He holds the Nixon biography in his clammy hands; the book has become like the hands -- damp. Hears the snort of a nostril, a giggle. Boy speaks high and broken-winded fast: "Turn it on." Bzzzzzzzzzzz -- the massager's on and he brushes the crotch of his pants. Turned on by the sounds, reveling in the feel of himself swelling, he lets the slick book slide to the floor.
She cums and bzzzz and moans strung together, bell and choir echo. "Do it again!" Two snorts one after another.
ahhhh mmmmm bzzzzzzz ahhhhhh mmmmmmmm bzzzzzzzz. After seven she stops.
"Come here; I'll make it hard, make it feel good."
"It's not getting hard." Panting, desperate.
"Fuck, it's the coke, fuck."
He picks up the Nixon biography; turns to a page. Eyes look at the words, but only see the scene in his head wishing he was there cause he'd pick her up by her little waist and give it to her good -- the way he'd given it to her mother when he was a young-on-top-of-the-world-entrepreneur-living-out-the-Dream. She was an Audrey Hepburn look-alike, and who could know she'd go to hell and fat after her 20s. Still got the Vanagon and unfulfilled desires -- twisted like him -- but can still get within two rooms of them...
So he did it finally; found a girl to marry his loser self. I mean the kid was about as disappointing as could be and he expects me to be here and prance around acting excited about him marrying this burned-out-new-age-beauty-queen. I'll grant him that she is a young cutie. When I arrived she was dancing around waving a bundle of burning sage and crying out about bad energy in the living room and creating a "good vibe" for the party.
Where did he meet this girl? One of those hippie rock concerts? Even more embarrassing "my" boy heading out back to skulk with his druggie friends behind the tool shed smoking dope and talking about me, smugly, arrogantly. Did he think I was going to be happy for him? Did he think being married would somehow remove the stigma that this "son" had caused me with the church and the neighbors? Not likely. A preacher raising a drug-using artist-pagan was not looked up to as having any credible advice on bringing up children. Fortunately for me, this stigma keeps my parishioners from asking too much of me, and as long they keep tithing I could care less. The Lord will deal with all of this riffraff. I am touching the flask in my hip pocket and thinking of the cool blood of Christ waiting for me within its smooth surface and I excuse myself from the clutch of the hippie girl's Jewish mother who has been talking to me all this time and in the bathroom I am masturbating to the thought of the hippie fiancée working me over like a heretic on the rack. After I cum, I down the rest of the Wild Turkey, pop a mint, adjust my fly, and head back out to the party.
Billy Preston, AKA "Huffer," a nickname dating back to his younger days of inhaling freon and gasoline in vain attempts to escape from his father, was now behind the tool shed with his buddies, Ram "the man" Masters and Juan "Hiney" Hinojosa, where he hit the fat spliff Juan had rolled earlier.
"It's good shit dude, I mixed in some hash and some dust." He grinned watching the groom-to-be-Huffer hit the fat boy.
"Man, your pops should be stoked about Daisy," Ram said, anxiously awaiting the joint Huffer held. "I mean, man, this is some sort of, like. stable thing for you. I mean you're getting married."
"Yeah, maybe someone else's Dad. I'm sure mine could care less." Huffer passed the spliff to Ram.
Daisy suddenly came around the corner skipping up on them throwing her arms around Billy. "Oh baby," she giggled, "I need to use the bathroom, and your dad has been in it for like twelve hours. Do you thinkanyone would mind if I pee out here, baby?"
She held a smoking batch of sage which reminded Billy of when he had met her at a Lords of Acid concert where she had been running around with another lit bundle, crying out about energy and good vibes as she took off her top and started dancing, waving the sage around her. To Huffer, who'd been high as hell on some kick-ass mescaline Juan had given him, the tracers from the waving embers of the sage bundle were wonders to behold, and the girl producing them had been a vision on par with the appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe. He had known, at that mescaline moment, love.
"Baby, I would love it if you would pee here so we can all watch." Billy winked at his friends.
The burning spliff was passed to Daisy who stomped out the sage. Billy's head felt like helium.
"Oh baby, do these boys want to see?"
Juan and Ram looked at each other with high red eyes, and the vibe was quite perceptible: a leaden feeling of lust amongst the four.
"I take that to mean no one minds." Daisy's blue eyes glinted.
"No!" was never said faster.
Daisy hiked up her purple paisley wedding dress and squatted down to pee in the center of the trinity of men as the Preacher was cuming to thoughts of exquisite torture by burning sage. While the groom and his buddies rubbed their crotches, Daisy's piss, hitting the ground, raised a tiny cloud of dust.
[Purchases on this site are secured via Amazon.com, and help fund Armageddon Buffet.]
Jessica Wineteer / The Sharpest Tool in the Shed
Harold Jaffe / Revolution Post-Mill
m. benedict / the fountain
Shane Jesse Christmass / Case Report into Clairaudience
Tantra Bensko / Clock
Jessica Hayes / Notification
Shane Jesse Christmass / The Modern of Tongues
Daniel King / The Interpretation of Life
Juventino Manzano / Back on the Home Front
Ashok Rajamani / White Men Can't Jump, Er, Tie a Sari
Harold Jaffe / Excerpts from Paris 60
John Darling / There Must Be Cowboys
Edwin Decker / Armageddon of Queer
John-Patrick Ayson / atrophy
Stephen W. Potts / Zone of Silence
Harold Jaffe / Warr Games
William Terry / Affection Interchange Program
Juventino Manzano / Vestige to Visage
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky / A Beetle in an Anthill
Harold Jaffe / Bela Lugosi
Tyrone Nagai / Lola and Jean
Jefferson P. Swycaffer / In Search of The Fuehrer
Don Traverso / Dysecdysis
Thomas Logan / Ghost Dance Soliloquies
B. F. Price / Animals Were Harmed
Jefferson P. Swycaffer / The Gift that Keeps On Giving
Harold Jaffe / Cho
Jefferson Swycaffer / Leviathan of the Blades
Devin Walsh / Felix Culpa
Tony Zurlo / What Did You Do During the War, Daddy-O?
Stephen W. Potts / One Thousand and One Nights
Juventino Manzano / Epiphany in Hell
Don Traverso / Tuesday 10:30 AM
Frank Norris / Comida
Don Traverso / Mist
Juventino Manzano / Suburban Passion In Three Acts
Stephen MacKinnon / Triptych
Juventino Manzano / Requited Ecstasy
Stephen W. Potts / Loose Ends
Kirsten Noelle Hubbard / An Elegy for the Uninvited
Conor Murphy / Think Nothing of It
Jefferson P. Swycaffer / The Lifeboat Game
H. G. Wells / A Dream of Armageddon
Chris Tannhauser / See-Through
Stephen W. Potts / Apocalypso
Mark Twain / Letter to the Earth
Morgan Lockhart / Coyote and the Faceless Cowboy
Brad Lyke / Murder Takes Your Wings
Stephen W. Potts / The Lord's Work
Conor Murphy / Two Poems: After the Smoke Sermon and Inundation of a Rat
Stephen W. Potts / A Sad Story
Jessica Hayes / Above the Ed Sullivan
Chris Tannhauser / Zoroaster's Conundrum
Jessica Wineteer / Fashion Statement
Stephen W. Potts / The Commuter
B. F. Price / Levels of Comfort
Stephen W. Potts / United We Stand
Jefferson P. Swycaffer / The God Monologues
Alan Wade / Wonder Woman, Hungry
Chris Tannhauser / Sadhus in Trouble
Stephen W. Potts / In Your Dreams
Chapter 9: A Patient Darkness
Chapter 8: Backflash
Chapter 7: Scars and Angel Wings
Chapter 6: PR1Σ$+
Chapter 5: Fierce Orbits
Chapter 4: Dead Playboys
Chapter 3: Tabula Rasa
Chapter 2: Blood Sneeze
Chapter 1: Screams Like Meat
Prologue: God's Dogs