Like a Good Neighbor

November is nearing its end and that is far more than I can say about my NaNoWriMo novel which will not be finished by days end like as was my goal, but it will get finished soon. As I said in the last few posts I am not doing any writing in November except that so I have no new content to offer. Instead, I have been sharing Reddit writing prompt inspired shorts, so today I bring you one last one for the month. Once December hits I will work on the next post of Movies That You Should Sit Down and Watch, but since it isn't December you get this slop. The prompt on this was "Write erotica of hilariously bad quality", enjoy, or don't I don't give a hoot.

P.s. This is NSFW, so I am just going to toss that out there awkwardly like a ceremonial first pitch from  50 Cent.

“Uhh. . . khakis.”

My wife slammed the phone into my chest.

“Well, she sounds hideous.” She seethed.

“Well, she’s a man,” I told her confused.

“Uhhh, so, sir what can state farm do for you tonight?” Jake spoke into my chest.

“I’m sorry Jake, my wife thinks I’m sleeping around and talking with hookers or something.”

“I’m Jake. . . from State Farm. You called about insurance.”

“I know, I know, but my wife doesn’t know that. I need you to come over.” Jake didn’t respond, “Jake?”

“I don’t think I’m going to do that Mr. Davidson,” Jake paused, I didn’t respond I could hear my wife throwing all of my things out the upstairs window into the lawn, “But looking over your policy I think we can save you $250 by combining your auto and home insurance.”

“Just come over Jake from State Farm. My wife will like it.”

“I’m going to end this conversation, sir. Have a nice night.”

“I didn’t want to do this Jake,” I took a deep breath and began to sing, “Like a good neighbor State Farm is here with Jake and a box of condoms in my living room.”

Jake appeared in the living room in a puff of smoke, wearing a red shirt and a pair of freshly pressed khakis. He frowned I smiled. “Hi there Jake, she is upstairs let’s go do this.”

“Where am I sir, I need to get home and walk my dog.”

“You can’t deny the jingle; it’s in your contract. Now let’s go upstairs.” Jake reluctantly followed with the box of condoms firmly grasped in his hand.

My wife was sitting on the edge of the bed crying, all of my drawers empty the contents all lying on the front lawn.

“Honey, I brought you a present.”

She looked up and saw Jake; he was chubby and blonde and looked like a younger version of myself: she was into it.

“Jake here is a dog person, but Jake why don’t you go show my wife you what you can do with a nice kitty.” Jake walked over to the bed and took my wife’s pants of and dove head first into her snatch like he was Greg Louganis, my wife screamed with pleasure. Her head swung back and her mouth wide open as her box was being munched like it was a $5 box from KFC. She screamed his name, Jake’s head bobbed back and forth as he covered every inch. I walked over and my wife pulled my pants down and started to thrust her mouth over my penis. I took her shirt off and started playing with her stiff nipples.

“Honey, today you finally see Paris.”

I stood my wife up and she stood in between me and Jake, her pussy dripping and her chest heaving. I bent her down and front of me and slid my cock into her vagina, she screamed wildly. I pounded her while Jake slid on a condom. Once it was on my wife paused and looked at his erect penis, “Like a good neighbor State Farm is here!” Jake said as my wife deep throated his penis. I looked over my wife at Jake and we double high-fived as we penetrated our members into my wife’s gaping holes.

There is Only One

As I have mentioned in my previous few posts I am in themidst of trying to write a 50000 word novel by the end of the month for Nanowrio, so I am not paying attention to my blog, though I should have a new movie post in december some time. Instead of new content I have been posting things I wrote over a year ago for Reddit under their writing prompt sub reddit; well here is another one of those! the prompt for this one was "The latest target of an obsessive serial killer turns out to be immortal" so here is my attempt at it. With all of these prompts I gave myself an hour to come up with a concept and write it, if I had more time and space some of these would be vastly different I am sure, but nonetheless enjoy.

Jackson spotted his victim walking out of the 7-11. The man fit his credentials: about 6 foot, thin, mustached, brown haired—all the features of his first victim and sexually abusive step father. He followed the man’s Honda Civic until it parked in front of a small bungalow on the out skirts of town.

“Gun?” Jackson asked himself.

“No, the last one was a gun. Have fun with this one, use the knife make it slow and painful.” He answered his own question.

“Sounds good.” Jackson grabbed a steak knife from his glove compartment and stepped out of his Ford Pint. He took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. He watched as lights turned on inside the bungalow.

He watched as a figure moved about the house. Here pulled out a black and white photo from his pocket, “All this could have been avoided, I was sane before you.”

“Sane? Are you kidding me?” He grew angry with himself, “You were never sane, remember that time you hung your dog with a rubber hose from your neighbor’s oak tree?”

“But that was a dog. I wouldn’t have killed people if he hadn’t stuck his thing in me.”

“Maybe, but sane is not a word to describe you.”

“Shut up, what do you know anyway?” Jackson slapped himself, “This guy looks like him and needs to pay for what he did.” Jackson tucked his step father’s photo back into his pocket and headed across the lawn with the knife in his hand. He opened the door and crept into the living room. The man he followed there was sitting on a couch watching a video of two kittens on his laptop.

“You enjoying that?” Jackson asked.

“As a matter of fact I was.” The man stopped the video and turned around to look at who was speaking to him. Jackson was a pudgy man whose hair was always looked as though he was wearing a hat even when he wasn’t. His glasses were a size too small and laid awkwardly on his face.

“Cats are funny.” Jackson said with a shy smile.

“Stop chitchatting, he isn’t your friend. He sexually assaulted you, moron.” Jackson shouted.

“Uh, can I help you?” the man inquired as he stood up and rounded the couch to stand in front of Jackson.

“Just do it already!”

“I think you should get out of my house.”

“Not until I kill and dismember you.”

“Oh, that’s all? Will it be for any particular reason?”

“You put your stick in my wazzoo!” Jackson started crying.

“Ah.” The man paused, “I mean over these centuries I’ve stuck my stick in quite a few wazzoo’s, and it’s hard to keep track of them all, but I think I would remember stooping to a wazzoo as hideous as yours.”

“It was you!”

“In fact most of the wazzoos I was in were woman, though there was that time me and Pontius Pilate experimented. He was gay, I wasn’t. it broke his heart, that’s why he was so tough on Jesus I think."

Jackson plunged the knife into the man’s stomach.

“Fuck. That hurts.”

“It won’t for long, I would say ask my stepfathers doppelgangers, but they aren’t alive.” 

Jackson pulled the knife out and stood there smiling as he recounted his victims.

“Well, I mean, have you picked up on any context clues yet?” The man sarcastically asked.

“Context clues?” Jackson rubbed his head in confusion.

“Context clues idiot, you know what they are. Stop hesitating and kill him already!”

“No, you see, tell your other self I can’t be killed. I’m immortal.”

Jackson paused before stabbing the knife into the man’s stomach again.

“You are not getting it. Did your stepfather fuck you in the ear and give you brain damage too?”

Jackson grew angry and stabbed the man over and over again.

“Are you done?” The man pulled the knife out and held it to his side, “good, listen I’m story your step dad fucked your fanny, but I can’t be killed. I’m like highlander, but way more badass because I am the last one, and as you may or probably don’t know there can only be one and I’m him.”

Jackson stabbed and stabbed, yet the man stood there unfazed.

“So, I mean I can’t be killed. I have the power of thousands of immortals. Even if my head gets cut off I still live, I mean it probably wouldn’t be a fun existence, but I’ll still be alive. I’ll give you a chance to leave, but I swear to god if you stab me again I’ll kill you.”

“You’re not immortal, that’s fake.”

“Of course it is Jackson, just cut his throat already you moron!”

“Jackson, I wouldn’t do that.” The man sighed.

Jackson stabbed the man again, twisted the knife several times and pulled it out again.

“I warned you.” The man ripped the knife from Jackson’s hand and slit his throat blood splattered across the man’s face as Jackson fell to the ground. The man dropped the knife and sat back down on his couch. He picked up his lap top and hit play on the video.

“You’re right, cats are funny.”

Shit, a Stargate

Once again this is not a new post but an oldie from Reddit's writing prompt subreddit: the prompt for this on was "You discover your butthole is a stargate". This is what I came up with.

"Let's try anal tonight." My boyfriend said as casual as if it were anything else. As causal as if he was telling me we were going to have pizza tonight. I never did anal before; it seemed odd and distant to me, but I mulled it over and agreed. I was in a mood where I was down to try new things. It also was a good choice because a slip up in my health care coverage had me missing the last month of my birth control.

What was the worst that could happen?

We were in the bedroom he was kissing me up and down, sucking on my breasts, with two fingers deep inside my vagina. He then made his way to the backdoor. One finger shoved in: he twisted it to the right; he twisted it to the left, smacked my ass, stuck another finger in, and twisted to the right. A loud rumbling started, I began shaking like I was having a seizure. He pulled his fingers out, and fell backwards and fell to the floor.

"Babe. . . uhhh. . . "

I was in tears and couldn’t answer him as I saw a beam of blue light flow from my asshole and watched as a tall muscular brunette woman armed like an ancient roman soldier step out of me. My body stopped shaking. The woman lifted a long spear and shoved it into my boyfriend’s neck. His blood spattered along the green walls of my bedroom, and onto my white comforter. I stood frozen as the woman ran off and out of my house. I called 911.

“So what you’re telling me lady is that a female dressed as a Roman centurion crawled out of your ass and killed your boyfriend?”

I sat there exhausted tired and I just wanted to go home. I nodded. The police office started to laugh again. It seemed it got funnier every time he repeated my story.

“Maybe we should call Kurt Russell and have him lead an expedition into your asshole.” He laughed some more.

After hours of laughter my lawyer finally arrived, and though I could tell he thought I was a complete loon he demanded a doctor come and take a look into my ass.

The doctor arrived. She was a beautiful blonde with a breasts that would rival Kate Upton’s, and as a former practicing lesbian, I approved of my lawyers choice. She put a glove on with a bit of lube: she shoved it into my ass and followed the same pattern I described that my boyfriend did that fateful night as a butch female officer and my lawyer looked on.

Once her second finger was inserted and turned to the right I began shaking as a radiant light exploded from my ass and two Roman centurion women sprang from my asshole. The glanced around at the room said something that may have been Latin and killed my lawyer, the only male in the room.

A few days later news was all over the city that three women dressed as Roman Centurion’s were killing every male they came across. Panic was in the air. I was brought in by two female CIA agents, as the men were terrified to be seen in public. They flew me to Langley and entered the same code that the doctor and my boyfriend had entered. This time no one came out of my ass instead a group of secret service women climbed in.

What they are doing in there I will know when they come back: if they come back, but until then I wander my room in CIA headquarters pantless waiting for a blue light and the CIA agents to emerge with answers.

I should have never tried anal.

The Ugly Barnacle

I really am trying to write a novel right now and I am completly failing, but I am trying so there is no new content for this platform so in the meantime here is another old Reddit post for your enjoyment. The prompt on this one was "write a sequal to Patrick's ugly barnacle story".

"Wait, uhhhh Spongebob, that's not the end. Stay there and I'll tell you more. . .

The ugly barnacle was searching the seas for some way to bring the world back that his ugliness killed. He once heard rumors of a mystic being on an island in warmer seas that had the capability to bring back creatures that were long dead and gone with just a small piece of DNA.

So the ugly barnacle took hair from the sea horses mane, a tooth from a shark, a tentacle from Squidward, and any of the other beings whose bodies were strewn about Bikini Bottom's streets. He loaded everything up into his boat mobile and sped off in hopes to bring life back to the sea.

He came sped through a large canal as massive boats floated above. A few hours later he came to where the island was supposed to be: where the magic Wizard would be. He took a deep breath and drove his boat out of the water and up onto the shore. A large wooden sign placed on a dock by the beach read "Isla Nublar".

"It must be a in some type of Wizard talk. This must be the place." The ugly Barnacle thought to himself.

He drove his boat through thick jungle until he approached a large wooden gate. How would he open this, he was but a small sea creature and this was a massive door. He parked the boat and thought to himself. He thought and thought. He was deep in this thought when a large land boat approached the gate causing it to open wide. The Ugly Barnacle took advantage and entered.

He drove past massive fences with massive creatures, like none he had ever seen before, caged behind them. They roared and screamed as he sped by. Eventually he came to a large building. "This must be the Wizards castle." he said with a sigh of relief.

Stairs. He didn't plan for stairs, he was but a small sea barnacle and these were a giant wizards stairs. He drove round and round the White building until he came across a ramp. He chugged his little boat up the ramp and entered the building through a hole made by a rodent.

He found the Wizard and his white coated henchmen hard at work, maybe they were already working on fixing the sea.

He parked his boat next to a wondrous amber sphere and began shouting for the Wizard. No one replied. He kept screaming when he heard one of the coated giants speak. "John, come look at this!"

John that was the wizard’s name, the barnacle knew it was the wizard. He had white hair and walked with his wizard staff. It was a wood with one of the amber spheres fixed to the end. That must be where his magic came from. John The Wizard walked over and picked up the boat in his hands and examined it.

"What do you make of it Mr. Hammond?"

The wizard finally spoke, "As we know the earth’s supply of seafood has ran dry, and is threatening our work here and the entire food chain of the planet."

"Food chain? What is the wizard talking about?" wondered the barnacle.

The wizard continued: "This hideous little barnacle seems to have brought us DNA from some sea creatures. We must begin replicating these and bringing the sea back to life. We shall spare no expense!"

The coated minions began to cheer the wizard’s words, and they scurried around busier than pack of Jelly Fish making sweet honey. They unloaded the Barnacle's boat, and went to work. The ugly barnacle drove back to the sea and headed back to Bikini Bottom.

He knew that if he was in the sea when his underwater companions were returned it would create the same mess again. He drove his boat mobile out to the Goo Lagoon. He parked on the beach and watched the sunset. It was a glorious one; the bright orange sky illuminated the sky flowers that seemed to float mysteriously by. A tear ran down the barnacle's cheek as he drove his boat into the lagoon.

Love Reconciled

I said in my last post I am currently struggling to focus on a novel for NaNoWriMo 2016 (I'm failing) and while I work on that I would be posting things I posted on Reddit's writing prompt subreddit. The prompt for the following story was 'You are about to commit suicide when a note falls from the sky.' Enjoy.

I stand in an open field in a foot of snow under a grey sky; I need to get to the tree where I first met her. I could see the tree in the distance waving at me, its icy fingers begging me to continue: I take a deep breath. I was starting to sweat so I strip off my heavy North Face jacket and toss it into the field to be found during the spring thaw. The cool air felt good against my arms now exposed in the short sleeve shirt. She bought it for me on our first anniversary. It has our wedding picture on the front with the date of the ceremony and our initials.

I miss her.

I touch her screen printed face and make my way through the heavy powder to the weeping willow waving at me in the wind.

I lean myself against the heavy trunk to catch my breath. I finally begin breathing regularly again and I scan the trunk for our names that we carved in it when we first met. They were wrapped in a heart with the date of our first encounter here. I pull a knife from my pocket and carve today’s date officially ending our love in this world.

I still love her.

I pull the hand gun from my pocket, cock it and put it to my temple. I feel warm tears running down my cheek, my finger shakes as I slide it over the trigger.

Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I pull the gun from my head and drop to my knees. I am kneeling in the snow weeping when the sky clears and a white paper falls from the sky. I unfold it; it’s a hand written note

James,

You are almost there. Pull the trigger and we will be together again.

It is her hand writing: a message from heaven. I put the gun to my head again.

“I’m coming my love”

My finger pulls the trigger all the way.

Nuclear Code

Last year I did a few posts in response to topics on the the Writing Prompt Reddit and since rite now I am in the middle of trying to work on my Novel for NaNoWriMo I have no time to post anything new, so for the rest of the month I will be posting some of them on here. The prompt for this following post (fitting for this year) was you have to tell the president that there nuclear weapons do not exist. This is what I came up with, enjoy. 

I stepped into the oval office as the President was returning from giving a heated speech usher the threat of nuclear war against the Russians.

“Great speech, sir.”

“Thank you General. Now send out the request for all nuclear bases to be on standby.”

“ I can’t do that Mr. President.”

“You can and you will, you cannot defy an executive order Nathaniel.”

“No, no sir, I would love nothing more than to send nuclear bombs over Baghdad.”

“Moscow, we are going to nuke Russia not Iraq.”

“Sorry sir I was listening to Outkast on my way over here.” I took a seat across from the President at his desk, “So, listen, we don’t have them.”

“Don’t have what?” He confusingly asked.

“Nukes.” I watched as he started to laugh, “not a joke, sir, we do not have nuclear capabilities; never have.”

“Never have? What are you on drugs?”

“Several, but that’s not the point here the; point is we cannot put any nuclear bases on high alert because there are no nukes.”

“No nukes? This is absurd. We have been threatening the use of these things for years; I have attended summits with world leaders to lower the number we have.” He slumped back into his chair, “and here you are telling me they don’t exist.”

“I didn’t say they don’t exist. I just said we don’t have them. I have no idea if they are real or not.”

“Do the Russians have them?”

“Our intelligence says they are faking too, but I just don’t want to say they don’t exist it’s a broad statement. I once met Big Foot at a concert in Edmonton, but people say he doesn’t exist. So, as far as we know they aren’t real.”

“You are shitting me?”
"Not at all, he is a big fan of folk music and he can roll a blunt better than anyone I've met."
Not about Bigfoot, the nukes you moron."

“No sir. We don’t have them and we are sure no one has them.”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me. He was silent for a few moments before he asked the question I knew was coming:

“What about World War Two? We used them on Japan.”

“False. We told everyone we used them, to scare the world in the years following the war. “

“I have seen the photos of the destruction. If there are no nukes how do you explain that?”

“Godzilla.”

“Excuse me?”

“Godzilla, sir.”

“Godzilla? You really are on drugs.”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“What about the Manhattan project?”

“Big card game and pet-sitting for Godzilla.”

“God fucking Zilla? Nukes are not real but a giant fire breathing lizard?”

“He doesn’t really breathe fire that was made up movie bullshit. He just really likes crushing shit.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Godzilla, if he is real where is he?”

“Ummm, that’s a good question.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

“No sir, I’m not his handler.”

“Who is?”

“Albert Einstein.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, he isn’t dead, in fact he isn’t human. He is an alien, he came here with his pet lizard and did all sorts of science shit and now he is with Godzilla somewhere.”

“Can he crush Moscow or some other Russian city?”

“No, no, Albert is far too small for crushing of any kind.”

“Not Einstein you imbecile: Godzilla. Can he be released on Russia instead?”

“I guess so, though he isn’t fond of the cold weather, so it may have to wait until l summer. I’ll try to get a handle on their position.” I stood up and left the oval office leaving the president to his own confused thoughts.