Video Games with Donald Trump

One night I was playing Madden 17, again. And afterwards I was fucking pissed and wanted to thrown my controller against the wall and blow up my house. Because once again I was playing against some fucking lucky asshole who fucking won the game 25 to 24 by doing stupid shit, that a coach would never do, but fucking this kid was lucky as fuck.

Once again I was playing an idiot at checkers as he kept picking up his chips and fucking slamming the back onto the table in random ass locations while I sat there and yelled at my TV, “How the fuck do you get away with that shit? I’m playing all the right plays based on the fact that you don’t seem to know your ass from a hole in the ground and you just fucking get away with that shit like its the easiest thing you have ever done.”

Then later that night I was laying in bed staring at my phone, this was around the time our fucking dumbass of a fucktard president starting his happy ass executive order bullshit, which…I don’t think any of them have done any good.

It was when he signed his name on shit he didn’t fucking read in the first place, and put the construction of the Dakota Pipeline back into play. That night I was laying in bed on Facebook, I just got done reading “fake news” about how fucking dumb our president is, and I posted on Facebook:

“Donald Trump is like that fucking dude you play Madden 17 with, the kid who decides that going for it on 4th&24 is the smartest idea ever. You know what, you might complete it, but it’s such a risk that you’re most likely going to end up turning it over to me due to an incomplete pass, a sack, an interception, or even a complete pass that doesn’t make it 24 yards. Good job dude, it might work, but if it doesn’t you just contaminated land with oil just because you have fucking ties to a oil company. And no one fucking asked you to be there anyways.”

A few nights ago I was playing Grand Theft Auto Online with one of my friends from Washington State. When we play Grand Theft Auto Online we play with the two of us, no one else. Why? Because everyone else who plays doesn’t seem to do anything besides buy guns just to run around with no rhyme or reason but to kill each other for no fucking reason.

When we play Grand Theft Auto Online we actually like to play co-op missions, and if we go to Freemode to buy food, clothes, weapon, or whatever else; we don’t wan’t to feel like we are being hunted by someone with nothing better to do.

Grand Theft Auto Online is updated all the time, the game is still being played by a lot of people and they make a shit ton of money based on micro-transactions. I never understood that, why do you want to spend real money on fake money?

The new updates seem to be focused on public games, I remember telling Jay, “Grand Theft Auto is not the same as it used to be man, it pisses me off.” But that didn’t seem to have any soft of impact on him until he said…

“Why can’t you access your office in a close friend session?”

Not knowing that much about it I responded by saying, “All these new updates are focused on public games and it seems like you can no longer enjoy the game unless you put yourself in a digital city of serial killers.”

The next day I was in the kitchen doing dishes, we do not have a dishwasher, but we do have a house that is up to A.D.A. regulations. That being said I can sit in my wheelchair for hours and do the dishes. Part of me likes doing the dishes, sometimes I’ll be doing the dishes for 4 hours, and I’m okay with that; gives me a good opportunity to listen to podcasts.

Most of the podcasts I listen to are based in Seattle and are part of ‘99.9 FM KISW the rock of Seattle’. I do listen to others that are atheist based such as ‘Cognitive Dissonance.’ Outside of that I enjoy Joe Rogan’s Podcast from time to time.

I remember a previous episode was talking about the movie Matrix, and from there the topic moved to the fact that the world is 4.5 billion years old even though 40% of Americans think the Earth is 6,000 years old. From that came the idea that 100 years of technology is a very small slice of time when it comes to the history of humans, as we scientifically know it.

That then led into the possibility of a reality that is all digital but is so real that unless your name is Morpheus you would not know otherwise.

So…I came upon a theory that scares me. For the sake of argument let’s assume that the world becomes a giant virtual reality system that feels and looks so real that if you want to go on vacation in Amsterdam and have unprotected sex with a dozen people all you would have to do is sit on your couch in the middle of Oregon.

Now what if you were able to disconnect from the system and go on about your life as you do, but when you connect to it you get put into a would with everyone else that is also connected? Do you think people would do whatever the fuck they want because there was no consequence to their actions?

Like…that got me thinking about those people who commit murder. Like who the fuck does that? Why the fuck would you do that?

But when you’re playing a video game everyone becomes a serial killer. Why? Are people really that much of an asshole?

Like if a Matrix type of video game reality ever exists would you have to wear tactical gear and take a AK-47 and a Desert Eagle with you to the gas station just because someone might try to kill you?

Like people can’t be that fucked up!

What separates real life from a video game? What if there was no separation between the two?

Do people understand that an asshole is an asshole regardless of the platform.

And this is what I was thinking when that guy picked up his checker chip, laughed at me, and then slammed it back to on the table in a random ass location; that just happened to be the right location based on mere luck.

Like…I fear that if that technology ever comes to be the digital world would be filled with people who take actions that don’t seem to make sense to anyone besides them, and will they feel bad because 40 people died in the process of them getting 50,000 dollars?

That’s why we need a president. But…he’s fucking dumb too. I think this is the first time that America has found itself as a CEO who hires a employee that can’t do his job even though he is a very good liar and just like a shady used car salesman he emotionally sold a 250,000 mile vehicle to people that thought they were buying a reliable mode of transportation.


That Great Feeling

So…I have a personal journal that I keep on my computer. Something that can help me figure out how I’m feeling, more or less a chance to talk to someone, myself, without being judged for what I might say or how I truly feel about something.

This morning I woke up with the idea that I had to take out the trash, do the dishes, wash clothes, and put away my section of said clothes. Which is all well and good…whatever. At some point I came to a stand still where I could not do anything because I was told not to until such and such, which is fine, but she was still in her wake up period.

So I went to the store to get a few things. While I was driving a few memories that didn’t really make sense were rushing through my head and I felt like I was at peace. And for most of the country it will most likely seem weird to you. The more I thought about it, the more I was able to figure out why I felt so good.

This morning was cooler then it has been lately. It was a cool 60 degrees with light winds, cloudy skies, and light rain.

As some of you know I moved to Washington State in the year 1998, I was 14 at the time. I did not get my drivers license until I was 17. My first car was a 1988 Mazda 323 which was then followed with a 1992 Acura Integra, but the kind of car has very little do to with this story.

Like most kids that just got their drivers license I was looking for any excuse to drive anywhere. Most of the time that excuse made no sense to anyone, but me, and the only reason it made sense to me was because I got to drive somewhere.

And…for those of you who happen to live in that area, and a few of my followers do. When I first got my license I was not allowed to drive on Meridian, 512, 410, 167, or I-5. At some point, like a year later it was okay for me to drive on Meridian.. Then at some point after that I just said, “Fuck it,” and drove where I wanted to.

And that is why I know Puyallup/Spanaway area like the back of my hand. I drove so much for unknown reasons that I leaned everything. And for someone that has to use GPS to get from point A to point B and back to point A that is saying a lot.

As some of you can figure out by now, the majority of the time that I went driving was when it was cloudy outside, and more then 80% of the time, if it was cloudy it was also raining.

I spent a lot of time in my car driving in a large circle from my house, down sunrise, down Shaw, up to 112th, 94th back to 160th going by Rogers High School and then repeating the same route in reverse order before ending up at home.

Most of that time I spent alone with my thoughts, I was able to process my feeling and figure out a way to cope with whatever was bothering me at the time.

I think that is why I felt at peace today as I drove to the store. It was cloudy, light rain, a light breeze. Totally remained me of Washington and being a careless teenager that didn’t have and real problems.

The only thing I’m missing is friends, evergreen tress, the idea of an ocean 20 miles away, and a 14,410 foot tall mountain that hid in the clouds 75% of the year.

If I had nothing to do…I would drive down by my old house, the one I lived in prior 1998, just drive for the hell of it. Maybe even get on I-80 and head towards Grand Island just for the hell of it. I actually felt good and I didn’t want it to end.

The Girl Who Assumed

I don’t know if girls think I’m cute or not. I don’t know if guys think I’m cute or not. I’m not gay, so I don’t really care if guys think I’m cute or not; I mean cool, whatever, I’ll take the compliment, but I don’t care to sleep with you.

I have never been the one to get hit on. Before I met my fiancé I came to this conclusion while talking to women online: it’s half and half, some girls think I’m ulgy and others think I’m really cute.

Then you got the wheelchair issue to worry about. And very often, from what I can tell, girls who find me attractive are quick to slam on the brakes when they find out that I can’t get into a physical fight or do yard work.

So it’s not often that a girl hits on me. And more often than not if they actually get to know me and fall in love with my personality the vast majority of them walk over into the friend zone.

Now a days though, that doesn’t matter. I’m engaged to a wonderful women, someone who I can’t really complain about.

However being hit on, being told I’m that I’m cute is a good feeling. But one day a good thing went too far and that is what I’m going to tell you about if you care to read further.

I got a phone call that morning, a phone call from the company that was selling my my new wheelchair, “Yes Mr. Last Name, your wheelchair is ready for pickup.”

That morning before Shannon went to work she gave me a small task: go to the store and put this in the mail.

Coming from Washington State where a post office is common place, having one in the entire city of Lincoln is weird to me. There might be more than one, but I’m only going off of secondhand information.

Our local grocery store has a mailing service too.

So being that I was in that area of town to pick up my new wheelchair. I went to the grocery store that I used to live next to, mainly because I knew that area of town, but I was also in the same area too.

There I am, standing in the parking lot directly behind my car with the trunk open. “Do you need any help?” That question is always met with a, “No, but thank you.” Speaking of that, more Nebraskans have asked me that than Washingtonian’s. 

Look people, I know you’re trying to be nice, I get it…but I have a system down, something that I’m so used to doing that if I change it up it will only make it harder. And my fiancé understands this, if we go shopping afterwards she will put food in the car and not even help me, because she knows that I don’t want it, and if I did I’d ask. But those people, the ones who don’t know any better, and there are alot of them, will look at her as if she’s the asshole for not helping a physically disabled man take out/put in his wheelchair.

I finally get my wheelchair assembled and sit down just to shut my trunk and roll into the store around one o’clock in the afternoon. My goal other than sending a package in the mail was to buy a Monster energy drink that I can drink when I get home to sit in front of my TV and play Fallout 4.

I roll on over to customer service and I’m sitting there, waiting in line watching a guy buy a lottery ticket, a girl put some mail in dropoff, another guy buy a pack of cigarettes, and a bunch of workers walk past me as they talk to one another and help bag groceries.

“That is a nice wheelchair.” Being caught off guard I found myself looking up at this girl who appeared to be in her early 30’s wearing green basketball shorts and a black tank top. The only thing I could think of to say was, “Thank you.”

I’m more social than I used to be, so I continue by saying, “it’s new.” I’m still in loss for words just based on the fact that this conversation came out of nowhere and that is not what I expect to be an opening line.

She was a good looking brunette. Not someone I had my jaw drop to the floor for, just okay I guess. Not too tall, not too fat, just kinda…avarage for a girl who wasen’t wearing makeup and looked like she got just got done running around the neighborhood.

Being in a moment of silence she said something that says one of two things: she either thinks I’m super cute and had a, “ughhhhhh what” moment or she has no tact.

“Do you need help taking a bath, or getting dressed, or eating food?” Being a man, one who thinks about sex a lot, I imagined me in a bathtub with her hands on my hard cock.

But that thoght only lasted a half second, I was more offended than anything as i said, “No…I…I can…do…all that stuff without help.”

Then she goes into trying to tell me I’m a man because I’m self sufficient and she can relate to being in a wheelchair because she broke her back playing sports. “Sorry lady, but no you can’t, no matter how much you think you can; being in a wheelchair for 30 days with the ability to walk again is not the same as not being able to walk and spending 15 years in a wheelchair with the ability of not walking.” That’s one of the thoughts I was having at the time and as much as I wanted to say it, I didn’t want to be an asshole.

She eventually stopped talking, I think she realized that she fucked up.

And to be totally honest I kept thinking to myself, “Yea sure lady, if I was single, you could totally rub my dick.”

But like I said,  I love my fiancé, you offended me more than you intended to, and you’re not her.

Restless Night


At one point in my life I just didn’t care anymore. Just like Phil Collins, I didn’t care anymore. I can’t remember the specifics of why this was said, damn; it was about 10 years ago, maybe 11. I’m pretty sure it was because we had an argument, which seemed to be a everyday occurrence at this point. I was once in a very toxic relationship, that I shouldn’t have been in the first place; but I was at that age where I was lucky that I had someone who actually would let me stick my penis in them.

That being said, my kid was born in 2003. I was in a relationship that had me fighting myself. On one hand my kid was here and therefore the three of us will always be connected rather I want to be or not, so I was thinking that I had to stay with his mom… that’s what family’s do, right?

On the other hand, I was just not happy anymore. We got into so many verbal arguments that I couldn’t even count them on 10 hands if I were to become a mutant and grow 8 new arms. And most of these arguments were pointless, they held no bearing on anything that was actually important.

One day I was laying on the floor, playing with toys, mainly Mega Blocks. Trying to keep my kid interested and whatnot. Being Mr.Creative Engineer I would build tall buildings, not much engineering involved in that; but you can only go so far with Mega Blocks; and my son kept knocking my shit over anyways. Right then and there she started yelling at me, so I did what most other people would expect me to do and I starting yelling back at her.

For the life of me I can not remember what we were fighting about but it must have went on for a good ten minutes. I do remember that it ended like the majority of our pointless arguments, nothing was solved, nothing was being worked on, just two people that seemed to be mad at one another for an illogical reasoning that didn’t make sense to anyone besides us, sometimes it didn’t even make sense to me.

Five minutes later she came back into the family room from our bedroom and looked at me to say, “I love you.” A light must have went off in my head and I started thinking to myself: we just fought for 10 minutes, we didn’t fix anything, it didn’t make sense to me, and your not mad at me anymore? Why were you even mad at me in the first place? After she said this and there was a flicker of light in my head I opened my mouth to say something that even took me by surprise, “Good. I Don’t.”

After that grew an awkward living situation where our kid moved into her room and I was forced to move into his old bedroom.

This story takes place right around the same time. I think it was before my kid moved into her room, but on the other hand I don’t remember her laying him in “her” room. So the details of this story might not be correct, they happened, but as far as the timeline goes, what I remember may not be true.

I had/have a friend named Blake, at the time, he was a few year younger than me and lived in the same apartment complex. I don’t remember how we became friends, I’m not very social; which has changed over the years, but I still have a difficult time starting a new conversation with someone who I don’t know, someone who didn’t start the conversation with me. Blake was half Korean, his dad was born in America and later in life joined the armed forces where he met and brought back his wife from Korea.

In between our apartments was Jack’s apartment. Jack was a older man, much older than we were; I think I was around the age of 21 (Fuck that was a long time ago!) and Blake must have been 18 or 19. Jack was in his late 50’s, maybe early 60’s. Just like Blake’s dad, Jack’s wife was not born in America either.

Every now and then when Jack was home and his wife was gone Blake and I would go over there to hang out and smoke pot. I think that is where I got the thing of telling long, animated stories when I was stoned.

I can’t remember the exact date but I’m pretty sure it was April 20th. If you know anything about the stoner culture you know why April 20th is an important date. I do remember that Heather bought me a 6 inch bong made out of glass with a pull carb on it. It was a nice bong, or at that time in Washington State; still classified as a water pipe. The glass was clear but had dark green swirls wrapping around the single bubble at the bottom and reaching all the way up the shaft of the bong. It had a clear and rather flimsy bowl to it, that I broke on a few occasions and had to replace with a new stem. This glass, the glass of the stem must have been less then 0.100 thick, I’m guessing 0.050; for those of you who have not worked in a machine shop 0.050 is about the same as 16 sheets of paper stacked together. That being said the glass was very easy to break.

That night she also brought me the new Kottonmouth Kings album/CD No.7, which was new at the time.

We lived right next to a middle school, Blake just happened to work as a janitor there. He was working util about 9 o’clock that night. A few hours after Heather came back home from the store with our son, she hands me a CD, still wrapped up in its case, and a brown paper bag with a heavy object in it. Blake comes over and is sitting in my house talking to Heather and I as I said, “We need to wait until my kid goes to bed.” It just so happened to be a few minutes before his bedtime.

Heather goes to lay our kid down to bed as I’m showing Blake the new bong that I got, telling him that this is a perfect night to break it in.

After my kid is asleep Blake and I step on the back patio to load my new bong with some weed that he happened to get from Jack earlier that day.

As Blake and I are sitting outside Heather slides open to back door to the patio to tell me that some of her coworkers called and invited her to a party. So now I had to stay home, not like I was planning on going anywhere but I now had to plant myself at home with our kid sleeping in his crib. She asked, and it might be implied by now, that she went to this party. She even asked me if she could take my car, which only came to bother me later into the night.

At that time I drove a black 1992 Acura Integra which she wanted to take because it was cooler than her 1990 whatever Saturn. So I let her take my car, only to find out later that night that she took her car keys too. So here I was in a house with no keys, which now that I look back on it was not her brightest idea, what if I had to take my kid to the hospital? But throughout the events of that night I came to assume she didn’t want me to leave the house because of what she was doing.

I do not remember if I choice to sleep on the couch that night or if that was the only option I had at the time. Either way as soon as Blake went home that night I planted myself on the couch in front of the TV watching Adult Swim.

I finally get to sleep that night and around three in the morning my cell phone rings. After that conversation I turned into a ball of anger, sadness, and depression. I thought to myself, “I’ll just watch TV, that will take my mind off of her.” It didn’t, even with Family Guy on the TV I could not shake the thought of her fucking some other dude.

I answered the phone and it was Heather on the other end, she told me they were still watching movies and she might not be home for a few more hours. At this point I had a good idea of what was happening mainly because…in high school, towards our graduation, we were both going to separate high schools, but because of my next door neighbor who just happened to go to the same high school that she was me met again.

Heather and I went to the same high school my sophomore year, we dated for three weeks. At the end of that year I made the decision to go to a different high school. Fast forward two years, we meet again in Jenna’s driveway. After high school graduation Heather was hanging out with me, a lot; and cheated on her boyfriend with me by telling him that she was staying at my house to watch movies.

So…I knew what was going on. I ended up walking around my house to try to find car keys that were not there. Part of me is glad I didn’t wake my son up before I didn’t find keys. But if I was able to I would have woke him up and put him in the car just to go driving. Driving always put my mind at ease, still does. I think that might be why I’m okay with sitting on I-5 for 3 hours just to go 50 miles.

That night I turned into someone that looked as if he was coming off of Heroin, I could not stop shaking, I could not think, I could not sleep, food sounded disgusting. I just sat there, on the couch, in dark silence shaking until Heather walked into the door 4 hours later.

I can’t remember the exact conversation. But I yelled, not yelled but sternly talked to, her saying, “Give me my car keys.” and she gave them to me. She wanted to know where I was going, “My parent’s house,” which was about 11 miles west of where we were living. After telling her where I was going and she asked why I said, “I can’t sleep here.”

She then demanded that I took my son with, so I went and got my son ready and dressed for grandma and grandpas house. “I haven’t slept yet, you got to talk our kid with you,”

“Okay, whatever.”

Before we leave Heather and I get into another argument, this one having more power. She wanted to know why I had to go over there to sleep.

“Because I keep thinking about you putting some other dudes dick in you.”


“You cheated on me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

After a pause goes by and I’m putting diapers and other things that my kid needs into a bag Heather goes onto say.

“So, when I say you cheated on me everything is fine, but when you think I cheated on you, you have a mental breakdown?”

She thought I cheated on her because I joined AdultFriendFinder. A few weeks back or however long it was when she confronted me about this I did not lie to her, but I did not cheat on her, or even go on a date, nothing. “Yes I did, I joined AdultFriendFinder because I like looking at naked women, and porn is too perfect, actual naked people is more taboo.”

“Yes, but there is a big difference. I never cheated on you.”

I get to my parents house about 15 minutes later and my mom and dad are kind of pissed that I’m over there. I end up in the garage talking to my dad wile my son is inside watching cartoons with grandma.

“Dad, I might move back home.” He wanted to know why so I looked at him with no emotion on my face and said, “Heather cheated on me.” I then go onto explain to him that I only had two hours of sleep and I would like it if he and my mom could watch my son for awhile.

The rest of the events are kinda unclear to me. I don’t remember if I moved out that day, or if I went back to the apartment for awhile before I moved back home.

But to close up this story Heather made a dumb decision that worked out in the long run. Three weeks after I moved out of the apartment she was dating someone in the military. A few mouths, like 3, they got married. With a husband in the military you might be forced to move a lot, that being said my son went from Washington State, to Alaska, down to Texas, and over to Florida. The last time I saw my son was in 2011, the last time I talked to him was a few weeks ago. He is 12 now.

They are still married and he is no longer in the military, but he is originally from Florida. So that is where they live, my son has a half-sister now, she is about 4 years younger then him, I think.

I try to keep in normal contact with my son. But he never calls me, and I forget to, a lot. Which makes me look like a dad that does not care, and I can’t really blame Heather, I’m not the best dad in the world. I do put in some effort though, I could always be worse.

I just hope my kid doesn’t grow up to be a famous rapper talking about how much he hates his dad.

The Fictional Dirt: Part III


It has been a few weeks now. Other than my mom and dad working all the time to afford this house and everything else they like to do, nothing has been going on; nothing of much importance anyways. However my life just got interesting in a good way, I was laying in bed a few nights ago and Sara texted me! She has been sending me a few texts here and there, mostly unimportant shit like where the vacuum cleaner is, or what my sisters favorite food is.

I guess that she has started cleaning the house too, like more than you would expect a babysitter to do, she even got a raise because of it, which I didn’t know until she started flirting with me.

There I was, laying in bed wearing nothing but boxers, reading up on some type of car that came into the shop at school; it was a 1997 Toyota Supra and I just wanted to read about other Supra’s, maybe get some ideas here and there.

My phone was the only source of light that night as I lay in my bed that night looking up the specs of a car that I was going to start working on in a few days. All of a sudden my a new window pops up on my phone, the screen reads ‘Sara’ in big letters above smaller words that read ‘text message’. It would normally read the phone number, but I programmed her into my phone ever since she sent me a message asking some random question about Lisa.

“Hey, what are you up to,” I didn’t really know what to say, I was not doing anything important and it took me by surprise, I was surprised  that Sara was not asking some question about my parents, my sister, or cleaning products.

“Nothing much really, just laying in bed looking up some shit about a car I’ll be working on in a few days,” What else could I have said at that moment, it was the truth. It’s not like I’m going to tell her that I’m laying in bed in my boxers watching porn, even though I was a few minutes prior.

More often than not when you do that girls just fucking stop talking to you, and I was happy she was talking to me, it actually made my dick hard, but only a little; but I can’t tell her that, I don’t want to push it.

“What type of car are you looking at?”

“A Toyota Supra”

“Cool,” It sounded like such an automated response that I could only assume that she didn’t know what type of car that was and therefore must not care, but it was kind of attractive that she was pretending to care.

“You ever seen The Fast and The Furious?”

“Yea, like a few weeks after it came out”

“How old were you then?”


“No, not that one. The first one”

“Oh ummm yea, I don’t know. My dad took me to see it when I was like 7 years old or something”

I was only 8 at the time, so I get it; but I’m into cars so I saw it a few dozen times and I don’t really care if people say it’s a shitty movie, I like it man.

“Do you remember the orange car that he brought at the junkyard?”

“No, not really, I remember a black car, and that’s only because my dad was having an orgasm in his pants over it.”

“Do you remember him saying something along the lines of there is no way in hell the lawn mower with a turbo can beat that classic muscle car?”

“Yeah, but I was so young it didn’t really mean anything to me, just my dad being crazy.”

At that point I hit the home button to go to the main screen and immediately opened Google, typing ‘Supra Fast and’ into the search bar; and just like Google is known to do it already gave me the option of what I was looking for. I tap my thump on the search and filter the results by images, without looking too hard I found the picture of that Supra and saved it to my phone just so I could send it to Sara.

“Ohhh, that car.”

“Yep, I’ll be working on that car in a few days.”

A brief pause goes by, long enough that I can assume that she doesn’t know what to say. In an attempt to fill the silence I go onto type, “Well not that car, but one like it.”

“That is cool.”

The conversation just came to a stand still and neither of us knew what to say. So I just continued with what I was doing before she texted me. A few minutes go by and nothing is said by either of us, the only thing I could think to say would either sound really perverted or really basic like the weather or something.”

“Hey,” she said out of nowhere.

“What’s up”

“You should send me a picture of you.”

I’m going though my phone, trying to find a photo of me. I don’t keep many pictures of myself saved onto my phone. So I did the only thing I could think of, I went onto Facebook and saved my profile picture to my phone just to send it to her.

“You’re silly.”


“I want to see a picture of you now.”

“My lights off and I’m practically naked.”


“That’s kinda weird”


“Because I’m naked”


A short pause goes by when she continues to say, “You’re wearing boxers aren’t you.”

“Yes I am, but I still don’t want to show you.”

“You’re cute though, and you already saw me in my blue bikini; which not a lot of men get to do.

I reached over to turn on my lamp and turn my phone onto it’s camera. I try the best to get a picture of the tattoo going down my arm, being that I was using that hand to cover my junk, granted they were under my boxers, but I wanted to be somewhat modest.

It takes my phone awhile to send pictures, so while it was doing its thing I started a new conversation by saying, “I sent it, but it might take awhile.”

“It didn’t with the others.”

I technically did not send the picture at this point but I had to make up some kind of excuse of why it would take awhile, “Those were downloaded from the internet though, for some reason the pictures that I physically take with my phone take a bit.”

Out of nowhere came a new message, one that came out of left field, “Guess what I did today?”


“You’re parents gave me a raise a few days ago because I have been cleaning the house on my down time.”

“That is awesome, did you buy something?”

“Yes, I even took pictures”

“What did you buy?”

After a short wait I got a picture of her standing in a dressing room with her everyday clothes on staring into a mirror that was only reflecting into another mirror behind her creating that endless hallway effect. There she was, standing there looking as innocent as ever with a naughty intention in her facial expression.

She was wearing a jean skirt with a tanktop that was almost skin tight, but did seem to have some amount of slack to it, I could see her black bra straps going over each shoulder, her tanktop straps were not think enough to cover them.

She was looking into the mirror with a look on her face as if she was about to do something that her mom didn’t raise her to do. She was holding up a clothes hanger with a new bikini, this one was red and appeared to be smaller then the last bikini I saw her in. Carefully placed in the other hand was a new set of lase lingerie colored a dark red with thin black accents that ran up and down, it was complete with thin black stockings that must have went past her knees.

“I bought a new bikini, I just happened to get some new bra and panties too”.

Just hearing her say that on top of receiving the picture was filling my dick with blood so fast that it was like a clown was blowing up a balloon. As fast as I could I found the picture of me and attached it before pressing send.

She got it right away, “Oh, that is hot, why are you covering your cock?”

“Because I expected this to be a tamer conversation.”

“What are you doing now.”

“Well, I just took slid my boxers down and my dick is pretty hard.”

“I’d love to see your cock.”


The next message I get is another picture, this time she is slightly bent over with her tank top straps off of her shoulders and her panties slid around her knees showing darkness if you were to try to look up her skirt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying clothes on in a dressing room?”

“Yes, but you got to take them off before you can put them on.”

“You want to know a secret?”

“Yes, but first you got to tell me if you want to see me in the bikini or the bra and panties.”

“I already saw you in a bikini, I’d love to see you in a bra and panties.”

I got another picture after she asked that question, this time she was looking in one mirror holding her shirt up just underneath her boobs while she was covering her pussy with her other hand as she stuck her bubble shaped ass in the mirror that was behind her. Which I’m assuming was the focal point.

“Oh God, my dick is so hard right now.”

“Can I see it?”

“You know that time I came home for lunch and you were in the blue bikini?”

“Yes, I remember that day well.”

“Do you remember when I went to the bathroom.”

A short pause took place, I wanted to see her reaction, but there wasn’t one until I continued with, “I was not going to the bathroom.”

“Oh yea.”

“I was standing in front of the sink with a hard cock and my pants around my ankles.”

“Oh really?” The way she said it could make me assume that she knew what I was doing in the bathroom without me telling her. “I was hoping you would catch me,” after another short pause I go onto say, “I even left the door open.”

“Well as much as I would have liked to catch you and help you out that would have been an awkward situation to walk in on.”


“What if you didn’t want me to know. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“I would have loved a handjob from you.”

“Oh honey I would have done more than that. And to be honest it was kind of hot to know that I made you hard.”

The next thing I see on my phone is another picture, this time she was absolutely naked and I could tell that she was not afraid to show me what she had.

She stood with her butt facing the closest mirror to her, she was facing the mirror on the other wall. I don’t know how she was able to get that picture but somehow she was able to place the phone an an angle behind her butt. Which olny gave me a great view of her ass that was so big and perfectly shaped that it looked as if each ass cheek was its own water balloon.

The camera was angled in such a way that you were able to see into the mirror that was in front of her. In the mirror you were able to see her naked body from head to toe with her clothes laying on the ground and a red bikini that was still on the hanger of the wall. Her hand that was free was raised up and bent at the elbow, falling behind her head; holding onto her long locks of blond hair that only made her look that much sexier. From this view I could tell that she shaved her pussy, and to be honest all I was thinking about was how much I would like to stick my tongue in and swirl it around. I could also see her perky breasts that just screamed my name.

Based on what I saw it was either cold in that changing room or she was actually horny.

“That is a really hot picture, you’re making my cock so hard right now.”

“Really? I want to see what it. I don’t know if it is too big for my mouth.”

This made me think of what she was saying before I got the naked picture of her as I was pulling down my boxers to wrap my hand around my hard cock that had so much blood that you would think a doctor would be able to get an entire vile of blood they were to draw blood from my penis. I was laying down on the bed and before I took a picture I thought to myself, “Fuck it, I’ll just take my boxers off.”

My parents and sister were sleeping and have been for about two hours so I was not worried about anyone coming into my room while I had a hard on. I just happened to have a full size mirror in my room that hung on a pivot point in the center. I took my boxers off and walked over to the mirror laying on the ground in front of it.

This way she would be able to see the front and back of my hard dick while she can see my smiling into the mirror with my tattooed arm holding the back of my head upwards looking into the mirror.

“Now what were you saying about not giving me a handjob?”

“Oh I was just implying that I’d get on my knees and slowly run my wet lips up and down the shaft of your cock.”

I laid back in bed and sent her the picture, waiting patiently for a response form her.

“Oh honey, I want your dick so bad.”

This only excited me more than I already was and in the back of my mind I was plotting when I’d come home for lunch next so I could fuck her while my sister was sleeping.

She then sent me another message that said, “You can put that in one of two holes.”

That made me wonder, “Which are?”

I can either suck on it until you cum wherever you please or you can stick it up my wet pussy and watch me bounce up and down on your cock while I moan”

This got me really excited, I couldn’t believe this girl was doing this. I didn’t ask her to, but I had no room to complain about it either. Like, she must have found me super attractive because she is the one the came after me!

“Baby I want you to cum for me.”

After a short pause she goes onto give me a short story.

“You come home for lunch one day and I’m upstairs putting your sister down for a nap.”

This was intriguing me as I lay back in bed with my cock in one hand and my phone in the other.

“By the time I come downstairs you are sitting on the couch watching TV and waiting for your food to heat up”

“And then what”

She sent the next message with some type of authority that was sexy as hell in such a situation.

I then get another picture from her, this one showing her butt from above because she had the camera at an angle above her head and in front of her body. She was looking into the camera as she was biting the side of her lip and holding both boobs up under her arm that was wrapped in front of her.

“What are you doing? Put your hand back on that hard cock and stroke it for me while I talk dirty to you.”

This made me smile but I had to remind her of how hot she was and how hard my dick was

“I know your cock is hard, that is why I want you to cum for me.”

She goes onto tell me a story that she was not able to finish. The story was talking about her coming downstairs completely naked because she liked to walk around a house that was not hers totally naked, it excites her she told me. She goes onto tell me about how she heard the TV and saw me sitting on the couch as she started to come down the stairs, she was a little nervous at first but she wanted to see how I would react. She told me her reasoning for coming downstairs was because she found me super attractive and figured what kind of 19 year old boy doesn’t like a naked women.

When she came down the stairs, according to this story that she was telling, I looked at her with amazement mixed with embarrassment because I did not know how to react.

She sat on the ottoman in front of me and placed both of her hands on my knees with her boobs on full view in front of my face. She could tell something was weird and I was not acting like my normal self so she asked what was wrong. According to her I didn’t know how to react with her fully naked, and in front of me.

Apparently I was also wearing basketball shorts that day and as I looked downwards acting as if I didn’t know if I should look up or not, she said, “Oh, I see,” and with a big smile she finished by asking, “Do you want my help?”

All I did was shrug my solders and said, “I don’t k…”

Before I could finish my sentence she slid her hands up both sides of my legs and wrapped her fingers under my boxers pulling towards her, taking my shorts with.

This was her story, it was unrealistic, but the way she told it and described every detail was beyond sexy and in a weird way gave me a new love for story telling, but that is beside the point.

In this story as soon as she pulled my shorts down to my knees she said, “That is the nicest cock I’ve ever seen.” She then continues to tell me that I should take off my tanktop so it doesn’t get in the way.

She then goes into a way of describing how she would give me a blowjob.

“You know that soft spot under your head on the back of your cock?”


“Well I turn my head to the side and slowly flick in with my tongue as I’m playing with your balls.”

After another 3 minutes of her describing this to me I sent her a short text that said “I just came all over.”

To which she replied by saying, “I wish I was there to lick it off of your bare stomach.”

We spent about another hour or two talking about life, my sister, my parents, her mom and dad, movies, music, and just a bunch of random stuff. Towards the end of the conversation she let me know that she was still wet. And I actually felt kinda bad for not helping her out. At the same time I was thinking about how weird that was, that she can have a 3 hour conversation and be horny the entire time without doing anything about it.

I know I can’t think about anything until I cum, that is just weird to me.

“Well I got school in like a hour now I guess I’ll just take a power nap or something.”

“I’m sorry, did I talk to you too long”

“Yea, kinda; but I enjoyed the hell out of it.”

“I guess you could wake me up in the morning when you get here.”

“No, I would love to, but you know your mom, she’ll think that is weird or something.”

The next thing I get before we say our goodnights is another picture, in this one she was weraring her new bikini that was too small and showed way too much to be worn in public.

“That is super hot, but way too small.”

“I know it hurt to wear.”

“So why did you buy it?”

“I didn’t.”

A short pause goes by and she says, “I just tried it on so I could send you a sexy picture.”

“Well I’m not complaining, but I already saw you naked.”

“I know hun, you can save it in your phone for some other time.”

I was now thinking about what she said that she bought and I go onto say, “What about the bra and panties?”

“Oh I got those.”

“Can I see them?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you mean ‘yet’.”

“Did your mom or dad tell you anything about a vacation?”

“Kind of, but I didn’t think about it until now.”

“Well they are paying me extra to stay there all week and watch over your sister.”

Another short pause goes by followed with, “I guess I’ll have to take care of you too.”

“Well that is super sexy but I’m going to my friends house, I guess my mom doesn’t want me here overnight with a girl.”


“Umm….just look at this conversion. I don’t think she knows you like me, but she knows I’m 19 and I get horny by breathing.”

“Well dammit, find a way to come over for a night or something.”

“Not a problem, my friend is 25 and lives by himself, so I don’t got to play games with parents.”

I continued by saying, “And he is a guy, all I got to say is that some hot chick wants to fuck me and he will be happy to let me go.”

“Those bra and panties you were asking about.”


“They are for one of those nights, I bet they will look good on your floor.”

A Bully with a Rock


I’ve been thinking for a while now. Every now and then I get an idea of what to write about. But to be honest, I don’t, why? Because when I’m not working or doing small choirs around the house I like to play Grand Theft Auto Online with my friend back in Washington State.

One thought keeps knocking on the door in my brain like a Mormon who won’t leave you alone even after you said, “No, I don’t want a fucking Bible and I don’t want to talk about God either.” I’m not trying to go off on a “religion is bad” tangent.

Anyhow this thought keeps coming up like a cockroach in my house that I can’t get rid of. So I’m going to take this time to tell you about an event that happened over twenty years ago.

I was a kid, I was the disabled kid in an elementary school full of kids who might have been disabled in some shape or form, but unlike mine it was not physical, and that made me stick out like an white dude wearing tight jeans, a flannel button-up, a cowboy hat, with some cowboy boots hanging out at a bar in the middle of a black neighborhood in South Central Los Angles.

I got picked on all the time, but in all reality it only got worse when I graduated to middle school and the population of that school increased by five fold. Middle school or Jr. high is the time when kids look for popularity, and some of the ways they try to find it might use you as a pawn in a game of chess that you didn’t ask to play.

But I did not know this until I packed up and re-rooted my life to Washington State. Which was a good thing, my life completely changed for the better.

Back somewhere around the year of 1991, maybe 1992, I was in fifth grade and kids were slightly older than they were the year prior and some kids, a lot of them actually, started to develop the idea that, “if this guy thinks me making fun of this kid is funny then we can be friends.”

Thus starts a entire chain reaction, with me in the middle; at the time of this story this has been going on for a few years now. As sucky as this was I never had the thought to commit suicide. I mean I thought about it just as if you think about the possible outcome of an everyday event.

I was never going to do that, my home life was…good. My parents loved me and my sister, she is two years younger than me. She used to be my best friend too. My mom didn’t show any signs of our disability until she was 18 and she started using a rolling walker at the age of 50ish.

They say those who develop a condition later in life have a harder time coping with it compared to those who get thrown into the disability at birth. As much as my mom tried to protect me from life because she thought anything I did outside of the house was going to kill me. She did love me.

She might have not even thought that extreme, but to be totally honest she did seem like she took some loony pills. Over all the years of her yelling at me and trying to get me to not live life because of some extremely rare circumstance that will never happen, I came to resent my mom.

And you know what man? She did love me…she was just trying too hard. There is such a thing as caring too much. And this applies for anyone, disabled or not.

If your mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, stepparent try to stop you from making the same mistakes they did, or maybe they didn’t. Either way if you can’t live life, you grow to resent them. Yes, you don’t want your kid to go to jail but you need to let them fail. That’s how we learn, even if we’re 19 years old, we’re still doing that thing of cause and effect. You can tell us all day what the effect might be, and we might even listen to you, but we won’t really know until we test it.


I was in fifth grade and getting made fun of was an everyday occurrence, and as used to it as I was didn’t it was not a shity experience.

(If it seems like my story took a sharp turn it’s because it did, I have been away from this post for two or three days now)

I never ever thought someone would be physically violent towards me, and other than a one off experience in fifth grade no one was.

There was this guy, this kids name was Brandon…and I guess the fact that I remember his name means that the experience has been lodged in the back of my head for the past 20 years or so. I do not remember much about this kid other than he was one of those who made fun of me close to every day.

No particular moment other than this comes to mind. And as much as he is an asshole for doing it, I do remember asking him to do it.

It was a typical day if I remember correctly, I don’t remember any snow and lots of sun. School got out at whatever time it got out and I was planning on walking home. At that age walking was something I could actually do! You always were able to clearly see that I was physically disabled, but I was actually able to walk, for a good distance too.

At the age when I walked my knees didn’t come up as much as a “typical” persons might. That being said my feet dragged behind me in the process of taking another step forward, my right foot being one to turn inward and drag behind me more so than my left foot. While all this was going the movement of my body would cause my head to bounce up and down while swinging to the left and to the right.

Much later in life spasticity was introduced, not that is was introduced, it just became more prominent. One of the main reasons why I feel as if I can’t walk like I used to is due to the fact that I always walked off of momentum and I still want to, but my legs won’t and can’t keep up with how fast my torso would like to travel. Walking slower just causes my to lose my balance anyways.

My house was less than a block away from school, a good walking distance, maybe a 5 to 10 minute walk depending how fast you were.

School gets out, and just like most elementary schools in America there was a playground complete with monkey bars, basketball courts, a slide type thing, a pyramid of large truck tires, monkey bars, and a few other things here and there.

My best friend at the time lived across the street from me, but I was older than him so he didn’t go to the same school at the same time, if he did we were a good three grades apart. I would have walked home with him if it was a possibility.

Like most young kids I spend time after school playing around and attempting to make friends who were just making fun of me the whole time.

The monkey bars, sorry if that is not the PC name or whatever, were five feet above the ground and ran on for about fifteen feet. When you’re only three feet tall everything seems huge, that being said five feet seemed like ten feet.

Speaking of height and age, when I was 10 years old and had a teacher who was 30 years old they seemed so tall and so old. Now that I’m 31 and meet a 30 year old teacher part of me feels like being a teacher at the age of 30 is an impossibility because they are not that tall and not that old.

These monkey bars were sitting upon a bunch of gravel.

There Brandon came. I can’t remember how the conversation happened but I do know that I was disabled and was therefore treated as if I was the kid no one would touch. I can’t sit here and say that I didn’t talk shit to entice him because I might have, but I don’t think I did.

In some shape or form he told me that he was going to kick rocks in my face.

I didn’t expect him to actually do it. At that point violent activity upon me borders on the line of discrimination, it does not go quite that far. But beating up an handicapped boy, that is defenseless, is something that, something that I don’t think I need to tell you is wrong.

I dared him to do it, and he did, I remember the feeling of not even being able to fathom the event that was now taking place. I do not remember talking shit to him, if I was I could kind of understand it, but based on who I am today I really do not think I did.

I was already on the ground for some reason. As soon as he started kicking rocks at me my first idea was to bury my head in my lap allowing myself to protect my face. What feels like 10 minutes, but must have only been one, went by and I flared my arms open, still on my knees, I kept reaching one hand forward trying to grab him.

I was beyond angry and if I was physically able to I would have ran up to him just to grab him by his hair and walked over to the basketball court slamming his face into the concrete until his forehead started to bleed.

I know…that’s bad and extremely violent; but that is how mad I was at the time.

I looked like a zombie on cocaine that didn’t have any legs who was reaching for food that kept running around in circles.

When I realized that this was pointless and I was not going to catch him I went back into a turtle and just stayed there until he ran off.

I think he got in trouble and was suspended for awhile, and the whole time this was going down two of his friends were standing there laughing the whole time.

I’m glad I was not able to physically beat this kid up, I was so mad that I could of very well turned him into a vegetable. I’m glad I didn’t; I’m not even a violent person, but part of me is scared of what life would be like if I could be.

I just don’t get it.

That has been in my head for a few weeks now, and now it’s out. There are very few people I told that story to. My fiance didn’t even know that story until she asked, “What are you writing about.”

A Bad Trip

G-Billy-2I don’t remember how I got here. It was dark and musty, I saw beams of light shining thought the rickety wooden walls of the train as it sped down the train tracks like a speeding bullet that was not going anywhere really fast. I looked all around this train car and all I could see was sand bags and dilapidated wooden boxes that looked as if they were assembled by monkeys over one hundred years ago.

After shaking my head, trying to remember how I ended up here, on a train, with my clothes off, I stood up and walked over to the sliding door that was too heavy to open without putting my body weight into it.

The door slid open, light poured into the train car like a pillow of smoke. I looked to my left, I looked to my right; I saw animals that most people do not see on a daily basis. Lions, tigers, and giraffes were running around like they were still wild animals on the hot, empty, desert plans of brown grass that has been overgrown and looked as if it died due to a lack of moisture and too much heat. I could not believe my eyes, how did I end up hear and why was I naked? Like a light bulb that quickly burnt out I was quick to make the assumption that I was somewhere in Africa.

How did I end up here, did I blackout and buy a plane ticket? The last thing I remember was hanging out with some of my drug buddies, somewhere in North America as all five of us sat around a table with firearms, a deck of cards that were scattered all over the white table that has turned into a very dark tan color from all the dust that never got cleaned up. There was an ash tray sitting in the middle of the table with so many cigarette butts in it that a few of the cigarettes were ever overflowing on the table.

We were all drinking beer and taking shots of whiskey as drugs were being passed around the table like as if it was thanksgiving at the local homeless shelter. There was a mirror laying on the table with a rolled up twenty dollar bill and a credit card reflecting back at itself as they sit on top of a white substance that is nothing but residue at this point. Cocaine, meth, and even heroin was laying on top of the table ready to be taken by the highest bidder who didn’t have any money.

I was having fun in my drug induced haze, but I never thought to myself that it would lead me to another continent. How did I end up here? Were my friends keeping an eye on me?

In the middle of my hazy confusion I turned around just to go lay back down. I don’t know where the hell my clothes went, but apparently I had enough sense to bring my cell phone with me. My clothes were not even on the train, where and why did I get naked? But for whatever reason I had my cell phone, it was laying on the floor, right next to where I was sleeping. I don’t even remember falling asleep or being in a place that I could fall asleep.

I was thinking to myself that I better call my friend and tell him so I could start putting the pieces of this puzzle back together. I called one of my friends and there was no answer so I called another one and waited for an answer.

“Hello” my friend said as he answered the phone with a worried tone to his voice.

“Hey man,” before I could finish saying hi to him he quickly cut into the conversation like a hot knife to a stick of butter as he asked, “Where the fuck are you man, me and fucking David have been looking all over town for your ass.”

I was happy that they were looking for me, but was shocked that he was not able to find me? How long was I asleep? How long was I even gone. After being assured that my friends were looking for me I replied by saying, “Man, you’re not got going to believe me when I tell you this.”

The phone conversation went totally silent as I could tell that Sam was just waiting for me to continue. All I could hear was the heavy breathing of my friend as I go onto say, “I’m fucking in Africa man!”

There was nothing on the phone, no words were coming from the other end as I could feel as if my friend did not believe me. The only option I had was to go further by telling him that I was on a train, I had no clothes on, and all I saw were lions and tigers.

“Why the fuck are you naked?”

I laughed in the phone, the kind of laugh the carries a large weight of confusion as I said, “I don’t know man, I don’t even remember taking my clothes off.”

My friend was trying to figure out what I was saying, apparently I was not making much sense as he hung up on me after telling me that there was no way in hell I ended up on a train in Africa.

I had no other choice, I was not going to step off of a moving train in this kind of heat, with no clothes on, and deadly predators running wild. I figured the best course of action was to fall back asleep and wait until I got to my final destination.

What feels like four house later I woke up with an AK-47 waving in front of my face being screamed at by an authority figure. Words that I did not understand were being yelled at me, it felt like I was a terrorist in a foreign country. I didn’t understand these people and I’m not sure that they understood me either, after a lot of loud noise I remember being put in the back of a vehicle with a blanket to cover my naked body.

I woke up a few hours later in some kind a jail cell, it was nicer than what I was expecting it to be. I didn’t know where I was or even how I got here. Some people in the cell next to me were talking to me but I was unable to make out anything that was being said, so I just politely nodded and smiled as if I knew what they were talking about.

I even went as far as to say, “I do not know what you are saying,” I said it as polite as possible as they just laughed at me for a reason that was unknown to me at the time.

Just then two black male police officers came and got me, picking me up like a rag doll and throwing me into some other room, this whole time yelling at me in words that I simply did not understand.

And that was one mouth ago, I’m writing this before I go into court, I don’t think I will be coming back for a while.

As it turns out I was in America the whole time. As I understand it I got so high and drunk that I blacked out. According to what my lawyer is tell me I left my friends house the nest morning around ten. I was not in the right state of mind and I stole some ladies car just to take my clothes off.

But no, that’s not where it stopped. After I got naked in her car I proceeded to drive to the zoo and hid my bag of meth in the bushes. And the train I woke up on was the kids train that just happened to be going by all the African animals.

As I write this I’m letting you know what I thought was happening, I don’t think I’ll be coming back any time soon. I’m sorry I put you through this pain, I’m sorry that I was not able to control my addiction. Take care of my son for me, let him know that his father is not a bad man.

I love you, your husband.


That story did not happen to me, it’s purely fiction, a short story inspired by a story I heard at work, the story was not fiction, however I did change a few things. I do not know if this guy is a father, or what happened to him after, but I do know that he broke into the zoo to ride a kids train while he was naked. And according to the person that told me the story he actually thought he was in Africa and was so messed up that he did not understand his own language.