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Chapter 2 - c**k blocked

Chapter 2 – c**k blocked

Chapter Song – Everybody Talks - Neon Trees

“If you can look into the seeds of time, say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then to me. Time is a great thickener of things.” – Abraham Lincoln

“Dad! How long before we get there!?” was the jubilant demand of the boy who was very eager to get wherever his mom and dad intended for them to go.

The father looked at the boy in the sun-visor, “Just a few more miles kiddo. Tsk!” he winked and darted at his son with thumb and index finger forming a makeshift gun. He was a cool daddy.

The mother turned to look at her impatient boy sitting in the backseat, “Matt, just sit tight, okay? We’ll get there soon enough,” She turned to her husband, “And Charles, I told you to fix this mirror so you wouldn’t have to pull down the visor,” The mother asserted while touching the end of the pivot where the center mirror was supposed to be.

“Yes, mother dear,” the husband mocked barely above a whisper, with an imperceptible eye roll that would probably get him into trouble had his wife saw.

The wife rolled her eyes; certainly she was the boss of him.

“Mommy, I wanna take a bath. It is itchy!” the boy complained like a normal recalcitrant child.

With a shadow of guilt in her expression, she turned to look back to try and respond to her son’s dire plea, “I know baby. I know … just stop scratching it.”

The boy stuck out his lower lip in protest, “Hmph!” and then continued to scratch regardless.

With the seatbelt restraining his movement, Charles turned a few degrees to peer at his son, “Hey, listen to your mom, kid. We only have a few—”

“Daddy!!”

“Charles!”

Their cries became infinitesimal as they crashed against a speeding car.

‘Blip, blip, blip…’

“… call the doctor … please … yes … the Holstons. No, I was just … I think that … yes, huh.”

“You were able … and is there … of course … positive ID?”

“Yes … not much … I think … by here … no one, sorry.”

The voices warped into recognition as the boy opened his eyes against the searing pain he felt.

“… Mom … Mommy?”

“He’s awake. Please, officer, hold your questions. I need to attend to the child quickly. Please,” the nurse spoke with urgency.

“…wh—? Where is mommy?”

“Hey, it’s Matt, right? Now, breathe for me, okay honey? I’ll put this mask on you. It will be like trick or treating for Halloween. You like Halloween? No? Okay. But just close your eyes for me. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Car … where …” the boy dozed off.

‘Blip, blip, blip…’

“… Doctor, I don’t think we should …”

“Amount is … no … it is … surgical stimulation for patient with severe brain stem and medullary depression are the findings.”

“… risky, his respiration … cease, with potential cardiovascular collapse … Reconsider, please.”

“Look … dead or alive? You choose.”

“Okay, will notate … for cardiovascular and respiratory support.”

“Doctor, he’s awake.”

“Ow … Car is where—”

“Anesthesia, quickly!!”

“About to administer stage four anesthesia … doctor?”

“Proceed in two.”

‘Blip, blip, blip…’

“Aw crap, one of my eggs fell to the floor.”

(Insert Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’)

Don’t look at me like you’ve never seen a dude drop one of his eggs before. Erm, what I mean is a real live egg fell to the floor. Heh, you got scared for a minute there huh?

(Side barbs and whispers of incredulity)

You for reals right now? You don’t believe me? Okay, lemme prove it to ya. See? Lookie here. Come on, don’t be shy. There. See that? I still have my nuts. They’re big and quite hairy too.

(Collective gasp)

Mkay, stop it, stop looking. Hey, no hands! Stop it … I said stop, you perv.

(Boo!)

So how is everybody doing? I missed all y’all. I remember when I used to be popular, but then I got canned and my author got the boot. That was really sad for the both of us because I wasn’t even halfway done with my story. I still haven’t figured out what had happened to me, ya know?

Anyway, can someone hand me the apron, please?

(Someone hands a rainbow-colored apron)

Okay, so how have I been? Well, my story had been shelved for a couple months. But I’m back now. Oh crap. I think I need to do some groceries coz I ran out of smexy eggs and some other shizz. So ah, you wanna come? (wink) and I don’t mean creaming yo shiz.

I called for Central Cab®, and gave my address for them to come running to pick me up. And before I could even flip my hair back and forth, a cab was already in front of my doorstep in record time. They’re fast I tell ya. Trust me on this, if you need a quick cab in Miami, just dial Central Cab® (305) 532-5555. They had been serving these bitches, I mean, these beaches since 1950. Hells yeah they is. And yow, I’m not kidding about the phone number. That’s their frigging phone number. Google it. They better pay me good shiz for advertising it here. Dayum.

“Where we goin’ Matt?”

“Oh, hey Ponce! Wassup man? How are the balls hanging? Pretty low I suppose,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, they’re lower than my wife’s uterus, s**t,” he frowned with disgust, the kind of look most husbands give which tells you that they probably are very happy with their relationship. Not.

“Where we goin’ big balls?”

“It started with a whisperrrrr, and that was when I kissed herrrrr, and then she made my lips hurrrrrt. I can hear the chit-chaaaaat. Take me to your love shaaack…”

“I ain’t takin’ you to my love shack, man. Are you queer now? Jaysus.”

“Ponce, man … Everybody Talks shiz by the Neon Trees … loosen up yo.”

“Oh … mah bad,” he did the finger twirl thang, the four snaps in a ‘Z’ shape kind of deal. If that hand gesture he just managed with superfluous flair ain’t queer, I dunno what is.

“Drive, you fag,” I snorted to poke fun at Ponce. He was the gayest straight man I knew. He so cools yo.

“Heeeyyyy!” he finger snapped at me again, ghetto style this time. It made me cringe.

“Jesus! Just drive me to Wal-Mart® you faggalicious piñata.”

“El-oh-el. Just kidding man, el-oh-el! You just gotta laugh!”

I didn’t laugh for dramatic effect. It worked. And so he footed the gas pedal and drove.

Beef, hotdogs, salamis, and sausages … what else did I need? God, I wish they sold puss here. But they didn’t. Na, na, na, na, na, Everybody talks, Everybody talks! Such a great song this was.

I grabbed chorizos to complete my list of schlongs while I jived to the beat of the song. The moment I pulled at the last sausage that dangled from the metal hook, my heart catapulted and did a freefall.

She had blond hair, pinkish luminescent skin, perky Mount Montgomeries, and tight-titty-tight-tight ass…ets. And as I stole a glance at her mug, I realized who she was. She was the girl who c**k blocked me the other day! Yeah, c**k blocked, just like the title of this chapter. Ha-ha!

With confidence of a true Matty Boi, I sidled up to her and began singing, “Hey honey you could be my drug, you could be my new prescription…” okay, I was a little off-key, but I didn’t care.

And then she sang, “Too much can be an overdose, all this trash talk make me itchiiiiing,” she sang fudgedammit! She sang! And completely in tune with the melody too! It made me smile.

We sang the next verse in unison, “Oh my, my s**t, everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks, too much,” we ended with the raspy octave of the ‘too much’ part. We were golden. Her playfulness made me smile so painfully from ear to ear that I thought my face would break.

Our eyes locked. I saw an opening, and so I took it, “Hey, I’m Holston,” I introduced like a dashing debonair, similar to that queer Disney prince in Cinderella, minus the stupid pompadour hair, “Holston. Matt Holston. Tsk!” I winked with thumb and index finger forming a makeshift gun, hoping that my inner James Bond could help with charming my way into her tight pants.

“Quincy Quinn,” was how she pinched her name. It sounded so cute too. Oh yeah baby. That’s it.

“Hey ah … sorry about the other day … I was—”

“A sweaty jerk,” she finished for me. It stung like a madafucka let me tell ya, “but you do wear a lot of Axe® body spray so it’s all good,” she reverted.

I was all kinds of giddy excitement. It felt like the Fourth of July in all the right places. Particularly around the area dead center in my groin, “You like my Axe® body spray, baby?” I wiggled my eyebrows for good measure. Oh yeah baby.

She raised a discerning brow, “Baby?” she hissed with mild repulsion. ‘Squirt!’ went the tube of mayo in her hands. Yowsa! She made the mayo come.

“Um the…” I didn’t know what to say. My mind kept rewinding the squirt from the mayo bottle. I was that perverted. It was like watching Wal-Mart® porn.

“Uh-ah, I’m not your baby,” she waved a perfectly manicured finger at me. I wanted to suck it.

She started to walk away and I realized how smexy her hourglass figure was. She halted then swiveled to look back at me, “Not yet anyways,” Gah! Was she insinuating that I had a chance? I was so turned on by the prospect of having a chance with her that I stiffened where I stood, both figuratively and literally. Yeah, you heard that right, figuratively and literally, which meant that soon my heart would start skipping in the most unfriendly manner because my mustang decided to neigh inside my trousers. This ain’t good yo. I. AM. IN. DEEP. s**t.

I knew that I needed to bed someone the minute I began losing balance. The grocery aisles spun like roulette. This was going to be yet another gamble, another quick f**k that I’d have to tender to anyone close by. I hated being like this. I wondered if it would be easier to just die right here.

‘Hey sugar show me all your love, all you're giving me is friction—’ thumped the lyric of the song in my ears, my heart served as its bass. I definitely needed friction fudgedammit. The music made me run like an old man on steroids. It looked f*****g ugly I tell ya.

‘And that was when I kissed herrr, and then she made my lips hurrrt. I can hear the chit-chaaat. Take me to your love shaaack. Mama's always got a backtraaack, when everybody talks baaaaack. Everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks, babe…” f**k this shiz. I circled Wal-Mart® and ended up pushing my back against the wall. The pain in my chest was excruciating. It felt like Kim Kardashian sat on me.

I immediately dialed a contact for help.

“Hello?” went the voice in my ear.

“Man I need ... I need your help.”

“I’m right here behind you Matt.”

I turned and saw Collin standing behind me. How the f**k did he get here so fast? “Hey, how the f**k did you get here so fast?” I redundantly restated.

If you don’t remember, Collin Cade is a dear friend of mine. We grew and outgrew each other as orphans when we were in Boys Town of Florida, down at Southwest 137th near the Hammocks.

(A reader asks for their phone number)

Oh sorry, yeah, here, it’s (305) 380-0657. Wait a fudging minute, what the f—!? I’m not the Miami Yellow Pages! Scram, shoo!

“Collin, aw shiizz man … could you?”

“Man, I’m not gonna let you f**k me. Make your choice. Whether I take you to my job, or we drive a long drive to the nearest whorehouse,” he negotiated calmly. God he was really blunt. But what did I expect? We grew up together and so did our wieners, though mine definitely outgrew his in length, width, and depth.

“Do. I. Have. A. Frigging. Choice!?”

Collin drove me to the studio where he worked. The marquee screamed ‘Miami Edged’ and yes, if you’d remember, Collin, who’s got a smaller wiener than mine which I couldn’t stress enough, was a closeted-stripperish-slutty-manhoe. The job he did, and the jobs done to him too, made him an institution. He was probably the top of the charts somewhere on the website. Now don’t ask me where that is. I don’t do gay porn. He was totes pops. Shiz. I can’t believe I just abbreviated ‘totally’ and ‘popular’.

He dragged me like chop liver to one of the rooms. Now, don’t ask me to go about shiz regarding how the interiors look like. If you like that type of crap, read ChapStick or Back Alley Cats. There’s plenty of that in those books by this w*****d writer who goes by the lamest name ever, BigDaddyBamBam (double wink)

“Shiz Collin! If I f*****g die here, I’ma be all Paranormal Activity shiz all over your ass and throw you to a f*****g camera!!”

“Chill man, chill!” he wanted me to chill like a cool cucumber. He nabbed a twink who happened to pass by, “Oh here … this here’s a bottom. His name is Black Hole. Black Hole meet Matt. Matt meet Black Hole, he’s—”

I didn’t let him finish. I quickly grabbed the twinkie and threw him to a couch. Yeah, again … if you want crazy descriptions about how beautiful the creases of the leather pads are on the couch as I sank in its divine lushness, read ChapStick, Back Alley Cats, or In the name of the Father. I wouldn’t bother with detail in this book. That’s foh show.

Collin sat on the bed adjacent the couch where I threw the golden twinkie. He then propped both elbows back to support his weight. He looked like he was about to get serviced, but he wasn’t. He was actually gonna watch me. He was gonna watch me!

I didn’t mind being seen in action by no less than my best friend. Besides, I’ve got a bigger wiener than he did. Articles of clothing flew everywhere. I threw my musky boxers at Collin’s face like how you would a jacket to a maple coat rack. I resolved to f**k hard and fast. My tummy banana rammed the black hole like there was no tomorrow, “Face the wall, you b***h,” I commandeered him.

He made to speak, or scream rather, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! You should totally join us. Like totally! You just might give Miami Egded the edge it needs. Ha-ha! Get it? Edge to Miami Edged. Ow … get it? You just gotta laugh at that, but, OW! Oh my God! I think your p***s is gonna come out of my mouth!!” was how the twink described his pain in between labored breathing.

“My wood is never gonna be your company’s pecker!!” I exasperated as I effed him vigorously.

We were all erotic moans as our bodies rubbed with heated pleasure. Everything that tickled in me twitched everywhere when he clenched his tight anal muscles. I bellowed as I timed my thrusts with my heartbeat. I needed to make sure that my attacks would not simply be an assault, but a tactical swing towards the activation of my secondary pacemaker. I was a cautious f**k.

“Oh God, forgive me for I had c**k,” the twink started praying. Oh Lord.

The twink found his twinkie, and he pulled at it robustly. Brisk were his movements as he jerked, “Oh God … this’ll be like the best three minutes of my life as a manhoe. I can die after this.”

I felt my climax was at the tip so I tried to pull out, but then he brought his hands around his back to tightly clamp my wrists, “Don’t even think about it,” he hissed.

There was no escape. I felt everything pull and tighten down south before it expanded and exploded into a supernova of an orgasm. I think he felt the same as he spasmed and convulsed.

I believe he was done when his muscles relaxed, “You done kiddo?” I asked just to make sure.

“Yeah, thank you Matt, you are so good—”

I pulled out and almost tore his black hole.

“OH MY GAWD! It burns! God! What is wrong with you!? It felt like you gutted my stomach. Yours is a red-headed monster!” he slapped me across the mouth then left sashaying proudly.

I thanked Collin for helping me with my horny predicament. He gave me swollen thumbs up.

The next day, I found myself walking up to Collin’s garage. Yeah, he had one, because he had cars and I didn’t, “Hey Matty Boi! Wat up, wat up!?”

“Cools man, I’m cools,” I ministered like a rapper.

“Aw, give your boi some’a lovin’ yow,” he grinded against me like the manhoe that he was.

I broke off him, “Jesus Christ! Let go you queer!”

“Aw, that’s cute. Hey, I’ve something for you.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

“f**k that. The last time you made me guess, I ended up eating your cousin’s burning bush.”

“Shiz man. Don’t even remind me. Goddammit! Bleh. Here, just take it,” he handed me car keys.

My eyes whiplashed from despicable Collin then back to the Burgundy LeSabre that I knew the key was for, “Shiz man! You didn’t madafucka!” I couldn’t believe how well-off Collin was. I might have to reconsider applying for Miami Edged.

“Your mother must be very proud of you,” I praised.

“Yeah, and she’s okay with it too. As long as I buy her weed and shiz … she’s probably snortin’ them leaves like a lumberjack right about now, heh.”

I felt a pang in my chest. I wish my mother was here.

“What’s your mom’s name again?” Collin asked me.

“Burgundy,” and indeed it was. That was my mom.

“Good job, team. We saved a life,” the doctors and nurses gave a collective gasp and a triumphant applause. “Side effects … go,” ordered one of the doctors.

“The patient will have lightheadedness, syncope, and palpitations.”

“And what about the organ down below?”

“Uninhibited girth,” was the nurse’s response.

“I see. You have my consent. Block it.”