Homeward Bound

Although I hadn't been working there long it was my last day. Not that I had done anything terribly wrong like on the other jobs I had been laid off from, it was just the end of the contract.

'One month no chance of renewal' That's what it read.

Of course, being honest, I harboured secret hopes that they'd make me an exception to the rule and keep me on, say something like: "Mr Mills, your work here with us has been of an exemplary standard and your addition to the team, just your presence amongst it, has made it a pleasure for each man and woman to come in to work each morning. So, in an unprecedented step, we've decided to run slipshod over the rules, shit in the urinal, and offer you a permanent contract here with the City's Green Spaces. What d'ya say?"

As is obvious that didn't happen, and what's more, as I filled in my last work form, ticking off eight hours of watering flowers and picking dog-ends, beer cans and underwear out of rose bushes, not one of my colleagues even acknowledged it was my final shift and said goodbye or wished me luck. So on my last day, having knocked the mud from off my work boots before placing them dramatically outside my locker, I left the building in sad reflective thought, marking the experience down as another lesson learned in my crash course guide to surviving unskilled employment. With that passed, and less than five metres from stepping off the premises for good, you can imagine what a shock it was when Julian - the fat retard in charge of the City's sprinkler systems - pulled up besides me in his car and offered me a lift home. Well, almost home... at least as near to mine as he was going without going out his way, which wasn't very near at all. Looking into his fat, imbecilic face, his huge grinning mouth still showing traces of his lunch, I said "Oh, that'd be very kind... thank you Julian!"

Julian's hands are three times the size of mine. I noticed that as he beat away on the outside of his steering wheel to some shit awful compilation CD he had put together himself. All very modern commercial stuff, designed to show the world that underneath his 20cm of subcutaneous fat he is not a reclusive, babyish retard, but an outgoing man of the times. As I watched Julian beat and tap away I noticed he had this annoying habit of every few minutes running his hand backwards over his shaved head and then down over his face as if pulling off the dirt and exhaustion from a hard days work. Each time he did this I would hear the rub of skin on skin and the rough sound his palm made as it went down and over the prickly stubble which squatted around his mouth.

"So it's your last day, hey?" Julian said, tapping and moving away with ever greater rhythm, "more luck you mate, you won't miss working your death in that place!"

I made a small amused noise and then said, "I quite enjoyed working there actually, even had hopes of bein... "

That's when Julian's phone rang and without a second thought or any consideration for what I was saying he pressed a button and started chatting away into his hands-free headset, twice as loud as anyone would ever need to speak. I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he was extremely ignorant or really just plain baked stupid.

"You're in the shower?!!" boomed Julian, thumping a powerful fist on his steering wheel and repeating word for word everything the incoming caller said: "Fixing it... there's a a big hole in the wall... the missus'll slice ya balls off... before killin' ya!" At that point he looked at me, pulling a weird face like it was something crazy and he was part of some insane afterwork shower smashing club. "Noooo!!! don't touch that mate, the whole fuckin' lot'll come down on ya! Just get out the shower and crack open a tin. I'll be there in twenty, just dropping a colleague off... ... ... no, not that far, the Jubilee Road.... nah, the top end, but won't be long.... yeah, yeah.. I'll bring the girls!

Crazy bastard!" Julian said turning to me, "knocked the fucking shower unit through he has! And that's only the ex-brother inlaw... not even inbred blood!"

I tried to laugh, once again couldn't, so instead smiled and then looked out the window at the latest set of lights we'd come to a stop at.

Julian is pretending to be driving with full concentration but looks very shifty with it. His eyes keep flitting down just under the dash onto his thumb which is pressing buttons on his phone. Every now and again Julian turns his cell my way and shows me either an obviously made-up name in his contact list or a common girls name alongside a picture of her half naked. After a moment he stops and looks like he's trying to listen to the sound of wind rushing through his own head. Then he lights up and without even bothering to introduce himself begins shooting it off. "You won't believe what he's done... The silly bastards only gone and put the fucking shower through, ha, can you believe that? Says there's a big hole in the wall an' it's not getting any smaller! Jesus!... .... What?... ... No, not Barry, Tez... ... yeah, Terry.... .... " Thankfully at that point my mind tailed off and Julian's idiotic loud booming words, saying nothing that ever needed saying, drifted off into some far away space that I couldn't pick up.

The CD player has been turned off and the names of pop songs have now been replaced by big green digits of time. It is 16:47:42 and ticking on. Julian's hand is tapping away again but no longer to happy rhythms. Tap... tap.... tap... tap..., a dull monotonous sound reminding me of the passing time. I look at Julian's knuckles. They are inverted, more like dimples than protruding bone. Julian pulls a slow hand down his face and lets a headful of air out his nostrils. He seems pissed off or bored. The latest light goes amber to green. I hear a clicking noise and the car turns right onto Jubilee Road. I straighten in my chair and loosen my seat belt.

"Don't think of making your escape just yet," says Julian, giving a slight nod up ahead, "it's a long road and we've got company." I follow Julian's directive, my eyes settling on the tailend of a huge line of mid-afternoon traffic. "And put it back on," Julian adds, giving a little tug to his seatbelt, "I don't want a £50 fine for doing someone a favour." I pull some length from the safety belt, clip myself back in, and sit looking at the huge trail of cars and lights and smoke and noise in front of us. I think how much I hate cars, and leg-room, and enclosed spaces that smell of dairy products and make you yawn. I unwind the window an inch and the world floats in. There is a beep from behind. Julian's fat calf makes a small movement. The car moves on a foot and then stops again.

In an attempt to stop thinking about time I close my eyes. Every few minuites I hear the rough sound of Julian's hand passing through his stubble. Thankfully he has stopped tapping, though only as a way to show me that he's ever more pissed off and angry. I sense him staring daggers at me. I don't think he likes the thought that I may be sleeping through his boredom.
"You'd have been better walking and taking the fucking underground," he suddenly says, his thick index finger prodding me in the arm, "it's taken four times longer, and will be ten times for me by the time I make it out and back home! I don't know what this shitting traffic is... it's not normally here. I'd apologize, but as it's me doing you a favour that'd be just stupid." I don't reply.

Through the sunroof the afternoon sky looks like night, only with the sun. I wonder how far it would open and if I could squeeze out. I imagine what Julian would think on seeing me raise up and slowly disappear out through the roof, jumping down and running off without looking back. I laugh, but am interrupted by the sudden thump of Julian smashing a fist into the centre of the steering wheel. My mind is back on traffic and it doesn't move.

Julian is rolling his head around as if doing neck exercises. Every now and then he lets out a huff of air. "Fucking traffic... you shoulda walked..." he says, "you shoulda refused my offer and just have fucking walked!" He then adjusts his hands free headset and presses a couple of buttons on his phone, shaking his head as if the ringing on the other end is just another thing in this world that is keeping him waiting. "Yeah it's me," he finally says with as little enthusiasm as he can get away with without seeming suicidal, "I'll be a big forty five minutes... yep, forty five! There's traffic something rotten on the Jubilee road... I can't fathom it."  Whoever he was speaking to must have asked what he was doing out this way as Julian then made a tiny effort to sound friendlier, "Oh, just dropping a work colleague off home, you know what I'm like for taxiing people around... doing kind turns, but this fucking traffic is unbelieveable, fuck! Yeah, well, I don't want to blame him but he coulda refused and walked, yeah... my own fault I suppose for being so generous. Ok, you make a start and I'll be there when I can. I'm gonna turn off this fucking hell-of-shit road at the first opportunity... fuck anyone else!" I was almost feeling sorry for him until those obvious allusions to me, even maybe insinuating that this was somehow my fault.

"Look, Julian, I'll jump here. It's kind you giving me a lift but you've things to do and I don't mind walking... I'd prefer it."

"No, stay," he says, a fat arm starting to move out to make sure I do not open the door and slip out, "we're almost there now and if you leave it'll really be for nothing, me sitting in fucking traffic, miles off route without even a reason for being here! No, stay, and I'll drop you at the top of the highstreet as agreed... it was your last day and I want to give you a nice final memory, and not be left sitting all alone in this shit-hole-traffic all afternoon. We're in this together."

I relax back into my seat and now it's my turn to huff. I stare out the window at the back of a bus. It makes me think of Julian's arse and I want to stick a knife or something into it. I take out my phone and go through old texts, deleting memory to pass the time.

Julian is looking at me in the car mirror. He doesn't know I realize but I do. He's doing a very friendly thing dropping me off, but he doesn't look very friendly. This time as he pulls his hand down his face I see his jaw muscles at work, tensing away as if there is something alive under his skin. The phone barely rings before Julian has pressed a button and is screaming, flecks of saliva spraying out his mouth. "No, I'm still fucking here!!!! Still sat shat splat in a trail of fucking traffic that ain't moving. Fuck, he'd have been better walking! Yes, he's still here... doing something on his fucking phone and the vibratinjg of the thing is driving me nuts. I Don't know... I offered him a fucking lift trying to save him time and money... you know what I'm like... not that I should've given a shit about him, no one else did and he was only a month temp. Why am I so fucking unselfish, why? If I'd have just listened to my instinct and drove on past him I wouldn't fucking be here, staring at the back traffic which could go on forever the little I can fucking see!"

Julian's head is down. He looks like he's sulking and his eyes are scrunched up with a cruel regard staring angrily out at a car that has just squeezed in between us and the bus. By the look on his face I think he is thinking about bombs and blowing things up.

"You know what that means?" he suddenly asks seeming lost for breath and pointing.
"Know what what means?" I ask back.
"That car, that fucking car there!!! It means that in real terms we are even further back in this fucking shitline of traffic than we was a moment ago! We are actually going the wrong fucking way! Jesus!!! What can you see from your side? Can you see ahead.?.. what's happening?"

I shake my head.

"What, you can't see anything? Not how many fucking cars there are, how long this may take? Nothing... you can't see a fucking thing?!?! Aaarghhh, FUCK!!! Useless!"

I was going to pull him up for that. He was now directly putting his frustrations over on me. Though just as I was about to say something beginning with "Now look here Julian..." I suddenly had a crisis of doubt and became completely unsure as to whether he was an obese lardarse or extremely well packed out. "Nah, it's fat!" I kept thinking to myself "blubber", but finally I didn't say anything, just stared ahead with him and prepared myself to leave if he insulted me one more time.

Julian is speaking into his headset again, only this time I don't think there is anyone on the other end. He's not directly insulting me but keeps alluding to the fact that if it wasn't for me he'd already be home and not sitting in traffic having his wages guzzled up in petrol and losing precious hours from his free time. Each time he speaks it is to let me know the full extent of the loss he has incurred on this brief journey. I listen waiting for the insult which will allow me to up and leave, slam the door and walk. But it doesn't come.

"What the fuck!!!!!!" Julian suddenly screams, both hands clenched and raised and rattling away in anger either side of his head. I stare quickly around at him, but we are just sitting in the same old traffic with nothing more happening. Julian looks at me. He pulls his hand through his face and stubble, but this time when he has finished it looks like he has changed his head. His face is now as red as boiled lobster and his eyes are circled with white stress-rings. "What the fuck is this traffic!!!" he screams, letting out a frenzy of beeps by smashing the bottoms of his clenched fists down on the steering wheel. "What the fuck is happening???"

We have not moved an inch in over fifteen minutes. The man in charge of the city's sprinkler system is now having what can only be described as a full blown stress-come-panic-attack. The car is shaking and bouncing around to his rage and he is fighting invisible forces in his seat, blowing hard from his overburdened lungs and now thumping and bashing his head off the steering wheel.

"Nah, not fucking moving... dunno what's happening on the fucking Jubilee road!!!" he is screaming, "well it won't be half an hour now, obviously! Fuck knows how long, just fuck fuck fuck knows!!!"

It was around that point when his hands free headset fell down and dangled somewhere near his groin. Not that Julian realized. He was in a frenzy, screaming away,  his anger and obscenities getting ever more furious each time he mentioned me and the favour he was doing. At that point it wasn't that I couldn't have left but that I decided to stay as I figured this guy needed help, that someone should be there to try and calm him, stop him doing damage to himself and even stop him driving. Though when he started calling me all the cunts under the sun, and directly blaming me for his being there, and criticizing everything from my workrate to the underpants I wore, and repeating things the others had said about me, and shouting off about how I was basically the worst worker the City had ever taken on, that even Gungi - the unpaid mentally ill weeder, employed on some government scheme - was better than me, and that if it wasn't for the fear of being found out he would've beaten the living crap outta me weeks ago, well, at that point, ill or not, Julian could go to hell... I didn't give a fuck. If the traffic was mine, he could fucking well have it! That's when the window went up and the door clicked locked.

I didn't feel feel Julian's first punch, and the second didn't seem real. The third, fourth and fifth came in a tremendous flurry knocking my head this way and that and rattling my brain about until I no longer knew which way was up. The last thing I remember before the onslaught was Julian looking the opposite way and the car feeling like some surreal pressure cooker. I don't know how Julian managed to get out his seat, but he did, as my next clear moment was of his bulk upon me, pummeling my nose flat by smashing the full sides of his forearms into my face. Held down by his massive bodyweight not only was I being beaten unconscious in my chair but was being crushed to boot. I tried struggling free but it was useless and with my head being knocked around my thoughts were no more than vague flashes of various parts of the cars interior.

It was a flat thump to my right ear which took my hearing and let a flash of blood shoot out my mouth and wash across the window. Thats also when things slowed down and I saw the full extent and fury of human rage and all the tiny adjustments that go on in a face beset by hate and anger. Soon after that the light went too, and the only colours I could see were black and red. I was just a plaything being smashed and flopped around by a 250lb wrecking ball.

I don't know how I finally got free, or whether Julian took pity on me or just punched out his rage and released me??? But suddenly I tasted air, tumbling out the passeger side door half naked and onto the Jubilee Road and having the weird sensation of rolling backwards. For some reason my mind was only thinking of my bag, which was still in Julian's car, and of trying to keep an eye on the coins which were spilling out my pockets and rolling around the pavement and road. In my daze I made a pitiful struggle to reach out for Julian's back bumper, to somehow cling on, pull myself up and retrieve my bag from inside. But as I crashed down in failure on the floor I realised that I'd never rolled backwards at all, but that it was in fact Julian's car moving forward, that the traffic had cleared and there was straight road ahead. With my head on the floor I followed Julian's car as it went off and turned left, getting one final glimpse through the blood strewn passenger window of his huge wide shoulders and fat head, staring forwards, homeward bound.

For a moment I remained where I was. I could feel my face pulsating and throbbing, and my upper body, which had somehow lost its shirt, was cut and scraped and red and burnt from the friction of the seats. I made an attempt at gathering a few coins together but finally gave up and struggled to my feet. I didn't want to look down but couldn't help it - my head was too heavy to look forward. And like that, my face smashed to pulp, my top half bare, dirty and bloody, and with only one shoe, I hobbled off down the Jubilee road, the world looking at me like I was giving it a whole lot of trouble.

(First post dedicated to Jim (Grouchy) without whom this project would never have existed.)


  1. Beware of strangers baring gifts.

  2. Thank You Grouchy, and have another look at the end of the post because I accidentally left out an important footnote.

    As I first post (without too many readers) it was OK. Of course, only I can come up with a genre project and then post a story which doesn't fit into any of them! haha But that's me, and if I was any different we probably wouldn't even be here now.

    There are some great posts to come, just waiting for the readership to pick up a bit, and I'm thinking that instead of posting the lot in one great chuck to spread them out over a few days so as they're more bitesize. That has it's downside though, so is something i'll think about over the days.

    We'll find our feet soon, and I have a few ideas how we can make it more interactive and all get involved a little choosing and having influence over story lines. X

  3. I mentioned Bubblegum on my post today.

    proud to know ya!

  4. Actually this could come under several headings: Horror, Crime, Comedy, even War! Or Romance? Why did he give poor Mr Mills a lift, why did he know so much about his doings in such a short time, why the working so hard at seeming like one of the guys? Maybe the rage was closeted frustration. Or may be he just hated people called Mills…

    Speaking of genres, here’s something I’ve never seen before -
    a Western/Romance hybrid. It arrived at our library recently under the Mills and Boon Harlequin banner. Now I’ve seen loads of Historical Romance (our very own Babs Cartland being the Evil Queen of the genre) but the only Western Romance I was aware of was Brokeback Mountain.

  5. Oh I meant to say - it was very scary in a slow building 'normal' way - like Kathy Bates in Misery...

  6. Hey Ya Joe! Yeah, I couldn't let the first post go without getting you in there some place.

    Your questions are all valid, and they are the same questions I asked myself when it happened! Yes, unbelievably this is based on a real life event which happened only ten days ago (although it didn't descend into violence).

    In May, a friend of mine who works for the City of Lyon, asked me if I'd be interested in doing a months work for L'espace Vert (Parks and Gardens). I sagreed and was given a month long contract, 6.30am - 2pm, tending and watering the public plant beds around Lyon. In contrast to the above post I actually got on very well there and the team was one of the nicest I'd ever worked with and they actually bought me a huge strawberry tart for the last day. But there was one worker called Julien, who in the entire month I worked there barely even said hello, who was massively overweight and who on my last walk out of there did pull up and offer me a lift.

    From then on (up until he completely cracks up) the story is almost what happened. As soon as I got in the car he started of this long loud ramble, everything to show me how cool and in with the times and popular he was. We did hit traffic (actually caused by a midafternoon rubbish truck) and Julien really did have a major personality turn and started blaming him being stuck in traffic on me. He also did phone a friend and begin talking about me and saying what a lazy shit I was, and I should have refused his offer as I knew that by accepting his offer it'd mean him going miles off route. Though in reality Julien was as blatant and direct about it, as he was talking very quickly to a friend on the phone and didn't realize I could understand french much better than can speak it. So I sat there in disbelief listening to him completely coat me off for twenty minutes before losing his cool completely and coming down with a severe case of road rage. Anyway, I left without even an argument and started thinking of what it'd have been like hjad it progressed further. And that's where the idea for the post came from.

    So there are all those questions I asked myself, and sometimes there are just no real answers for these things. Julien had some obvious anger management problems and it just happened that the traffic we encountered on the way to my drop off point was the catalyst which nudged him over the edge on that particular day.


    (I'll get back on the link just after I've had a look at it

  7. "...though in reality Julien WASN'T as blatant and direct about it..."

  8. Hiya Dirty Cow Girl,

    I don't think it was a great post but was a starting post and was intentionally written as so for a couple of reasons. The main one being just holding off a bit until I have a little bigger readership. There's about 35 at the moment and I'd like to have at least double that before writing and posting my more fun and interesting ideas. Though thinking of it now it will not really matter as the sidebar will become 'live' soon and each of the genre bars will be a clickable link to the tales which come under that category.

    Anyway, it's still nice to hear you enjoyed it and thank you for reading and saying so. X

  9. I will post a link in a few places, see if I can get a few followers on board.

    I did send you a message on fb after your last post on your other blog, anyways I look forward to reading more x

  10. oh, i liked it. lots of funny moments and a nice build up of rage, and i kept hoping he was going to get the fuck out of the car even though i knew he wouldn't...

  11. Hiya id,

    I'm glad that it had that effect, but there <ill be really much better to come and i've also got a wonderful idea for a running Romance/something story which will begin in a week or two. I was actually toying with setting up another sit just for the sole purpose of that project, but have decided to play it out here as a running series between the longer shorts.

    All My Thoughts, Shane; X


    Can the early people catching this message please let me know how the blog layout appears on their computer and with which browser they use.

    I ask as I am away from mine and using a friends computer, on which the site is MASSIVE to the extent it does not even fit to the screen (the sidebars being cutoff). It's really not at all reader friendly.

    Can you please let me know how it appears from your computers and what browser (internet explorer/firefox/chrome) you are using.

    many Thanks, Shane. X

  13. I'm using Firefox and it fits perfectly on here.

    I've bookmarked it but when I click the link it's always the original post that comes up and you have to scroll down to archives to get the latest. On Memoirs the newest post comes up first. This may just be me though, I've just recently abandoned Internet Explorer (due to endless freezing) and took up with Firefox.
    Maybe it's a Firefox thing.

    Also (this is definitely just me) the time doesn't correspond to French or UK time...

  14. Hiya Joe,

    You've possibly bookmarked the first post and not the site. It's very easy to do.

    try going to:

    http://shortshortsandminiskirts.blogspot.com and bookmarking that.

    As for the time... sounds like you've been spilling scotch over your computer again. It'll take at least 12 hours to sober up (though if Glaswegian 37 years).

    let me know for the bookmark thing. X

    ps: I've this wonderful idea here for a running saga. It's called "Love Letters in The Gutter" and will be Romance... but not boring romance, pure Babs Gold! It'll also be accompanied by photo's of the real letters placed around LYON.

  15. i'm using safari and it fits perfectly on my screen.
    also, really like the idea of "love letters in the gutter", love the photo element, great idea, can't wait to see it.

  16. Well I've bookmarked what you say so we'll see when the next post comes up if it changes to that.

    Strangely my Firefox homepage now comes up as half the screen.I have to 'open link in new window' to make it full size.

    By the time I mean the time on the Comments - I've worked out it's 8 hours behind UK time - like the comments on DC's, LA time.

    I bet I'm the only one that reads the times on the comments...

  17. We are all in the gutter
    But some of us are looking at the stars

    - Oscar Wilde

  18. Ok, comment time must be in my settings as they're the same here. I'll change that (and try not to delete the blog while doing it!)

  19. hey gum!..very very entertaining read that one. best wishes for the future and i think its going to be great. why the painted old lady though? just wanted to know. i have mentioned you in my imaginary blog on my "mindspot". Pimping the hell out of you right now, to all those who care to venture!

  20. Hiya Miss Mumbai... I think we've met before!

    The painted (zombified) old lady is someone called Barbara Cartland who wrote in excess of 700 romance novels. Well, she didn't really write them, but dictated all her empty thoughts to a "monocled lesbian secretary on a hard seat by her side taking it all down by hand")

    Barbara Cartland also became a cult figure in my online novel Waiting for John. Tristram Spencer collected her works and in the back of one of them made little drawings of all the different ways he could kill his cruel lover John.

    So that is who the old lady is. She's also very dead now, and one of the horror stories here on Bubblegum will be of her coming back from the dead and starting to write again!


  21. Im looking forward to these stories, and this has started well...

    Still a bit grim, but like WFJ it's got a fun side.

    I'll be pimping the link around, and see if it helps. I hope this doesn't mean MOAH has been abandoned though.

    Keep Lucky,


  22. Aw, I just luvved it!!! Hee hee... domestic violence is a wonderful thing!

  23. Hiya John,

    No, MOAH won't be abandoned, I just need somewhere away from there to do other stuff and not always be restricted by the truth. I've posts in the pipeline for Memoires, it's just difficult to always find the time to get it down properly.

    As for Bubblegum, I think there's going to be some very special stuff posted here. I've had a deluge of ideas for stories and sagas and I even feel excited to write them. So I think after a couple of weeks this palce will realy come into it's own and get its own feel and even change slightly.

    We'll speak again soon, mate... and I'll try to get a MOAH post together just for you. X

  24. I'll look forward to that, and to this...

    Nice to see Brian the Postboy's a reader. I'm straight, but I'd dearly love to smash him into pieces, if it'd get him off.

    "Super Dong" indeed...

  25. Wow.. loved it.. nearly missed it.. I had no idea that you had posted.. I loved the slow build .. couldn't stop reading although I knew it was going to be horrible.. I have employed a Julian.. and have been a victim to one many times.. Scarily real especially the way he slowly looses it blaming the other guy for everything .. Brilliant xx Glad to see you back xx

  26. Wildernesschic, you've employed a Julian? Get rid of 'it'!!! If his laziness doesn't fuck your business up then his hairy arsecrack will... customers don't like that kind of thing (well, it depends on the customer, I suppose... and on the business). But anyway, just get rid of him... it's obvious the Julian's of this world are just prototypes of the real thing. X

  27. This comment has been removed by the author.

  28. Grouchy, ya called M'lady? I can smell ya vintage rose bush from here! hee hee

    Aww, didn't no-one tell ya I'm one of the guest writers here? It must be terrible to be so out the loop... I just hope I never grow to be so unimportant, hee hee.

    The First Class Sexploits of Brian Screecher - A Postboy in Milton Keynes.

    I like to describe it as 'Teen Queen coming-of-age erotica' detailing my transition from Postboy to Postman... and all the strange shaped things I have put into peoples boxes, oops... hee hee.... as if I'm not the biggest, squeekiest letter box in the world!


  29. For some odd reason "shit fly" comes to mind!

  30. Brian Screecher, guest writer? Has the world gone crazy?

    When I next see him on his rounds, I'm going to grab him by his acorn sized little cock, drag him into the nearest bush, spit in his greasy, herpes filled face, punch him to the floor, one hand firmly holding his tousled hair and grinding his face into the concrete, his blood creating abstract swirls as it pulls gum, fag ends and the odd lump of shit into it's stream; my other hand gripping the post bag, wrapping the strap round Brian's flimsy neck, the strap obscuring more of Brian's latest shagbites each time it circles, the bag spewing letters onto the pavement as their custodian retches and spews gravel and spit.

    As Brian begins to purple, eyes swelling, and cock swelling more, there is a crushing impact as a vicious punch slams into his balls. The sharp, acid taste of agony races up his throat, the little that's still open, bringing with it more usual acids from his stomach and one, solitary shape, still recognisable to the eagle eyed as a chicken nugget.

    Brian folds, creasing into the shape of a foetus, something possessing an innocence that Brian never has done. Neck released, reduced to something not quite human, he gasps desperately for air and wonders what's hit him, and why it hurts so good. I lean into him to share just one further second of intimacy.

    "Remember Tristy, Brian."

    That'll teach him.

  31. This comment has been removed by the author.

  32. John, is that really you? It sounds remarkably similar to the things we used to get up to together (albeit the softcore version!) Hee hee.

    But regardless of who you are, people have gotten to call me Aristotle for far, FAR less...


  33. Keep your eyes on the Church Spire for a sign...

    Chairs in unlikely places often signal strange happenings, you filthy fucking slag.

  34. Great post looking foreword to more Cheers . Anthony

  35. Do you know what I wish Blogger had a "Like' button like Facebook .. you have so many great comments xx

  36. this would make a good short film!



If you're here to write something malicious I thank you in advance for wasting your precious time on me. X