4 articles Tag A Gentle Breeze

I head straight for the Border

I’m vegetarian, so instead of getting McMurders/Murder King/Murder Wendy’s I head straight for the Border, its taco bell and Yo Quero a half pound of potatoes and cheese for only 79 cents. I slap down a 2o spot (new bill! Sometimes Euros) and whisper the code phrase “Taco Time” and Lasha (day manager for day crew natch, shes mixed race!!! Great Eyes) knows whats up, the employee only door is opened and they lock the entrance and pull down the shades. I’ve paid the cost to be the boss and now its time to get my just desserts, a 5 minute shopping spree except instead of toys and clothes its food ingredients and instead OF A SHOpping cart its my faggot mouth. They use caulking guns to spray in the sour cream and tell me have you ever downed 3.5 pounds of sour cream in a single breath??? No?????????? Ha ha didn’t think so bro, no worries its fun yeah but honestly you don’t look like the kind of person who’d appreciate it no offense. After wheting my appetite I look up, burning daylight as the scoreboard counts down the seconds, its over to the churros, punch down a bakers doz to revitalize me and counteract the heavy creme curdlin in my gullyguts (got a soft layer of fat that the taco boys love, MMh! I’m a Big Beautiful Male). Like a cow grazing in a field I dip my face in the individual condiment and ingredient tins — snarf snarf Mmm its tortillas, gurn gurbnnm ahhhh some refreshing olive-flavored water (out of olives? wat? calm down take it in stride) and oh my!!! yes its pinto beans!!! Slam Dunk. (more…)

Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

I’m the Fuck Man

Mr. Shivers unbuckled his pants. “It’s time to fuck a woman,” he said, to the woman, who was listening and waiting for a fuck. Outside, the melodious cacophony of dust striking and dancing and shimmering in the hot desert California wind played its mellifluous symphony. “I’m the Fuck Man,” Mr. Shivers explained, while the woman, naked, nodded.

Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

an unspoken reality that we both knew without speaking

I overheard a long-time friend of mine Melissa (a brunette) mention that she was planning on installing some insulation in her attic. I swooned like I had been struck by one of cupids arrows – – the thought of all that fine white microfiber, sharp and wild, keeping in heat – – I pulled myself to gether and tried to maintian composure. I suddenly realized that I Ccouldn’t hide it, no matter how I tried: I was hard as an Oak, and wearing lose-knit silk slacks that showed off my 8 inch dowsing rod. Melissa smirked: “I thought I was the only one” she said, raising an eyebrow and licking her lips. YEars of friendship suddenly transformed into erotic promise: it was an unspoken reality that we both knew without speaking – – it was time to go back to her place and push insulation into are privates.

Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

my homie Dancehall

Oh word I was talking to my homie Dancehall in South Bronx, heard this nigga MC at a party last weekend, burned it down, naturally, but kid was selling CDs out of his trunk, and when Dancehall looked to see what his name was, he blacked out and had an intense memory of being hungry as a child in a cold schoolbus while wearing wool shirts??? Nigga snapped out of it and the MC was standing above him, saying “yeah sorry dude, my name be that specific memory” I heard he sent his demo to Sony and everyone was just crying and shit when they tried to read the label. Secretary got a really bad rash and had to go to a hospital in Denver


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags: