, each step causing little needles of pain to radiate out from her elbow. A big fat cast is really going to take the shine off my summer, she thought. But if this tape prevents The Dukes of Hazard 2, it will all be worth it.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

A Bone Crushing Tale, Part 1

[Ed. note: republished with permission from Jenna's blog.]
 

Jenna grimaced as she touched the tender spot on her forehead. I hope that doesn't look as bad as it feels, she thought. She stayed where she was on the floor and looked around. It was a small room, maybe 6' by 10. The room was dirty, but empty. There was an old looking wooden door and a small window with sunlight streaming through. There were no furnishings, no decorations. Storage room? she wondered. Convinced there was no security camera, she finally stood, although with more difficulty than she'd like to admit.

She looked closer at the window and judged it a little too small for escape. She turned to the door. It was old, but looked heavy. The frame looked a little weak, but it opened to her side, and she doubted she'd be able to kick it open. She tried to look through the old school keyhole, but couldn't see anything of interest. She dropped to her belly to peek under the door. In the room beyond her dingy cell she saw two pairs of feet and the legs of one table and two chairs.

She waited, peeking under the door, for nearly 30 minutes. Neither man left the room and no one came to join them. Only two guards. They should have known better. They didn't even bother to tie me, she thought. Amateurs.

She pressed her ear against the wall and made a moaning noise. The sounds of her captors' activity ceased immediately. She waited until she heard the newspaper rustle again and moaned once more. She heard one man speak to the other in a language she didn't understand. Is that Bulgarian? I should have studied more languages. There was the distinctive scrape of a chair being pushed away from the table followed by the equally distinctive sound of a round being chambered in a semi-automatic pistol. She moved beside the door and tensed.

The man who came to check on her opened the door slowly and stuck his gun hand into the room. Jenna grabbed his pistol and pulled. The man did not release his grip, but he was pulled off balance. As he stumbled into the room she smashed her elbow into his face. He let go of the pistol as he fell into a heap inside the door. Jenna heard the other man bark something that must have been a curse as he cocked his own weapon.

She crouched to knee level as she moved into the doorway. The other man fired, but his shot was at least two feet above her head. Definitely amateurs, she thought as she fired two quick rounds into the second man's chest. He fell back into his chair and twitched a few times before he went still. Over the gunsight she saw her black messenger bag lying on the table.

Jenna quickly dragged both men into the storage room. She made sure the unconscious man with the shattered nose was lying on his side, head down slightly. She didn't want him to choke on his own blood before he woke up. Jenna always did what she had to, but she was no killer. She would have locked them both in, but the door had no lock. There was no handy way to bar the door.

She checked her bag and was pleased to see all four DV tapes were right where she left them. These two men didn't seem smart enough to sell them on their own, so they were probably shopping for a buyer. She put the second man's pistol into the bag and threw its strap over her shoulder.

Almost three minutes had passed since the brief gun battle. No alarm had been raised. No one had come to investigate. These are freelancers, she concluded. Cheap thugs. They're too sloppy to be anything else. It looked like she was in a rundown apartment. The few items of furniture were decrepit and filthy. Given the state of the place, she determined the two thugs were probably hiding her in an abandoned building. The apartment's only window showed a narrow alley and a windowless brick wall on the other side of it. There was no fire escape, nothing to jump to, nothing to climb. She guessed she was five floors up.

I guess I'm going out the front door, she frowned. She hated the thought of traveling through five unknown floors. Just because her captors were sloppy amateurs didn't mean there weren't more of them, and even idiots get lucky now and then.

To her great relief, she found the rest of the building unoccupied. From the omnipresent newspaper scraps in the stairwells, she was in Philadelphia. You know, someday I'd like to visit this city without arriving in the trunk of a car, she grumbled. What remained of her playful good humor evaporated completely on reaching the first floor.

Stealthy looks through dirty windows revealed the neighborhood to be a beehive of quiet activity. She counted six plain white vans of varying sizes. There were two dark blue sedans that could only belong to a government agency. A man dressed as a utility worker was atop a light pole down the street. She could barely make out the binoculars where his tool kit should have been.

They must have been closing in on the thugs upstairs. This is bad. She knew those vans contained armed government agents. Scattered all over the neighborhood the way they were, it would be nearly impossible to avoid them all. Her mind was racing now. She quickly formulated a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than nothing.

Ten minutes later she was sneaking out one of the windows at the rear of the building, her bag securely over her shoulder. She crept down the alley, away from the worst of the activity, her pistol held in front of her like a talisman. She almost made it to the street before she heard the disturbing sound of several engines roaring to life. They've made me! I'm in trouble!

She stood to run when the crack of a high-powered rifle caused her to hug the wall. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard the unseen sniper chamber another round. The sound came from above her. She looked up to find a man in black Nomex pointing a very large gun at her. Dammit. I never even looked at the roof. Jenna was very fond of keeping her head attached to the rest of her body, so she stood motionless for the twenty seconds it took for the first of the federal agents to arrive. A moment later, several men in suits pulled up in one of the dark sedans. A thin man on the undesirable side of middle age walked through the crowd of SWAT types pointing machine guns at her.

To be cont…

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Bookstore

Hey, I should go to the bookstore while I'm passing by.

Ah, bookstore, here we are.

 

Who's that? He's really cute.

Who's that? She's really cute.

 

Is he checking me out?

Is she checking me out?

 

Oops, I got busted looking.

Oops, I got busted looking.

 

Ooh, he's going to the bookstore too.

Hey, she's going to the bookstore too.

 

Should I follow him?

Is she following me?

 

Yeah, I'll follow him.

Sweet, I think she is following me.

 

He's looking at technical books? I can't even pretend to be interested in that.

She so doesn't look like she's interested in technical books.

 

I'll wander off and see if he follows.

I'll wander off and see if she follows.

 

Where is he? He was right there. I wonder if he's looking for me.

Where is she? She was right behind me. I wonder if she's hiding from me.

 

There he is. He is looking for me.

There she is. She is hiding from me.

 

Okay, then… let's play.

Okay, then… let's play.

 

I'm going to pretend I don't see him. What will he do?

She's pretending not to see me. I'll play along.

 

Is he still looking at me? He is! He's definitely interested.

Whoops! She caught me looking. At least she knows I'm interested.

 

Wait, what am I looking at? Self help? Wow, that could be sending the wrong message.

What section is that? Self help? "Danger, Will Robinson!"

 

Definitely time for a new aisle. I really don't want to give that impression.

Oh, she's moving again. She didn't stay there very long.

 

What's he doing now? Did he stop following me?

I'll wander over here and see if she follows.

 

There he is. What's he doing? Is he reading that or watching me?

I'll pretend to read the back of something and watch her over the top of the book.

 

Is that… Bill Clinton's book? Is he trying to tell me something?

Oh my God, I'm showing her Bill Clinton's book! She's going to think I'm a cigar fetish freak!

 

Oh, he's moving again.

Time for a new section.

 

I think I'll show him something.

Hey, where's she going?

 

This book is perfect. I hope he can read the cover from there.

Is she trying to show me her book? What is that? "Sex For Dummies??"

 

Hee hee! I think I'm so funny.

Oh, that was definitely for me. heh. It's on now, girl.

 

Where's he going? Literature? I've always thought that was stupid. A "literature" section in the middle of a bookstore.

Here we are, literature. The mostly foolishly named section in the whole damn store.

 

Is he looking for something specific?

Here it is!

 

"1984?" I'm not sure what he's saying. Big Brother is watching? I already know he's watching.

What the hell am I saying? She already knows I'm watching. And Big Brother is so unsexy.

 

He sucks at this game. I'm going to show him something. Where are the cookbooks?

Well that was a dumb choice. Where's she going now? Cookbooks?

 

Yeah, here's the one. I'll pretend to read and hold it up for him to see.

What's that she's got? "Cooking Italian for Seduction?" Ooh, she's a clever one!

 

Ah! He's smiling at me. I'll smile back a little.

Wow, she has such a cute smile.

 

I feel like I'm hunting him. This is so hot.

I feel like I'm hunting her. This is so hot.

 

Your turn now, big boy. Go show me something.

My turn. What to pick, what to pick? Ah! Idea!

 

Where's he going? The CD section? Oh, that's like cheating.

CDs. Now if they only have what I'm looking for.

 

Wow, he's really looking for something.

Here it is!

 

What's that? The Police's Greatest Hits? What's he trying to say?

Now if only she figures it out. This one was pretty subtle.

 

What's he saying? King of Pain? Every Little Thing?

Dammit. She doesn't get it. I wonder if I should pick another one.

 

Oh! Every Breath You Take! The romantic stalker song! Ha! Clever!

Ah, she's giggling. She got the joke after all!

 

My turn! Hmm. Music.

What's she looking for now?

 

Here it is. Of course they've got it. We'll see what he thinks of this.

Whaaat? Sir Mix-a-lot? Baby Got Back? With that narrow little behind of hers? Whatever.

 

Hey, where's he going? DVDs?

I've got just the thing for this. heh.

 

Is that the comedy section?

Ah, good, they do have it!

 

"How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days?" That little snot!

Haha! I think I'm so funny.

 

Alright, my turn. Time to change the tone.

Hey, she's coming over here. Should I move somewhere else?

 

No, no… stay there, don't get spooked.

I'll just stay and see what she does.

 

Romantic comedy. I hope they've got it.

What's she looking for?

 

Here it is! Serendipity.

Oh, Serendipity! I love that one!

 

Your move.

I know just what to do.

 

Now where's he going? Back to the books?

I'm sunk if they don't have this one.

 

No… he couldn't be looking for that, could he?

They have one! I feel superfly now.

 

Hold it up… show me what you've got.

What do you think of this?

 

Oooh… "Love In The Time of Cholera!"

Just keep watching.

 

Oh my God… is he getting out a pen?

I'll just write my name and number inside the book…

 

Oh no! One of the clerks sees him!

Oh no! One of the clerks sees me!

 

He's getting in trouble!

"Uh, yes, ma'am. I'm buying this book."

 

Oh, this is too much! Busted by an old lady with her eyeglasses on a librarian chain!

Now I feel like a complete ass. Busted by an old lady with her eyeglasses on a librarian chain!

 

That clerk is really staring at him now. What's he going to do now?

That clerk is really staring. I should pay for this now.

 

Is he leaving? Should I follow him?

I'm going to head for the front. I hope she follows.

 

I'll wait for him here by the door while he checks out.

She waiting by the door for me! Fantastic!

 

He's almost here.

Here goes nothing.

 

 

"I, uhh, bought you a book."

"You bought that for me?"

"Yeah. Can I buy you a coffee to go along with it?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Monday, August 29, 2005

The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch, part 15

Being a completely fictional alternate ending, graciously provided by Marriedman.

The next day I felt astonishingly depressed. I couldn't put my finger on why, but something was definitely wrong. As the day moved on I felt myself getting more and more upset. What was this? Why was I feeling this way? Finally at around eight I decided that I'd had enough of this. No matter what was going on, it wasn't ok for me to feel like this. So I did the first thing that came naturally to me. I went into my room, shut my door, and pulled out my fishiecock. I started to play with it when I had a sudden urge to see some naked ass. I put my fishiebird back in my pants and hopped in my Escort (yes, I drive a Ford). I knew where I wanted to go, but I also knew that I needed some cash. So I stopped by the 7-11 to use their ATM and buy a slurpee. After I got my cash, I went by the magazine rack. I usually do this to see if there are any new porn mags out. I scanned the rack and noticed a newer magazine, I picked it up and when I saw what it was I immediately ejaculated all over the magazine. There was a hole in my trousers where the burst took place, and the entire convenience store was staring at me. I of course, had to pay for the magazine, since I had creamed all over it. It was quite embarrassing purchasing the premier edition of "Pokemyhontas," the new Native American Porn magazine.

After I made my purchase, I jumped into my Escort and peeled out of the parking lot. I needed to think, I needed to figure out what just happened. It couldn't be. I know that I have no attraction to her. I decided that going to the strip club was definitely what I needed.

I enjoy the winter for numerous reasons, one being that I like snow, a lot. The second being that I enjoy the "Strippers on Ice" show that the strip club puts on during the holiday season. (I actually like winter for three reasons, but I didn't know if you all would like the fact that I fist polar bears for fun.)

Three hours later, the strippers were hot and I was drunk. It was a good night, and it was serving its purpose. I hadn't thought about FIB all night. I mean, I don't really care that she doesn't like me. I just care because I am sensitive like that. But after a few more drinks, the only thing I would remember was how nice that naked ass looked shaking in front of me, as the stripper did a triple axel and made my heart do a double sachow.

Morning. I woke up with a pounding headache. Sweet Fancy Moses my head hurt. And I was on the couch. At least I'm at home, but why the hell am I on the couch? I guess it's a good thing that FIB doesn't live here anymore. She would have totally taken advantage of me. I got up to wash my face and make myself a cup of coffee when I tripped over something. An ice skate? Nice, I must have had me some anus last night. At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened and out came LR in a towel. He must have taken a shower because his hair was drenched.

(Intermission)

Meanwhile in New York, marriedman was in his element. The young lady (his prey) was lying spread eagle on the table. He was standing over her, nude, in all his glory.

"Your mullet, it's… it's… so amazing!" she exclaimed.
"Are you ready for me to lay my pipe?" marriedman asked her.
"Oh, yes!" she shouted back in anticipation.
"Where shall I lay it?" he queried.
"In between my boobs," she stated.
"Your profile boobs are exquisite, I believe that is exactly what I'll do," he decided.
"Say my name, marriedman, say it!"
"Are you sure? We are in a strange place," he replied.
"Yes, I don't care where. Say Jazz, even in strange places."

The next few seconds were filled with ecstasy, and then it was over.

"I'll always look back, and remember the time that marriedman ran it through me at the morgue."

(End of Intermission)

"Hey man, did you see me come in last night?" I asked him.
"Yeah, it was pretty late Maurice," he replied.
"Did you see anyone else come in with me?"
"Nope, there is nobody here but you and me."
"Hmmmm."
He came and sat down on the couch next to me. This was odd; he had never done that before. I could see his weenis. Just then I noticed something sparkly on around his nipple.
"What is that?" I asked.
"What?"
"That right there on your nipple, it almost looks like a… a… a pasty."
"It is a pasty, I thought I took it off before I got in the shower."
I was confused. The strippers last night were wearing pasties just like that.
"You don't remember do you?" he shouted, sounding angrier than I had ever heard him.
"Remember what?" I shouted back.
"I knew you wouldn't, I had to wait until you came home drunk before you'd let me pack your fudge."
What is he talking about?
"I've wanted you for so long, Maurice. You never realized it, did you? You never figured it out! I paid my half-sister to stalk you. I needed to know where you were. Plus if you got too upset, maybe you'd come to me for support. I love Maurice. And I loved you on my own. But last night, I followed you to the strip club. That was when I realized, you were gay. So I shot a stripper named Lorenzo and stole his pasties and skates. It was me you went home with last night. And damn it you toss some amazing salad."

I just sat there, next to him on the couch. Staring at him. Before I could even think about what I was going to say I had already started to say it.

"Why didn't you tell me, Kip? I only moved in with you to get closer to you. But your damn sister took up so much of my time, I could barley concentrate on our relationship. I even bought a Native American porn magazine last night hoping that one of those hot naked Indians would remind me of you. I love you. And since I don't remember giving you head last night, I'll give you an encore."

THE END?

[Ed. note: Dear god, please let this be the end.]

Sunday, August 28, 2005

The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch, part 14

Being a completely fictional ending subtitled "Revenge of The Sith," graciously provided by Lab Boy.

As I opened my door into the living room, I saw FIB and Lazy Roomie having some sort of a discussion. "I LOVE HIM!" She screamed. LR looked pissed. He reached out his arm toward FIB, making a gesture as if choking her from afar. FIB reached up and held her throat.

"Let her go, Roomie!" I ordered him.

"If she is not with me… she is against me," he told me. His eyes were yellow with rage. I knew a fight was about to come on. I took off my bathrobe to reveal my Jedi tunic. With a swift motion of his arm, LR threw FIB into the wall. She fell, passed out.

"You truly ARE Sith, Roomie… Only a Sith deals in absolutes." I drew my light saber, and he drew his. The power arcs, mine green, his blue, lit up the room. We went at it.

Lazy-eyed Nottie ran out of the kitchen to tend to FIB as Roomie and I dueled to the death. "Why are you doing this?" I asked as our sabers kept clashing, the classic hum filling the air.

"I told her to stay away because you're evil!"

"I appreciate the gesture," I replied, "but I'm not evil… You are."

"From my point of view a guy who beats a woman with a bat is evil." We kept going at it. Lazy-Eyed Nottie pulled FIB into my room. Stuff all over the place was getting split in halves with laser precision.

"It was a fucking PLASTIC bat, for fuck's sake! And she WAS sleeping in my bed!"

"And still, she loved you more than she loved me! For that she will die…" I was stunned. Here was the guy who, for all intents and purposes, was like my brother, wanting to kill me and FIB because of her unrequited love for me.

"Then I truly have failed you, Roomie." We kept going at it, but whatever LEN had been cooking in the kitchen caught on fire. The whole place was filling up with smoke and the flames were coming at us. We jumped on the couches and all over the place, striking with our light sabers in an attempt to kill or maim.

Suddenly, Roomie slipped and fell on the ground. I jumped on the table. "Don't try it, Roomie… I have the higher ground." He tried it. As he jumped toward me, with a move I still cannot comprehend, mostly out of instinct rather than thinking, feeling the Force flow through me, I used my light saber to cut off his arms and legs. He fell behind me, close to the fire. His light saber fell at my feet. "What have you done? You were my brother!" The fire came closer to him, and he was unable to move.

"I HATE YOU!" He screamed in a blinded rage. "I HATE YOU!" I picked up his light saber and ran to the room. LEN and FIB were hiding. FIB was in bad shape. We crawled out the window and out of that hell. FIB and I cried as the whole place collapsed, surely killing Darth Roomie… Or so we thought.

********************

FIB died of sadness a while later, at the hospital. But not before delivering a set of twins. She wasn't fat… She was pregnant. And she kept her pregnancy secret because the children were that monster's. And it was the fact that they were inbred children that made those twins so dangerous. The number of midichlorians in their blood would be doubled. The Force was strong in them. They had to be hidden as word came to me that Roomie had been rescued by the town Mayor, his trusted mentor.

Tonight I walk into the town hall to complete the circle, my dear friends. Either Darth Roomie, who is more machine than man, will die or I will. I know what happens next…

I'm happy Corkey, even with his extra chromosome for being the son of siblings, will fulfill the prophecy and bring balance to the Force. That is why this is my last entry. You cannot come with me anymore. When I last saw him, he was but the learner… Now, he'll be my executioner.

THE END?

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch, part 13

Being a completely fictional continuation of part 9, graciously provided by Motherdear.

It was several years later that I happened to be shopping at the local Sam's Club with my family, and I saw a lovely, lissome creature half an aisle away. She had long dark hair and gorgeous legs. Something about her looked vaguely familiar, perhaps the way she moved, the way she shook her head…

I stared at her back, for probably a minute or two, trying to remember where I had seen her before. Then she turned around with her carriage, coming back down the aisle toward me. Her face, so strange, yet so familiar…

…and as she neared me, I realized it was the Fat Indian Bitch. No longer fat. Still Indian, possibly still a bitch… but sincerely, no longer fat.

We made brief eye contact and she recognized me immediately.

She stopped, a look of terror momentarily passing over her face, but it evaporated quickly when I grinned at her. She relaxed, and grinned back. It lit up her features, which in the glaring fluorescent light of Sam's Club, was almost pretty.

My wife caught me making meaningful eye contact with her, and nudged me sharply in the ribs. I quickly looked at the wife, and said "Honey, this is an old friend…" and introduced them.

My wife stood by while we talked. She explained that she was now married, and had just found out that she was going to have her first child. Her face glowed with the news. My wife and she locked eyes, and a gentle understanding passed between them. The wife relaxed, realizing she had nothing to fear from this stranger's history with me.

We exchanged pleasantries, caught up for a few minutes, and then, she said suddenly,

"I have to thank you for something."

"For what do you need to thank me?" I asked, honestly dumbfounded. I didn't think our history held anything even remotely suggesting either of us be grateful to the other…

"I was young, stupid, confused. I was crazy about you. And you never took advantage of me, and you could have," she said.

"I, uh, didn't think that would be fair to you… and I really didn't want to take advantage of you." I replied.

"Oh, I know that now, you made it plain at the end that being with me was something as desirable as having your head taken off with a rusty chain saw, and you were never dishonest with me, never led me on. But I really didn't want to see that then, and really needed the fantasy that I could make you grow to love me. But you knew that, and you still never took advantage of me. It must have been extremely uncomfortable for you, but you never made me pay for it."

I was floored. The wife had a look of 'I'm the cat who ate the canary' on her face.

I stammered, "Well, your brother was my friend, we were roomies, and it just wouldn't have been right. You were a nice person, just young, and it wasn't right."

She continued "Oh, don't justify it. Every girl needs her knight in shining armor. If you had taken me, and I would have let you, you know - well, you would have been just the first in a long line of men who hurt me and used me. Instead, you were the one who preserved my honor, my dignity. You are the one who was kind enough to be cruel. It took me awhile to understand it, but I finally got the message. I was worth more than that. You gave me a great gift, one I will always be grateful for. And that makes you my knight in shining armor - you're the guy who refused to sweep me off my feet."

Again, I was speechless. I looked into her big, dark eyes, and saw a genuine warmth. And at that moment, she was the loveliest creature I had ever seen.

We parted after she gave both my wife and I a gentle hug. We continued shopping.

As I laid in bed that night, all I could think of was 'what would have been' if I had given her what she wanted at 18, because it would have been easier than to fight her off. I guess my mind ran away with me for awhile, because I fell asleep thinking of her in my room, that last night, listening to music and just hanging out.

When I woke the next morning, my wife served me muffins and coffee in bed, then screwed my socks off. I asked her why, later, when basking in the afterglow. Her response was just a wistful grin, before she got up to shower again and dress.

I walked a little taller that day. I was proud of the Fat Indian Bitch, now an almost-beautiful, slim, mom-to-be, at peace with herself. I was proud of my wife for not getting all territorial and possessive on me when we talked to the Fat Indian Bitch in the aisles of Sam's Club.

But most of all, I was proud of me. Yes, really proud, and at peace. Like she said… sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.

THE END?

Sunday, August 21, 2005

The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch, part 12

Being the part in which Fat Indian Bitch finally gets laid, and also in which we conclude our story. (A completely fictional alternate ending graciously provided by Esmerelda The Incestuous Salad Tosser.)

Enough was enough. Every day I would come home and cringe right before I walked in the front door. This girl - this poor, pathetic, sad excuse for a female was wrecking my mind. She stressed me out and made me a stranger in my own home. Isn't home where one is supposed to look forward to retiring for the evening? Right now it became a death camp. I hated going home. I hated facing this fucking situation I had to deal with every day. I hated thinking that one day I was going to walk in my room to find her again.

Interestingly enough Fat Indian Bitch started leaving me alone. She wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed but she sure as hell got the idea when I kicked her out of my room the second time. She did nothing but grin and glance at me from time to time in the late afternoons when I would get up to eat and shower before I got ready for work. She stopped following me. She stopped stalking me completely. She actually became pretty cool.

I should have known it was my fatal mistake to think she could even be remotely normal. Poor girl. In all honesty I felt sorry for her. She was a teenage girl suffering from severe rejection. All she wanted was love and affection. Thank God she had her friend Lazy-Eyed Nottie to keep her company. I'm scared to even think what would have happened if she wasn't around.

But I digress. Things around the house were doing well. We all started hanging out together on a regular basis on the week days. I even brought my date over sometimes to spend an evening or two. I was really into this girl and she was into me. And surprisingly FIB took it well. She was finally growing up. She spent most of her time with Lazy Roomie and LEN - going out to movies and fast food places. Playing Nintendo and whatever else they were into. I was finally enjoying my living arrangements.

A few months had come and gone. Things were finally as they should be. I was at peace and the chick I was dating was amazing. We got along great. She was funny, smart, beautiful, easy. Everything I was looking for at the time. I even got a promotion at work. Floor Manager - sounds impressive huh? Yeah, I was going places. Anyway, one afternoon I was getting ready for work and I heard a knock on my door.

"Yeah?"

"Hey - can I talk to you for a second?" It was FIB.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well I just wanted you to know that…" BEEP BEEP… BEEP BEEP

"Oh shit. My girl's calling. I gotta get to work too. We'll talk later ok?"

"Sure. I guess."

"Hey baby! How's it going?" I say into the phone as I grab my work shirt and head out the door. Not thinking anything of what FIB had to tell me. She probably wanted to tell me that she borrowed a CD of mine or something. Whatever.

As I was driving along to work I was reaching for my smokes in my pocket and realized I didn't have my wallet.

"FUCK!" I yelled out to myself. Damn it I hate it when I do this. I had to completely turn around. Damn. Shit. Hell. I just got a promotion and I was going to be late for work. Did I really need my wallet? Yeah. I did. I wanted to go to the bar after work and I needed my ID. Stupid stupid stupid me.

I jumped out of the car, left it running and ran into the house…

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" FIB screamed a gut wrenching horrible scream.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" I let out a louder one once I saw what was happening. There they were. FIB and Lazy Roomie. Fucking on the couch in the living room.

"HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!!!!" I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. I grabbed the first thing I could which first was the football LR and I used to throw together and nailed the both of them… shortly after I ran into my room I grabbed my fuzzy baseball bat and started beating them blind.

"What… The FUCK… ARE… You… DOING?!?!?!" Each word separated by a nasty whack of my bat. The two of them scurried around like fat, disgusting, paranoid cockroaches. This was by far the most repulsive thing I had ever experienced in my life.

"Hey Dig. Don't worry buddy… seriously it's not what you think!!" LR tried to tell me.

"NOT what I THINK?! You are fucking your ugly SISTER you FUCK!"

"No no! We were just…"

"FUCKING on our COUCH…" I grabbed my wallet and left. I slammed the door behind me and stormed to my car. I was living with a bunch of freaks. I couldn't believe it. I was speeding down the road. Going 50mph in a 25. I was a fucking mess. Three kilometers down the road I had to stop the car. I hurled my insides out. I couldn't deal. I couldn't go back to that incestuous hell hole I had once called home. Ever. Is THAT what FIB wanted to tell me earlier when she came into my room? Ugh. Disgraceful. I was through. I had LR FedEx me my belongings once I moved back home with my parents.

Sadly I lost a friend in the whole mess. He was cool. Once. Now I'm living a completely different life. One filled with happiness, safe sex and love. I'm a happy father to a wonderful son and my girlfriend treats me right. I can't help but look back on the situations that occurred with Fat Indian Bitch, Lazy Incestuous Roomie, and Lazy-Eyed Nottie. To tell you the truth I think of them sometimes. And then remind myself that I could give a flying fuck.

THE END?

Thursday, August 18, 2005

The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch, part 11

Being the part in which she forces me to bang her, a completely fictional alternate ending graciously provided by Jenna.

The next day after FIB spoiled my sheets, I noticed her acting very strangely. She was talking to herself and mumbling in what seemed to be another language.

Later I noticed a strange swelling in my left testicle. The swelling started out as a bump the size of a huge mosquito bite and progressed in size until it was nearly the size of a lemon.

Eventually the pain was so intense that I drove myself to the hospital. When I got to the there all the doctors and nurses were standing around looking at and squeezing my balls and talking amongst themselves. They couldn't find any cause for my sudden affliction.

By the next morning the morphine drip wasn't working and I was starting to ask the doctors for death. My family came in to visit me at the hospital; my poor mother was crying her eyes out, pleading with the doctors to save her baby's testicle so he may one day produce an heir to the tossed salad fortune.

Just when things were looking the bleakest yet, in walked Lazy Roomie and FIB. I was pissed. I could not deal with FIB at a time like this. How could Lazy Roomie bring that fat ugly piece of shit? Lazy Roomie asked if the 3 of us could be alone. Looking at him in the most confused face I could summon, Lazy Roomie looked at FIB and said "Tell him, or I will." Suddenly FIB pulled out a crazy looking Voodoo doll. FIB went on to explain that she was so pissed that I threw her out of my bed that she put some Fat Indian Bitch curse on me. The cause of my testicular ailment was FIB!

FIB said that she would remove the curse if I would become her lover and give her a son. I looked at my testicle and looked at FIB. Could I? Would I? I could sacrifice my jewel and be forever known as Sterile Darrell or I could be with FIB. I made my decision. I'll do it. I'll fuck FIB. Now as I type the rest of this story I am thinking of Girlfriend and The Kid and wondering what would have happened if I chose option B.

THE END?

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Fat Indian Bitch, an announcement

So the tale is done. Part 9 is the official end of the story. But that doesn't mean we have to let FIB fade away yet.

Immediately after I posted part 1, I began hyping things up a bit. Some of the scenes in the middle were hype-worthy, but the ending was completely anticlimactic. The hype very quickly spun out of my control, but it's still all on me that the story could never live up to the expectations.

To that end, I asked Snake if he would like to submit a fictional ending that meets the ideas he formed about the story. He was kind enough to oblige. You'll find his part 10 directly below this post. (Or here, if you're currently reading this on a post page.)

And now I'm opening things up. You can write your own ending to The Legend of Fat Indian Bitch. If you had unmet expectations, be it bloodshed, monkey sex, both or neither, you can finish the story as you like. E-mail it to me and I'll post it here to share with everyone.