Breaking News. An army of tree hugging, anti war pacifists have declared Peace on all nations of the world. In an attempt at annihilation of hate they gather in groups and form peaceful protests with an obsession of making the world a better and safer place to live in. These freaks should be considered unarmed and dangerous because they threaten the long standing philosophies of controlling the masses with money and power through the mistreatment of others. If you come across one or more of these peaceniks don’t call for help, but offer assistance. Have a safe and happy Memorial Day and if you want to honor those served never stop striving for Peace!
Tag: humor
The Story Of Everything, Final Frontier
So This Is The Promised Land? Oy Vey, Its So Small
The basic plan was to head into the promised land and kick the shit out of everyone and everything along the way. Early battles with the various tribes of Amorites were just tune up struggles to get into shape for the big battles. After losing quite a few Israelite warriors Joshua decided strategy was their best strength. He would lead troops into the castle of his nemesis Jerry Coe. The strategy he employed was absolute brilliance. He took his army of weary warriors and instead of attacking he marched them around the walls of Jerry Coe’s city for seven days. The people inside watched this mock parade with amusement and bewilderment. In Jerry Coe’s office he sat with his military advisors. “What the fuck are the Juice doing? They have been walking around the wall of my city for days now. Just carrying on around in circles. Should we attack them?” The question was directed at his general, Shah Bashin-Dareheads, first cousin of Caligula. “Well I’ll tellya Jer, if it were up to me I would shoot them all. The only problem is ole Sol here says we have no legal precedent to go by. They haven’t broken any laws.” As they struggled to figure out what to do, ole Sol had an idea. “Hey, you know what guys? We could bust them for not having a parade permit.” Jubilation filled the room as they all schemed to go out an arrest them starting with that bothersome shit Joshua. The jubilation was premature because as they were filling out the proper paperwork, the walls of the city began to collapse with them smack dab in the center. Apparently the Juice were not only marching around but two spy juice had planted explosive devices at strategic locations. While the city was looking on in that bewilderment of theirs the juice spies had been sneaking around setting them up for the explosion. For good measure, Joshua burned down the entire city with everyone in it. Everyone will know who we are now, he boasted! “how so you like me now Jerry Coe?”
That was his brilliant strategy, the roast and boast. Once they tore the walls down it would be straight for Jerusalem. Here was their final frontier, their patch of promised land to keep forever. Years of wandering the deserts, crossing numerous rivers, engaging in hundreds of fatal battles, through gallons of blood sweat and tears the Juice had come to this. Jerusalem, the city of Pea‘s.. The promised land where they could set up their own little Utopia. It was here in this city that Joshua sent word to the Canaanites that this was the land promised them from Yehaw. Not long after the disdainful laughter of the Canaanite began Joshua’s tired yet inspired soldiers attacked and defeated the laughing fools of the city and claimed it for themselves. This then was where they would set up shop. A new city in the cradle of civilization that would forever be remembered and forever be the source of the most disputed piece of realty in history.
So that’s it, that’s my twisted tale of the story of everything. It was my intent to offend everyone possible and I attempted to do it both frequently and relentlessly. If your religion was not offended I apologize. I meant to leave no religion at all to be un-mocked and I tried to blanket many of them because I’m just to fucking lazy to research every friggen religion in the world. Anyway, hope you enjoyed my tale of The Story of Everything and feel free to pass it along from generation to generation. Who knows, two thousand years from now this may be found by aliens and considered Yehaw’s gospel truth. Peace.
Closure For Bigots (Closure Mouths)
Closure? Yea Okay, I Got Your Closure Right Here!!
There are two groups of bigots I think need closure. First up Political propagandists. Its the new hot button exploited on social medias turning friends into enemies, and allowing too many people to flaunt their ignorance. I’m not talking about people who decide how they feel about an issue based on the merits of the issue. Be proud if you use your own opinion. I’m talking about the ones that take a stand based solely on the fact that its part of either a democratic or republican platform. Then they scour the internet in search of something clever that sounds like what they would say if they had an ounce of creativity in them and post it so the world can see how narrow minded they can truly be. They don’t need to debate because they made their mind up that they are right and nothing will change it. Not even truth.
I mean Jeez man, some people are still talking trash about Clinton, or Regan. That shits long over with man time to deal with today’s issues. Oh my Toto I don’t think we’re in Viet Nam anymore! People screaming about their second amendment rights based solely on the fact that someone who profits by spewing misinformation to ignite fear an anger said Obama is trying to take away our guns. WTF? It comes down to some paperwork to fill out to hopefully limit ownership to responsible users its not an assault on your right to bear arms. Sorta like licenses, registrations, that sort of thing, you know a small inconvenience on your right to drive a car.
If you have issue with something after seriously analyzing all the components fine, then it can be debated. But if you already have your mind made up because you thought someone who exploits fear for a living said something that sounds like it makes sense, try thinking for yourself. A closed mind can’t reason only an open mind can. That sort of closed mined thinking is nothing short of bigotry. Please don’t take a stand because you don’t like a conservative, or a liberal, or because the president is black. Wait what? Black? Surely you think people don’t make choices based on skin color in this ay and age? Think again, racism is just as strong as ever. Political bigots have a field day with Obama because he’s not only liberal, he’s black. If he were a gay woman on top of it they would have the support of the entire bigot nation. No, not everyone who disagrees with Obama does so based on the color of his skin but make no mistake racism is alive an thriving. Even in the country that considers itself so culturally advanced as America. I see mixed race couple in the UK very often and its just as natural as can be but in many areas of America its still viewed a an anomaly an frowned upon. If we’re not careful we could become a society of haters. I hear about gay bashing on a regular basis. When I look at the evidence I don’t see America as such an advanced society, at least not culturally. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not the president has many haters based solely on the fact that he’s black. You can tell who they are, their the ones that say “I’m not racist or anything, but…….” Yea, okay! Disagree with him all you want, but you gotta respect the guy, he’s the prez for gods sake. Which brings me to number two, religion.
You love your religion and you practice it with fervor. Good for you, I applaud that. In fact I do too. I love being an existentialist and I’m very proud of it. Know what I like most about it? Being an existentialist does not require me to try and turn everyone else into one. You won’t see me going door to door to spread the word of existing. I recently heard someone say being a Christian its his duty to spread Christianity. Duty? The entire world needs to convert? Didn’t the Romans try that before they fell? What happened to freedom of religion my patriotic Christian pushing friends? Forcing your beliefs on others isn’t freedom. They preach love one another but not if you’re gay, Muslim, or refuse to thank god for everything in the world. If you’re gay or Muslim you are an abomination. Harsh word for someone who preaches love. Onward christian soldier? Really? Like soldiers they invade a territory they have no business being in to force their beliefs on its tribal peoples. WTF? They scream when one of their “Mercenaries” is captured and expect us to do something about it. What gives any religion the right to force its tenets on anyone else?
Look, I have mad respect for people who believe strongly in their religions. But it’s their religion and its hypocritical to force your belief on anyone else. I have studied many religions alongside people that practice them and it all fascinates me. In the end I choose what to believe so respect my belief if you want me to respect yours. You like to pray? Pray to your hearts content. You want to praise your lord? Go for it. Sing his songs, love the tenets, practice the tenets. But to those who feel they need to come to my door and tell me I don’t know the truth, to those who feel its their duty to alter me to believe the same thing they believe, to those who feel indoctrination of innocent cultures is an acceptable practice, Closure mouth!
That’s right, that’s what those people need, to close their mouths. Political bigots and religious bigots need to shut the fuck up and let people be who they are. Accept them for that and then and only then will you achieve spiritual truth. As long as there is hate in your faith or your politics you are doomed to die a bigot. Using fear tactics to tell me the country is going to be annihilated because I’m ignorant and have been brainwashed by the liberals. Which who gives a fuck anyway because I’m going straight to hell because I’m not a christian. All of you hate filled bigots, heres your closure….Closure mouths unless you have something positive to add to life. Its time for us to make a paradigm shift in the way we think, all of us. Listen to the words of a Rastafarian….”Say you just can’t live that negative way, if ya know what I mean….Make way, for a positive day, cuz it’s a new day, new time, and it’s a new feeling, oh what a new day.” PEACE
Is That A Bazooka In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To Invade My Country?
War Makes Me Sick
War is a concept of death and destruction that exists so we can exist. Peace is a more desirable concept idealistically but war is essential to human existence for a number of reasons. War lowers populations and creates a plethora of jobs both during the battles and afterwards to rebuild the area’s destroyed. Some say its an economic boost, that’s for the experts but it does level the job hunting fields. War also forces us into making faster technological advances like GPS and drones. Most importantly it pretty much guarantees that our planet will be destroyed forcing us to look for multi planet alternatives, which we will nee eventually anyway. It also serves an ego-maniacal need. War helps asshole leaders overcompensate for their own diminutive sexual weapons by building bigger cannons, bazookas, and missiles.
Its no coincidence that they forge weaponry in the shape of a penis because the country with the biggest dicks in charge are usually the winners. War is historically waged between Alfa male leaders of countries they rule like sheep. They hoist their flags on the largest phallic poles they can find, and it always come down to who can still get it up after the battles are over. The flag that is. The alpha that gets his pole to stand highest in the end wins. Then they can parade their big flags and wave it in everyone else’s face. Of course they don’t do the actual sacrificing, they enlist the use of the less fortunate to lay their lives down. But that helps eliminate poverty so what the fuck, lets kill the poor. That way the leaders will be more than happy to brag about the sacrifices made and condemn any who don’t beam with pride as they wave that big flag someone else defended for in the name of freeom.
Bottom line is that war is a paradox that destroys families, generations, and countries, and spreads diseases. This brings me to my another point about war and human beings. The very second we’re born we are engaged in a war of microorganisms. Today I am suffering from a nasty cold. My head aches, my nose is runny, sore throat, fatigue, the works. Basically I feel like shit. In truth I cannot in good conscience attest to how shit may actually feel but I would guess having to be shit in and of itself would suck big time and that’s how I feel today. Why? Because there is a major war being fought inside my body. Your body is wonderland. A wonderland of microscopic battlefields.
From the day I was born troops set up inside my body and prepared for battle. My immune system employs a defense system poised for attack because relentless microbial warriors strive vigorously to destroy me via viral warfare. These warriors are so advanced they have learned how to mutate to look like the harmless germs in an attempt to sneak in unnoticed. They are able to unscramble complex codes my immune system has in place and enter further into my system to wage assaults on my lungs, my sinus cavities, and if permitted they will enter the hemoglobin hemisphere and cause extreme damage. I can fight this because I adopted my mothers immune system when I was born. The very second my chord was severed and I was on my own hundreds of thousands of micro-organisms began looking for a biologic bivouac in which to wave their tiniest of tiny flags. Just my luck a host of overcompensating microbes looking to impress. That’s why my Mom equipped me with her with anti-bodies, so when these aggressive nano dicks begin their assault on my newborn biological battlefield I could counter attack with a swift and certain response. But the biological war wage on without end and one day this week the bastards planned a sneak attack and sucker punched my ass good!
I have always been a man of peace, believed in the doctrines of Saint John Lennon and Saint Robert Marley and despite my size (no not my flag, I mean my actual size, 6’4”) I don’t believe in violence. And despite the fact I believe war is a necessary function of survival I will not now and would never have engaged in a war myself. I am an existentialist and as such believe in the live and let live law of nature, not the follow me or die laws of organized religion which in truth is the main instigator of wars. I am however taking up arms against the current war, or conflict if we are being literal, inside my body. I’m enlisting some mercenaries to fight the good fight in the form of either Zicam, Robitussin, or Mucinex… War really is unhealthy for children and other living things…….PEACE
Devil Dog Day Afternoon
Legalize marijuana. Simple enough concept but due to the fear of repercussions it wasn’t getting much support back in the day. I’m talking back in the olden times when we had to walk barefoot in the snow uphill in both directions just to buy rolling papers. In the days when carrying Visine got the red out and confirmed your status of stoner. Society deemed marijuana to be the devils weed back then. It was a weed alright, but a weed that turned into a flower in our minds. It was okay for fathers to numb their dull lives with an afternoon martini but smoking pot was a crime of grave concern They also complained that pot was an evil drug and was the gateway to heaven. Oh wait, I have that wrong, the gateway to heroin is what they thought. My bad!
It was hard back then to get people together to take a stand on legalization. Cops were arresting stoners and sending them away for as much as 15 years. Near about everybody puffed the magic dragon but we inhaled the heavenly herb hidden in corners or behind trees and the like. We ruined many a buzz straining hard to look not stoned and we came up with very creative ways to hide our baggies of bliss. Punishment for enjoying a joint was pretty harsh and no one wanted to get locked up in jail with rapists, child molesters, murderers, mother-humpers, father-humpers, or any violent shits.
But god damn it man we were the generation that lifted protesting to an art form. So a bunch of us got together and formed a think tank to come up with some ideas for a proper protest rally. Once together the first thing we did was light one up. A soon as soon as we got tanked in the tank we were able to think clearly. Sort of. It was T-Bone that came up with the best idea. A hunger strike for the legalization of marijuana. Brilliance to the tenth degree. We smoked another J to celebrate and decided we would start the strike tomorrow. Right now we needed to find a box of Devil Dogs.
The next day we started the strike in the cafeteria in school at 12:15. No eating until pot is legal, or at least decriminalized. Some more of our friends joined in and before long we had a band of 25 stoners all starving ourselves in protest. The movement was growing so we snuck out side and lit up a few bowls. When we returned to the cafeteria we were all smiles, or shits and giggles whatever that means. Its now 12:45 and we had a full fledged protest going on. The bell rang at 1 o’clock and in force we all walked out of school in unison bound by the determination of changing the culture surrounding that magnificent Mary Jane. We were now 40 strong all stoked up on determination and a shitload of THC! At 1:10 an ice cream truck passed by ringing a bell and like Pavlov’s dogs the majority of protesters began to salivate and then chased after the truck in search of some sweet munchables. Feeling dejected and deserted we were now only five left standing strong to make pot legal. T-Bone suggested we jump in the car and head to 7-11 for a box of Devil Dogs and by 1:20 the hunger strike was officially over.
We protested many things back in the day, Viet Nam war, nuclear weapon disarmament, civil rights and a whole slew of unethical activities that we were forced upon an innocent nation of humans. We arranged sit-ins and rallies of all sorts but we learned one very valuable lesson that day. If you’re smoking pot never-ever for even one second engage in a hunger strike. Oh yea, and always keep an extra box of Devil Dogs nearby cuz ya never know when you’ll be attacked by the munchies on a Devil Dog Day afternoon…PEACE
Something Will Come And Destroy Our Culture (Here Comes Honey Boo Boo)
The best part of Monday morning for me is that it’s the perfect time for an existential quandary. That’s my form of exercise, using the brain. You can keep your squats and crunches. To my gyms are a waste of time and filled with quandaries. People keep walking but get nowhere, keep pedaling but remain in the same pot, and everyone seems to be searching for something. Six pack abs and rippling muscles? Fuck that, give me a six pack of ale and let me make ripples on the couch. There are two muscles I concern myself with and a gym won’t help either of them. The one muscle needs more of a coaxing than exercise, and the other muscle is of course my brain, ergo the quandary.
So here is my existential quandary, my brain work out for today. Honey Boo Boo! My daughter talked me into viewing an episode with her last week and when it was over my head was numb. When the shock of the show being considered entertainment wore off, and the more profound shock of realizing my daughter enjoyed it, I launched brain first into the quandary. WTF??
Today I need to put the frightful experience in context. The quandary? Was what I saw real or was it a manifestation delivered via television to brainwash our culture into becoming judgmental? I didn’t o much place judgment on Honey, or her “trailer” family (hows that for judgey?) but more on those that watch avidly. I’m not pigeon holing this show, there’s way too many more like it. Buckwild, Duck Dynasty, Jersey Shore, all kinds of shows that propagate judgment. Turning our culture into a mass of ridiculing bigots. I am afraid I may become a Boo Boo’s witness and go door to door warning everyone that Hell awaits them if they fail to watch. Should these shows exist here or are they better suited for a parallel universe. Wait, is their a parallel universe or are there multi-verses, and if so do I exist in any or all of those universes? Fuck it, my brain hurts, time to hit the shower and start my Monday.
Word To My Mom
tribute to Mom. Thanx for never really breaking my neck or handing me my head on a platter. I know you could have just taken my head when I forgot it because it wasn’t attached to my shoulders. I want you to know that even after doing it so many times I’m not blind, although I do need glasses. I’m talking of course about not poking my eyes out running with scissors. The truth is Mom I miss you, sometimes I even fuck up, oops sorry, fornicate up just in the hope that I will hear my middle name screamed in anger. I seem to have grown your finger which I use to point at my own kids when I get mad. I know, I know, it serves me right life isn’t fair so I won’t roll my eyes or look at you with a long face. (gotta admit I still son’s know what a long face is) One last thing Mom, some of my friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge and I didn’t join them. You taught me well… Love you Mom, and gallons of love to all the Moms out there who make life worth living.
Sleepless In New York (You Had Me At Gunpoint)
What’s a nice gun like you doing in a place like this?
A writer is often called upon to take a memory that they’d prefer to leave full of cobwebs hidden away in the memory attic and bring it back to life for retelling. I’m told its therapeutic but truthfully I fear it may be the proverbial camel breaking straw that may release my inner serial killer. Maybe that’s harsh, more the harmless psychopath that dwells locked in the caverns of my id. But for the sake of art I will lurch head first into the darker depths of my era of depression an relive this horror in words. No, not THE depression, I’m not THAT old, my depression, the confused, self medicating years of my youth spent in the absence of light. I have a somewhat sordid past to begin with so there is the possibility this is a dangerous exercise that could unleash the devils warrior that may be lurking about in the hopes of finding a portal into the mortal. Ergo (I love using that word) I put forth a disclaimer or two. First, there are no innocent people in need of protection but names were changed anyway to make them sound more badass. Second, this story may or may not be true and may or may not be based on real life experience. Either way, it could happen to you. Here then is a tale of one night when my darkness encountered the darkness of a gun barrel. The night I was held at gunpoint.
Like most big cities New York has an underground drug market. On the Lower East Side you can get it all. Pot, pills, coke, dope, pretty much any drug you want, you just needed to know where to go and how its sold. On 14th street give the two finger V sign and you’ll attract valium salesmen, down on Third Ave listen for the word “sense” and you have pot. Coke is by Tompkins Park, and heroin is in the famed alphabet city. Life had dealt me some major blows, leaving me living in a tiny room with no family connections. I had used a lot of different drugs but my depression was at an all time low, even I didn’t want to hang out with me. I found solace in drinking booze and sniffing bags of heroin to take me away. It was a very dangerous game to play, one because its an unforgiving high and if you let it get you it won’t let go, and two because to cop it you had to go into the belly of the beast of the city where not a single soul can be trusted. But when you don’t give a shit about anything, even your pathetic life, it’s a risk worth taking. So I did, I went down on occasion to cop some dope. The dealers have people they call steerers, who steer you to the sellers. It’s a labyrinth designed to protect the dealers in which you encounter three people before finding the one holding the dope. This hot July night I was gamed by a junkie who posed as a steerer.
“Hey Bro, you looking for some good dope? Mr. T, the best shit in town right around the corner.” Mr. T was legendary dope, very strong and a real prize among users. In an attempt to let him know I knew my shit I asked, “Old executive or double Dee?” This Latin dude stared at me. He has very tight curled hair parted in the middle and a pock marked worn face partially covered by a weak goatee. “Hey look Bro, you be talking to Culebro, I da man wit da plan G. You want the real deal Hollyfield Exec or you wanna get that cheap ass double dee shit from the negritos Yo? Follow the Culebro if you want the good dope son I ain’t got time to play games boy the fucking man is all over this place. Come on ahead or get the fuck out!” I made a shit decision, I followed The Culebro.
It’s not uncommon for dope to be sold in an abandoned building. No neighbors, easy exits for the dealers, and no one to tip off the cops. But this abandoned building was just that, abandoned. I followed Culebro up to the third floor, the stairwells lit by candlelight. I thought that was a good sign, that usually the habits of a smart operation. Or an operation no longer in use. As soon as we entered the hallway on the third floor Culebro pushed me up against the wall and stuck a handgun to my head. “Okay blanquito, how much you gonna die for tonight?”
I’ve often heard the phrase “shit a brick” to describe a profound fear. First let me say that if one were to shit even little pieces of broken mortar it would take a great deal of effort and concentration, both of which were in short supply. I assure you bowel movement would be amongst the last thoughts one has with a loaded pistol poised at ones forehead. Nor would my thoughts cause me to perspire bullets. My life didn’t flash before my eyes. That would have at the very least offered some entertainment. Most of went through my head was more like, “Oh fuck. Oh shit. That’s a fucking gun! What the fuck am I gonna do now. This fucker is crazy and he’s gonna shoot me.” I also entertained the thought of being a statistic in tomorrows police blotter. Unknown twenty something found dead in center of chalk line on Lower East Side. Me, reduced to a thin line of white chalk! But that was a fleeting thought, what I instinctively knew was I had to escape or die. But how to approach this escape? Beg? “Oh please man please…don’t. I have a family somewhere maybe I’ll have children someday.” No, that won’t work. Calm reasoning? “Hey look man, this is a mistake, I’m not worth it. I have no money, the gun will make noise and cops will be up here in seconds.” No, cops aren’t anywhere near this area, its one of the poorest in the city. Here gunshots and sirens are like birdcalls in the morning. No go. Bargain? “Look man, I have plenty of cash in my apartment in the village, we can take the subway over and I’ll go up and get it all for you. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Right! He seems like such a trusting soul. Options are limiting rapidly. Then it hit me. My bright idea.
Living in the city that never sleeps has some unwritten, unspoken rules. There is a good chance that at some point you are going to get ripped off. Mugged. Always split up your cash an always have some cash somewhere. You never want to carry a lot of cash around but you always need something. If you get mugged and have at least a little cash you chances are good it’s a druggie looking for quick cash and will take your money and flee. Roll it up in bundles to make it look like more than it I. A well rolled wad of single can look like a major score, and most times the thief doesn’t stop and count. If you have nothing you run the risk of pissing them off and turning them bat shit crazy. I had my own strategy because purchasing drugs on the street was an art. Hundreds of scammers and muggers. I place my drug purchase money in my front pocket, a small wad of singles in my left, and a roll of cash in each sock. That way if I get mugged before copping I can still cop, and if its after I can give them money and they won’t know I have drugs. But this situation was different. This dude knew I had drug money and he wanted it. He doesn’t realize I live here, he thinks I’m a B&T. B&T is slang for Bridge and Tunnel, a reference to the fact that kids come from the suburbs of Connecticut, New jersey or Long Island to come to play in the big city by driving through the tunnel or over a bridge. Easy prey. But I was no longer B&T, I had been living in the city for four years now and knew a lot of tricks. I opted for one I practiced in my mind but never in a real life situation. I sprung into action.
With my hands in the air I said, “hold on man, hold on. I have some more cash here in my sock.” I slowly reached down towards my foot and removed a wad of singles wrapped in a twenty to show him. Then I flung it up in the air using my thumb to separate the bills and it looked like bills from heaven. It was just the distraction I needed and as he greedily started grabbing for the bills he lowered his gun and I fled like the track star I could have been if I applied myself. (that’s what my Mom always told me). I didn’t stop running until I reached the village, and I absolutely learned my lesson about dope. I’ll never cop anything in that neighborhood again!
Experienced Waitress wanted (hopefully and up and comer!)
“Is That A Rolling Pin Under Your Apron or are You Just Happy To See Me?”
My very first restaurant experience was enlightening in many ways. I was hired to ensure the sanitation of the entire establishment be maintained throughout the dining experience. I proudly bore an exalted title than made me the envy of my school. “Potwasher,” a title that’s far more demeaning than the inoccent name would imply. But fuck it man, I didn’t care. Other friends had jobs in deli’s, gas stations, or retail stores and shit. They had easier jobs, but I had something they didn’t. Easily accessible alcohol, fun loving dudes to joke around with, and HOT waitresses.
So there I was, at the suds busting helm of a sink full of soapy water smiling away at all the hotties. My raging sixteen year old hormones were smiling too. Even the older waitresses were HOT. I quickly learned of the extra advantage of apron wearing which could conceal my budding enthusiasm. Cuz the waitresses were HOT! I used the traditional three compartment sink method, wash, rinse, and cold water to cool my jets in. It wasn’t just that though, I was accepted.
Most people who are “Quirky” out on the fringe of society at age 16 get made fun of a lot. That or run off to the circus or carnival to blend in with other “freaks” But not this young lad, I headed straight for the restaurant life. Working at a restaurant was a religious experience for me. I was like holy shit man, there’s people here even weirder than me. A good restaurant is filled with artists. Struggling actors, singers, comediennes, and writers. That was mostly in the front of the house but I was back of the house. Apparently they don’t get along in many establishments. I can understand the old fuckers in the back of the house but the young chefs? Don’t they see how HOT the wait staff is? Some of the staff were gay, but if guy on guy sex was up my alley I would have bent over backwards for those hunky servers. Dressed just as revealingly as the female counterparts the gay waiters were HOT too. Some so hot I may have considered switching sides from time to time, but the sea of sizzling sexy waitresses was way too plentiful. And HOT.
I loved the way the older waitresses flirted with me and I think I looked good in crimson red when they made me blush and laughed about it. The unflattering white cook shirt really complimented my reddened face. I didn’t care because I was in a kitchen and I could handle the heat and my perseverance paid off one particular evening. It was a tediously slow Monday night and the manager decided to let Kat, the thirty something head waitress close the restaurant. Kat was a divorced women with long blond hair in a shag cut that made her look younger. Deep blue eyes were highlighted by thick mascara and her eye shadow bore an even deeper shade of blue. I used to wonder if she was a model when she was younger, but I was a pup myself and somewhat naïve. She had the perfect face for a young boy to fantasize about, wearing more make up than she needed and pouting oversized lips painted gleaming hot red. Fantastic legs with bulging muscles even in her ankles. I spent many a break following those legs around the kitchen dreaming while trying not to get caught looking.
The chef and cooks broke down and left even before then, so it was just me and Kat in the restaurant. Kat was one of the women who loved to flirt with me to get me mumbling and flustered and goddamn was she good at it!. This Monday night she walked into the kitchen with her skirt higher than usual and asked me if I wanted a drink. I replied indeed I would and she told me to come on out to the bar and She’ll “give it to me.” I watched as she left the kitchen not able to take my eyes off her legs. Had to check the apron to make sure it didn’t reveal my own tightened muscle that had formed below. All clear so out to the bar.
Kat was behind the bar with her back to me. She turned around and caught me staring at her ass and smiled, “See something you like Hon?” I smiled weakly and thought to myself “Oh yea, I see something I really like.” As if she read my mind she grabbed two rocks glasses and walked over to me. “How bout this Hon?” She handed me one of the glasses. I drank half of it straight down in one fast gulp. “Easy Hon, you don’t want to go too fast.“ There was a throaty tease to her voice, but more obvious was the tease as she gently rubbed that muscle I was talking about. The blood shot up to my face so hard and so fast I thought someone hit me. With her other hand she reached up and unbuttoned three of the buttons of her blouse revealing three quarters of her smooth breasts barely covered with a thin flower print bra. She had my undivided attention. My apron muscle stood at attention as well. I pulled the apron string and let it drop to the floor. I launched a near attack on her breasts but she grabbed my hands, “Easy Tiger, no need to rush.” She skillfully undid my shirt and pulled it off an began sucking on my nipples, “This is how you do it Honey, nice and easy.”
The adrenalin that shot through my body was electric shock therapy. I never even thought women sucked on guys nipples but I was a fast learner. I returned the sensual gesture and paid total attention to her breasts, lovingly applying my tongue on her nipples. I could tell she liked it because she was making soft moaning noises of approval. I was so focused I barely even noticed that she had undone my pants. I pounded down whatever was left in the rocks glass for a little bravado. It went down easy yet burned all the way. I struggled out of my pants an underpants and Kat led me to the lounge and laid me on a cushioned bench. She remove her stockings and panties but not her dress. She just hiked it up an straddled me. Her skilled hand directed my heat seeking misle inside her and pumped away furiously. It felt so unbelievably good my inner self was ablaze and transcending rapidly. My entire circulatory system sang, danced, then gathered in my penis and threatened to make it explode violently. Kat slowed her pace as she moved up and down with artful slow rhythm and now it was me making sounds. I moaned and groaned and claimed my allegiance to god over and over as Kat just kept moaning simply “Yes, yes, Yes, oh yea.” Suddenly she got very loud and screamed “Oh god, here it is, I‘m coming, I‘m coming!” and then a AHHHhhhhh, that began really loud and got softer and slower by the second. Hearing her orgasm brought me to the breaking point. I exclaimed loudly “I think I’m gonna come,” but the warning was too late as I exploded my hormonal syrup, every last drop of it deep into her. The two of us lay there panting and moaning and panting some more. Like needles and pins blood pumped through my face and I fell in love for the very first time that very second!
Of course it wasn’t real love, Kat had zero interest in love especially with me, but I could feel it. I knew I was in love. We had sex a few more times after that night, mostly in her apartment. Kat never once made it feel awkward at work, I never bragged to anyone so no one knew what we did. One day something came up and she had to go back home to Kansas. I would never see her again, but neither would I ever forget her.
Kat schooled me in so many things, but nothing so expertly as pleasure, both how to please and how to be pleased. To this day looking at a waitress makes me horny and reminds me of my carnal adventures with Kat. I know she never loved me, that I merely served a purpose for her for a while but that’s okay. I would fall in and out love a hundred times more and have plenty of sexual adventures. Kat did way more for me than I ever could for her and she may be the true reason I fell in love with restaurants to begin with. I’ve had a great career as a chef and have my share of excurions so intense they would make Kitchen Confidential seem lame. I’ve been loved and been in love. But nothing will ever compare to the love I got from Kat the waitress. Thanks Kat, wherever you are!
Yes, I Read A Clockwork Orange in My School Daze
Lesson in Civility
I enjoyed to writing but it came as a surprise to most that I also loved to read. Many of the teachers believed that I didn’t read because they knew my “type”. That meant worthless lazy potheads who don’t have enough ambition to read. They took me for a non caring loser who didn’t give a shit about education. Most of the time I just thought ‘fuck them’ cuz they‘ll always think their better than us.. I had just finished reading a complex and unbelievably outrageous book called “A Clockwork Orange” in which the characters had their own slang language making it a more difficult read than most. I walked into Mr. Refester’s class prepared to debate the attributes in this fine book that was to be the focus of the days lesson. Refester, or Reefer as we called him, always tried to trip me up. For what ever reason this fucker really had it in for me. It was no surprise that he directed many questions to me in an attempt to mess me up but I had the proper answers. That pissed him off so with his stupid smirk he asked me what happened to the main character in jail. The character, Alex, had killed a fellow inmate and gotten deeper in trouble. When I relayed this info to Reefer he shot me a distain filled glare and revealed his stern teacher voice. “That never happened in the book JT that only happened in the movie. This proves you didn’t read the book, you only watched the movie. Try reading next time instead of taking the easy way out like always. You get a zero for the day.” I was angry beyond belief. I had not even seen the movie and I loved the book so much I read it twice. Well I let him know this in no uncertain terms but he didn’t hear a word I said. Instead he went into a tirade of what happens to lazy marijuana smoking kids who try to fool their teachers. There is no doubt in my mind my face went from crimson to purple with anger. Periwinkle purple if I remember my crayola’s correctly. Tired from working last night, still slightly buzzed from second period, and angry as castrated hornet I flipped. Sick and tired of being unfairly judged I stood up to better state my case and looked around the room at my peers to see who might lend me support. Anyone who read the book would know I wasn’t lying and that was what happened in the book. Every last one of them turned their heads, looked down at their desks, or just smiled in approval at the injustice being thrust upon your friend and narrator. So all alone I stood on my oddy knocky infuriated and decided to stand my ground. After offering my own version of the account and pleading my case, Reefer just stared at me and said ‘Sit down Mr. Hilltop. Maybe you didn’t hear me. You get a zero for the day.” That was the final drinking tube that crushed the dromedary’s back. I eyed the door, thought about my options and what would be the smart thing to do. I knew the right thing was to sit down, regroup and go find a copy of the book to prove my credibility. The right thing has never been my forte. With that in mind I mumbled “Fuck you” just loud enough for everyone to hear as the silence blanketed the room. I then thought what the fuck, might as well give a parting blow to the asshole spineless peers in my class as well. I walked towards the door as Mr. Reefer kept yelling at me to get back in my seat and sit down, but the ship had already started sailing and was probably gonna sink anyway. I wanted to leave no doubt that I had read the book so as I opened the door I turned to my classmates and using the books slang in my most silky golass I creeched, “You bunch of vonny grazzy devotchkas and chellovecks. Nary a one of you had the yarbles to open your silent rots and speak their golass on behalf of yours truly. I’ll not slooshy another slovo. You can all kiss my sharries. My appy-polly loggies to the young devotchkas but enough of this chepooka. Seems I will always be on my oddy knocky in this excuse of a classroom. Bog save you all my droogies” As I slammed the door for effect I started to regret my actions already but I knew it proved I was in the right and now the whole class would have no doubt, unless of coursse they didn’t read the book and didn’t understand the language I used. I was right right right but still in deep shit. I was scared but also hot and needed to talk to someone, so I went straight to the cafeteria to find just one of my droogies, er friends.
“Hey Patrick, whats up bro?” Patrick was a cool bud who seemed to be friends with everyone, jocks, hitters, greasers, hippies and even the brainiacs. But today he was alone at the table which was cool by me, I needed to calm down anyway. “Hey whats happening JT? You skip class man?” “Yea bro, something like that. Fucking just had a fight with Reefer and walked out of his class.” “Oh man that sucks. What a douche that fuckhead is. Come on over after school and I’ll sneak out the bamboo pipe.” Fucking A Patrick, you’re the fucking best. I know I’m gonna get in a shitload for this. I think I told him to fuck himself in front of the whole class.” At first Patrick looked at me with deer in headlight stare. I saw his eyes soften up and begin to cave in on the sides and he began his loud guffaw of a laugh he had become famous for. “Ah ha ha oh my gawd JT, you said it out loud? That’s the funniest thing I ever heard.” We both laughed for about five minutes and as soon as I composed my self I said “I don’t think Reefer thought it was funny. Anyway whadda ya gonna do? Fuck him.” “You may get in trouble JT, but it one helluva great story to have. We can talk about it later. C’mon over after school, I got some black hash that’s preamo.” “Thanks bro, we can always count on our friends. No one else, but always our friends.” No sooner had I said that when one of the school principals pets came up to me and said “Justin, Mr. Winston wants to see you.” “Yea, that sounds about right. Catch ya later Patrick. Right after school?” “No problem JT, I’ll be waiting.” Time to pay the piper, whatever the fuck that meant!
Terrapin - The Journey 