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Richard sat on the couch in just a wife beater, munching on Cheetos and flipping through the channels on his TV. He finally settled on a channel playing a video where young, athletic looking women in spandex preformed yoga for people at home to follow along to. He set his remote down, settled back into the couch and began fondling himself. This went on for several fruitless minutes when Richard had an idea. | Richard sat on the couch in just a wife beater, munching on Cheetos and flipping through the channels on his TV. He finally settled on a channel playing a video where young, athletic looking women in spandex preformed yoga for people at home to follow along to. He set his remote down, settled back into the couch and began fondling himself. This went on for several fruitless minutes when Richard had an idea. | ||
“Fuck | “Fuck this,” he thought. “I’ll get a hooker.” | ||
With that, he put his penis down, picked up his cell phone and dialed a taxi company who informed him it would be five to ten minutes before the taxi would arrive. He got up, wiped the Cheeto crumbs off of his wife beater and proceeded to the bedroom to put his thong and jeans on. | With that, he put his penis down, picked up his cell phone and dialed a taxi company who informed him it would be five to ten minutes before the taxi would arrive. He got up, wiped the Cheeto crumbs off of his wife beater and proceeded to the bedroom to put his thong and jeans on. |
Revision as of 19:33, 20 April 2011
The Misadventure of Richard Longfellow
At the edge of a small city much like any other its size in America, there sits a shoddy little house on the edge of town. The house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac and is often a topic of discussion amongst the neighbors. They talk about how the yard is mostly crab grass and how what little grass grows there is never cut. They talk about how the house needs to be repainted, how patches of grey wood show through where the hideous mustard yellow paint has flaked off. Most of all they talk about how the man who lives in the house never closed the blinds in the bathroom, and how more than one of them had the misfortune of witnessing him go about his daily ritual of entering the bathroom, taking a piss, then scratching his balls and sniffing his fingers before leaving without washing his hands. Most of the neighbors had long ago learned to not look outside at ten every morning to avoid this spectacle.
Although none of them had ever seen it, the assumptions they made concerning the inside of the house were not far off. The kitchen was piled high with unwashed dishes. In the bedroom, clothes decorate the floor and the sheets on the bed lay strewn about in a mess. In the living room, the walls are tinged yellow from cigarette smoke. The couch is a dark green monstrosity; pock marked by cigarette burns and littered with empty fast food wrappers. On the couch sits Richard Longfellow, an unshaven, balding, beer bellied man in his thirties. He lives alone, and has for some time. And at this, dear reader is where our story begins.
Richard sat on the couch in just a wife beater, munching on Cheetos and flipping through the channels on his TV. He finally settled on a channel playing a video where young, athletic looking women in spandex preformed yoga for people at home to follow along to. He set his remote down, settled back into the couch and began fondling himself. This went on for several fruitless minutes when Richard had an idea.
“Fuck this,” he thought. “I’ll get a hooker.”
With that, he put his penis down, picked up his cell phone and dialed a taxi company who informed him it would be five to ten minutes before the taxi would arrive. He got up, wiped the Cheeto crumbs off of his wife beater and proceeded to the bedroom to put his thong and jeans on.
The taxi arrived right as Richard finished his bag of Cheetos. He wiped his fingers off on his pants and went out to the taxi. After Richard settled into the back seat the driver asked “Where to man?”
“Um.” started Richard. He hadn’t thought about this. “Do you know where I could get a hooker?”
Upfront the driver started to laugh. Richard reached for the handle to the door when the driver said, “Don’t worry, it’s ok man. It’s just you’re my second fare and the second person to ask me that today.”
“Oh” said Richard. “Well do you?”
“Yeah” said the driver as they pulled away from Richard’s house. “What kind you want? The cheap ones down on Jefferson Street will do anything you want for twenty dollars. But they’re nasty as fuck. Missing teeth and shit, I got crabs from one of them. The ones over on Madison Avenue are a little higher class. Their prices are a little higher but the girls are nicer to look at. They all probably still got VD or some shit though, so wear a rubber. Then there is the real fancy ones. I’ve gotta call a friend of mine if you want one of those. They’re all clean, but it’ll cost you.”
Richard thought about it for a minute. He didn’t want to spend a lot of money, but he didn’t want crabs either.
As if reading his mind, the driver injected, “They make little combs and shampoo for that shit. I ain’t got crabs no more.”
Richard’s mind was made up. “Take me to Jefferson Street.” he said.
“Good man!” said the driver. “I know just where to go, you’ll love it. These girls will treat you real nice. Just wear a condom. God damn, some of that shit burns.”
The taxi drove until they were in a part of town Richard didn’t recognize. Most of the storefronts were boarded up and a lot of the houses were is condition comparable to his own. The taxi pulled up outside of a dingy motel that would look right at home on Cops. In the nearly empty parking lot sat a handful of cars. Most were older cars in various stages of disrepair. One car stood out, a Cadillac with large wheels, heavy tint on the windows and a nice paint job.
“Here we are,” said the driver “Go in and ask for Cherry. I’m going to get some food, just call me when you’re done.” Richard thanked him and paid him a hefty tip for his help and entered the hotel. Inside, the lobby was dimly lit. The hotel smelled dimly of mold and old perfume, and the carpet was stained with what looked like blood or old coffee. A single old lady sat behind the desk, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine.
“I’m looking for Cherry.” Richard said.
“Room 13” said the lady without looking up.
Richard walked down the hallway and knocked on the door. A woman who appeared to be in her 60s answered dressed in a thread bare nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was an unnatural shade of blond, but Richard could see grey at the roots. Her face was a roadmap of crows feet. Most of her teeth were missing, and the ones she had left were yellow. Her face and arms were dotted with scabs in various stages of health, and she picked at a fresh one on her lower lip as she stood in the doorway talking.
“Yeah?” she said.
“I’m looking for Cherry.” Richard said.
“That’s me.” said Cherry.
“You’re Cherry?” said Richard. “I’m not sure this is what I want.”
“Look” started Cherry. “For thirty dollars you get anything you want. I’ve got toys and lube and crazy shit in the back. I know I’m not much to look at, but what’d you expect a thirty dollar whore to look like? Besides, it’s the experience that counts.”
Richard stepped into the room and pulled out his wallet. “Actually, I was told you were a twenty dollar whore. Can we haggle? I’m not going to need a whole hour.”
“Don’t get smart.” she replied, taking his money and laying on the bed. “You get thirty minutes.”
Richard removed his wife beater and started to unzip his pants when the door was flung open behind him. Before he could turn around something heavy struck him on the head. As he sunk to the floor he heard someone say “Get your shit on bitch. We’ve got a movie to do” then everything went black.
Richard woke up wondering where he was and why his head hurt. As he lay on the carpet his memory came back to him. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone to call the cab driver but he found his pocket empty.
‘Oh fuck’ thought Richard ‘Did I just get robbed by a thirty dollar whore?’
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and found it missing as well.
‘Fuckfuckfuckfuck fuuuuuuuuck’ thought Richard. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Without his cell phone, he was unable to call the cab driver who had brought him to the hotel, and he had no idea where he was. Without his wallet he couldn’t pay the cab driver even if he had his phone. Richard thought of himself as quite fucked.
He picked himself up off the floor, re-zipped his pants, and put his wife beater back on. He looked around the room for anything that could identify his attacker, and finding nothing he retraced his steps out of the hotel stopping briefly at the main desk. Several cigarette butts stood upright in the ash tray, but the lady who had been there before was gone.
Out in the parking lot not much had changed. The beat up, aging cars sat in the same parking spaces, with the exception of the Cadillac which was gone. Richard found himself wishing he had worn more clothing. The sun had dropped in the sky since he had entered the hotel, and it was significantly colder. Richard identified the direction the cab had come from earlier and began walking. He didn’t know his way home, but he hoped he could find a phone somewhere he could use.
For the first hour he felt fairly confident he was on the right path. On the way to the hotel he remembered passing a homeless man in an alley sitting against a brick wall next to a burning barrel. On his way out of town he passed what appeared to be the same homeless man in an alley pissing on a brick wall in next to the same burning barrel. Sometime after that though, he had started to get progressively more lost. He suspected his first mistake was taking a left instead of a right two blocks after the urinating bum, but he had plodded on anyway, getting more lost with each wrong turn.
After two hours of walking, Richard Longfellow was more lost than he had ever been in his life. He was in the middle of a dimly lit subdivision consisting mostly of empty cookie cutter houses. The sun had fully set, and he had walked down dark roads with no idea where he was or how to get back where he came from. Upon entering the subdivision, Richard had knocked at the door of the first house he saw. No one answered, so he looked in the window. The house sat empty, no rugs, lights, or furniture. He tried the next house and found it empty as well. He stood on the front porch of the house and looked around. For as far as he could see, houses stood dark, and driveways sat empty. Signs dotted the lawns of most of the houses, declaring that the houses were for sale or had been foreclosed upon. As Richard peered into the darkness he spotted what looked like a beam of light peeking through one of the windows of a house almost at the edge of his vision. With a tired sigh, he started off in the direction of the light, hoping to find someone who could help him get home.
As Richard approached the house the moon rose in the sky behind him, and he could see significantly better. When he got close, he could see a car parked behind the house in a spot almost hidden from the road. He felt like he had seen the car before, but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen it until he got closer. The car was a Cadillac with large wheels and a nice paint job. All the windows were open, but Richard knew that if they were rolled up they would be heavily tinted.
He snuck up to the illuminated window of the house and peeked through the blinds into the room. Inside, the room was nearly empty. A king sized bed sat in the middle of the room with a video camera on a tripod pointing at the bed. The walls were painted white, and were bare of paintings or posters. As Richard peeked through the window the door to the bedroom opened, and Cherry entered the room, dressed in a bra and panties. Following close behind her was a short, round, dark haired woman who appeared to be of similar age. Cherry closed the door and laid on the bed while the other woman pressed buttons on the video camera before climbing into bed and caressing Cherry’s body. As the two women kissed and caressed each other Richard moved away from the window and towards the front door of the house
‘If my hooker is in there, my wallet is probably in there’ thought Richard as he closed his hand on the door knob. He slid the door open and entered the house.
“What the fuck?” Shouted someone.
“Who’s that?!” Shouted another voice.
Richard looked around and identified the owners of the voices. He had stepped into what appeared to be a rubberized dick farm porn shoot. Two men sat on the couch, jerking each other off and thrusting dildos into each other. In front of the men a camera stood on a tripod. On every desk, table, chair, and flat space in the room hundreds of different shaped dildos, butt plugs, and bottles of lube stood straight up as if they had sprouted from the surface they stood on. The two men stood up and ran out of the room and towards the back of the house. Richard heard one of them say something in the back room before a door slammed. A minute later a skinny white man in a large furry robe and a fluffy hat stepped out into the room alongside one of the naked men.
“Who the fuck are you?” Said the man in the furry robe.
Richard recognized the voice of the skinny man in furry robes as the voice he had heard just before being knocked unconscious.
“I’m the mother fucker whose wallet you stole” said Richard. “And I still want my 30 minutes with Cherry. She said we could do some kinky shit, and since I paid for time with her, I want it.”
“Man, fuck you. There wasn’t nothin in that fucking wallet anyway. And you ain’t getting Cherry.” Said the man in the furry robe.
The pimp gestured at Richard with his hand and the naked man charged towards him. Richard reached around with his right hand and grabbed the first object he could find. His hand settled on a large, purple, double headed dildo. Richard swung the vieny purple monster with all of his might in a swing that was more blind luck than skill, and it connected solidly with the naked man’s cheek. The man spun around and fell as a large mushroom shaped bruise appeared on the side of his face. As the man fell, his mouth landed directly upon one of the fake phalluses his partner in film had been inserting into him, and the rubber penis slid up to its rubber testacles into the man’s mouth.
The man stood up gasping for air and attempting to dislodge the silicone dick from his mouth with his hands. Before he could dislodge it, Richard said “Eat shit” and kicked the man in the face, sending him to the ground with the dildo lodged deeper in his throat.
Before Richard could regain his compose, the pimp tackled him, and they flew through the door into the room in which Cherry and the other lady sat on the bed performing for the camera. The women screamed as the two men flew through the door. As Cherry and the other, larger lady stood up to flee, a long string of anal beads fell out of Cherry and onto the ground beside the bed with a small thud as each bead hit the ground. The two women ran screaming from the room.
“Fuck you” said the pimp and he punched Richard in the face. Richard struggled against the skinny man and broke his grasp. Richard slammed the pimp to the floor and kicked him several times before the pimp grabbed his legs and pulled them out from under him. The two men rolled around in the bedroom for several minutes punching each other before the pimp grabbed the tripod that the camera sat on and hit Richard in the head with it, sending him sprawling.
The pimp smashed the tripod into Richard again, breaking it, before he started kicking Richard’s side. When he was content with what he had done to the man who lay on the floor, the pimp turned around and started to leave the room. He made it less than two steps before the badly beaten Richard grabbed the still warm anal beads from the floor and wrapped them around the pimp’s throat. The pimp attempted to struggle against the shit and lube covered beads pressing in on his throat but Richard pulled them tight and twisted the beads together to ensure they would not come undone. As the pimp turned blue, Richard allowed him to drop to the floor.
Now alone in the house, Richard searched for his phone. In each bedroom he found the same thing, a bed, a video camera, and a variety of sex toys. The basement was an empty space. Richard almost gave up hope of finding his things when he looked in the kitchen. On the kitchen counter sat several cell phones, including his own, a laptop and two DVD boxes. Richard looked at the DVD covers briefly, “Gangbangin Grannies 8”. Candy’s face was on the cover with a large cock in her mouth. Richard put the DVD case down and looked around. Partially hidden by the door he had come through, a set of clothes lay folded on the counter. He rifled through the pockets of the pants and pulled out a large leather wallet and a bag of coke. Inside, the driver’s license identified the owner as the naked pornstar who had attacked him. Richard pulled all of the money and several credit cards out before putting the wallet back. He considered doing the coke briefly before deciding to save it for later and putting it carefully in his pocket.
With his cellphone back and his wallet full of money, he stopped to consider his situation. He was still hooker-less, and a new problem had appeared. He was in a house full of dead people. Richard walked into the bedroom where the dead pimp lay on the floor. He rifled through the dead man’s pockets and took his wallet and jewelry before picking lifting the corpse and carrying him to the door leading to the basement. He then tossed the corpse as far down the staircase as he could, and the body tumbled down the stairs and landed in a heap on the floor below.
Richard returned to the living room and surveyed the scene. The fighting had displaced the carefully stacked toys so that the floor of the room was littered with the devices. The naked man lay of the floor, his cheeks bulged, full of fake testicles, and his adam’s apple stood out from his neck. Richard attempted to lift the dead pornstar off of the floor and failing to do this; he dragged the man to the basement door and kicked him down the steps. The body tumbled a short way before stopping. Cursing his misfortune, Richard walked down the steps, kicking the body ahead of him until they reached the bottom. With the rooms cleared of bodies, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the cab driver who had taken him to the hotel earlier. The cab driver picked up after the third ring and seemed excited to hear Richard’s voice.
“Hey man! Have you been with Cherry this long? That’s gotta be like one hundred dollars!” the cab driver exclaimed, excitedly.
Richard explained to the cab driver what had occurred, omitting the parts where he murdered people. The cab driver told him to walk to the nearest street and find a sign, then to call him back. The cab driver even felt so bad for giving Richard poor recommendations for a hooker that he offered to pick him up for free since his shift was ending. He went out to the street to look for a sign, finally found one and called the driver. When the driver arrived, Richard climbed into the back and exchanged greetings.
“So man, you wanna go home?” Said the cab driver.
“Actually,” started Richard, “Do you think we could get some more hookers? It’s been a long day, I’ve got some more money and pocket full of coke, but if I don’t get a hooker I still have to go home and jerk off. I’ve got the awesome little place here, and if we could get maybe three or four girls about like Cherry we could have some fun.”
In the front seat the driver started to laugh as they pulled out of the subdivision. “Hell yeah” he said pulling out his phone. “We’ll get us all sorts of hookers and have ourselves a party.”