N O N I C ∀ L

by Drew Blanche

This guy is hairy, so damn hairy.  But he’s getting his dick sucked, yes his dick sucked.  She’s sucking away like a good whore, a pretty little devil whore.  She looks at us, the good whore.  With the look of a sex doll.  A life-size sex doll, pretty skin and hair and facial features.  The pretty whore and the dirty hairy old guy.  Apparently old, maybe just aged with hairy skin and covered in hair or black fur.  Still getting his penis, his dick, his whatever sucked off.

Then she stops, moves up to his bald head and begins kissing him.  He shoves his dirty wet tongue in her mouth and she accepts it.  Taking it all in and swishing it around with hers.  Swish.  Suck.  Swallow.  Swish some more.  His bald head is shiny and slick.  Her long brown hair is wavy and dangly and covers her pale shoulders, hiding her pointy bones.  Minutes go by and she’s still sucking his face while he sucks hers back.  That sick feeling of watching two people make out hits you hard.  It smacks you around, his baldness still amusing you though.

Her hand starts to grab his cock and jerk it through his shorts which are pulled up again.  There really is no point in writing any of this down.  Nobody should know about this horrid love making session.  Nobody.  Then again, maybe you want to know about these people.  Maybe you want to know who they are, what they do for a living or what that bald head feels like or smells of.  

Oh no, one second.  Wait.  I’m distracted by her sudden loud moaning of deep pleasure.  Bald guy is eating her out, digging his face in that hairless twat of hers.  She’s laughing now, looking over and her faint blue eyeshadow tells me to remain calm.  This is just a typical fuck session.  This isn’t a regular whore story but a regular couple of a whore story.  Ladies and gentlemen, there aren’t any gentlemen here we’re all pervs in this story.  And auto-correction has to correct the word story because I’m having trouble writing these words.  Then bald hairy guy with penis inside vagina and moaning whore, I call her whore because I can’t imagine any sweet innocent girl wanting to suck dick like this in a million years.  Not one like this, it’s just so dirty.  

It’s time for doggy; his penis looks smaller and pink.  Maybe a tv dinner would help me get through all of this.  Maybe some more water, or Devil’s Cut whiskey.  No rocks, just a clean glass and neat.  Only time neat is used anymore.  The taste, and the burn.  The bite.  The pinch.  The stab.  The sting.  She’s smiling on all fours, like a good little whore.  Smiling whores are the best.  Really.  I can hear the sound of her ass cheeks smacking against his hairy thighs.  Bald man, you reek of shame.  Put on a hat you fucking little pink dick bastard.  It’s not amusing watching him slow fuck the shit out of her from behind.  Her face doesn’t change.  

This goes on for a bit longer.  No need to explain what happened next.

By Drew Blanche.

At first glance, you might say wow. These people are smart and highly dedicated and possibly geniuses. However, once you take a closer look into the lives of these people, you start to change your opinion very quickly. These people are selfish, inconsiderate and indeed hoarders.

Let’s take a look at an example shall we. One woman goes into a local grocery and buys over $1,000 worth of groceries. She pays in total, only $55. Cool. Neat. Awesome. Wrong! Not only does she spend over an hour in checkout, holding up the line for others. She causes a scene, having to use multiple employees for her checkout alone; and on top of all that she takes every last item in stock, leaving other customers having to shop elsewhere if they really need the item.

Five shopping carts of groceries, four employees to help her walk it out to her car and unload it into her crappy SUV. She isn’t tipping them, her only main concern is saving! The cashier not only has to ring up each item she’s bought, they also have to scan hundreds of coupons, which sometimes locks up the register causing them to have to call over the manager. Not one person to ring up her order, multiple. Not one shopping cart, many. Not herself taking those groceries to her car, multiple employees. Meanwhile, other customers have to wait on her selfish ass who wants to only pay .05 cents on a total of $250 worth of items. Again, people have to go out of their way in order for her selfish ass to save.

But are they really selfish, aren’t they just beating the system and smart? Think about this, one lady goes around stealing, yes stealing coupons from the driveways of local neighbors who aren’t home. Talk about a fucking bitch. That is against the law right there. They don’t care though, most will break the law to save a buck. The last thing that makes them very selfish is the fact that they are true hoarders. Most of these people DO NOT use most of their items. They just line them up in their house and stare at them. Tell me what the hell you are going to possibly do with seventy bottles of mustard. $4k worth of razors. Over 100 boxes of cereal. The food will go bad before you can even use up half of it. But they love to hoard these items, even if they don’t have room for them all, that’s quite all right. We’ll just store them in the kids bedrooms, they don’t need that space underneath their bed, put em’ there. That extra closet space in Jimmy’s room? Put these 600 rolls of paper towels. He won’t notice them.

Final thought. If you do this, you are selfish. It’s all great to use a coupon and save a buck. But when others have to literally go out of their way to help you save pennies, when you take the very last bottle of 100 Ketchups and throw them all in your cart, when you make people haul your grocers for you to your car when you aren’t disabled or injured. When you take over an hour just on your items alone in checkout holding up the line for others. When you go home and masturbate in front of all your 1200 bottles of Ajax.

Fuck you.

P.S. And to think the stores actually pay these people to empty out their innovatory just blows my mind. They let them do it then they deserve it. But the people paying the price are the hard workers and the customers who have to suffer because of it.

If you think I’m over exaggerating, take a look at this post written by cpngirl on 4/25/11

I was at my local target today to get the Nivea body wash for FREE with the 3.00 off coupon from a couple weeks ago and the coupon from the Target beauty bag sample, and as I round the corner to that aisle I see another customer right in front of where I was headed. She is buying everything on the shelf from the Nivea section. The large bottle she got probably 30 of the those and then she got the smaller body washes priced at 2.54 and cleared the shelf on those which were probably about 24. So I think great now I lost out on that deal for today. So I ask an associate there if they have anymore in the backroom that the could fill to the shelf and he says “we did…. that customer just cleared out the backroom too.” I turn around and there is the same customer with another three carts filled with cases of the bodywash!!!

Ok I get the tv show is catering to the extremes of couponing. But it is not fair that the hoarders or extreme couponers are taking all of the items from the shelfs and the stock room. And I know the coupon says the you can use it on the 8.9oz bottles to.. but come on… three carts full.

I understand that she for a great deal and in huge quantity but I had to go to another Target 30 minutes away to just get one of the bodywashes because I was out. And I am more frustated with the situation, and the fact that I had to waste all that gas which by the way is getting ridiculously priced. To get a good deal.

I only bought one because it was free with the stacked coupons.

I was depressed, so I watched four movies. I rated them out of zero to five. I think they were all good except Crazy In Love. You shouldn’t joke about suicide. Killing yourself is not funny, nor will it ever be funny in my eyes. It’s just sad, and not something we should take lightly. The actors were good, the story was just lacking something though. Maybe it just wasn’t funny. Good title though, I am a title whore, I actually think titles make things good or bad. You can have a great idea, book, movie, story but if it lacks a great title then it won’t go as far. Just my thoughts, which is why 95% of the time I come up with titles first then base the story around it.

The Brass Teapot 4.9

The Lifeguard 4.5

People Like Us 4.8

Crazy In Love 2.5

Funny quote from The Lifeguard.

“Slap my face with your dick.”

I listen to way too much Patti Smith.

[Originally written for Rolling Stone. Never made it past the first draft.]

“It’s a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.” –Generation of Swine (1988)

As I puff on Seven Stars from an e-cig and listen to Sinatra, I look around my hotel room and wonder what the *hell* I’ve gotten myself into. Here I am, sitting in the tower of The Hooters Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas. I’ve got a cooler full of beer, a table full of various whiskeys and rum, vodka and tequila and enough smokes to last me three months if I were to chain-smoke for the rest of my stay. I look across the room and see the home of a great American writer–or one who wishes to be just that.

Who am I? It doesn’t even matter really. I’ve been staring out the window after I moved the table next to the bed so I could type and stare at the hooker laying face down on tangled bedsheets. Her lipstick is smeared and suddenly I have the urge to get up and dig through my bag, find the lipstick I bought last year when I wanted to be a mime. I take it out and move towards the bed and start outlining her lips in cherry red. Then somebody is knocking at the door. I remove my e-cig from my mouth and reach inside my pants and pull out my Colt .45 Revolver and head towards the rapid banging.

Through the peep-hole is who I’ll call “The Stuttering Loop” because everything this man says is “I’ve I’ve I’ve got your shit, shit, shit.” I usher him in and bolt the door shut behind him, then I turn and glance back towards the bed to make sure red lips is still out. “She’s snoring like a freak freak freak,” he tells me. “Yes, it’s quite tainted.” I reply. He opens his man purse and begins to dig around inside the front pocket before he says, “It’s it’s it’s not here, here, here.” I’ve been waiting all morning for this little prick to bring me my muse.

“Well, where the *hell* is it?” I shout. “I need that fucking muse ASAP.” He proceeds to check again, “must have have have escaped earlier when I went to take a shit, shit, shit.” I get closer placing the Colt .45 to his sweaty, greasy temple and cock it back. “Go find it or I’ll blow your brains out all over this place.” He starts to shiver, “place place place.” he repeats to himself under his breath. “Go.” I signal towards the door. He exits and I bolt it shut again. This time the hooker rolls over and then falls completely off the bed onto the stained floor. “Jesus, you’re going to smear your lips.” I warn her. “Get up, you fucking whore!” I suddenly feel like a very skinny, pale and neatly groomed Bukowski. She opens her eyes. “Who the *fuck* are you?” she yells at me from the floor. “We had sex. You don’t recall, it was pretty good. You even fucked the barrel of this here gun.” I start to wave it in her face. But before she has time to get up, the little prick is back and he’s banging on the door again.

 I open it and he rushes in past me. “It’s here here here.” He holds up a little glass jar and inside is a folded up piece of paper. “Well, what the fuck is that?” I ask him. “It’s it’s it’s a note,” he says softly, gasping for air. I reach inside and pull out the paper, unfold it. It reads: “Sorry, I’ve retired. Good day.” I point the revolver at his temple and cock it back sternly, “You son of a bitch bitch bitch.”

—DB

[In October of 2010 R.L. Stine had a contest where he wrote the beginning of a short story and it was your job to finish it by writing your own ending! If you won I believe you received signed copies of his books and your story was read by R.L. Stine himself. Of course I didn’t win! But here is my ending, and yes I thought the winner had a decent ending but I liked mine more.]

10.09.10

Here is my entry for the ending to the R.L. Stine contest.

Andy looked around the room, then the lights went out and it was completely dark. Stacy screamed. Loud grunts and clawing along the slick walls was heard. Andy nervously reached inside his “trick-or-treat” bag and removed his glow stick. The room suddenly light up in lime green. Everybody hissed and turned their faces, hiding from the oozing glow of green slime. Andy held it up high and waved it out in front of his face. Stacy clenched him by his right arm holding him tightly. The monsters cried out, the light was blinding them. Melting their flesh and skin, all at once they began caving to the floor, melting like witches.

 Then the glow stick went out. Andy shook it in panic, but it was dead. Then they both looked up and saw one hairy creature still alive and it was coming for them. Andy called out, “What now Stacy? I don’t have anything else.”

 "Wait,“ she said. Then she reached inside her bag and pulled out her zombie "glow-in-the-dark” lipstick and held it out. The creature turned, “Arhhhh” it screeched loudly. Then it slowly began melting. “It’s working!” said Andy.

“Arh.” it cried one final breath.

The room was a creepy mess of slime and ooze. But Andy and Stacy were alive and ready to go home. “What about the other party? I heard it has real live goblins.” They both grinned at one another as they walked away.

THE END

by Drew Blanche

I was looking out over the ledge of the five story balcony when I heard her slip and fall. I rushed back into the kitchen to witness her sprawled out on the tile floor, her dress spread wildly across the slick flooring of our Manhattan apartment. I leaned down to help her up, gripping her right arm and pulling her forcefully upward.

 "Don’t touch me,“ she screeched. "I’ll live, I just stumbled on these damn shoes.” After she stood she reached down to yank off her heels one at a time throwing them across the floor into the living room. They hit the expensive sofa and bounced off landing on the coca carpet rug. “You need me to help with anything?” I asked.

 My look of concern seemed to only annoy the shit out of her. We had only been dating a couple months but the place was ours, we shared it in the city. She was an amazing artist and I was a struggling writer to be. She reached for the bottle of white wine and began pouring, “No,” she said. “I can take care of the rest.”

 What I didn’t realize until later on is that she had written a suicide note in lipstick and it was smeared across the bathroom mirror. I discovered it only after unzipping my trousers and taking a leak which seemed to last three generations. I pictured old cavemen becoming bald and white men in suits and ties with jobs. After flushing I went over to the sink and turned on the faucet and a stream of cold water hit my hands and coated them. After I had rubbed them together and felt satisfied with their cleanness that’s when I glanced up in the mirror and saw the message. It was in red, the lettering was big and curly shaped with lots of loops.

I didn’t bother drying my hands as I reached for the handle of the door and rushed into the living room to see her still alive, standing at the edge of the kitchen with two wine glasses in her hands. She moved towards me handing me one and she began taking a long sip of organic white wine. I took a swallow myself, staring back at her tensely, looking deep into her hollow eyes. She smiled, then she moved towards her purse and took out her smokes. She lit one up with her father’s vintage lighter, WWII I believe it was. Then she offered me one and I watched her place it in between my lips and light it. I sucked the end and exhaled after a couple seconds.

 She then moved toward the balcony and I quickly followed. I watched her smoke as I stood next to her as she ash her cigarette over the ledge. I stared at her until I got the nerve to ask her about the note. “What are you planning to do?” I asked. I felt sickly inside so I took another swallow of wine. She exhaled a long drag, staring deeply into my black eyes. “Nothing or maybe…I don’t really know. I haven’t decided yet.” I watched her as she moved closer to the ledge and looked toward the city. It was lit up with lights all around us. After a short pause, “Wouldn’t it be perfect to just leap off the ledge and just fly for a moment before your death?” I didn’t say anything, I knew my answer didn’t matter.

 Then, “I suppose it would be.” I finally uttered underneath my breath. She threw her cigarette over the ledge and turned quickly to me. “You don’t even know what it feels like to die, do you?” “No.” “It’s madness, pure madness and rage and horrifying to say the least.” “Then why do you want to kill yourself?” She was pissed at my last remark. “I just can’t handle this routine anymore, this daily nightmare. It’s as if I’m my father’s slave or something. You know what it’s like going to work for him, please tell me you hate it. You hate it don’t you?” “I never thought about it.” “See that’s the thing, you never stop to think, to think about things, about the way they effect you.” I set down my wine glass and moved closer to her.

“I’m just, I’m not ready to give it all up and just walk away. It’s not that simple you know.” “It is though, it’s that simple. Don’t you see…we could be free, the two of us, off in another world, so free and so happy. Just the two of us.” I didn’t understand her logic. Being dead didn’t seem like the answer and what if after you died, the real nightmare began. “Tell me you’re joking?” “No, no I’m not kidding Frank. You know me, I don’t kid. I don’t have the fancy to kid around anymore.”

Then she turned sharply in my arms and grabbed a hold of the rail and began stepping over with one leg. As she got over she turned to me again. “I know you love me Frank, but this is the end of our happiness. We will have to join hands on the other side if you want to continue this love.” Then she turned towards the city and inhaled one last breath before letting go.

I rushed forward watching the bundle of hair float up towards me as she fell with immensity. I couldn’t bare the sight of watching her hit the ground so I closed my eyes. A Sarah McLachlan song entered my head and I listened until the silence rung dead.

For me, it has to be some sort of party/dance song. Usually with an 80’s vibe of some kind. Here are my top picks for songs to do coke to.  :)

1. Hey Hey Guy - Ken Laszlo

2. Girl Panic - Duran Duran

3. I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight - Cutting Crew

4. Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne

5. Do You Wanna Touch Me - Joan Jett

6. Fooled Around and Fell in Love - Elvin Bishop

7. Fell in Love With An Alien - The Kelly Family

8. Anything, Anything - Dramarama

9. Midnight Blue - Lou Gramm

10. Into the Sun - The Parlor Mob

11. Talk Show Host - Radiohead

12. Dancing Queen - Abba