A twisted fantasy from the mind of a sicko.

Have you ever noticed that all of the worst stories start out with "so get this shit"? There all the same, usually told by some loudmouth who nobody likes and centered around some poorly crafted lie meant to make the yammerhead look good(He thinks)...

So get this shit, I'm sitting up at Hap's Tossin' a few back and writing shit, ya know, minding my own buisness when this old girl sits down next to me.

"whatcha Writin' there hon'?" I look up to give her the once over... Fourtysomething, too much make up, lonely and yakky, you know the type, not fat, just... married, Thick and proud! big all over.

"Just a bit of filth to piss people off." I smile as she starts rubbing her haunch up against my leg.

"Well that shouldnt be too hard!" She laughed in a voice which told of a thousand nights in places like this, air thick with stale smoke, the jukebox too loud. "Can I buy another drink for you?" Now I know the type of woman who offers to buy a man a drink twenty miniutes before the bar closes, I really should say no, What the fuck. "whiskey and water." I tell her and she smiles hungrily.

A condemned man accepts his fate as a matter of course, I spent the entire ride to her house "uh huh"-ing and "no!"ing as she told me all about her rotten husband who was never home and spent all his money on strippers and lot lizards "on account of he drives otr long haul and gets lonely" she said she understood but he was still a bastard.

home p2