Dildo or Vibrator?

It’s 1:51 AM, I’m in Monterey pulling hi-resolution pictures off a NASA website and merging them into a stunning time lapse photography video taken from the International Space Station of the Aurora Borealis over Earth with city lights below, when my friend Matt calls me up from LA.

    I normally don’t answer my phone and just let it go to voicemail even when it’s friends or family calling, but Matt always has something unique to say.

    “Dude, Dildo or Vibrator? I need to know.”

    “Are you fucking high?”

    “Yes, and I’m at the Hustler Store in Hollywood and I wanna buy Annabelle a toy.”

    “Who the fuck is Annabelle?”

    “My younger sister Dude!”

    I take another drink of beer and lean back in my chair.

    “Are you trying to play a joke on her or something?”

    “No Dude, she’s going to college. I wanna make sure she’s hitting the books harder than the cock. So I figured I send her off proper. And I forgot her birthday last week but I found a $100 gift card in my car when I was cleaning it and thought, why not? Why you think it’s a bad idea?”

    “I think it’s inspired.”

    “Exactly, so you going to help me figure out what to get her or what?”

    “Alright I’ll take the bait.  What does she look like?”

    “Why do you wanna know?”

    “Because I can tell what a girl would prefer just by looking at her.”


    “It’s a gift.”

    Honestly I’m just curious.

    “I’m not showing you pictures of my sister.”

    “And yet you ask me Vibrator or Dildo?”

    “Dildo or Vibrator. I said Dildo or Vibrator. Check your dyslexia.”

    “The fuck does it matter.  Buy her both.”

    “Dude, this shit is expensive. Have you bought one of these lately?”

    “No, no I have not.”

    “And why would I buy her two?  What if she uses both of them at the same time?”

    I drink my beer in a moment of silence as we both ponder that thought.

    “Look, have you asked her what she would prefer?”

    “Hell no, that would be weird. I just want to surprise her.”

    “How old is she?”


    “And she’s just going to college now?”

    “She did two years in community. Transferring to Chapman.”

    “Aren’t you a little late with the Dildo and or Vibrator then?”

    “It’s the thought that counts… What the fuck is this?”   


    “Hold on…”

    There’s some muffled talking in the background.

    “Dude! Women don’t have prostates!”


    More muffled talking.

    “Never mind, the Sexual Expert here, what’s your name… Bethany? Bethany says they do, something called the Skene’s gland, which has been renamed the female prostate by the medical community.”

    “Good to know Matt.”

I get another beer.

    “No, no, no…  Nothing black. I don’t want her getting any ideas.”


    “Half the toys here are black, purple, or skin colored.”

    “You never were that good at math were you.”

    “Whatever. I’ll get her something purple and nothing over six and a half inches. I don’t want her to be ruined on her wedding day. Oh that looks awesome!  Dude, ever heard of the Ultra Thin Jelly Delights Vibe.”

    “I have not.”

    “It’s six and a half inches, and looks like a fucking purple circumcised gummy bear’s dick!  I’ll take it!  Wrap that bitch up!  Wait, I still got more money to spend…”

    “How exactly do you plan to spring these gifts on her? Are you going to just drop her off at school on the first day and be like ‘Don’t forget your sex toys’?”

    Matt laughs. “Yeah!  I think I will.”

    More muffled conversation with Bethany.

    “7th Motherfucking Heaven Platinum Rabbit Pearl!  Dude!  This is the one!  This is the fucking light saber of vibrators! Oh man, it’s $69.95, I’m in a moral quandary now and the store is getting ready to close in like five minutes.”

    “How much was the Purple Gummy Bear Vibrator?”

    “$27.95, plus $69.95, and with tax I don’t think I can get both.”

    “Just toss in another seven bucks on the gift card and you should be good.”

    “I don’t know… They both need batteries.  And what if she likes one more than the other? I don’t want to get her one she doesn’t use.”

    “Then lose the Gummy Vibrator and swap it out for a regular old fashioned dildo that doesn’t need batteries and costs less.”

    “But the Gummy Vibrator is cool as fuck.”

    “Is it the light saber of vibrators?”

    “Good point. Fuck it I can’t look at dick anymore and Hustler is closing up. I’m just going to get her the Rabbit and give her the gift card with the remaining balance written on the back. She’s a big girl, time to make her own decisions.”

    “Alright man, good luck with that. What’s she studying by the way?”

    “I don’t know, Anthropology, Cultural Anthropology, or some other fucking worthless dirt worshiping bullshit like that.”

    “Hey, at least she’s not going for literature.”

    “True that. Oh yeah!  And happy birthday dude! Do you want anything?”

    “No, I’m good on that.”

    “Drinks then, next time you are in town.”


    “Alright, I’ll let you get back to your booze and pornography now.”

    “What makes you think I’m drinking?”

    “The fuck else would you be doing in Monterey at this time of night?”

    “I’ll give you that one.”

    We hang up.

    I set my time lapse project to render, get another beer, and walk out onto my patio. Looking out across the Monterey Bay at night I can see the flickering lights of Seaside, Marina, and all the way up the coast to Santa Cruz. 

    It’s beautiful but all I can think about are the good old fucked up days back in LA…

Cocker Spaniels from Hell

12:45 Sunday July 16th, 2012
ARMY Recon Chopper – 500 Feet in the Air
Every man, woman, and child was ripped apart in the town of Powell, Wyoming.
     “The cocker spaniels are on the move, heading north East about 12-15 miles an hour,” Captain Hillard said to General Graft.
     “Start the evacuation of Cody,” General Graft said into the microphone of his helmet.

1:15 PM Sunday July 16th, 2012
3rd Street Catholic Church, Cody, Wyoming – Emergency Response Town Meeting
     A man stormed into the middle of the meeting.  He was sweating, with grass stains on the knees of his jeans, holding a bottle of Jim Bean Whiskey.
     “Can we help you?” the Priest asked.
     “Now listen up!  I’ve killed every kind of beast your heathen God has shat into existence.  Vampires, Werewolves, Mummies, Asian Trolls, Warlocks, I even fucked a Witch once but I never killed one, fucking should have though…  Dirty bitch.”  He took a swig from the bottle.  “Also shot down three alien space ships, started a riot in Harlem, and stole the frozen head of Walt Disney.”
     A young woman, a third grade teacher, who was often talked about by the PTA as a possible “lesbian” on account of her never been seen with a man, raised a hand.  He gestured at her with the bottle of Jim Bean.
     “Sugar tits,” he said.
     She flinched slightly before speaking and the blood rushed into her cheeks. “Who are you?” she asked.
     “Jimbo.  And that’s all you need to know.”
     “Frankly, your language is appalling and I think you must be crazy.  Vampires?   There’s no such thing as Vampires.”
     “As of yesterday there was no such thing as killer cocker spaniels.  But today is today and what the fuck do you know about Vampires?  You live in Cody, Iowa.”
     “Cody, Wyoming,” the Priest informed him.
     “I don’t know, nor do I care,” he took another swig.  “What I do know is that you are plagued by a pack of vicious cocker spaniels.  Let’s face it.  You may like cock,” he winked at the Priest.  “But I don’t.  And I fucking hate the Spanish.  We’re going to get every man, woman, and child a firearm and a sharp stick.  We ain’t taking no fucking prisoners!”
     “You need to leave right now,” the Priest said.
     “I ain’t no ten year old boy, I don’t have to do what you say.”
     “Now that’s just uncalled for,” said a large man standing up in the front row.
     “Look at all you peasants getting riled up.  Liable to let you just get eaten by the beasts at this rate.  Haven’t even discussed my fees yet.”
     “No, we aren’t paying you a dime,” an obese woman in a flower print dress said.
     “Son, you’ve 30 seconds before I lock you up for being an asshole!” the Sherriff said.  A collection of clapping came from the crowd.
     Jimbo turned around and started walking out.
     “And don’t come back!” the flower print dress woman yelled.
     Jimbo suddenly stumbled and then raced for the communion fountain.  He began to throw up into the holy water a roast beef sandwich he’d stolen for breakfast earlier.
     “Oh Jesus!” could be heard coming from a few of them.
     When Jimbo was done he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then took another drink spitting it back out on the ground.
     “I even shot my own dog when it got the rabies…  Pay me the $500 bucks and some of you might just make it to tomorrow.”
     He walked out drinking the rest of the bottle.
     A confused roar of comments came from the crowd.
     “That man is crazy!” “Who does he think he is?” “Alcoholic!”  “Must be from Canada.” “In the fountain.”  “Baby Jesus!” “$500!”  “Was that dried semen on the front of his pants?” “Vampires!” “Disgusting!” “He should be arrested.”  And so on…
     But slowly the sound of howling in the distance quieted them.  The beasts were approaching.
     “Maybe $500 isn’t so bad,” someone said.

200 Bucks an Hour: Chapter 1 “Getting Head”

Oh God… woke up in a pool of blood again, on the hard wood floor, in the middle of my studio apartment.
     Shit, not since last Tuesday, the day I gave up drinking have I woken up covered in blood, but this time it wasn’t my own.  At least I couldn’t feel any cuts.  I laid there for about five minutes, slowly blinking as I stared at my ceiling.
     I just knew Jesus was going to fuck with me today.
     My cell phone started vibrating in my pants pocket.
     “Hello,” I said.
     “She’s mad at me, Christian, like real mad.  But I’m working on her.  Writing her poetry.”  It was Paul.
     He’s a fucking psycho, naturally my best friend.
     “What kind of poetry?” I asked.
     “Poetry of the Chucha.”
     “The what?”
     “Chucha; it’s Colombian for vagina.  I dated one once.”
     I didn’t say anything.
     “A Colombian.  I dated a Colombian.”
     What I did next wasn’t quite sitting up, more like rolling into a seated position with a very sticky peeling kind of noise.  My shirt was gone and the blood had turned into a thick, gooey substance.
     “I can’t talk right now, Paul,”
     “Man, she’s saying all kinds of crazy shit!  Like she needs to experience the world, she needs to travel.  The fuck does that mean?  Does that mean she wants to suck off some European guy’s dick?  Or dicks plural?”
     “Not now.”
     “Dude, I need your wisdom, your empathy, your gift.  I need to know what you know!”
     “Later.” I hung up.
     I looked up at the clock on my VCR and noticed it read 12:35 PM.  I was supposed to have logged in with base over two and a half hours ago.  They would be pissed.
     No…  You can wait…  Cocksuckers.
     My apartment was in shambles.  You could build furniture out the number of beer bottles in there.  Could hold them together with the number of panties on the ground.  A sea of panties…  How the fuck did I get this much lingerie on my floor?
     It will come back to me.  I am sure of that.  Noticed one of the recovery bags lying on the floor on its side.  Something is wrong…  Something besides the pool of blood, something…  Fuck it, I need to tinkle.
     That’s what the ladies call it when they sit on the toilet to piss.  Head hurt too much to stand or aim.  For some reason my bathroom had carpet.  Everything else in this apartment had hard wood floors.  Some immigrant bastard must have had this installed before I started living here.  I imagine an obese Persian woman covered in Gold Chains.
     My cock starts to get hard as I think about the third coming war in Iran.  Third time is the charm they say.  I shall have to get cable again to watch it.
     It’s too hard to finish pissing in this position.  I’ll finish in the shower.
     I get up, flush, because I’m a Nancy that way and get into the shower.  I turn the water on, and stick my head under it.  I look down and see the head of a man looking back up at me from the base of the drain.  It was the severed head of Mr. Forrester.
     Money shot back in time 8 hours.  I’m drinking…  Not that I lied about the Tuesday thing, I more just forgot about this one.  I think it’s Thursday, or maybe Friday.  Arbitrary.  Anyone of the days that end in a Y is Arbitrary.  And no, I don’t really know what that word means.
     Anyway, I was drinking this piss swill with these two Canadian chicks down the hallway that I had bought in some shit ass Thai grocery store.  They were cousins, they were drunk and I wanted to watch them go at it while I jerked off from my chair.
     But one of them, she wanted ice.
     “Do you have any ice?” she asked me in between kissing her cousins neck and ears.
     I would be referring to them by name, but I don’t really remember them.  I couldn’t separate them by hair color, because they both had long black hair, same sexy ass and titties, shit they even had the same color thongs.  Perhaps they shared them.  The only separating factor between them was that one had nipple rings and the other didn’t.
     “Ice?  Holly fuck that’s what I’ve got plenty of,” I got up and walked over to my ice machine.  Not a freezer, a full blown ice machine.
     “Why do you have that?” Nipple Rings asked.
     “For my job.”
     “You’re an X-Ray technician, right?”
     “A what?  Fuck no, I don’t give people cancer!  I’m a goddamned Crio-Regeneration Retrieval Specialist.”
     “What do you do?” the other one asked.
     “First, what is the shittiest shit job you ever had?” I asked.
     “Customer Service.” Simultaneous answer from both of them.
     “O…  You know that child rapist Walt Disney?  Well, when he died he had his body frozen so some day when science allowed it, they would thaw him out and bring him back to life.  I work for Criozine.  That’s what we do.  Freeze rich bastards.” I grab a hand full of ice and walk over putting it into a glass in my kitchen.  “Now take her shirt off…  I want to see how you Canadians lick nips.”
They both took each other’s shirts off…
     “Good Canadians…” I said as I poured beer into the glass.
     “I thought Walt Disney was turned?” one of them said.
     “Turned?” I asked.
     “Yea, wasn’t he one of the first?”
     “I thought Monroe was?”
     “No, she’s dead,”
     “No, she’s not.  That’s just her publicist or agent covering it all up so she could go on vacation.”
     “Does it work?” one of them asked.
     “My dick?”
     “No, the crio-freezing?”
     I grabbed another beer bottle out of the fridge, it’s only my 10th, and walked back over to them handing one the glass with ice.
     “Fuck no…  It’s bullshit, because once you freeze them each cell in the body expands, because guess what water does when you freeze it?  Yea, it expands.  So each cell ruptures like a little frozen tomato.”
     “So why do they do it?”
     “Fucking retards that’s why… and rich retards at that.  250 K to have your body frozen and stored for 20 years.  And for half a million you can get a 75 year contract.”
     “Were do they store the bodies?”
     “I don’t know, Arizona or some other shit ass state.  Yea, make her nipples hard,” I threw half the bottle back as I watched her tongue work industriously over the hard nipples.
     “Does it pay well?” She started pushing the other girl’s head down across her tummy and further south.
     “Like 500 a run.  A run takes about two hours…”
     “Sounds pretty good…” She starts panting as her cousin begins to unbutton her pants.
     “Technically yea, it’s good…  But I’m new, so I’m on recovery and prep.  It’s the shit work.”
     “What do you have to do exactly…?” Panties are coming down.
     “…I…  I’m on short orders.  That means when they die, I have to go in and saw their heads off…    They can’t afford a full body storage.”
     She’s found the clit.  I drink the rest of the Thai beer as I watch her tongue undulate against it.
     “I even had to buy my own hack saw…” I muttered.
     “Put it in her from behind while she eats me,”
     I started unzipping.
     “Wait…” the one between the thighs said.
     “What?” I asked.
     “Get me a glass of ice too…  I want to show you both a neat little trick.”
     I walked over to the ice machine taking my shirt off, my cock falling out over my underwear magically.  But no…  There’s no ice left in the machine.  It’s out of water.  Shit!
     “The machine is out of ice,” … stall while you think of something…  “Plus, we have to wear suits, black ties, black shirts, and black shoes.  We are allowed the flair option of a grey handkerchief, but only out the suit’s left chest pocket.”
     “I don’t believe you,” the girl licking slit said.
     “No, I’m serious.”
     “Prove it.”
     “OK,” I said.
     I went over to the recovery and prep bag on the counter and unzipped it and pulled the head of Mr. Forrester out by the hair.
     They started screaming.
     “I meant about the ice!” one of them yelled.
     I tossed the head into the bathroom laughing.
     “Don’t worry about it, it’s gone.”
     “A fucking head!”
     Then it gets hazy…
     Last thing I remember was reaching out for a pair of exposed titties before falling over to the floor and dragging the bag of blood soaked ice with me.
     Back to drunken reality, and for the record, this waking up shit is over rated…
     “Fucking Canadians…” I muttered as I kicked the head to the back of the tub and continued showering.  The hair was clogging the drain.
     It took almost half an hour of scrubbing with my toothbrush to get most of the blood off.  Not all of it, most of it.
     God was fucking with me; I could feel it…
     …going to have to buy a new toothbrush and some more beer.