He’s bankrupt and a premature ejaculator.

April 12, 2010

IN the spring of 1995 I was attending the University of Pittsburgh and I regularly parked at the Soldier and Sailors parking garage in the Oakland section of Pittsburgh. After class, I headed back to my car and end up somewhere on a back road in Washington in what had become a routine. One warm sun day of long wintery shadows was different, as I noticed the grocery bag next to my left front tire that wasn’t there when I parked. Could it be – a gift from the long silent Porno Fairy? Even in this burgeoning age of Internet porn thumbnails, I would have still been grateful for his pot o’ gold; in my youth found in the form of Juggs and Oui in Town Park scattered among condoms and used sharps. It turned out to be from a fairy alright; and the only silence here was equal to death. I’m not sure if it was because the audience in the city was different than that of small town Canonsburg or if his tastes had so drastically changed along with the times. There wasn’t one straight magazine in the lot. It was all hardcore full on gay anal sex and dick sucking. My smile faded to a frown as this gleaming treasure was the masturbation equivalent of pyrite. A few issues of a very different genere were there as well and they focusing on infantile role playing – where dudes dress up as babies and wear diapers…and soil them. I was definitely taking these for my zine publishing endeavor.

I also knew the potential of gay pornography to some funny end – a joke whose punch line I would probably never know.

LATER that year, the first issue of my zine included one of the infantile images. Part of a paste up that included a valley girl and associated slogans. The image of a fat ass guy with a total molester mustachio in a bonnet and bib with a giant rattle.

The stuff i never used was even better. Order forms and pictures of stuff to complete your ‘nursery’ like patent leather Mary Jane shoes up to a men’s size 15, adult sized cribs and cloth diapers. In a seperate accordian folder, manlove, cock suck, ass fuck supreme remained, literally unloved. It was always in the back of my mind. I kept thinking how funny it would be if something happened to me and the family member cleaning out my cabinet finding piles of choice ephemira with the inability to understand the worth and potential of the images, designs and texts.

“Holy Fuck! He’s a fag!”

A punch line that I wouldn’t know for sure with me playing the great comedic victim instead of an unsuspecting mark.

A few years pass and Dead Mike, my best friend at the age of 8, mentioned that his neighbor had recently moved back into his parent’s house with his new bride in tow. She was a chick a few years younger than his neighbor that graduated in our class. We used to clown her because she was dumb. And not just any dumb – you know the way a cow looks at you when you roll up to it whilst it chews cud – almost seemingly through you wholey unaware of it’s own existence? She was that sort of dumb. Cow dumb.

She was every woman in college who would get drunk at frat parties hoping to get taken advantage of. Sort of cute but sloppy with smeared lipstick and full, round titties. The guy that eventually bites to the “you took advantage of me; I love you” nuances is who she marries, has kids with and divorces. I almost felt bad for her upon hearing that she married this cock. Similar I suppose that is vaguely similar to the the way I feel about the retarded people that are exploited in fast food joints.

Terry was one of the most horrible people that I have ever known. He was the type of guy that made fun of retarded fast food workers and meant it. The type of teen that would run over a cat in the road and laugh as it tumbles end over end in his rearview. He was the most cunty cunt. Always a loud mouth yet never actually fighting. He had a douche crew of five to six dildos at any given time with pegged jeans and collar popped golf shirts that were like the gnashing pittbulls in a DMX videos. They enveloped him and were quick to jump in to any fight he’d start. Like with me, one, overweight solo punk. Every single one of them a potpourri of cliché movie characters. A judicious blend of Teen Wolf; Mike Seaver; Alex P. Keaton and Biff from Back to The Future. Chet from Weird Science in a short, Eisenhower style Chess King Jacket. I’ve often suspected that if you caught any of these fucks alone (including Terry) without a baseball bat or bike chain, the outcome would be most different. But they were never alone. And they never were without some type of weapons close at hand. I often wondered what the draw was to Terry – did he blow them or pay them?

Maybe both.

I hadn’t thought about this guy for years, and the mention of his name was like a worm hole back to 1987. Instantly I knew where the Man Love collection was going.

I select graphic images of full on, man on man anal DP and cock sucking, labeling each of the fuckers after the members of the Deuche Crue. His confusion would be high and turn to an intense anger as his rock-dumb wife would start yamering and asking those questions with obvious answers. involved, asking a million questions with an ingenuine inflection of shock: “What is that!”

A letter was also included. It utilized a font that resembling poor handwriting; this at a time when people were not as medium savvy as they are today. It was from L. Neski, another local creep that went to high school with us. Why Len? Because he had recently appeared in the police reports for chocking his girlfriend with an extension cord until she was unconscious. It was also a plus that we was crazy, like spent time in a suburban hospital mental floor and could be found walking the streets of Canonsburg any time day or night. These two diserved each others destiny:

“…rent me a room so I dont half to beat u down and tell everyone the truth that ur a faggit!”

A few years go by and I run into Dead Mike again. We left off with his neighbor and that’s where he picked up. He laughs at the gag and thinks it’s fucking great.

Twelve years pass and the name Terry comes up again, this time mentioned by a coworker. He hates the guy and his wife.

As time goes on, my coworker friend lets me in on the Maury episode that Terry’s life is becoming. Terry started fucking a “friends” wife that works for him. Suspicion confirmed when his wife asked for a divorce and he managed to record her talking to Terry on more than a few occasions. A typical call:

“I want to leave some stains in your bed for the Pig (Terry’s wife) to find.”

“Once she moves out of the house, we can get a new bed.”

Apparently he has found someone dumber than his own wife. Terry makes about 300K a year and after alimony and child support that is going to leave him enough for KOA lot fees for his Motor Home.

Adam and Bill’s wives are friends and she admits the affair to Bill’s wife and asked why she was, “not cheating” on Bill. She said that he was no good and that Terry mentioned to her that he suspects Bill’s wife “wants him and is probably jealous” that she is not “with him.” I have seen a picture of him recently and he looks like he weighs in at over 300 lbs; his hairline has receded to the middle of his head.

Wow; twenty years on and nothing has changed with this fucker but the packaging. A cool, middle age, midlife crisis package with a self opinion not based in reality. Adam did get even. He talked to Terry’s wife as well as discussed the situation with mutual friends that happened to be clients of Terry’s financial practice. Several severed ties. It seems as though it is not enough for him to handle ones assets; he thinks he can handle your wife’s ass’ets as well.

At some point, I tell Bill about the little prank that I played via the USPS and he cracks up. He thinks it’s the greatest thing that could ever happen to Terry and he wishes he had known about it when it happened. He was at the point where he was ready to move on Terry, beating the fuck out of him. Adam talks him out of it and refuses to confront Terry.

RECENTLY Terry broke off the affair with Adam’s wife. He told her that his entire life was a sham; that he actually owned nothing and all of this was ruining him and he was trying to reconcile with his wife. If that didn’t work out, he was contemplating suicide. He also fired her. Now Adam’s wife wants to “reevaluate” the divorce. She told him that she couldn’t help herself; the power of his seduction was overwhelming. Apparently it started accidentally one day when he called and asked a favor. He needed her to pick up his families dog that was left in his huge travel bus because his wife had left it with the air conditioner turned off. When she showed up the only dog waiting there was Terry; with the air running and an opened bottle of wine and vase of flowers. “It was all an accident” she told him. Yeah – I guess she just slipped and fell onto his dick. She apparently tried to make her husband feel better about the whole thing by telling him that Terry “blew his load in less than a minute.” If everything is true, and I have no reason to doubt it, Terry is still a scum bag but now, fat, balding, on the verge of bankruptcy and a premature ejaculator.

Maybe the Porno Fairy could pay him a visit and help out with that last problem.

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2 Responses to “He’s bankrupt and a premature ejaculator.”

  1. Koimaster Says:

    Sorry, I thought you were discussing the Knife Lord Jim Skelton.

    My bad.

  2. betterskills Says:

    Similar type of shitty personality…


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