An Atheist Nightmare - Jeph Porter

I've never really been good at most things. It's a fact that I've gotten used to over the years. I was the kid who always lost at Street Fighter no matter how hard I mashed the buttons. I loved The Legend of Zelda but I could never get out of my village alive to even play the game. I've probably seen more game over screens than anyone living.

In school it was the same sort of thing. I got to the point where I thought other students were doing something wrong because they didn't have as much red ink on their papers as me. The look of perpetual disappointment on a teacher's face is something I've grown immune to.

In fact luck is just something that hasn't ever been on my side. It's no wonder I don't believe in God. I'm so unlucky I don't even believe in the Devil. Because if the Devil was causing all my bad luck that'd be one hell of a string of good luck for him and as you can guess I just can't believe in that much good luck.

About two years ago I found myself about as far as my unluck could take me. I was homeless, living on the streets and eating out of dumpsters. I'd tried living in shelters but a run in with the local homeless mafia had effectively barred me from all of the soup kitchen and church basements in town. Yes, there is a homeless mafia. They operate just like the regular mafia, except with arguably less money and more clinically insane operators.

So one day as I was ambling down an alley, as is the bum tradition, I encountered something odd to me. It was what appeared to be a fresh lottery ticket. Not a scratch off or scratch on or scratch and sniff but a regular pick five lottery ticket. I picked it up and read the date. It was fresh and it said the numbers were being announced that very minute.

I knew there was a bar down the street that showed the games and they usually showed the lottery numbers during commercials. I was about the rush down there and see if I'd won but I stopped and I thought about it.

This was after all probably the first time I'd ever gotten lucky - of any kind. And something dawned on me. If I started having luck, maybe the world wasn't as I thought it was. Maybe things I'd believed before, weren't true. So, as these things go, I humbly lowered myself to my knees and clasped my hands together with the stiff paper lottery ticket squeezed between my fingers. And looking towards the sky I called out.

"God?"

There was no answer. Not that I expected one, but I just wanted to wait a second to be sure.

"God," I said again, "I know I haven't been the best servant of yours. I haven't even been the worst. I don't think I've really been in your employ for a long time, if at all. But I'm willing to make a deal with you," always a good way to talk to God, "If you help me win the lottery, I'll go to church every Sunday. I'll be the first one there wearing my best suit. I'll sit in the front pew and I'll sing the loudest. I'll be the Christian that other Christians want to be."

Pretty good deal I thought. How could you turn that down? Give a guy a little money and he turns his life over to you. I had to be a shoe in.

So I pulled myself to my feet, gave one more pleading look to the heavens and rushed over to the bar. I pressed my face to the glass so I could see the television and waited for them to announce the numbers. I hoped it was soon because bar owners usually don't take kindly to homeless men laying themselves against their windows.

And the numbers did come. A nice looking blond woman pulled them from what looked like a vacuum pump. And I watched as one by one she called my numbers.

I burst into the bar yelling "I won! I won!"

I tried to buy everyone a round but before I knew it I was tossed out into the street. Overcome with excitement I'd forgotten that I still smelled like stale urine.

But the next day I went down to the lottery office and handed over my winning ticket and after a little bit of paper work and police identification I was awarded the money. All the luck I'd been missing my whole life came back in one giant check.

I didn't waste anytime spending it either. A new condo, a new car, a new suit, a new girlfriend, a new restaurant every night, new furniture, new gadgets and another new girlfriend for extra measure. I finally had it made and all was well. For the time being.

It seems like it was longer, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure it was the first Sunday after I won. I was sleeping in, nursing a hangover from the previous night's celebration when I felt a gentle nudging on my shoulder. I didn't react too quickly because I didn't remember which girlfriend I'd invited over that night. So I pretended to sleep while I thought about it. But before I could come to a decision a soft voice danced over my ear.

"Wake up sleepy head" it said.

Now the voice was no clue to which girlfriend it was but it was a big clue. For one it wasn't either girlfriend, and for two it was male. And if that wasn't a big enough shock, when I rolled over to see just exactly who the hell it was, I found Jesus Christ laying next to me.

Yes, your lord and savior, the son of God, Jesus Christ was in bed with me.

"What the - " I held my tongue "Why are you here?" I asked.

Jesus gave me a hurt pouty lip look.

"It's time to go to church" He said.

I could hear the church bells ringing in the distance and realized it must be before seven still. But I had no plans on going to church.

"Not today" I said laying back down and rolling over.

But Jesus whined, "But you promised!"

He was right, I had promised. But I didn't really intend on going right away. I still had a lot of settling to do.

"I'll go next week" I said.

Jesus let out an annoyed sigh and began to protest.

"I said!" I barked, "I'll go next week!"

Flustered and annoyed Jesus threw back his side of the covers and stormed out of the room slamming to door. I could hear him purposely making noise in the kitchen in an angry fit but I just pulled the pillow over my head and went back to sleep.

This is how things went between Jesus and I. We'd have good days where we'd both laugh at something on TV or just a nice trip to Target to find new covers for the dinning room table chairs. But more often than not we were fighting. It wasn't always yelling and stomping. In fact it was mostly silent glares and passive aggressive comments. Jesus really had a way of getting under your skin about things. One day he came home and found me on the couch watching a movie. He stood in the kitchen and glared at me his eyes going back and forth between me and the sink full of dirty dishes. On this day I wasn't in the mood for the silent accusations so I just shouted.

"If you've got something to say just say it!"

Jesus just took his coat off, hung it on the chair and whispered.

"I would like a little respect. I think I've sacrificed enough"

And with that line I was neutered off come backs.

I'd opened a little investment firm mostly to manage my own assets but I let someone else handle it and used it as an excuse to get out of the house. I'd found that most men my age with a lot of money and a staff just wore a suit to make themselves feel important and really spent most of their working hours planning what they were going to do after work. So it wasn't too uncommon that I'd find myself too wrapped up in a business meeting over drinks or a game of racket ball after work to make it home before Jesus went to bed. And for me at least this kept things pretty cordial. One day I came home though and found the dinner table set with a candle that had been burning too long and a couple roses. There was a card on one of the plates and scrawled over my name was a hand written note that said: "Happy anniversary, sleep on the couch."

I didn't really know what I was doing in that relationship. It felt right from a certain point of view but when you really stepped back and examined the reasons it didn't make sense. I think at the heart of it I was just too comfortable being with Jesus and doing anything else would require too much work on my part. So even though I couldn't make heads or tails of why I was still with Jesus it was better than trying to figure something else out.

And things would have stayed that way as far as I was concerned if Jesus hadn't left me. I came home one day and found him in the living room staring out the window with a blank expression on his face. As I walked closer to him I noticed that there was a suitcase next to his feet.

"What's going on?" I asked looking at the suitcase.

"I'm leaving you" Jesus said with no tone in his voice.

"You're what?" I asked.

Jesus took a deep breath. I could see the tears welling up behind his eyes but he stayed strong and keep them in.

"I'm leaving you" He repeated.

"I heard you" I said. "Why!" I demanded.

"You don't love me" He said.

It was true. I didn't love Jesus. But to hear him say it felt like a cold knife through my heart.

"I do love you!" I lied.

"Don't lie!" He shouted back.

"I'm not lying!" I lied again.

I feel to my knees and reached for Jesus but he reached out and stopped me.

"It's too late!" He said, "I've made up my mind"

He stood up grasping the suit case.

"Don't!" I weeped clutching at the case and letting it drag me across the floor as Jesus fought to reach the front door.

"You're going to have to move on" He said to me and yanked the case from my final grasp. I heard the door close behind him as I crumpled into a ball on the ground. And I think I lay there for hours. It wasn't until the next day that I managed to drag myself into the shower and another day before I could get dressed again. I didn't go into work for two weeks and when I did I just ended up at the bar drinking again.

A healthy amount of off track betting supplemented my pain and before I knew it all my money was gone because it had seemed that my bad luck was back again. It was another six months before I felt comfortable enough to go outside. I sold my condo and joined the ranks of the renters. I'm holding down a steady job and for the first time I feel normal. When I look back at my time with Jesus I feel silly that I put so much into it. Because now, without him I feel fine. In most ways I feel better. But I don't think I would know that unless I had been with Jesus. In that way I really was lucky.

A few months ago I actually saw Jesus at a party a friend was having. I went out onto the back porch to have a smoke and I was checking out the view of the building next to me when I heard a little voice behind me.

"Hey you." It said.

I turned and there was Jesus. He looked good, which made me smile. I said hello and asked him how he was. He said he was doing fine. And there wasn't much else to talk about. That odd awkward silence of expectation settled on us. Both of us knowing that there was only one thing we had in common to talk about but neither of us wanting really to talk about that.

It was me who broke first.

"I think about you a lot" I said. "And I keep wondering what would happen if we had a second chance"

"Don't" Jesus said stopping me.

"I'm sorry" I said, feeling embarrassed that I had done the one thing I told myself I would't do.

"How's your, uh," I stuttered, "You seeing anyone?"

Jesus nodded and pointed into the apartment. A tall red-headed guy wearing a tan sweater was laughing at someone's joke.

"That's Frank" Jesus said. "We've been together a couple of months now"

"Oh," I said, "He looks nice"

Jesus nodded

"How about you?" He asked me.

"Me?" I said, "Oh uh yeah - I'm here with him"

I pointed into the apartment at the short Indian guy wearing the monk robe.

"I've been with Buddha for a few weeks now" I explained and Jesus smiled.

"That's great"

The silence settled on us again.

"Well maybe I'll see you around" I said

"Yeah" Jesus answered, "Maybe" and he left me alone on the porch.

I haven't seen him since.

Edie Won A Contest - Jeph Porter

Edie won a contest that was advertised in the local grocery store. A nice plump young lady helped her fill out the little slip of paper that was required for entry. It seemed like a small price to pay for the chance to be on TV. That's what the contest was for, a chance to be the next contestant on the very popular quiz show Hunter Houndstooth's, Guess What?
She got the news on a Monday morning from another nice young lady. She couldn't tell if this was girl was plump or thin or anything really because she was on the phone. She was very nice though and she told Edie with what she would assume was a smile that she was the lucky winner and that they were going to fly her to Hollywood California to be on Hunter Houndstooth's, Guess What?
Edie couldn't believe her luck.
One month later she was sitting in a chair under some very hot lights getting ready for her first appearance on TV. Edie looked at the cameras and the busy men running around to make it all look so pretty and she thought to herself, I could get used to this, very used to this.
And the studio filled up with bug eyed tourist and local gawkers there to see a real life television show committed to video tape. It was all very exciting, Edie felt like a movie star.
The lights dimmed and the oh so familiar theme music kicked in over the speakers. It was almost time! Edie held in a giggle and fidgeted in her chair. She looked across the stage as the announcer's voice bellowed over the shiny floor right towards the golden curtains. They split down the middle and...and...and....there he was!
Hunter Houndstooth strolled onto the stage like a Roman gladiator taking a chariot ride around the Colosseum. He waved to the adoring crowd, he smiled to the band, and he reached out to shake the hands of the lucky few in the front row. Edie wasn't jealous though, because she knew only she would be close enough to smell him tonight.
Houndstooth strolled the length of the stage greeting his life blood with his charming smile. He shifted his gaze in a pre-determined path across the breadth of them until he filled his quota of hellos and turned to the band that was winding up its tempo for a big release. And as Houndstooth made it close to Edie, mounting the small pedestal their chairs sat on, he swung his arm in the air and signaled the band to pull out the cork and let the ship sink. And the band molested their instruments as if they where choking the life out of an animal, Houndstooth leapt from the pedestal as if to kill it and the final drum hit then signaled the final blow to the beast.
The crowd erupted.
"Goooooooood Evening! Ladies and Gentlemen!" Houndstooth bellowed.
The crowd took his enthusiasm and threw it back at him with a few whistles and hollers thrown in for good measure.
"We have," he continued, staccatoing his words between their cheers, "a very special show tonight."
Edie saw only the back of his head, the grease holding his perfectly combed hair back bounced the spot light hitting him towards her in a glare. Edie felt nervous for the first time, but she told herself it was nothing to worry about, she was in capable hands.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Houndstooth went on, "I want you to meet a very good friend of mine. She's come a long way to be with us tonight, and I'm glad she did. Ladies and Gentlemen will you help me please in saying hello to tonight's contestant Edie Longhorn!"
The spot light twitched off Houndstooth and pinned Edie down to her chair. She beamed her smile, not the white vibrant smile of Hunter Houndstooth, but the best she could muster. The crowd cheered for her too though, like they had for Houndstooth and this made Edie feel good, she liked it very much when people cheered for her.
Houndstooth had found his way to the chair opposite Edie and smiled at her enjoyment. Edie turned to him and was in awe, his skin was golden brown and his eyes where a deep blue like the beach she saw from her hotel and the blue waves that lapped against it's shore. His hand came over to meet hers and it was warm and soft, decorated with gold and silver rings.
"How are you tonight Edie?" He said softly, the jovial ringleader stripped from his voice and replaced with a placating confident tone.
"Well," Edie said, surprised by her own voice, "I'm very glad to be here tonight"
"You're a very lucky lady aren't you?" Houndstooth said, reaffirming his smile.
"I don't know, I suppose"
"Edi is our big winner," Houndstooth said turning to the audience, "Each year we hold a national contest to find one lucky person to be a contestant on our show." The crowd murmured at this news, "Edie happens to be this years lucky winner!"
The crowd politely applauded her, their cheers overenthusiastic so as to cover their jealousy.
"Now you're here to see if we can't make you an even bigger winner aren't you?" Houndstooth said to Edie.
"That's what I hope to do" Edie said with a small nod and a smile that prompted the crowd to cheer again. Their excessive cheering made Edie laugh with embarrassment, no one should be cheering this much for her! This was the greatest day of Edie's life!
"Now Edie!" Houndstooth said cutting over the noise of the crowd and taming them down to their seats, "You're familiar with how our show works?"
"I think so, I've been watching for years"
"Good good," He said tapping her hand and taking it away to find his cue cards, "For those of you at home I'll tell you how it works. I'll present Edie with a series of clues and she'll have three chances to guess what I'm referring to. If she doesn't get a correct answer we turn her over to the Guesstimator, which will randomly pick a consequence to befell the item in question. But, if you manage to get a majority of the questions right, you get the chance at a prize behind one of the Guess What doors. Do you have any questions Edie?"
Edie looked to the ceiling, the bright light catching her eye and she shook her head no.
"I'm ready to play" she said, bouncing a bit in her chair.
"You said it, now help me say it again" Houndstooth said taking her hands, "Edie what are we going to play today?"
The excitement that had been welling up since that first phone call, and building in her belly on the plane ride over let itself out as Edie screamed her head off.
"Guuuuueeeesss Whhhaaaaatttt!!!"
And the crowd took every ounce of her excitement and regurgitated it into their own, vomiting cheers and hoots onto the stage.
With a lighting change came the first questions.
"Okay Edie, for the first question I'm going to make it simple." Houndstooth pulled his blue cards close to his chest. "This object is something you know very well, but if you wanted to show a friend, you couldn't bring it to her"
Edie sat in silence thinking hard, again looking at the bright light.
"Microwave?" She said
"No," Houndstooth said, "Something you couldn't take with you"
Edie cursed herself.
"Okay second clue," He flipped the next card over, "They say this object is a man's castle"
Edie looked at him blank, he husband had been dead a long time, she hadn't known any other men.
"A castle?" She suggested? The crowd laughed.
"No Edie, like a man's castle, not actually a castle"
"Oh darn it."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to count that one. Last clue" He looked at a different card, "This is where you live"
"Cincinnati!" Edie said with no hesitation.
"I'm afraid not Edie," Houndstooth said with a frown.
The crowd ooohhh'd
"It's actually your house" And a large picture of her house came up on a screen behind them, "And let's take it over to the Guesstimator"
A large computer with blinking lights and terminal screens on it was hit by the spot light now.
"Hey Guesstimator!" Houndstooth called
"Hrm?" The machine said as if waking up. "Oh, hello Mr. Houndstooth. Got another one for me?"
"I sure do!"
"Well let's have it!" The machine said, "I sure do love guessing about things"
"Okay Guesstimater, here it comes" Houndstooth took the card with the answer on it and fed it into a slot next to his chair. The machine made some number crunching noises and along the light display at the top the words EDIE'S HOUSE scrolled across.
"Well Mr. Houndstooth, what should we do with this?" The machine asked rhetorically.
"I don't know," Houndstooth said smiling, "You tell me"
The crowd loved this and they laughed. Houndstooth turned to them with a smile, his hands up in defense.
"Let's see, according to my random calculations," The machine churned more numbers and at the bottom another screen light up, "Burn it down" Guesstimator said as the screen read the same thing.
The crowd let out a sigh.
"You heard him Edie," Houndstooth said turning to her. He pointed to the screen behind them where a live video feed showed several Guess What employees dousing her home in gasoline then setting the home on fire. "Let's hope you do better on the next one" He said as the screen went blank.
Edie didn't do much better on the next one, or the one after that. She managed to guess dog when they talked about her dog but that was an accident. She really said Doug, because when Houndstooth said "Someone you buy food for" she thought he meant Doug the little African kid she supported. But Houndstooth heard her wrong and they gave her the point anyway.
So far she had lost her house, her life insurance plan, her investments, her car, her favorite meat market and the bus line that ran in front of her house. Each time the Guesstimator had determined some cruel or unusual fate be bestowed up them. Edie thought this was harsh, but she was new to TV so she couldn't be sure.
At one point Houndstooth said "They tell you when you're tired and they take you to bed" Edie said eyes but he meant legs and the first two clues weren't very helpful either. When Houndstooth asked the Guesstimator what to do about Edie's legs he said she should cut them off. So Houndstooth gave her a saw and she pulled it through both her legs.
By this point there was a lot of blood on the stage and Edie had even vomited once or twice from exhaustion. But they had some doctors on hand to make sure the bleeding wasn't out of control and that made Edie feel better about everything in general.
She was surprised but glad that the audience had stayed. She couldn't believe anyone would be this thrilled to see little old her on TV for so long.
"Okay Edie." Houndstooth said with a calm smile finding her glassy eyes, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm doing great Mr. Houndstooth!" She said trying to raise her thumb, but she was a little too tired for that.
"That's good" He didn't touch her anymore "We've got one more question and its a special one. Are you ready?"
Edie nodded her head with a smile.
"Okay, first clue" He held up the card, "This group of people collectively earn over five-hundred thousand dollars a year"
Edie thought about it real hard, it was kind of hard to think when her stumps were still throbbing but she pushed past it.
"The President?" She said.
"No Edie," Houndstooth said, "A group of people. That means more than one. Next clue" He adjusted himself in his seat, "If you had all three of these people in a room, you could safely say you had something to talk to them about"
Edie knew a lot of people she could talk to, but just three? Who could it be?
"God?" She said
The crowd broke down laughing
"No, but that's a good one!" Houndstooth said, "We don't count triune-gods on this show"
Edie felt embarrassed. She only had one chance left and if it wasn't God, she didn't know what else she had to rely on.
"Last clue" Houndstooth said with a wry smile. His blue eyes no longer looked at Edie with love. They were expecting now.
"Everyone in this group has the same father"
Father? Edie thought. Who did she know that all had the same father? She couldn't think, her legs hurt very badly now and the lights had started to give her a head ache. She lingered on the questions.
"I need an answer Edie" Houndstooth pressed.
Edie shook her head. "I don't know"
"Give me something Edie," He pleaded, "Make something up"
"A robot" She said desperately and the crowd ate it up. They spat back at her with laughter and ridicule. Even Houndstooth joined in the laughing.
"A robot!?" He asked mockingly, "When I said make something up I assumed you knew I meant something plausible!"
She didn't know that, she didn't know anything anymore.
"No Edie, a robot is not the right answer." Houndstooth stood and walked towards the Guesstimator, "The right answer is --" And he motioned towards the curtain, "All the way from Cincinnati Ohio, Greg, Hank, and Trudy Longhorn! Your children!"
The curtain opened and behind it, bound to three chairs were poor Greg, Hank and Trudy. The look of fright compounded in their eyes as they saw Edie legless and in shock.
"Now Guesstimator," Houndstooth said putting his hand on the machine, "What do you think we should do about this one?"
"Well boss," The machine said clunking to life, "Let me see here." Guesstimator churned and crunched. The crowd was silent, Edie was silent, her children were silent and even Houndstooth seemed to wait in anticipation.
"Eat them" The machine said.
The crowd moaned.
"Well," Houndstooth said bringing a printed card over to Edie, "You heard the machine"
Edie nodded.
"Tell you what Edie," Houndstooth said, leaning down next to her and brushing some of the sweat-matted hair from her face, "You've had a rough day."
She nodded again.
"But did you have fun?"
She smiled, nodded her head a third time.
"That's good," Houndstooth brought back his nurturing smile, "How about this? What if I offer you the grand prize tonight even though you only got one point, if you go through with this last challenge?"
Edie thought about it, those were her children, the only ones she'd ever had or would ever have. But none of them had gotten her on TV. She filled out the form, she took the phone call. She answered all the questions, even if she did get them all wrong.
"I'll do it Mr. Houndstooth" She said through breaths.
"That's my girl!" Houndstooth said slapping her shoulder.
Her children were wheeled up to her on a table, bound still but covered in barbecue sauce. There was a gun on the table and she reached for it. Aiming it at her children's heads, she prepared them for dinner.
"Ladies and Gentlemen" Houndstooth said approaching the audience as Edie began to dig into her oldest son, "Help me by thanking Edie for being such a good sport tonight"
The crowd cheered and applauded.
"I'd like to thank our sponsors tonight, and the network as always. Remember that anyone can be a contestant on Guess What, just go to your local supermarket, bank or any other participating retailer and fill out a simple questionnaire. I'm Hunter Houndstooth and thanks for watching, Guess What?!"
The band found its groove again and kicked it in as the audience danced to the beat presented. Houndstooth stopped for a moment to look at Edie barely halfway through her first born, covered in BBQ sauce. She didn't notice as she choked it all down that he disappeared behind the curtain to get ready for another show.

The Day of the Meat - Jeph Porter

Have you ever been caught masturbating? Me either, but I always worry about it. I'm always so afraid that someone is going to see me doing this act that is terrible and horrible. Why? I know everyone else is doing it, no matter what they say. Even the ladies are doing it and if they really aren't doing it, then I wouldn't want to be locked in a room with them on a bad day.
Everyone masturbates and everyone is ashamed of it. Is masturbation some kind of left over animal act that we can't seem to shake from our higher selves? I don't know, perhaps. But the point is that I bet if you asked ten people nine of them would say that one of their biggest fears is getting caught masturbating. And the one person who wouldn't mind is probably into some weird stuff.
And I'm not sure what part of masturbating is shameful? Is it the actual act or is it the material one requires to achieve, the desired result. Whether it be a magazine, the depths of the Internet or some kind of mechanical device coupled with memories pulled fresh from the spank bank, the material is both specific and generic but obviously a tool for whacking the weeds. Do I mind if my roommate sees me grasping my erect member and stroking it like its the last thing I'll ever do? Or do I worry more that he'll see some painted whore devouring another mans pleasure rod through a hole in a gas station bathroom? Am I displacing my consciousness? Is the act of visualization so intense that I feel like my roommate has caught me getting my meat tube yanked in the dirty grimy, disease filled cesspool of a bathroom?
Of course not. Right? Right? Or is this another one of those lingering animal traits floating in our brains that somehow tricks us just for a second into believing that the dirty vile act we are watching is some how our responsibility, somehow our fault? Or is it the fact that things we like to see in our smut are things normal society wouldn't agree with? But doesn't everyone masturbate? Doesn't everyone want to see that slut get cum all over her glasses? Her glasses! White hot male body fluid splashed on a nice pair of horn rimmed Walgreen's glasses. So arbitrary yet so so hot.
And this is what I was thinking about as I pulled my hand from hot mess of my crotch and stopped the video playing on my laptop. The pale redheaded girl stopped bouncing, her mouth stopped in a permanent "O". Two seconds ago she had been the answer to all my problems, the missing puzzle piece to the -- who the hell is she? How much sex do you think she has? Do you think she cries when she's alone?
Well there goes any chance at a second go around.
I turned off my laptop and dropped it to the floor, cleaned my mess and flipped the light off. Another night, another day over, capped off with an empty shot in the dark.

I woke up late, forgot to set my alarm, and I thought, fuck it I'm already late might as well take another few minutes and really get that sleep I need. Just five more minutes of sleep and I'll feel so much better about it. I'll get that project done at work my boss has been asking about and he won't care if I was late. I'll go to bed early tonight so I can get in to work early tomorrow. I roll over, away from the window and away from the sunlight reminding me what time it is and grasp a hold of the strange woman who smells like beer and cigarettes lying next to me in bed.
Her skin is naked and pale. There are zits on her back which I try and remember if I've seen before. I don't remember her having zits on her back. I do remember her red hair though and when I sit up to look at her closer I recognize that heavy blue eye shadow and that red lipstick painted on her face like a billboard.
My heart jumps into my throat and I jump out of bed. The girl stirs and turns to look at me. She yawns, smiles and stretches her arms revealing her naked chest and she lets it dangled out from under the covers with no inhibition.
"Who the..." I stuttered, "What the..." I stuttered again.
"What the fuck!" I manage to complete.
She smiles coils her arms into her chest and rolls to face me, nestling her head on the pillow. I can't speak, I've said the only thing my brain can mange to make sense of so I just stare, taking it in, processing it, grasping for something.
"Come back to bed" She says through parted lips, the glint of her tongue ring just visible, and she pats the now empty spot where I was laying.
"Who are you?" I say, laughing as if this is my fault, as if I've forgotten something. Did I go out last night? Did someone come over? Did I do this in my sleep? And as I run through the events of the latter evening the only thing that I can connect to this red headed, potch faced, pale, naked woman lying in my bed is the phrase: Small Titted Redhead Loves to Suck Cock and Fuck
Small Titted Redhead Loves to Suck Cock and Fuck? What the fuck does that mean!? Small Titted Redhead Loves to Suck....Oh Jesus. It hits me like a ton of bricks because that's the only way something like this can hit you. This girl, she can't be older than twenty, is the very same vile thing I was pleasuring myself to before bed. Except here she is, flesh and blood, not images and progress bars.
"You're..." I can't say it.
"What?" She asks, her eyes closed.
"I have to go to work" I say, leaving the room.

The bus is crowded, school has started and all the students are packed onto the public bus. I thought they had their own buses. And to make matters worse, my redheaded friend has decided to come to work with me. I couldn't stop her, she just got dressed, in the same lime green barely one piece she was wearing in the video. I tried to lose her, lock my door behind her, jump on the bus before she could, but she was quick and on top of it. I noticed I wasn't the only one walking around with a scantily dressed whore by my side. Mr. Jurkowski, the produce store owner stood with a six foot tall black woman. She had on a leopard print dress and tall silver high heels with laces wrapping up to her knees. Mr. Jurkowski was misting his fruit and she was filing her nails. Mr. Jurkowski didn't seem to mind her, but he also didn't seem to enjoy her.
Had this woman always worked for Mr. Jurkowski or was he suffering the same plight as I? On the bus a number of high school boys sat sheepishly with their supermodels and a number of them sat next to other girls, wearing the same uniform as them, which I wouldn't have thought anything of save the fact that at the other end of the bus I saw girls that looked just like them heads to the ground with red cheeks.
I ran across the parking lot to my building, my redheaded stalker high heels clacking on the pavement in pursuit, and saw several of the other people who worked in the building arriving late, some walking quickly like me with a person in tow and others alone. I later figured these people must have figured how to get rid of their follower or just simple hadn't masturbated that evening prior.
I opened the fridge in the lunch room and stuffed my lunch in the back. My redheaded better half was eying the vending machine and I wondered if she was hungry.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"MmmHmm," She cooed, "I'm hungry for you baby"
"Oh, well," I said, "I've got a meeting first thing here, so maybe after?" But she wasn't paying attention, she was opening the drawers and taking whatever real silverware was in there and stuffing it in her purse.
The meeting was awkward. I wasn't the only one with company but I could see my boss' nervous glances at us, as he tried to pretend their wasn't a large Mexican woman next to him walking in circles that shook her generous thighs threatening to tear the cut off jean skirt somehow attached to her over-ripened belly. No, it was business as usual.
"Where's Gregg?" He called in my general direction.
"I'm not sure, late?" I suggested.
"Late, there's no excuse to be late!" He boomed in what I'm sure was real sincerity.
Gregg was a guy who once got me a whole hard drive full of Japanese Anime porn for my birthday. He was one of those guys that you saw in the hall and really wanted to like because he was different than everyone else in the office, but you also didn't want to talk to for too long because he was different than everyone else in the office. Gregg was into some weird shit.
"I want someone on the phone with Gregg right now, we've got deadlines and he's not helping," my boss commanded to a young woman who sat next to what I'm sure was a member of the Backstreet Boys. She rose and pulling out her cell phone dived into the hall to make the call. Her companion boy followed quickly trying to hold the door for her which she in turn tried to force close behind him.
"Now," my boss said, " I don't want anyone to make excuses for why things aren't getting done." He batted away the playful fingers of his Chica and continued steely eyed forward. "This is still a place of business and it will always be that, no matter what!"
I shot my hand up.
"Yes, goddamn it, this isn't elementary school!"
"Sorry sir," I said clearing my throat, "But don't you think we should maybe - "
"No!" his voice echoing like a shotgun across the room. All eyes were on me, and I pulled the air into my throat with a gulp.
"I'm just saying maybe today isn't - "
"I said no, goddammit!" He stood, slammed his palm on the table. His Chica burst into a clap, "Today, we are a business, just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow! Today is no different!"
I leaned back in my chair and nodded. My redheaded friend pulled a pack of bubble gum from her purse and popped a piece in her mouth. Today was going to be a long day.

I ran into Helen, the woman with the boy band fixation, on the way out and she wouldn't meet me in the eye.
"How's Gregg?" I asked.
"He's fine!" She said, bolting for the conference room.
"He coming in?" I called after her. She turned, looked at me and darted her head down as her friend put his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them.
"No, he's spending the day with his mother" She said and pushed the man's hands off her, slipping into the conference room where our boss was trying desperately to fend off the advancing woman, now crawling over the table. I sighed, Gregg had the project logs for the latest campaign we both worked on and I needed them to finish the package. And I sighed again because I knew Gregg's mother had died a few years ago.

I couldn't work, sitting in my office was bothersome. My redheaded visitor didn't come onto me as much as others seem to but still having her in the room, smelling like cheap perfume and unabashedly planting her feet on my desk as she sat across from me exposing her shorn lady parts seemed to make me sad in a way.
"Do you have a name?" I asked her.
She nodded, "Starlett."
"Is that your real name?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"So should I just call you Starlett?"
She nodded again.
"Where're you from Starlett?"
She tossed her head back, letting out a sigh of frustration.
"Sorry," I said trying hard to think of another topic of conversation but I gave up when Starlett hiked up her skirt and began to masturbate.
There was a knock at the door and it was Tim. He held a cup of coffee and was alone.
"This yours?" He asked, nodding towards the moaning Starlett.
"It is" I said with a frown.
"You fuck her yet?" He asked.
"No!" I said shocked. "Why would I fuck her?"
"Well I mean," Tim shrugged his shoulders and nodded at the porn star masturbating on my desk.
He had a point, I had chosen her out of some sort of shallow desire for sexual gratification I might as well get it. But now that she was here, in the flesh, the pale, bumpy, zit marked flesh, it didn't seem right.
"You're a lucky bastard" Tim said, "I went out and got laid night"
"I'm lucky!" I said in protest.
"Yeah!" Tim said, "I bagged some forty year old cougar with stretch marks and called it a night. Now you got yourself a young porn star and I got nothing"
"I guess," I said trying to find the benefit.
"But how long is she going to be here?"
"She eat?"
"No"
"Then she's invincible"
"What?"
"People are talking about how you can't kill them. They throw them off buildings, shoot them, cut them and nothing."
"What the hell?"
"Crazy" Tim stepped a little further into the office to get a better view of Starlett as she began to climax. "You mind?"
I shrugged and gestured an open hand telling him to be my guest. And we both watched as Starlett let a violent explosion of fluid come out of her. It splashed onto my desk and Tim jumped back just missing the splash back.
"Jesus!"
"Yeah, she does that." I said with disdain.
"You lucky fucker" Tim said shaking is head and making for the door. "Hey did you see Kale?"
"No"
"Fucker came in with a fifteen year old girl"
"Sick"
"I know, I can't believe he came into work" Tim nodded at me, and smiled at Starlett before he left.

I pulled my lunch from the fridge and found a place at the table, Tripp was the only other person in the room, well, that and our friends. His was a plain looking girl, with blond hair and a loose fitting t-shirt on. She was probably in her late twenties early thirties and didn't look like the type one would normally get off to.
"Hey Tripp" I said sitting down.
He glared at me and took another bite of his sandwich.
"Whose your friend?" I asked.
"Fuck you" He said, tossing his sandwich down and making for the exit.

I was instructed to finish the project with or without Gregg and so in a vain attempt to make up for the missing project logs I threw together a few samples of our design templates as best I could remember and without Gregg's oppressive influence.
"To flashy," my boss barked as I stood in his office, "We're not MTV"
He tossed the specs down on his desk and I reached for them with one hand while the other fended off Starlett's advances.
"I just thought our color scheme could use an update," I suggested in defense.
"Look kid-" my boss began but was cut of by a loud thud coming from his closet. My eyes darted towards it but his stayed locked on me, silently telling me to ignore whatever it was in his closet trying to get out.
"I've been in this business a long time," he continued, "And in all those years we've never updated our color scheme because we've never had to."
"Okay," I said swallowing my frustration with an obvious distain. But my indignant conveyance was lost on my boss as Starlett rubbed her hands up and down my legs.
"I know you like all that flash shit," he went on un-phased, "but save it for your own stuff. I know what our customers like"
"Sure," I pushed Starlett to the ground.
"Have Gregg look at these tomorrow, see what he can do with them"
"Sounds good"
The closet door rattled violently, catching even Starlett's attention. My boss only winced a little before asking me quietly to leave.
A cue I took immediately and hastily.

I was really surprised how many people showed up to work. Randy in accounting showed up with a man dressed as a plumber and he managed to get all his work done regardless. I think I saw at least ten Paris Hiltons and one or two Pamela Anderson for some of the older guys. Tom the receptionist was with himself, the other one wearing a pair of leather chaps, only. I was surprised how little variety their was though. Mostly just blond, fake breasted porn stars for the men and strong confident male celebrities for the women. Maybe it was just my office, maybe at the colleges things were a lot worse. But it made me wonder what we all had to be ashamed of. Not only were we all masturbating for the most part, but we where all masturbating to the same stuff.
As I was walking across the lobby at the end of the day, looking at the various incarnations of people's secret desires I kind of chuckled. Here we were faced with exactly what we wanted on a purely sexual shallow level and we were ashamed of it. We were ashamed to have shallow thoughts, shallow desires. But these thoughts were probably some of the purest, most solid and confident ideas we had ever had in our lives and we were ducking our heads to the ground. I looked at Starlett as she walked next to me, her high heels clapping along the ground and I put my arm around her waist. I brought her in close and I looked at her. Her hollow eyes, tired like mine were. He pulsating nostrils breathing in the same air as mine. She was a pure thought, a pure desire and I wasn't ashamed of her. I pulled her red painted lips to mine and embraced her for all to see.
Her tongue forced its way into my mouth and it tasted like stale cigarettes. Her hand grabbed my crotch with force and yanked on it violently. I tried to pull away put she wouldn't let me. People began to stare as I danced with her in a struggle to get free. She tore my shirt off and ran her long sharp nails across my chest pushing me towards a bench. I landed hard and she straddled me, her nakedness easily exposing itself. I looked around and saw other men and woman with grins on their faces and saw as they grasped their partners and began to dance with them as well. The lobby floor of my building quickly turned into an orgy scene that would make Marquette De Sade blush. Whips, chains, the howls of animals and the cries of passion lifted across the city.

The next morning, the disheveled news anchor reported that all the visitors had disappeared. It was unexplained and unheard of. Paris Hilton was suing twenty million people over claims of an authentic sex tape. I sat in my living room, naked and let the sun crawl across the floor to meet me. I wasn't going into work today and I wasn't going into work tomorrow. I was going to take a few days off and figure out what I was doing with my life. I didn't want to work a job where I was ashamed of my thoughts. I didn't want to live a life where I was ashamed of my thoughts.
I grabbed a bottle of apple juice from the fridge and drank it straight from the bottle, dribbles of it running down my chest and getting lost in the mess of pubic hair at the crux of my legs. My roommate sat on his bed, naked also and staring at something in his mind. I walked out onto the back porch and stretched my arms. It was a new day, a beautiful day and anything was possible. I had a full day planned in my head of things I've been meaning to do. But before I did that, I was going to take a minute and masturbate.

Welcome

Welcome to Mouldy Bred - this will be a collection of short stories by myself and possibly other people if anyone is interested. Check back periodically for updates or subscribe with your favorite RSS reader. I'd love to hear feedback from anyone as well.

Thanks!

Jeph