(This is a short story I posted to the internetz in 2002 that hasn’t aged too well, but whatevs.)
”I’m going to the migraine art exhibition down at the gallery,” she calls to me from the foyer, “are you coming with me?”
”It’s the first Monday of the month already?” I respond, “I’m afraid I have a few errands to run, so I think I’ll have to pass. Thanks anyway!”
”OK, see ya.”
”See ya.”
I lied. I had, in fact, no errands to run. After she had left, I snuck upstairs and turned on the computer. This was strictly me time. Three orifices crammed with cock, an explosion of fudge-colored froth. Some anonymous penis undulating hypnotically back and forth between two tan-lined breasts, the non-stop sexy decelerating only upon my accidentally stumbling across trannie porn and golden showers. Never one to be dissuaded by such setbacks, I divined myself a vein of lesbian incest dildo porn starring two twin sisters McNaughton. “This is crazy stuff!” I exclaimed to myself as Jennifer McNaughton shaved the mons of Christina. I pulled out down my pants and began stroking my cock. “You’re a couple of little whores,” I knowingly chuckled as Christina strapped one on and penetrated Jennifer so deeply she was undoubtedly tasting rubber. As both sisters ran their tongues over the shit-spackled dildo, I recapitulated my feelings that they were, in fact, a couple of little whores in a sentence punctuated by massive ejaculation.
As I was cleaning up, I noticed a dollop of spooge on the power strip. I got some toilet paper, dampened it in the sink, and began cleaning off the milky residue when I felt a surge of electricity charge through my body, a surge that threw me across the room. Something was different.
”Did you enjoy the migraine art exhibition?” I asked her. “It was very… interesting,” she replied. My eyes came to rest on her face as she was flipping through her magazine, when suddenly she became aware I was looking at her. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” I replied, “I just wanted to know about the exhibition.” Something was different.
Later that day, I went to work the early bird shift at the cafeteria. “Some old lady is giving Gus a hard time,” John laughed. As I approached the table, I heard the lady exclaim “These croutons taste like ASS,” in a grating Long Island accent. “Those are the zesty Italian croutons,” Gus pleaded with her, “you…” “I don’t care,” she replied, “these croutons taste like ASS.” As I watched the unpleasant old lady, I saw in my mind’s eye that lady suspended in time, with puffs of stink rising up from her chair. The puffs of stink coalesced into four distinct clouds above her head. Was it fifteen seconds or ten minutes I stood watching, waiting. The clouds further coalesced into letters,— in my soul, I had intimations of the word they were to form, but I watched anyway, paralyzed by fear, or egged on by some intensity drive to face a vertigo all the more terrifying for its inevitability. It’s impossible for me to say precisely when I could discern what they said, but within moments, there was little doubt what they spelled;— P-O-R-N.
”Whoa, Darren looks like he’s seen a ghost.” I shook my head as one would shake an Etch-A-Sketch, the unpleasant old lady was no longer suspended in time, and the puffs of porn stink evaporated. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said, and quickly took to fleeing the cafeteria. “Darren, what’s wrong?” I heard John ask as I ran away.
I jumped in my car and floored the accelerator. Within moments, a cop car pulled up behind me.
The cop ambulated leisurely up to my car. I rolled down my window. “Are you aware you were driving 75 miles per hour in a 35 miles per hour zone?” He asked me. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling myself, I hope you understand…” “I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a ticket…” I couldn’t listen to what the cop was saying, as I watched in silent terror as puffs of stink started rising up from around the officer. Sure enough, the puffs of stink spelled “P-O-R-N.” “Y… y… you secretly look at porn,” I said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Heh. Heh. Guilty as charged,” he laughed, adjusting his hat, “those McNaughton twins are a couple of little whores.”
”No… No… NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
”I call the Cook County traffic court to order, the honorable Abraham Hutchins presiding.” Abraham Hutchins leafed through the stack of papers in front of him. “Our first case is Darren Nicholls, charged with speeding,” the judge said. “Your honor, my client…” “Don’t listen to my lawyer, he SECRETLY LOOKS AT PORN!” I exclaimed. “Will the defendant please yield,” Abraham said, banging his gavel. “Why should we listen to you… you SECRETLY LOOK AT PORN!” “Mr. Nicholls, in all my years…” I stood up and faced the courtroom of disinterested people awaiting their trials, “and all of you people, you all SECRETLY LOOK AT PORN!” The courtroom expressed their collective displeasure, some of them even sitting up from their slumped-over positions. I ran out of the courthouse.
As I ran down the courthouse steps, I noticed a man standing on the corner. Something was different. I ran up to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, and laughed as I caught my breath. “Hello, friend,” he said. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever find someone like you,” I said. “Say, have you discovered Jesus Christ?” he asked me. “Jesus Christ?” The man produced a book, and flipped to a handsome glossy color plate in the middle. “Ooh, wow, nice plate,” I remarked, taking the book from him, “is this mine to keep?” “Actually, that will be fifteen dollars,” he said. I felt bad that I had presumed he was just going to give me the book, so after giving the matter its fifteen seconds of due consideration, I reached into my pocket, saying “I’m sure I have fifteen dollars here.” “It’s a small price to pay for everlasting life,” he said. Everlasting life, everlasting life, I turned the phrase over in my head before I realized it had nothing to do with what I had experienced.
