ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD --- Fiction

Slack jaw, middle of a suicide, in that part of town, poor man's place to die, to be found, gun by the side, clenched in his hand, bottle of Jack nearby.

Where were the medics?

Nobody wanted to come to this part of town, if only he had died on the west side, the rich man's section of middle town USA, where each place had a pool to drown.

I was sitting on the sidewalk, watching the world go bye.

Or maybe by.

There was a bag in my hand, paint fume, huffing my cares away, killing my brain one cell at a time.

We had guns; or access to them, it was easier to get gun than it was food stamps.

Mary Anne stood outside the bus depot, selling her soul one hour at a time, later on, she'd stop by and see me.

"Can I have a puff?" she'd ask as I passed the bag to her.

We'd do harder drugs if we could get our hands on them, sitting there till midnight, one o clock, passing the time staring into the sky, watching the stars flash across the sky.

I had a place; an abandoned building over on Fifth street, where, if we could stand, we'd make our way to, crash hard onto the shit stained mattress on the floor.

We'd awake before noon to restart the whole process.

Back to the street grind, to find ourselves, to lose our soul, one brain cell at a time.

Sometimes a reporter from the local news would make his or her way "Down to the street" to see how the other half lived, those forgotten people, the street people; insane, driving away, ready to die on a call, whatever.

One showed up one day; Cindee, she was new, trying to make her face the answer to whatever.

"How long have you been on the street?" she asked me.

"Forever!!" I said, nodding, taking a huff off of my bag.

My mind was still there.

Jack, the local insane poet, laughed.

"We were fucking born here!!" he said, patting the ground, "Our mother, the fucking Goddess of Huff!! Like a hit? For a good lead into your story?'

She smiled and politely declined and moved on, to more saner grounds.

"Bitch didn't even ask me what my turn ons were!!" Mary pouted.

We all laughed.

We were like tears in the rain, washed away, never to be seen, if we were even there, washed away from existence.

But here we still laid, a shade of our former self, lost in our ways, but still here.

Neurotic Erotica - THINGS TO DO WITH A...A LETTER TO PENTHOUSE

Dear Penthouse,

Hi!

How are you?

I am fine, thanks for asking.

This is my third time writing you, my second time placing said letter into envelope and my first time actually putting it into the mailbox!

Email?

What's that?

Anyways, I am sitting here, at 8:08 pm on October 2nd, 2018, the laptop is in my lap and you know what is on my mind!

Playing a game of Hello Kitty Adventure Island!!

Yay!!

Sex?

Mama told me sex leads to all kinds of problems, like anal bleeding and warts, who needs that!!!

I imagine sex feels like rubbing your pee pee with sand paper and then throwing some vinegar on it.

My Uncle Clint, he lost his penis to sex.

He was just laying there minding his own business.

In a woman's bed that wasn't his wife.

Aunt Tilda storms in, breaking down the door and shoots old Uncle Clint in the penis, straight as a bird flies sober, like my mama says.

And the doc, old Doc Smith, just couldn't save it, Aunt Tilda used some buck shoot, done split the pee pee ten times to Sunday.

That's when I learned that a man's penis is very sacred to him cause old Uncle Clint just started crying and sobbing when Doc told him, WE CAN'T SAVE YOUR WILLY WHACKER!!!

So anyways, it ain't too bad being a virgin at 49.

Mama says I'd be a horrible daddy anyways.

Anyways, that's my letter, hope you like it,

Your friend in Jesus,

Hank

LIARS IN THE FIELD - NEUROTIC EROTICA!

THE LIARS IN THE FIELD 

by

Andrew Snartz

CHAPTER ONE - REMEMBERING LUST ADVENTURES

The summer wind blew; fierce dehydrating winds coming from the south.

Margaret laid in the burnt, dry, brown grass of the field.

She felt Henry's hot breath on her inner thigh, moving up, closer and closer to that spot, his hands pushing her skirt up, exposing her to his gaze.

"Stop..." she moaned but didn't push him away, throwing back her head as his mouth met her down below, his tongue darting out, drawing in her nectar, driving her to move her hands into his hair, pushing him further in.

I wasn't part of that scene but watched it unfold on TV.

Cinemax to be exact.

My first time with a woman was more like; I paid her fifty bucks, she spread her legs, I removed my pants, ten minutes and a squirt later, I was putting my pants back on and heading out the door.

My second time was in college; she was a senior, I had just started my freshmen year.

She was tall; 6 foot 5 inches.

Blonde, those green eyes.

I forget her name.

I remember her legs straddling me, lower herself on me, her nipples, mere inches from my mouth, my tongue dancing with them, then her mouth pressing against mine.

It wasn't a "Romantic fuck" as described in proper terms of the words, though, by crude definitions, it was a fuck.

I guess my true "Romantic fuck" was with my fifth; it was a cloudy stormy day, it was our first date.

The car I had was a piece of shit for lack of a better wording, it had stalled up the tall hill outside of the town we were living in.

Sheila was her name; small girl, not a beauty by the set standards of society but "Fuckable" by the terms of the bar stool banter that flooded the town.

"To kill time," she said, "We could fool around!"

It started out innocently. We kissed.

Then I felt her hand moving down my chest, stopping at my crotch, her fingers slipped down my zipper, and exposed my stiffening cock to her gaze.

It was innocent up to that point; her hand grasping the shaft, and slowly moving up and down in rhythmic movement, I gasped out, feeling her, moving faster and faster, then her mouth soon replacing her hand.

Soon, in even less innocence, she removed her blue jeans, sliding her panties down as well, exposing her nakedness to gaze, and lowered her self onto me, letting my hard cock slide deep into her.

I did not hold out long; and within a bit of a few up and down motions, her moans filling the car and my ears, I came deep inside of her; filling her up with my seed.

A mistake I guess; I not wearing a condom and her not on birth control, it was like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun.

She smiled as she put her clothes back on, I did the same thing.

I finally got the car started and drove her home.

I'd like to say I made love to her repeatedly but we only dated for a few more times before she broke up with me for a guy named Steve.

Not too long after, I found out she was pregnant. 

"You know who Sheila's baby looks like?" my friend Anthony had said one night as we sat at the bar.

"I do not have an idea..." I said, sliding off into silence.

"Go look in a mirror, you'll see!" he laughed.

"Shut up!! She'd tell me if that kid was mine!"