Dead Dogs, Live Nude Girls, and the Middle of the Beginning of the End: Getting My Ass Kicked in St. Eubrie (1783 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 0.83 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Kinda NOT Bickerstaff (View user info) at 2006-08-09 03:39:50 EDT
It's the eyes that always do me in, those joyous apertures that call my name, those exultant oculi, or should I say occlusive, because after all, cuz, it's the voices I hear and not the eyes I see when I taste the bile in my throat after what I felt when I left him there, smelling a rat, and not the experimental kind. But I'd left him for dead, for good and forever, like the three stooges of animal cruelty, and there was no way the girl was going to find that funny.
How did I leave him? Let me count the ways. Anything to keep mine eyes on the glory of the coming of the road after ditching the angry Galaxy for a smaller constellation, namely a Taurus, which I think is west of Aries but east of eden, or wherever the fuck heaven lies, cuz it too, calls my name, it too draws me nigh, it too pulls me in and sucks me dry like the girl before I left her, too, and her three, and her four times on the ceiling if you wa-ant me, like Tony Orlando at dusk, wondering when the hell he's ever gonna get laid again after untying all those ribbons and letting her go, letting her run, dropping her like a searing spud in a freezing garden, and I was on my way to do a Georgie Washington on the whole fucking apple tree, because we'd both lost our cherries long ago, whom is kidding whom, here, and why?
She was naked on the floor where I dropped her, cuz, even though one man's ceiling would've passed, would've done it, would've been a fine floor all right, if I could just find that one guy who could finish it like I finished that African cat in his own cradle, finished him slow like a Harry Chapin single played at 33 1/3, and who out there in the audience even knows what the fuck I'm talking about?
I'm a vinyl man in a polycarbonate world, with just a touch of aluminum to reflect back, but only a year or so; everybody turns into Ollie North at a congressional hearing when it comes to learning from their mistakes, and I guess that makes me not so different after all.
It was always the girl, and always the dog. And I was always the bitch in the group, cuz, cuz truth be told, there wasn't a thing in the world to keep me from my appointed rounds tonight, I even made a list, though I was too punchy to remember to check it more than once.
I was on my way to St. Eubrie, a bitch herself if you ask me, but don't unless you want an extra paragraph or two, or three, or even four if I can stay awake long enough in this shitty example of the best selling car in the U.S. from '92 to '96 according to J.D. Power and Associates and Christ, who the fuck is J.D. Power and why does he need associates and why the hell is every Goddamn thing so America-centric anyway and maybe I'd better blast the AC to keep myself conscious cuz, cuz I'm starting to bore even myself and the eight track won't work and damn, son, won't the oldsters smug themselves silly over that one.
St. Eubrie was founded by a saint, then found by assholes, unless it was the other way around or maybe all of one, so I figured I'd take my shot even though my chances at redemption were skinny and zero, and everyone in town had the kind of ass that always holds a little wad or two of one ply no matter how hard you try and pick it out.
The little bar there, the Bad Habit, or the Dirty Habit, or Some Fucking Habit, maybe picking your feet in Poughkeepsie, was holding a tough man contest with a sweet little pot as first prize, and even though I haven't cooked since Circe was a black hole, I thought I'd be makin' bacon on the side, that's bets not breakfast, enough to bring some home and impress the girl.
It was always the girl. Those lips, those eyes, those hips, those thighs. Everything a man could wish for in a woman, except his manhood. But one day soon...she'll tell me her fucking name. And then I'll put it inside her pipe and smoke it. Mmmmmm smoked ham.
When I pulled into town, my powder was dry but my Taurus was smoking, so I left the car at Sonny's Auto and walked south on Cherry towards Penn's Groceteria. I was hungry, but the KwikSnak was too far and spelled ebonically, and I'm not allowed anywhere near Tanner Elementary or Wilbeck High ever since that incident with a 12 year old whore in Thailand. I also steered clear of Mahogany Street, one because I hated that bitch Diana Ross ever since SHE was a black hole and two because the chaotic street was obviously filled with perverts, and although vice is nice, incest is best left to the fucking experts.
I briefly considered getting a little head down by the creek, but it appeared some argumentative old fuck beat me to it, so I just tried to focus and remember all those Goddamn stories so I could finish this thing and split town like the beaver of a Chi-town faggot, so I plowed ahead like Sefton on steroids. I felt a rumble near my jungle, and wondered why you could never find a pool when you had to take a shit, but decided to hold it since I was a man with a plan, just not as big as Teddy Roosevelt's, and if anyone knows the answer to THAT puzzle I'll swim across the Panama Canal with Wayne Michael Cole, Vicky's angry dad, a Japanese house, a guy without a house, vid-cam Mike, a librarian named Anna instead of Marian (there was a missed opportunity), an underage cuckolding wetback, a French tile cutter, fixit Gus, a crazy Nathan, a cunt name of Lorraine, a throat cuttin' Bobby, and a Nat-a-lie in a strange tree, all on my back, and if you even remember how it all started I'll give you two points and ring your bell because I don't really give a shit since it's just all nonstop pretending to get through the paragraph and this story's getting longer than my dick or another Goddamn Harry Chapin song, so I figured to call a cab but no one's written a cab driver and what kinda town is this anyway? Serrano's got the disks, and it looks like I'm walkin.'
To make a short story long, which is the story of my short life in this universe, I'll tell you about the fight, which is filled with all sorts of kung fu moves you've never heard of, cuz, cuz I'm sure you'll like it since those who can do and those who can't pretend they know their way around a keyboard. You can live vicariously through me if you want, but the truth hurts and getting through my stories is like the anti Tylenol. Where's your Moses now, see?
On second thought, maybe I'll do us both a favor and skip to the end, like that scratchy 45 I was talking about, which is what I'd call a costumed benefaction if I wasn't a paper nihilist, which is what you get when you cross a nerd with aspiration, but no imagination.
I fuck the girl, I love the dog, and shit on the town, and you can change those around all you want and it'll still make sense 2/3 of the time if you're not a Goddamned sicko, which this town is full of and might just be the best anyone can hope for, anyway. Where's a Goddamn plumber when the shitter's full?
If I write it, will he come?
You tell me. I just moved here.
User Reviews
Submitted by Snalty (user info) at 2006-08-19 14:33:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Come on, I can't pay attention to all that stream of consciousness!
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-08-10 07:16:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-08-09 14:47:31 (#)
Ranking: -2
You ain't no Bickerstaff. Please.
______________________________________
Parody be damned, the story is full of worn out cliches followed
by poorly constructed similes.
Submitted by WatchMyStep (user info) at 2006-08-10 02:44:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Pretty good parody.
Submitted by eppliks (user info) at 2006-08-10 02:33:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.putfile.com/ray_pissed
Submitted by ColchesterDr (user info) at 2006-08-10 02:28:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-08-10 02:16:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Also, I thought I rated this last night.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-08-10 02:16:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Meh. Just meh.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-08-10 00:28:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Funny shit.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-08-09 16:04:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I think I just sighed. That's about it. It was a disappointed sigh. Like someone accidentally ran over my cat with a steamroller.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-08-09 14:47:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
You ain't no Bickerstaff. Please.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-08-09 14:39:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hmmm...
I'm not entirely sure what to say here.
Submitted by awesome_face (user info) at 2006-08-09 13:28:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was good but your still gobshite.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-08-09 13:11:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
-2 for putting your name next to Bickerstaff.
Submitted by bigdicrick (user info) at 2006-08-09 12:00:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"...the kind of ass that always holds a little wad or two of one ply no matter how hard you try and pick it out"
Lovin it...
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-08-09 11:05:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-09 10:52:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-09 10:52:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh. My. Gosh. This is all the funnier because I am a superfan of Bickerstaff.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2006-08-09 09:31:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The shitter is full, all right.
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81453
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-08-09 05:24:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good parody.
Bickerstaff never used the word cuz quite that much though.
Submitted by fun_with_needles (user info) at 2006-08-09 05:19:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know what this is, but I kinda like it.