Tag Archives: fiction

Wakayama Fembot Love

 

A couple of years ago I was doing some business with a small telecom concern in Osaka. My partner at the firm was a man I’ll call Yoshi. After a night of karaoke and drinking into oblivion, Yoshi said he wanted to take me to his house in Wakayama.

 

“Oh? To meet the family?” I asked. He turned very serious. “Uh, no. No family. This house very different, for working only.” We jumped in his car. “Jack, long ride coming. You want to wake up?” He pulled out a long vial of what looked like coke. “Sure,” I said. He sprinkled a nickel-sized pile between his thumb and index finger and took a loud snort, “GENKI,” he yelled while pumping his fist. Huh? I’ll have to look that one up in my ‘Japanese For Dummies’ guide later on. He hit the other nostril and yelled it again. He quickly went from being passive and docile, to totally loose and untamed. 
He turned up the music, it was Foghat’s “Slowride”. He sang along.

He gave me the vial, I was no stranger to nose candy. Although I was a little paranoid about doing it in this country, which carries a 1-7 year prison sentence for possession…

for any amount. Yoshi seemed very connected with some of the Prefectural Police, which I’m sure would not benefit me in the least. Fuck it, I set the vile in my lap and quickly grabbed a bill from the breast pocket of my sports coat, I rolled it up. I opened the vial and tapped a nice pile into the vial’s cap. I hit it. It burned worse than any coke I’d ever done. “FUCK! What is this?” He kept singing. “YOSHI WHAT IS IT?” “JACK, he screamed, IT’S SHABU! SHABU!” Huh? I’ll have to look that up later in my guide as well. BOOM!

Then it hit me. It was that hardcore, scalp electrifying, instantaneous no man’s land of awake feeling that only methamphetamine brings. “MOSHI MOSHI!” I yelled, while pumping my fist. He repeated the words and laughed. We made our way to Wakayama. My coworker, Pete Cavendish, called Wakayama “The Bakersfield of Japan, with hidden secrets.” We went through a couple of tolls. Foghat’s ‘Slow Ride’ repeating over and over which was starting to disturb and annoy me all at once. We finally arrived and we were in a small garage, the door closing behind us very quickly. It looked like a bunker. We got out of the car and Yoshi led me to a heavy steel door.

He put his thumb on a small pad on the wall, and it beeped. The door gently sprung open. We walked into a very large ‘gentlemen’s club’ like atmosphere. It was lit with strong overhead fluorescent lighting. It had two dancing stages complete with stripper poles. There were small tables and black and red velour couches and chairs. Yoshi picked up a remote and worked some buttons, the bright fluorescence was replaced with music (Ravel’s Bolero) as well as soft red, green, and yellow lighting. Then from out from behind the stages, beautiful women appeared breathtaking birdies in all shapes, ethnicities, and sizes.

They all wore sexy lingerie, one looked like Betty Page, another like Marilyn Monroe, and yet another like Raquel Welch. “Yoshi! What?!” He sat and sad nothing. Then more beauties came out! One looked Like Sophia Loren another like Jayne Mansfield. The detail was impeccable. Then a Natalie Wood and a Barbara Eden (complete with I Dream of Jeannie wardrobe) Then an odd sight, there was one that looked like Yvonne De Carlo who played Lillian on “The Munsters.” Which might be a real blast to fuck for the sake of novelty. But I was fixated on the Sophia Loren. Another one that looked like Mansfield. “Jack, you want?” He waved his hand across the club.

I knew they must have been models or prostitutes. Was it a brothel, a private strip club? This was an expensive little operation, regardless of what it was. I summoned the Sophia Loren and the Monroe. They both approached. They had still, wet, doll-like eyes. Their lips were full and moist. They both wore lingerie, the Monroe in period-perfect hose and garters. The Loren in a “Merry Widow” style bedtime outfit. Artificial intelligence? Robots? No, a robot is an inappropriate word. “Hello,” I said, “My name is Jack.” “Hello,” they said back in unison. Their voices seemed to match the starlets to a tee. They sat on either side of me and said no more.

Very quickly their hands were all over me, pulling, tugging, and stroking. Suddenly we were all naked and I couldn’t find a blemish or an imperfection on either one of them, they were anatomically correct and totally life-like. They both moaned occasionally saying things like “more, oh so good, oh yeah,” He didn’t quite have the intimate vocal component totally correct, but so what. They literally sucked me dry. As I dressed to leave, more of them came at me, with the Barbara Eden Bot leading the pack saying, “but master, wait.”

They cornered me and the Yvonne De Carlo bot (Lillian Munster) grabbed me from behind, they ripped off my clothes and I very quickly succumbed to the electronic nympho succubus’. Finally I couldn’t take anymore I screamed for Yoshi, “MAKE IT STOP! ENOUGH!” There was a high-pitched buzzer sound and they all retreated, I tried to put my suit back on but it was ripped and shredded. Yoshi came up and patted me on the back. “You ok?” I was more than ok. “You want more sex?” I had to think for a moment, I may never get this chance again. “Maybe later,” I said. “Maybe we have Ramen and Yakatori?” That sounded fantastic. Then maybe a little Shabu and a crack at the Mansfield Bot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wrote a piece of fiction Dude


 

Against my better judgment, I picked up the phone. It was a blocked call.
‘Yes, hello?’

‘I wrote a piece of fiction dude.’ It was Martin, his voice sounded flat, monotone. I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. There was a pause.

‘I wrote a piece of fiction dude,’ Martin said it again in the same banausic tone. Still, I had no idea what to say. Again a pause.                                                                                                    

‘Hello? You there man?’ A light wind through the screen door blew a couple of fur balls across the Pergo flooring.  

‘Yeah man, I’m here.’ The furballs tumbled and settled by the dog’s water bowl. Maybe I should buy a broom?    

‘I wrote a piece of fiction dude?” Now his statement was in the form of a question.                                                                    

I realized that buying a broom would be the obvious choice. But I had a vacuum. It was an old Hoover upright.

It developed a bushing or gear problem though; as a result, it made a sound that I imagined a blender on high-speed that was filled with hex nuts might produce. It had no suction problems though. It worked just as well as the day I rolled it off the ‘Sears Home’ showroom floor. I wore ear protection and even put the dog outside when I used it, because he literally tried to cover his ears with his paws and forearms, or forelegs as it were. It was a lot of pre-production to vacuum. It had been a while since I geared up to do it, and as a result the fur balls tumbled to and fro depending on the direction cross breeze. I’ll get to it. It might be a while, I was single, and it didn’t bother me. The dishes, the laundry, and the dog shit piled up. It didn’t matter.        

“Do you want to hear it?” He asked.

“Hear what?’ Occasionally my mother visits and she will clean and do laundry and even pick up the dog shit. But I realized I felt no different either way.                                                                              

“I wrote a piece of fiction dude,” now his voice sounded stressed and desperate.      

“Sure man, read it.” I pondered the whole bachelor thing. Fuck it. I tried. I guess I’m not a relationship person.  

“Chapter One, the deputy loaded his gun, it was going to be a hot sweltering summer day of crime on the streets of Chicago…”

My mother and father weren’t relationship people either, 11 marriages and or partners between them. Subsequently they gave birth to the same, it doesn’t take Dr. Phil to figure that out, so no mystery there. He continued,      

“…Smithers was a veteran of the Chi Town P.D. He had 40 days and a wake up to a beautiful retirement in Tempe Arizona…”

Maybe just a select few can actually really pull of the relationship game. I mean really pull it off, you know?                                                    

I mean like love cherish respect, death do us part, type of deal.      

“…his wife had begged for the house in Tempe for health reasons, but Smithers had an autistic brother…how do you like my piece of fiction dude?” I didn’t answer, Martin continued reading.

Vinnie The Guinea’s Rant

Fucking Joey exploded man! He flew into a rage after the Jets lost to New England. He fucking backhanded Maria, split her fucking lip! Supposedly Maria told him, ‘get a life, and your fucking emotional state of being when your teams lose is like a twelve-year-old girl.’

That was it, “BLAM!” Maria’s dad Sal, You know Sal, built like a brick shithouse, he was a wheelman for Fat Tommy, Sal Man! Ex-Marine fought in ‘Nam – killin’ zips in the wire. Had like a necklace of gook ears! Fucking Sal beat up 14 Puerto Ricans in the parking lot of Fucking Yankee stadium they tried to rob him. He found out about the back-hand Joey served up to Maria and like went over there after the game while Joey was watching 60 minutes, like some segment about that asshole who started Facebook that Zuckerjew fuck.

Anyway I mean he fucking rolled Joey out like cheap carpet! Maria had to beg, “Daddy Daddy, please!” He says, “Shut the fuck up, Maria! I’ll beat this Mother-less fuck within an inch of his shitty fucking life!” He laid into him, screaming things at him like at the same time “you wanna hit my baby you fucking bag of shit, HUH?! HIT ME, C’MON! You sorry fuck I’ll make you wish you was never fuckin’ borned!” Then threw him against a wall and fucked up all the wedding pics and family photos, and, to like make it even more fucked up and worser Joey went face first into Angela’s picture (you know Sal’s dead wife and Maria’s saint of a fucking mother, helped retarded kids and disabled old fuckers, you know dead by cancer.

But hey not for nuthin’ years ago they lived by the Fresh Kills Landfill dump on Staten Island, so…. But then like Sal was really like super pissed! “MY ANGELA!” He was like crying and screaming, “YOU FUCKING COCK SUCKER! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY ANGELA!” He picked up that heavy leather footrest thing, ottomans, whatever the fuck, you know the one they bought from Roma D’Italia in Brooklyn and started like BLAM BLAM like beating him wit it! Like the bottom part of it, it has like these black marble legs, and those lil’ legs were kicking the shit outta Joey with every fucking hit.

The neighbors called the cops but they never come there on account of Joey’s dad was the like the desk commander of the 69th precinct and they know Joey’s a loser or some shit and why trouble Joey Sr. with Joey Jr’s. fucking bullshit he’s got hypertension and gout and had to pay off loan sharks and junk dealers on account of Joey Jr.’s degenerate gambling or his dope habit and not for nuthin’ but Joe sr was probably at one time or anotha’ taking payoffs and gifts from Sal as well as Fat Tommy at the Tommy T’s social club where Joey sr. had a espresso and a t-bone steak like clockwork every fuckin Tuesday at like noon.

I can tell you this it looked like The Shining in there, like blood all over the walls, shit all tore up, broken glass and frameless black n’ white photos on the floor and what not, I saw and heard the whole thing from my place next door and like they got like no fucking shame they got the drapes and windows wide open on a Sunday night and screaming and yelling like Sicilian banshees like it sounds like fucking Raging Bull in there with these motherfuckers.

I ain’t gonna say shit cause these scum bags like either one of ‘em will beat me senseless, plus when Joey was in AC Gambling me and Maria fooled around like, let’s just say my sausage fell between her buns and we fucked til the cows came home and she called it a mercy fuck on account of I got like one leg smaller then the other and I gotta wear these orthopedic shoes but I told her not for nuthin’ I don’t need no charity, fuck you Maria I can get laid, just last week Josephine who’s temping in the office of 18th avenue plumbing supply gave me a hand job behind a dumpster and plus I got other prospects, and she said “yeah but a handjob and getting laid are in like in to different galaxies so what the fuck Vinnie?”

She was right and it was amazing to having had fucked her and I’m thinking about her a lot and plus I called her dad about the back-hand thing because fuck Joey Jr anyway! He called me a “lame” and “wobble walk” and “Vinnie Stutter step” in school so fucking his wife was like revenge you only read about in books, or see on television. And plus even my Father who is kind of soft, and quiet compared to other tuff motherfuckers in the neighborhood was like “Jesus Stevie, you gotta get laid, I mean Christ you must be walking around sexually frustrated with a heavy sack or like you must beat off like your going to the electric chair.”

Which both things are true but like I don’t want my father saying that to me I’m thirty-seven and plus I still live at home, but a lot a guys live at home, even into there like 50’s and fuck it’s expensive to move and not for nothing I chip in for food and clean up but my mother insists on doing my underwears and shit ‘cuz I bleached out the a bunch of colors and turned the whites blue cuz I don’t pay attention to what colors go with what cleaning chemicals so anyway, I was having this idea that maybe Sal will beat Little Joey like into a comatose type deal, so like I can be with Maria or console her through her trials and tribulations and however you say that.

Like I think about how much I enjoyed bangin’ her out I actually can’t stop thinking about her and sometimes I mean like once in a while I peak in on her through da window when she’s taking a dump or showering or pissing. Like a coma type deal or even like I mean if he died to, that wouldn’t be the worse thing that ever happened on this block either, like not for nothing you know father Mc Murphy diddled little cocks and fiddled with boys and girlses assholes and he like got off free as a fucking bird and moved out west, the church is like the mafia they take care of there own, but one of those kids was Fat Tommy’s godson and he was fucking like super pissed and word has it he put 25k on the street to have Mc Murphys cook and balls put in a mason jar, and I guess he put a couple of his soldiers on the street and even one went out west supposedly allegedly.

“Fuck You Huero!” A rant from Marisella Morales (aKa) sHyGrRl

*Excuse the vernacular, spelling errors and outright butchering of the English language. Trying to keep it hood.

Thass right you pinche fuck head. It’s Friday nite aye and we jus burly started to party cuz liL SpOoKy brought over a kegger and mi abolita made menudo and carne asada and my cousin RaScAl jus burly got out of Wayside cuz he was in there for some bullshit violations of probation like he was hangin’ out with another homeboy and some bullshit about not supposed to disasscociate with known gang members so like anyways we were getting’ down listening to narcos corridos music and like Sylvia (aKa LoNeLy) my homegirl from v13 came over and like she’s cool but that chica’s always judges me like how I’m a mother, how I keep house and there’s roaches and everything is greasy and filthy and especially when she says like, ‘don’t give meha flaming hot cheetos and diet coke, cuz meha looks like she’s sweating and red and her belly looks all distended out and shit and every time she sips at that cola she like makes a face like it’s fukin lickwid plummer aye least just give her regular like seven up or mounten dew’s and I’m like ‘LoNeLy mind your own bizzness bich’ and sometimes we argue and that’s when fukin pinche huero was all ‘um hello uh can you keep it down pleas?’ like all smart assy And I was like ‘mind your own bizness, this got nothing to do with your huero ass’ and then he’s like ‘it’s 12:30 and it’s got everything to do with me because your outside my window, I’ll call the cops’ and this huero had balls aye, cuz like we got homies all over the block, I was like ‘shit whatever, call the huda then liL SpOoKy was all ‘I’ll blast that foo aye fuck that lil’ blanco bitch’ and I was like ‘you ain’t blasting no one’ and my abolita came in from the back room and was like what are you locas doing? why is the huero yelling? what is happening? And I’m like ‘gramma go back to your little room, we got this go watch your programs’ we converted a walk in closet to a bedroom for her she has a little tv and we cut into the cable cuz my homeboy 5nIpEr works for Time Werner but gramma pitches in for rent with her social security and also I get WIC and that’s my monthly card for womans infants an childrens like milk and cheese and diapers and eggs and shit so like my tio biG pAnThEr lives here occasionally but he gets all perverted when he drinks and does speed and so my tia LiL’ dReAmEr who used to be with him but she went all machona tortillera when she went to the pen in chowchilla she loves to eat pussy she came at me and was like ‘sHyGiRl lemme taste that sweet lil pinoche’ like at her own daughter’s quincinera and I was drunk and horny and tempted but the bible says that shit is wrong so… then like last week she warned me and said that pAnThEr weird sexual extendencies but only just when he drinks and does tweak – but then I decided I still I don’t want him around my dotter… because another tio of mine bIg JoKeR is a sick fucker who touch my lil cussin Carla and she said he showed her his serpiente and she should touch it til it recoils back to its cave and shit and then he said she made it bled white on her hand, so she should pt it in her mouth to get the rest of the blood out of it and make it better, so he had to fkn go so but that sick motherfucker disappeared after I toll liL SpOoKy, I think liL SpOoKy he put his ass somewheres – but bIg JoKeR was abuse by has papi mR. sMiLeY like bIg JoKeR had to suck his papi mR. sMiLeY dick and got buttfucked by sMiLeY so, like they said shit rolls down hill so we nips that shit in the butt like quik fast I think he brought jOkErZ ass to TJ and blasted that sick ninos toucher and put his ass somewhere anyhwowz so then we jus kep partying and listnin to my favrit narco corridore jamz (rip Ariel Comacho mi corazon) Then like huero was slamming windows and shit like a lil’ bitch and then at like two in the morning pUpPeT and 5iLeNt show up they just came from the clubz and pUpPeT has blood all over his boots and jeans and he’s like ‘I just kikd this mother fuckerz head in like bad, he tried to talk shit when we were leving’ and there like gacked out smoking speed and I was like ‘you fuckerz cant do that here because last time the speed was all hot an likwid and spilled out the pipe onto meja’s feet an burnt it and I don’t want that shit and I was by the stove cooking and then 5iLeNt was like, ‘Shud up sHyGiRl bitch you still got that infection cuz my verga burns like fuck after putting it in your culo’ and I was fkn mad so I grabbed a hot pot of menudo and threw it on his back and he let out a bitch scream like you here in the movies and shit and I was like don’t ever put my shit on the streets pinche motherfucker lil’ dick bitch! Jus then the door knocked and was like police and these fools all bugged the fuck out and pUpPet 5iLeNt an rascal are all on probation so it was fkd up cuz it was like three am and the cops saw the kids awake and on the floor craw ling round the kegger and the ese’s are all bug eyed and jacked up and I toll them kick back aye and they started all this shit and the funny part too was that they tased 5iLeNt because he was like trying to fan his back with a dish rag and huda thought he was coming at them so like they zap that foo! And my abulita like ducked her head out and waved it all off and went back to her program. And those fools all got taken in and sent up for violations and now I gotta find more people to move in and pay the rent or something.