August 25

The Blue Suit – Chapter 5


I get back to the bar. Winnie makes an obvious glance towards my bulge and gives me a big toothy grin. Like a ninja, I swiftly and quietly move back to my bar stool, like I was never missing. Some ridiculously pompous blue suit is sitting in the seat right next to Lily, on the opposite side of Stain.

He speaks in a loud and garish manner as those people sometimes do. “So you’re like a model?”

Before she can get a breath in, he continues. “I’ve never had drinks with a hot, redheaded model before. How much do you gals get paid?”

“I don’t really like to talk about money, and I’m not a model.”

“Yeah, right, but you do have red hair right? I mean, the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes, yah?”

Lily is very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. She’s finished her drink and hasn’t asked for another. Her shoulders are tight, almost up to her ears, and she keeps looking away from the suit, never directly at him.

Blue suit picks up his ringing cell, and begins talking even louder than before, as you often see from those people. “Hey Charlie, how the fuck are you, you ole piece of shit. What am I doin? I’m at a bar getting drunk with a hot redheaded model.”

He looks towards the wall, as his brain is clearly not capable of focusing on anything more than a basic conversation. Lily uses this as her chance to escape. On the way out, she puts her hand on Stain’s shoulder. “It was nice meeting you. I wish we had a chance to speak more, but I’m tired and need sleep now.”

Stain looks very disappointed. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lily gives me a passing nod. “Goodbye.”

“Bye Lily.”

Blue suit finally hangs up the phone, looks around and sees a complete absence of Lily. “Where’s the red bushed model gone?”

Stain is getting very angry – this isn’t good. He grabs knives when he’s angry. “Her name is Lily.”

Blue suit laughs. “I don’t give a flying fuck if her name is Henry, as long as she puts that beautiful mouth on my cock.”

. . . and now, it’s time for me to stop a situation from happening. I grab Stain’s shoulder and look over at Blue suit, while placing my credit card on the bar. “We have to get going.”

Winnie pushes the card back toward me. “It’s on me, as long as you come see me again.”

I lean way over the bar and kiss her on the lips, slowly, unapologetically; I take my time. “I’ll see you again. We have some unfinished business.”

Blue suit’s eyes are bulging out of his sockets, like he’s never seen two people kiss before. “Wow, how do I get in on this free beer? Do I have to make out with the bar wench too?”

Stain looks at me with his “can I kill this guy now” face, but I simply shake my head no.

I gesture to the suit. “Before I go, I was just out in the parking lot, and I think something might have happened to your car. You were driving the BMW, right?”

“No! Do you think I would be caught dead in that piece of shit? Fuck no! I drive a Jag, bitch!”

“Well, I’m not a car guy. I don’t know. Was it gold or tan or something?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Do I look 50 to you? A gold car, as fucking if.”

“It was dark – I guess it could have been grey or silver, and maybe it was just the light.”

He furls his brow and pinches his index finger together with his thumb, gesturing the pinch back and forth, toward and away from his face, sharply. “Silver, really? My car is Azurite Blue. Do I look like I bring fucking orange slices to the soccer team?”

“I suppose not. Good day to you?”

Stain and I walk outside and quickly begin looking for a blue Jag. We see it parked outside a row of rooms, and Stain is ready to take out every last bit of aggression on it, but he stops himself. “I don’t know if a superhero would do this type of thing.”

“Stain, man, real superheros don’t just fight crime, they make the world a better place. This is a bad person. You can tell that because he wears a blue suit.”

“That’s true, but don’t bad people need an example of kindness to be good?”

Stain has an excellent point. I nod. “I wasn’t going to hurt the car anyway. I just figured you deserved a go at him, and you know I don’t like physical violence. Maybe being a superhero is just always doing the right thing, even when you want to smash the car in.”

Stain has a look of admission on his face. “Yeah, or maybe being a superhero is recognizing the car is backed into the space, and it’s only taking up one space, but it’s not parked very straight.”


“With arrogance like that and bragging like he did about his car, he would park it perfectly straight in two spots, so people knew he did it on purpose, and he wouldn’t back it in. People who back in usually prepare for the future. He’s not that guy. We got played.”

“No way. He’s too stupid for that.”

We look at each other, speaking at the same time. “Bosses car.”

I look at the car one last time and start to walk away. “But we could leave a nasty note about the employee,” I suggest.

“No, let’s take the high road. Let’s be superheros.”

August 24

No GILFs Tonight – Chapter 4


Winnie brings back the wine and introduces herself. “I’m Winnie by the way.”

“Hi Winnie, I’m Lily.”

“That a pretty name.” Winnie points to us. “That’s Stain and Sappho. I think Sappho is a superhero name.”

Stain laughs and points to himself. “Stain is a superhero name also.”

Lily gives no look of judgement or concern, and she has no ill tone in her voice. “You’re superheros, for real?”

Stain fields the question by saying that “yes, we are indeed. I’m also an artist, and Sappho’s a poet.”

Lily’s posture changes. She’s becoming relaxed and intrigued. She looks right at Stain. “What kind of artist are you?”

“I’m a painter. I like to sketch as well, especially people. What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a talent agent for models.”

“Really? I don’t mean to be rude, but you look so young.”

“It’s a business for girls. I started off in modeling when I was a teenager, and once you can’t take the starvation and the orders anymore, you either leave or become management. Sure, I’m only 23, but I’m way too old and way too fat to be a model.”

Stain is floored by this comment. “You are young, beautiful, and skinny.”

“They’re younger and skinnier than I am.”

I can tell that Stain and Lily are having a kick ass time, but the only thing on my mind are Winnie’s breasts, which look great through her shirt. I walk away from the conversation, completely unnoticed by everyone, except Winnie. I motion her to come with me. She shakes her head no. I motion her again, and she looks a little mad, but she follows.

“I can’t go too far. I’m still working.”

“I know, but you have to show me.”

Winnie takes my hand and excitedly pulls me to the corner of an outdoor parking lot. She lifts her shirt and bra. I put my hand on her stomach to see if it’s OK, and she lets out a little a breath. I move my hand up around her breast and begin kissing her lips. Her hand quickly moves down my pants and grabs the soldier like she’s trying to choke the life out of him. She takes her other hand and begins touching herself, slower and more gently. We keep kissing, tongues caressing. She starts to scream; she’s loud. My ears are ringing in pain; she’s so loud, but it’s such a turn on. She unbuckles my pants, and pulls the BMOC right out, spits on her hand a few times, and gives it a really fast go. My legs are shaking, hands trembling, but right at that moment a car pulls up and shines the headlights right on Winnie and me.

“Oh, Fuck. I better get back to work. Sorry, but thank you.” Winnie kisses my lips, hurriedly, three times and runs back to work.

A lady gets out of the car; she’s at least 70 years old. She stares at me, sees that I’m in full salute and doesn’t look away. Out of nothing more than curiosity, I pull it a bit to see her response. She looks more frightened than anything. “You can’t do that here.”

I was hoping for a weird 70+ experience, but it was more of a concerned citizen scenario. Now I feel like the weird creepy pervert guy who just violated someone’s Grandma. I’m probably going to be in the news. I still can’t keep it down though, even after that detrimental experience, after two successful takes offs with no missiles launched, I think I’ll be flying high for the rest of the day. I saunter back to the bar with an irreversible bulge in my pants.

August 23

Sappho’s Superpower – Chapter 3


My heart bangs, almost right out of its cage of bones. I recognize the radiant woman behind the bar. She’s chatting with some noose necked alchy. I can tell that he values his life less than anybody else possibly could. I almost don’t want to drink after seeing him at the end of the bar, but I feel the only way to get happy after seeing that sad sack is to throw back a pitcher or three of ale.

“How are you guys doing?” She starts the conversation, but she hasn’t noticed me yet.

Stain is always better at talking to people than I, so I’ll let the experienced rider take the reins. “Actually, pretty good. Can we get a pitcher of beer please? It’s my birthday, and I just went to Sappho’s place to pick him up. You’ll never believe . . .”

The bartender tilts her head and squints her eyes. “Sappho? You’re not Sappho. I know you from grade school. You’re Davis.”

Stain smiles a big wild and crazy smile. “Sappho is his superhero name.”

She looks intently at me for a moment. “Do you remember me?”

“Absolutely. You have a twin sister.”

“That’s right. Do you remember my name . . . or our names?”

“I remember both your names – Winnie and Janet, and I have a way of telling who is who.”

Her smiles gets a little bigger, but her eyes have a doubtful look in them. “OK, who am I?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my superpower is?”

She laughs, and it’s not a courtesy laugh. Her hand gently sits on top of mine, noticeably on top of the bar. “Sure. What’s your superpower?”

“I can get women to show me their boobs.”

She gives me a sideways glance. “I bet you can.”

She goes to the tap, pours out a pitcher of beer with no head, and sets it down on the bar, putting her hand right in front of me.

I place my hand on top of hers, holding it now, squeezing it gently. “Thank you Winnie.”

Stain looks impressed, like the times when I start juggling and we’re both really drunk. “How did you know? They look different or dress different or something?”

Winnie shakes her head a bit. “No, we look exactly the same. We used to wear different colors so people could tell us apart, but we stopped doing that years ago.” She looks very curiously at me. “How did you know? We haven’t seen each other in so many years.”

“I can tell you that it has nothing to do with the way you look, but if you want to know more, it’ll cost you.”

Winnie looks very intrigued. “What’s the price?”

“I want to see what’s under your shirt.”

Her mouth widens, almost out of shock, but it turns into a gaping turned on smile. At that moment, a gorgeous redhead sits down at the bar, two seats over from Stain.

Winnie walks a bit closer to her. “What can I get you?”

The woman looks stressed out. “A nice glass of red wine would be great, thank you.”

August 17

Confusing Love


“I don’t want to go over there tomorrow.”

“Leslie, I’m going to meet your parents. It’s already arranged.”

“I know. I, know!” Leslie returned.

“Please be ok with this. It’s a very very important step in our relationship.”

“I know Jamie. I, know! It’s not you. It’s them. They can be a little difficult.”

“Everyone’s parents are difficult. My parents wanted me to marry someone with a doctorate, but here I am, engaged to someone with a bachelor degree.”

“Don’t tease, your parents love love love me, and you don’t have a doctorate.”

“I’m working on it,” Jamie said with a hearty laugh.

I made sure to get to my parents place the next day before Jamie, so I could try to prepare them, and I was hoping they would say the worst things to me and not to Jamie.

“Button up your shirt, I can see your birthmark,” mom directed dad, who had a strange Florida shaped birthmark on his chest.

“Mom, Jamie is coming soon, so is there anything you want to ask me now, so you don’t embarrass me in front of her?”

“Jamie is a girl?”

“Yes, Jamie is a girl. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t know. I assumed you were still dating boys.”

“Mom, I dated one man, once, ever.”

My dad used this as an opportunity to get in on the action and said: “look, if our son Les wants to date a beautiful woman with ripe titties and a sweet tasting fuck hole, than he should.”

Mom gave dad an evil look while saying: “David, don’t talk to Leslie like that.”

Dad angrily returned with: “call him Les, damn it. Why did I ever let you give him that fag name, and why are you trying to get him to be gay. The poor guy is dating a chick with a more manly name than him. He doesn’t want to be a gay anymore. He wants the sweet smell of pussy on his cock.”

“David! Leslie was my grandfather’s name.” Mom said with feigned shock.

I give them both my best look of disappointment when I say: “OK guys, I’m glad that you got that out of your system before Jamie got here. Now, please do your best to behave like civilized members of society. I love her, and I’m going to marry her. There is one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

The doorbell rings. Dad quickly buttons his shirt, opens the door, and says: “she’s black.”

Mom looks a bit upset and quickly retorts: “David, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being racist this time. She actually is black.” He looks at Jamie and says: “you are black right? You’re not one of those Cubans that just looks black?”


Jamie was about to speak before my mom interrupted her with: “you don’t tell them they’re black. They already know they’re black. You’re not even supposed to notice.”

“Of course you’re going to notice. I mean, really? Look at her. She looks black, mostly. How do you not notice that?” My dad asks.

“Jamie, meet Edith and Archie,” I say.

My mom shoots me a glance and says: “that’s not nice Leslie. I’m Nancy, and this is my husband David. We’re Leslie’s parents, and we’re very honored to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you,” my dad said after a bit of a pause.

Jamie has a concerned look on her face and a defeated posture when she says: “nice to meet you” then asks: “who are Edith and Archie?”

My father quickly returns with: “they’re like what the Jefferson’s are to you people.”

With raised eyebrows and a gaping mouth, Jamie lets out: “oh.”

“So, are your parents OK with you marrying a white man?” Dad asks Jamie.

Jamie, almost afraid to answer the question says: “yes; I have one white and one black parent, so I think they would be fine if I married anyone. Although, I don’t know my dad, but I assume he would be fine with it.”

“I here that happens a lot,” my dad thoughtlessly belts out.

Jamie looks genuinely confused when she asks: “what does?”

My dad looks a bit hurt by the question and fires back: “I’m not trying to get in a fight or anything. I just heard that a lot of black fathers go missing.”

Nobody said anything for a moment. Even my mom can’t believe he said that.

Jamie, saddened and serious says: “my dad is white.”

My mom looks shocked when she says: “Oh!” She stammers a bit and continues with: “David, you’ve upset everyone. Her father is probably dead.”

“Jamie, I’m so very sorry. This is a disaster. Lets just go,” I say while grabbing her hand and yanking a bit.

My dad, for the first time ever, swallowed his pride and said: “I’m sorry too. We, that is, I just don’t know better. I’m ignorant and don’t get out much. Please forgive me.”

“It’s OK. Um, yeah. I don’t think my dad is dead. My mom didn’t know it at first, but he was married, maybe still is. He chose not to be a part of our lives, so he wouldn’t have to upset his wife, I guess. I never tried to find him because I’m guessing he didn’t want to found.”

“That’s terrible. Do you know anything about him?” Mom asked as though we were in group counseling.

“No. I haven’t even seen a photo of him. All I know is that he’s white, lives around here, and has a birthmark somewhere on his body that’s shaped like a state.”

Me, mom, and dad all look at each other in utter shock. What the hell do I do now?

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August 16

Happy Birthday – Chapter 2

Happy Birthday Frog

“So, was I early?”

I can tell that while Stain is mildly amused about interrupting my encounter, he’s also worried that he’s upset me.

“No, it’s your birthday amigo, there’s no early.”

“You sure? You’re not saying much?”

“Yeah, the soldier’s rigamortis is still affecting the General’s ability to command, you know?”

“Ah, as in the blood has flowed away from your brain?”

“It’s going back there again. Before you know it, I’ll be able to think of all kinds of cool stuff.”

“Like costumes?” Stains asks with a glimmer in his eye.

“But aren’t costumes for superheros with secret identities?”

“It’s not to hide who we are. I just think costumes would be like guano crazy awesome.”

“OK, but hold on here. You’re Stain, and I’m Sappho. Would we both just steal the Superman “S” for our chests, or do your propose that we do symbols? Perhaps you get a big brown excrement mark, and I adorn myself with lesbians.”

“No to both. I was thinking we both do the first two letters of our superhero names,” Stain returns.

“So, you are S-T, which is saint, and I would be S-A, which stands for Sexaholics Anonymous.”

“Oh, crap, good point.”

“No, no, no. No, I like it. Can mine be red? Oh, I don’t want to wear tights though.”

“We could just get custom t-shirts. You could have a red S-A, and I could get a blue S-T shirt.”

“We should probably get a few of them. I don’t want to be wearing yesterday’s stinky shirt when fighting crime.”

I see Stain look up ahead. “Dude, is that a dingy hotel bar?”

I look ahead and look around some more. “You mean the one right across the street from the restaurant that only hires really hot girls and makes them wear next to nothing?”

“Yeah. I love hotel bars. We going?”

“Oh, yeah – we’re going. Hey Stain?”


“I know Superman has become one word in common practice, but it’s really two words if you think about it. Shouldn’t Superman have more than one letter?”

“I guess.”

“Well, since he’s super and a man, I was thinking that he should be S&M?” I say.

“Right, and I suppose he’ll be doing the nasty with door to door sales girls that visit him at his home which is actually a converted mechanic’s shop.”

Stain opens the door and motions me to go ahead in. The bar is surprisingly well-lit and clean for what it is.

August 15

Sappho Gets Caught – Chapter 1

Sexy Woman

I run my milky hands around her dark chocolate breasts while penetrating her mouth with my tongue. Her head bobs slightly back, while her chest thrusts towards me. I feel her large nipples harden and protrude far out of her chest, pressing into me, as her erection inducing lips part. “Let’s play slave and master.”

With a long uncomfortable silence, I finally mutter out that “I’m certainly open to new things, but I just don’t know how comfortable I am with this. It’s just that the barrier of hundreds of years of . . .”

She stops my long awkward “power to the people” speech before I have time to talk about our differences. Before I can talk about oppression, she lets me know that “you should stop being such a pussy and just play. You want to fuck me don’t you?”

“Yes.” What choice do I have? She is the finest representation of the female physical form that I could ever imagine, so I have to put my hand on her afro and tell her to “get on your knees and polish it slave.”

She shoots me a queer glance as she shrugs my hand off her head, grabs my shoulders, pushes me down to the ground, and tells me that “you got it wrong slave. You’re my bitch.”

“Yes master.” My tree grows as she turns around, lifts her skirt, and puts her bouncy, pantyless onion booty in my face.

“Eat it slave.”

Gross. She’s got a sweet rear, but the only thing I do to the backend is bite it, slap it, and shoot my juice on it. I smack it then turn her around, but she pulls away. She slaps me in the face and informs me that “you’re going to pay for that slave bitch.”

“Yes, please master. Make me pay.”

“Close your eyes and stick your tongue out bitch.”

I comply, and she grabs my head and starts shaking it back and forth as she gyrates across my tongue. It tastes so sweet, like nothing I’ve ever had before. I open my eyes and smile. She smiles back, pulls me up, unbuckles my belt, and we both tear away the rest of our clothes. She wraps her arms around me and motions her leg upward. I pull her up, sliding in, our eyes locked. We’ve gone from a super sexual fantasy to a real, genuine, loving, moment. Time stops moving, and her lips quiver; she moans; I feel the short firm pulses while she grabs me tighter. I kiss her lips, and I feel myself about to . . .

“Hey Sappho. How you doing buddy? Oh, you’re, uh . . .”

“That’s Stain, who didn’t knock before entering,” I whisper to the woman I’m still inside.

“Can you put me down?” she returns.

I pull her off me and set her down. She puts her clothes on, kisses me on the cheek, and while walking out tells me that “you can come see me anytime you want.”

Stain stares at my raging rooster that’s ready to crow, and in a confusing apologetic babble tells me “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Who was that? Nice wood dude! Who was that? Hot!”

I tuck my meat away in my clothes, while responding that “I have no idea who that was or how to get a hold of her again. She was selling something, and I invited her in.”



We stroll out of my place, and Stain points at the obvious bulge that still plagues my pant area, asking “when will that go away?”

“It’ll take a while,” my shaking voice utters while we walk down the street.

August 14

Half Way There

I’ve made it to the half way point of life, and yeah, I might have a couple of things to show for it, but I’m not what everyone would call successful.

I’m alive, happy, healthy, and running my own business. I haven’t been writing though. That needs to change.

Forget the distractions of social media that nobody cares about anyway; I’m just going to write. Everytime I poop, wait in a doctor’s office, or stand in line for anything. I’m never going to feel bored again, and I’m going to stop caring what someone’s alt right cousin said about how much better Trump is than Trudeau.

I’m going to be the most prolific me that I can be.

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July 24

The Creation of Stain


I snort a long line of coke and breathe deeply as my eyes widen, pupils shrink down to nothing, and the rest of the universe slows down to a dull crawl.

I sit here awake and alone once again. Someone will show up though. Someone always does. I’ll sit and wait. Perhaps a cup of soy milk and some noodle soup will keep me busy while I wait. I think about snacking. People really shouldn’t snack so much. That’s why everyone is so bloody fat. They snack too much. I guess if they snacked on noodle soup they wouldn’t be so fat. I hate fat people. What do they think about when they come out of the shower and see an extra fifty pounds hanging off their bodies in the mirror? Do they think hey, pick a roll and make love, I’m feeling hot today?

I just realized that I haven’t eaten in a day. At least I don’t remember eating for a day. The forgetfulness is kicking in, but it’s cool. I suppose that’s just because I haven’t slept for three days.

Did the doorbell just ring? I think that was the doorbell. I’ll check. Nobody at the door. Weird. I stare out the door a few minutes longer. Someone is there. It’s a money hungry chick, and she brought her stupid junkie friend.

I let them in.

Junkie asks: “how did you know we were coming?”

“I heard the doorbell ring.”

“We didn’t ring the bell,” says Money Hungry.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Can I get a taste?” Junkie asks me right away. No respect with these people.

“Also, if you have a few bucks…” Money Hungry raises her eyebrows and continues, “we could give you the same thing as last time.”

“Look, I gave you a taste last time so that you’d come back and buy from me, and as for you, I never hand out money.”

“So, you don’t want our lips on your cock?” asks Money Hungry

“Not if there’s a price attached to it.”

Junkie laughs. “What, did you think we just wanted to suck your dick because you’re so beautiful?”

“I thought you played with me last time because you wanted to.”

“We did. We did. It’s just nice to get a little appreciation in return,” Money Hungry says in a reassuring sort of voice.

I pull my pants down and slap Junkie in the face with my junk. The vacuous pair act like two vacuum cleaners dueling over the eventual canon shot of confetti.

Suddenly, although I’m sitting in the same chair, the girls are gone, and one of my distributors stands in front of me. I look at him and ask: “were people just sucking my cock?”

Distributor looks nervous. His hand starts to shake as he speaks, “look, Reggie, man, I ah, I was a bit low on the count. I know it. I’m saying, I’m going to make it up on this one. I’ve never let you down before, right?”

I look down at my pants, confused, as I fiddle with my zipper, only to notice that everything is packed away tightly. I look back up at Distributor, pointing accusingly. “Were you just sucking my cock?”

“Reggie, I’m truly sorry about the count. I don’t know what happened. I brought the cash back here. I thought it was right. Nobody else has been here? Nobody else could have taken the money?”

“You weren’t sucking my dick,” I yell out.

He’s quivering in fear, as he begins to get down on his knees and slowly unzip my zipper. Oh, no. I’m losing time. Money Hungry and Junkie must have robbed me. I push Distributor off me.

“When did you drop off the money?” I ask

“About three hours ago.”

I point, “this is it? On the table over here?”


I count it. It’s exactly $300 short.

“You know that Junkie girl and Money Hungry girl she hangs with?” I ask

“Yeah. The whores from across town.”

“Right, whatever. Bring them to me, right away,” I demand.

“What about the money?”

“I am the money. Now bring me the girls,” I shout.

“I got it, yo. I got it.”

As he’s leaving, I ask: “what time is it?”

“It’s like almost 3.”

“Forget it. Not today, tomorrow,” I say.

He opens the front door wide, points up to the sun and says: “3 in the afternoon.”

“I don’t do business between 3pm and 10pm. Tomorrow, OK?”

Distributor nods his head at me and closes the door behind him.

Almost right away, I hear a knock at the door. I open it to see Distributor with Money Hungry and Junkie.

“Here they are boss,” Distributor says.

“That’s some great initiative, grabbing them when they are coming to the door like that, but what did I just tell you?” I ask.

“Uh, boss?” Distributor asks.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“It’s 10am cutie,” Money Hungry says.

“We didn’t do nothing,” Junkie says.

“Yo, that’s like a double negative, ho,” says Distributor.

“What the fuck’s his problem? You know your skin is white bitch!” says Junkie.

Distributor raises his hand.

“Hold your hand,” I say.

“Hold my hand. You playin? This bitch be trippin’ disrespectin’ me n’ shit. Yo, bitch be like usin’ double negatives n’ shit. That’s like a direct admission of guilt, yo,” Distributor retorts.

“Hold your hand. Listen, you…” I point at the junkie “…apologize right now. I can’t have anyone disrespecting one of mine.”

“I ain’t apologizing to that nigger wanna be motherfucker. Why would anyone want to be one of those fucking people anyway?”

“You’re going to apologize, or you’re going for a ride with guns and shovels, got it?”

“Why the fuck…”

Money Hungry interrupts Junkie, “apologize, right now. If you don’t apologize right now, very bad things will happen.”

Junkie looks at me, and I nod.

Junkie looks at Distributor, looks down at his feet, and says: “I’m sorry.”

“Fuckin’ right you’re sorry ho bitch.”

“Watch your manners in front of the ladies,” I say.

“Sorry boss. I gotta admit though. You command some damn respect. Now, what about the double negative admission of guilt shit?” Distributor asks.

“Bad grammar isn’t an admission of guilt,” I say.

“What happened?” Money Hungry asks.

“Describe to me what happened after you left here yesterday,” I demand.

“We wiped our chins and made you some tea,” Junkie replies.

I glared at them waiting for more.

“We gave you what you wanted and you gave us a little taste. Everyone was happy, and we left. You were tired,” said Money Hungry.

“Yeah, I never did see nobody as tired as you,” Junkie says.

“You can go now,” I conclude.

“What the fuck? You bring us all the way down here to tell you shit you already know?” Junkie asks.

I look at Distributor and say “I’ve asked them to leave. I have faith that they’ll do the right thing. Please give them that chance before taking any drastic actions, cool?”

“Like ice.”

I walk out of the room and say: “oh, and if they ever come back here again…”

“I’ll take care of it, boss.”

The women leave without any further discussion, almost tripping over themselves on the way out the door, while distributor followed me into the other room.

“Yo, you really going to let those hos get away with stealing your money?” Distributor asks.

“They didn’t steal anything. I’m sure of it.”

“Yo yo yo, if they didn’t take the stacks, who did?” Distributor asks.

“I’ll find out. I always do.”

“I make a badass cup of tea boss. You want a badass cup of tea?” Distributor asks.

“I would very much enjoy a badass cup of tea.”


I’m just minding my own business. She’s looking at me though, out of the corner of her eye. She wants to tell me off for something. I can tell. I wish that woman would stop with that weird stare, weird accent, and weird way of doing everything so weird.

“You eat?” she asks.

“Yeah Mom, I ate.”

“What you want? I make you food.”

“Nothing Ma. I’m not hungry. I don’t want food.”

“You look tired. I make you a sandwich.”

“A sandwich won’t make me less tired Ma. Howz about a coffee? You can make me a coffee, please!”

“I get you a sandwich and tea. You like tea.”

“No Mom. I don’t want a sandwich or tea.”

“What kind of sandwich you want?”


“What you want in your tea?”

“Ham, Mom. Ham is good.”

“Sugar. I put sugar in your tea, not ham. Nobody put ham in their tea. So crazy!”

She starts laughing, and she even does that with a weird accent.

“What kind of sandwich you want?” she asks again.

“Still a ham sandwich Ma.”

“OK . . .” she interrupts herself with fits of laughter.

“Ham in your tea, ham in your sandwich. Maybe you see a pig and marry it. I always want you to get married one day.” she continues.

“Ma, I’m not going to marry a pig.”

“I don’t know. I thought you never bring drugs in the house. I thought you never sell them. I thought you were a good boy, but now you deal the drugs. Maybe next you marry the pig.”

She starts crying, a slow pathetic cry, partly out of shame, partly out of worry, partly out of fear.

“Mom, you have nothing to worry about. No business happens when you’re here and awake, only when you’re at work or sleeping.”

“I don’t care about me. I care about you. I die someday anyway. Can’t you be a carpenter, a doctor, or a pirate?”

“A what?”

“A doctor. Everyone wants a doctor in the family.”

“No ma, you said pirate. Did you mean pilot?”

“Oh, no. I’ve seen you drive a car. I don’t want you to be a pilot. You crash. You die. You be a doctor or a carpenter.”

“Or a pirate?”

“Don’t marry the pig. Don’t deal the drugs. Don’t put the ham in tea.”

“OK Mom.”

“I love you”

“I love you ma.”


“Yo boss, here da hos,” Distributor says.

“This bitch wannabe. I told him you don’t want us here. I told him we ain’t been around, and we didn’t do nothing,” says Junkie.

“Stop talking. All will be revealed soon enough,” I say.

“That’s right hos, shut the fuck up,” says Distributor.

“What the fuck?” asks Junkie.

“Bitch!” yells Distributor.

“What’s that stain on the floor?” asks Money Hungry.

“I asked for silence,” I pull out a gun, wave it around lazily a bit and continue, “I will have silence. If anyone speaks other than me, they will take a bullet.”

I point at each person with the gun, nod at each one and wait for a return nod of recognition.

“Good, now that I have your attention,” I look at Distributor, “I would like you to make us some tea.”

I point the gun at the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen while looking towards Money Hungry, “please get us 4 tea cups, the cups from the set please. Just because I’m holding you hostage at gunpoint doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized.”

I nod at Junkie. “You, my dear. Please get the full gas container that is in the garage, just back there,” I point with my gun. “I want you to pour it slowly out into every room of the house.”

She looks as though she might start speaking again. I wave my gun lazily once more. “Ah ah ah, remember no talking yet. Don’t worry, nobody innocent will die today.”

Distributor takes out two tea bags, putting one each into two cups, throws the tea box away, grabs another box, and puts one each into two more cups. As the water boils, I can smell gasoline filling the house, taking over. My stomach feels sick. Distributor fills the cups with boiling water and after a bit of time removes the tea bags and adds some soy milk to all 4 cups. He makes the tea just the way I like, without saying a word to anyone. I pat him on the shoulder.

“You’ve been a good soldier man. You’re free to speak at will,” I smile and nod at him.

He sighs with relief, looks at me and says: “yo, cool, so what’s going down here?”

“I need to find out who stole that money from me. You three were there that day. It’s very important that I find out.”

Distributor gives tea mugs to me and Money Hungry. He grabs one for himself and leaves one for Junkie, who is still pouring gasoline about the house.

“Please go and check on her. I want to make sure she’s not up to something,” I say to Distributor.

“Sure thing boss. You want me to slap that bitch?” he asks.

“No. Just bring her back here please.”

As soon as he leaves the room, I stop Money Hungry from sipping her tea. I switch her tea with Junkie and I switch my tea with Distributor.

“This is critical. Without saying a word, not one word. Go to the garbage can and open up the tea box. Show me if there is anything in it. Then put it back. Do this quickly,” I say to Money Hungry.

She opens the garbage, opens the box, and shows me that there is enough tea bags for 5 more cups of tea in the discarded box. Money Hungry’s eyes widen with curiosity.

“Thank you. Drink the tea in the cup I gave you and say nothing, no matter what happens. You will be safe. You won’t get hurt, no matter what I say or do,” I say.

Distributor and Junkie come back into the room after what seems to be a bit too long. I tap Junkie on the shoulder. “You can speak now. Drink your tea.”

“What the fuck is this all about?” Junkie asks.

“Someone stole my money. Maybe they came back for more, or maybe they were just trying to kill me, take my drugs, take control of my drug business. I don’t know, but instead they killed my Mom. That’s what that stain on the floor is. That is the stain of my Mom’s blood draining out of her. That’s where she died, alone, in a puddle of her blood, urine, and tears, afraid and alone.”

Junkie and Distributor chug down their cups of tea.

“Do you have a lighter?” I ask Junkie.

“Look who the fuck you’re talking to boss. Of course that skank ho’s got a lighter.” says Distributor.

“Fuck you, you little pansy bitch,” Junkie says to Distributor while handing me a lighter.

“No, no. You go ahead, please. Light the place up,” I say.

She walks over to a bit of gas soaked carpet and sets it on fire.

“So, what the fuck now?” Junkie asks.

“Now, I have to decide who dies, but I’m a very democratic sort of guy, so I’m going to let you guys vote on it. Who do you think stole my money?”

“It’s gotta be the bitches, yo,” says Distributor.

“Fuck you,” says Junkie.

“OK, who was it then?” I ask Junkie.

“Honestly, probably Jessica,” she says while pointing at Money Hungry.

“So, Jessica is it? She stole my money, came back for more money, saw my Mom, then stabbed her 17 times so she couldn’t be a witness, yeah, yeah. That makes sense. There is just one problem with that. Jessica here is sort of smart. She would figure that my money would be safe, locked up somewhere that she couldn’t get at it. She wouldn’t stab my Mom a bunch of times like some sort of jacked up Junkie. A jacked up Junkie would know that I had drugs in the house though.”

Nobody says anything, so I continue. “It doesn’t matter though does it? It doesn’t matter if I blame you because my soldier over here has been drugging my tea for quite some time now so that I fall asleep. That’s why he threw out tea bags after grabbing drugged tea for me and Jessica here. That’s why you two chugged your tea so quickly with confidence, knowing that I would fall asleep anytime now, but I switched the cups didn’t I? I’ll see you in the next life.”

I take Jessica’s hand lead her out of the burning house while the two others struggle to even stay awake.

“What happens now?” Jessica asks me.

“I have to go find someone. Just say you were never here.”

“What about your Mom, and what’s your name? I didn’t get your name.”

“My Mom’s dead. The stain will come out of the floor, but it will never come off me.”

“So, I’ll just call you Stain then?”

“Yeah, best if you do.”

Category: Stories | LEAVE A COMMENT
March 9

She Needs Me

In a moment, my thoughts are erased.
I write helplessly, without form, format, wit, or grace.

I want someone to help me.
I need someone to be there for me.

It always me though.
Isn’t it?

I’m always there.
A rant becomes reason.

I’m sorry for being selfish.
I’m here for you…

Category: Poetry | LEAVE A COMMENT