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Nish
A Collection of Short Stories By Quincey Franklin

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Table of Contents Introduction… x.3 Gracie… I.4 Doppelganger…II.8 Sequoia… III.11 Shit… IV.12 Barbeque… V.14 Burlesque… VI Smoke… VII NSA… VIII

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For Tynicia, Palahniuk, Sedaris, and all the English teachers I had to teach me how to use my words.

Introduction This book is a collection of short stories. Many of these stories are inspired by real life events and have been exaggerating for successful story-telling. Some of these stories are pure fiction, some are completely true. The fact of the matter is that this is a work of short stories. In many ways, these stories reflect real life and in many ways, they do not. Some hold deeper meanings however, I am an advocate for reading purely for the enjoyment of reading. Symbolism is crap and I rarely use it to represent my works. I will seldom use symbolisms to represent things within the story but elementary, middle and high school has taught me to subconsciously use symbolism to create a story. Living in a small apartment in Black Mountain, North Carolina with no cable, no internet and a lack of friends helps to create stories. Late night text messages and phone conversations are where some of these stories were inspired. Often times, the easiest way to create a story was to take them from obnoxious text message conversations about boys, about sex, about life with my good friend Tynicia. I have her to thank for this book and the inspiration to craft these stories. When I sat down to write, I only sought out to write “Gracie.” Tynicia and I had a conversation the day before about that subject (in which the story is somewhat truth) and how funny it was. The original title was “Gracie and the .” but, for stylistic purposes, I just changed it to “Gracie.” And that’s where this whole thing began. I let Tynicia read it and she loved it and I convinced her to give me a new idea which spawned “Doppelganger”, which is purely fiction unless someone knows someone that lives that way. I wanted to write interesting stories that I know I would enjoy reading. Some of the other stories that revolve around sex or picking up guys from the internet are sadly true. Exaggerated to a point (except “Shit“, that’s pretty much verbatim) to create humor and memorable stories. Told in the first person, they are from my perspective. Tucker Max’s “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” inspired me to write out some of my more interesting sex stories. I always knew I would write something one day, get it published and (hopefully) become a successful writer. My teachers always thought I would, too. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t publish something like this (sorry) but, in all honesty, they are truly the ones to thank for this book. Without them, I would never know how to use my words effectively or properly. Read this book.

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I. Gracie The familiar red glow from my cigarette burns bright as I take another drag. The smoke escaping from the hot coals of the cigarette float into the air, dissipating into oblivion, soft and heavy. The smell is sharp, deep and I can feel the nicotine engaging in my lungs. The smooth air flowing down my trachea, into my lungs. I can feel my diaphragm pulling down, causing my lungs to fill with smoke. Inhaling, my chest fills with the smoke and floods my bloodstream with chemicals and the sweet, sweet feel of nicotine traveling through my veins. I have a buzz. My head is spinning ever so slightly; heavy and light at the same time, my brain dies a little. “You should really quit those things,” She said to me, “You know they cause lung cancer and are really bad for you.” The twelve year old girl had her concerns and often voiced them, “I don’t know if I would like it if you died of something like lung -” “Gracie, it’s really alright,” I tell her, “I’ve been smoking for fourteen years and I ain’t never got lung cancer or no other diseases from them.” “But, you should! For me, at least?” The soft voice echoed in my ears, landing like an anvil on my soul. I turned my head and held back shameful tears. “You know, I’m going to be thirteen soon. What are you going to get me?” As I thought for a moment of what to get the young girl, it suddenly hit me, “Would you like a necklace? Or a diamond ring?” “Yes! Yes!” She bounced up and down like a typical twelve year old girl, excited that her brother would buy her such a thing. Where the hell I’m gonna get that kind of money is a mystery. My little sister was my life. I loved her more than my worthless folks. They never did anything for us, never cooked us dinner, got us any presents for our birthdays or Christmas. No fucking hugs. No fucking I love you. No peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in brown paper bags. Hell, if they were home, they were usually drunk. Often times, I’d come home and find my old man fucking some twenty year old chick while my mom sat on the couch, drinking her whiskey and smoking a cigarette. I really should quit. I take another drag and blow the smoke out into the cold, winter air. “You know, we could leave? We could move away, far away. To some neighborhood in Washington where no one would know us. I could get a job and take care of you.” It kind of fell out of my mouth, unintentional. “What? Why would we do that? I love it here.” The town we lived in wasn’t small but it wasn’t big, either. Average. Typical. We lived in a two story house in a nice neighborhood. There really wasn’t any reason for us to leave it behind. “Are you really that sad to be here?” Gracie paused for a moment and corrected herself, “Well, I mean, is it really that bad?” *** Gracie was a nerd. A flat out nerd. She loved science and math. Actually, she really loved school in general. She was a straight A student, never missed a day of school and always did her homework. She was revered at her school as a “young intellectual” and voted to be “most successful” in her class. She made first place in her school’s science fair. A project about chemical unbalance in sunflowers or something. I don’t remember. But the girl is damn smart. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up Valedictorian at graduation, a distinguished graduate of her high school, enroll in Northwestern University to study Biology and end up as the most respected and highly talented surgeon. At least, that’s what I hope. Well, I hoped. “Gracie, are you okay?” Her math teacher asked. It wasn’t like Gracie to disconnect from class participation. Always having the answers, a freshman in a junior-level math class. “Yes, Mrs. Joseph. I’m okay.” Gracie lied. There was a lot going through her thirteen year old brain. A brother who was unhappy and wanted to leave. Her stomach hurt and she was unusually ready to leave school that day. “May I go to the bathroom?” As Gracie walked to the bathroom, she became upset and started to cry. Her silent, hot tears falling down her face at nine-point-eight meters per second. Gracie smiled, she was crying but at least she knew how fast her tears would fall. She decided to visit the school nurse. She wasn’t exactly sure where to go or even how to get to the office as she had never been on many occasions. She walked into the nurse’s office and told the nurse that she was feeling ill. The nurse called home to inform her parents that they needed to come pick her up. The phone at the house rang and rang, in rhythm with her father fucking this blonde, twenty year old bimbo on the living room couch. “Try my brother’s cell phone. No one answers at home.” Gracie said.

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“But, you’re brother isn’t listed as… oh, wait, here he is.” The nurse dialed the number and it rang twice. “Is everything okay? Is Gracie alright? I‘m on my way. Do I need to come get her?” I was in a panic. It wasn‘t usual that the school called me. “Yes, she’s fine. She would like for you to come pick her up, yes.“ The nurse on the other end of the phone didn’t sound too pleasant. She was actually somewhat manly over the phone. “I’m on my way. Thank you.” I was already halfway to the school, it seemed. “See you soon.” The nurse put down the receiver, looked at Gracie and said, “He’s on his way.” Gracie’s stomach hurt. It churned with anger and she took at nap while she waited on me to come get her. Ten minutes was not nearly good enough for a nap, she would later tell me. “Gracie, your brother is here.” The nurse said. Gracie, still laying down on the bed, saw my face and smiled. She mouthed the words “thank you.” “Is everything alright?” I asked her, my heart still beating fast from the panic and worry. “Yeah, I just don’t feel good… well, I mean I don’t feel well.” Gracie liked to do that. She always said she wasn’t that great with words and anytime she heard herself use a word wrong, she corrected it. “Okay.” I don’t think I’ve ever worried that much in my entire life. *** Gracie came home early again today. I was worried about what was going on. Was she on drugs? No, why would I think that. Gracie didn’t have the heart to do drugs. Her math teacher called to make sure she was okay. It was crazy to see how concerned her teachers were. None of her friends called to see if she was alright. Fuckers. At least someone else was as concerned as I was. I knocked on her door, she was sleeping. “Gracie?” I called to her, waited a few seconds and heard her soft voice answer. “Come in, I’m not asleep anymore.” I opened the door, she was still laying in bed. She was reading some book. She was always reading, too. I sat at the edge of her bed and let the silence fill the void for a few moments. “You know, you can stay home tomorrow if you want. I’ll take you out to lunch and we can go walk around the mall.” It was obvious that she should probably stay home tomorrow. “I can’t, I’ve got a big math test. We’ve been studying equations and I’ve been studying a lot for it. I can’t miss it, bro.” Her brown eyes met mine and I didn’t feel like convincing her to stay home. “Are you sure?” I asked her reluctantly. “Absolutely, I can’t miss this.” Gracie pulled the book back up to her face and continued reading. “Alright, well, just let me know. Sleep well little sister.” I kissed her on the forehead and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me. My dad, standing in the hallway, looked like shit. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked me. “None of your goddamn business.” I snapped back. “Boy, don’t you get that tone with -” He started but I wasn’t about to hear him father me now. “Fuck you. You go back to your slut.” I watched him as he stood there, leaning against the wall. He took a cigarette from his breast pocket, lit it and took a long, deep first drag. As he pulled his body from the wall, he walked back into his room and shut the door. “I need to get her out of here. I can’t take this much longer.” I took a few steps down the hallway and heard a door open behind me. I turned around and found my father, sticking his head out of the doorway. “You know, I’m a horrible father. I didn’t deserve to have kids I didn’t -” He began. “Don’t you -” I started to interrupt. “No, don’t interrupt me. I need to say this. I didn’t want this life for you or your sister. Downstairs, you’ll find an envelope with your name on it. There’s ten thousand dollars in it for you. Take her away, we’re signing papers tomorrow. We’re splitting and you have full guardianship over her. Get the fuck out of this town, out of this house. We don’t want nothing to do with you or her. Leave and never come back.” He went back into the room and shut the door. I didn’t know it yet but that would be the last time I would ever see him. Not because we left but because he would die three days later. Took a shotgun, put the damn barrel in his mouth and pulled the fucking trigger. A psychiatrist would later tell me that, deep down, I loved him. What a fucking lie that was. *** Gracie woke suddenly. Someone was banging on her bedroom door. She jumped out of bed, ran to the door and opened it to find her mother there, crying. “Yes?” She asked. “Gravy, I lurb you.” Our mother was belligerently drunk. The woman could hardly stand, actually,

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by this time, she had collapsed on the floor of the hallway. Her limp body seemed to be at rest as she lay on the cold, wood floor. Her chest rising and falling, rhythmically. Gracie sighed, knelt down and struggled to pick her mother up off the floor. “Mom, I know you’ve tried to deal with life,” Gracie spoke softly to our mother as she carried her inside the room, to her bed, “but I want you to know that I still love you. You’re my mother and nothing changes that.” Gracie laid her on the bed, kissed her on the forehead and shut the door quietly as she left the room. Our mother would never wake up the next morning. But, we wouldn’t find this out until after our Dad died. Gracie found her way to my room, opened my door and came to me, “Hey, wake up… wake up.” She shook me a few times and I finally woke up. “You okay?” I asked her. “Yeah, Mom’s drunk, passed out in my bed. I came to lay down with you.” She didn’t let me answer before she got under the covers, “goodnight brother. I love you.” “Goodnight. I love you, too.” I looked over at my dresser and saw that white envelope filled with money. This is our way out, we have to do this soon. *** Gracie’s stomach still hurt. That morning she put on a new pair of khaki pants she had gotten a few days earlier. She was excited to wear them because they fit her like a glove. Her body, growing into her clothes, fit the pants. Her hips rested comfortably in the waist;. the curve of her ass was apparent but not accentuated to the point where she felt revealing. They were the perfect pair of khakis. She was on the bus, studying for her math test. The kids at school never really got along with her. They didn’t pick on her, they were nice but Gracie didn’t have a want for friends. Mostly because she was too mature for the kids her age. She didn’t care much for pop music, parties, People magazine or anything like that. Gracie liked books and she liked to learn. Education was her priority and she was a hard worker. She was respectful and cordial to her teachers and never once disrespected anyone. She had no enemies, she had no friends. Gracie was her own person. She ate her usual breakfast. Eggs. Bacon. Cereal. And Toast. She would later tell me that the food was unusually good that morning. She walked to her math class, prepared for the test. She sat in her usual desk. It was, in fact, in the back of the room. She figured that the students who needed to work hard should sit up there instead of her. Her stomach groaned. “Okay class, please put away all your books. Have a pencil ready and your calculators ready.” Mrs. Joseph walked down the aisles of desks, passing out the test. Gracie’s stomach really hurt this morning. The test was in front of Gracie. She did her usual, she wrote her name, wrote the date, and looked at the first question. Easy question. She then flipped through the pages and looked at the questions on the test. Taking a survey of what would take the most time and what she could finish quickly. Her hand left the desk and found her stomach. She quickly moved past the pain in her abdomen and started on the test. Ten minutes into the test, Gracie had finished most of the easy questions. “Simple,” she thought, “this is really easy.” So, she worked on some of the more difficult problems. As she worked, her brain churned out answers to this equation and that. And, as she worked harder, the worse the pain got in her stomach. She was about halfway done with her test when she really started to feel uncomfortable. Her stomach hurt, it was distracting and she felt like her stomach was being punched over and over again. Gracie finished the last problem on the test. She went back, flipped through the pages to check that she answered all of them and sat, satisfied. She neatly set her pencil on the desk, perfectly parallel to the calculator that she so desperately wished she didn’t need. She stood, grabbed the test and took a step. The only thing she regretted about sitting in the back of the room was the walk it took to get to the front of the room. She didn’t like the way the older guys stared at her ass as she walked. She took a second step. Somehow, time had slowed down. As she took more and more steps, she noticed that something was wrong. The room felt heavy. It started with one small peep in the back of the room. Someone giggled. And then, slowly, the giggle turned into a laugh. And outburst of laughter echoed through the room as Gracie stood at the desk of Mrs. Joseph, “Here you go, I’m finished.” She said, ignoring the laughter. Mrs. Joseph, stood and told everyone to be quiet. Gracie turned around to return to her seat when she saw the eyes of her peers, burning into her crotch. As Gracie looked down, she noticed that her khakis were no longer that off-white, cream color. The deep, crimson color that stained her khakis bled down her thighs. She stared, in horror, at the sight of her khakis. She ran to her desk, grabbed her book bag and noticed a small pool of blood that sat in the seat of her desk. She started to cry, her face as red as her khakis and ran out of the classroom. She ran

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out the front doors of the school. Never looking back. *** “Yes, I would like to deposit this.” I handed the wad of cash to the teller at the bank. I watched as she counted the money. Her eyes looked at me with suspicion, she didn’t know where I got this money but somehow I had it and I wanted to deposit it. “Is there something wrong?” I asked. “Um, no. Well, no. Would you like to deposit all of this, sir?” The teller questioned. “Yes, every dollar of it.” I responded. I felt my cell phone in my back pocket vibrate, “Excuse me.” I informed the teller. As I answered the phone, I knew something was wrong. It was Gracie, she was crying, “What’s wrong?” I was panicking. “Can you come get me? I’m at a pay phone down the road from the school. I had to leave brother, I just had to. I couldn’t stay. I took my test and… and…” As she pushed out the words, her tears pushed them back in. I could barely keep myself together. “Here you are, Sir. Your deposit is complete. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” The teller handed me a receipt and I politely responded with a no and ran to my car. “I’m on my way Gracie, stay right there.” I was crying because she was crying. I drove in a panic. Wondering what in the hell happened to my sister that caused her to run out of school after her first class. I drove by the school, frantically searching for a payphone and spotted her. Her blue polo shirt and her khakis. Except, something was different. Her khakis weren’t the same khaki color, they were stained with blood. “Oh no,” I said to myself, I knew exactly what had happened. Gracie had started her period. I figured it was about that time in her life but I didn’t realize that it would look like somebody took a machete between her legs. I got out the car, took off my jacket and covered her up. I carried her to the car, laid her in the backseat and drove. *** We didn’t go back home that day. Actually, we haven’t been back to that town in ten years. Gracie never found out what she got on that test, either. After I picked her up, we drove straight for Washington. We stopped on the way at some mall and got some new clothes and something to eat. Gracie would thank me for that. She would constantly thank me for never letting her go back to that place. We disappeared. Our folks, dead. Our lives, new. They always say that people move to new places to start over. But Gracie and I, we moved to start our lives. Gracie enrolled in a new school. She continued her studies as usual, graduated as Valedictorian and got accepted to Harvard, Yale, Washington State, Princeton, UCLA, and NYU. Gracie wants to be a teacher, a math teacher to be exact. I, well, I kept smoking my cigarettes and Gracie never asked me to quit again.

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II. Doppelganger He is tall. Handsome. He’s not a model, no chiseled abs, no perfection except he is charming and women everywhere want to be with him. He sits at the bar and orders another drink, “Gin and Tonic, if you will.” He is well spoken. His hair is brown, not too long but he thinks that it ought to be cut soon. He sips on his drink, “How do you do?” He asks the woman who is seated a few seats down. “Fine, thank you.” The woman is wearing a black cocktail dress. Her pumps are magnificent, Dolce and Gabbana. Her perfume, Dior. Her necklace and bracelet fashioned from the late Alexander McQueen. She has a keen sense of style. Her dress was most likely purchased at some boutique downtown. When she purchased it, she intended on finding something that is easy to put on and take off. Not that she was prowling for sex but, she also looked for easy access if she so decided to. It cost her five-hundred dollars and seventy-four cents. The boutique sold many expensive items of clothing. She thought that the price was somewhat outrageous but not out of her spending range. “May I buy you a drink?” The man sitting at the bar asks. The woman sat for a moment, thinking if she wanted this man to buy her a drink. She thinks he looks average but, deep down, she wanted to fuck him. “A mojito, for the lady.” He tells the bartender. “A mojito? You offer to buy me a drink and you buy me a mojito? Actually, I’ll just take a cosmo. You can drink your mojito and fuck off.” The woman sits, awaiting a response from the man and for her drink. “I’m Paul.” The man said. “I’m Susan.” The woman responded. She stood and sat next to Paul, “Sorry. I’m not usually one to sit at bars alone.” She looked at Paul. Eyeing him. She noticed that he had not looked at her once; he sat there and drank his drink. Her eyes looked him up and down, she wanted to take his pants off and give him a blowjob he would never forget. “It’s alright,” he said, “I am glad we’ve met.” And he turned his head, looked at Susan and his eyes met her eyes: locked. His blue eyes immediately charmed her. He did one of his half-smiles and he thought this broad was going to have an orgasm right there. “You live around here?” “Y-Yes.” Susan felt like she was going to pass out. Not many men could cause her to feel this way. Actually, she never met a man who could. She was unaware of her cosmo sitting on the bar in front of her. She took his hand and lead him out of the bar They walked, side by side, no words were spoken, they just walked. She took a small brass key from her Chanel purse, inserted it into the key hole, turned and opened the door. They walked to an elevator, she pushed the button and as they waited for the elevator to arrive, her hand found his crotch. She felt him get stiff. Ding. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Susan lived on the fifth floor. The elevator moved at incredible speed, reaching the fifth floor, the elevator let out a typical ding and the doors opened. Susan lead the way to her apartment. Number 520. She pulled out another key from her bag, this time the key was silver. Paul thought he saw diamond studs on the key. As she opened the door, Paul immediately noticed the gold colored wallpaper that lined the apartment. This chick’s got some money. “What do you do? Do you work?” “No, I don’t. My ex husband died and left me his money.” Susan informed him. She then reached around her back, unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground. It fell around her ankles into a circular heap of a cotton-polyester blend. She stood there, her back was bear and very sexual. Her long, brown hair reached the middle of her back, she wore no bra. Standing there in her Victoria Secret thong and her Dolce and Gabbana pumps, she turned her head to Paul, “Do you like what you see?” “Well, yes, of course.” Paul knew what was about to happen and he wasn’t about to stop it. Susan turned around, her bare breasts sat firm on her chest. She walked toward Paul, put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. Her hands slowly moved down his chest. For an average looking guy, he sure has a nice body. She thought. She unbuttoned his shirt, his chest was hairy but not to the point that it turned her off. Her lips stayed locked onto his, their tongues exploring the opening between their lips. The wet kiss ended and Susan looked into Paul’s eyes. “I want you inside me.” Her voiced echoed in Paul’s ears. “You want me to fuck you?” Paul pulled her in close. His hands on her hips, he pulled her thong down and saw her pussy. He couldn’t wait to feel her on top of him, riding him into the night. *** Paul woke up next to Susan. He had no change of clothes. Actually, he had nowhere to go. Paul was homeless. He chose to be homeless about ten years ago. He’s been in countless relationships. And he’s

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been homeless the whole time. Usually, Paul would pick up girls from the bar and go back to their place. If, for instance, they had roommates or didn’t live alone, he would usually just sleep there for the night and leave them the next morning. At least, in his case, he had somewhere to live, food, and a shower. He never went more than three days without a shower. If he ever needed one, he would usually go to a gym and shower there. He was a doppelganger. He could be anyone. Usually, he waited around in a bar to see what kind of men the women were into and, the next day, he would turn into them. He’s been a business man, a bad boy, a simpleton, a college student. Luckily, he could just get a shave and a haircut or let it all grow out for free. He knew how to cut his own hair. Paul worked, too. He was homeless but he wasn’t unemployed. Paul worked as an operator for a cell phone company. When they called customer service they heard Paul, “Thank you for calling ---, this is Paul, what can I help you with today?” Except, sometimes he wasn’t Paul. Actually, Paul isn’t his real name, either. He’s been Fernando, Eric, Ray, Devon, Josh, Ryan and so many others. Susan rolled over and put her arm around Paul’s chest. He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead and slipped away from under the covers. He grabbed his clothes and took a shower. As he was washing himself, he heard a knock. “Paul?” Susan’s voice sounded muffled behind the bathroom door. “Yeah?” Paul answered. “Okay, just making sure that was you. You want some breakfast?” Paul couldn’t resist food, especially if it was free. “Yeah, that sounds great Susan.” Paul finished his shower, dried himself off, got dressed and went to the kitchen. There, he found Susan cooking breakfast. Paul could smell bacon and eggs. “Did you enjoy last night?” Susan asked as she cooked, her back turned to Paul. “Yes, very much. Did you?” Paul’s question seemed to hang in the air for a moment before she answered. “It was alright I guess. I was expecting better, to be honest.” Susan was being honest, I guess when you fuck someone with the kind of money she has, she expects the absolute best, “But, I do have to say that you know how to fuck a girl.” “Haha, thanks I suppose? What’s for breakfast?” Paul came up behind her, wrapped her arms around her waist and kissed he on the neck. He usually did this kind of thing to show that he was a “good guy.” But, the act didn’t usually last long. He stayed long enough until he was satisfied and moved on. “Bacon. Eggs. You don’t mind them, do you?” Susan inquired. “No, no, definitely sounds delicious.” Paul found a seat at the breakfast bar in her kitchen. He looked around and noticed the state-of-the-art kitchen appliances that lined the walls. Her pots and pans were top of the line and everything in the kitchen was stainless steel: a homemaker’s dream. “Here, eat up.” Susan placed a plate of food in front of him, he noticed that there was only enough for him and stopped for a moment. “You’re not eating?” He asked. “No, not hungry.” She stood there and watched as he took his first bite. “You know, you’re a really nice girl. You’ve got a great place, too. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Paul was actually liking this girl. She was nice, although most of her interactions with him had been her getting fucked, he had a good feeling about her. “Let me think about it. How are the eggs?” She asked. “Great! These are some damn good eggs.” Paul put another bite into his mouth. That’s when he noticed that Susan had started washing the dishes that she used. “You know, let me finish and I’ll get those for you.” Paul was trying his best to win this girl over. “I’m alright, I enjoy washing dishes.” Susan scrubbed the pans in the hot, soapy water. “No, no, no… no girl this sweet can do the dishes while I sit here and eat.” Paul walked to the sink and tried to grab the sponge from Susan’s hand. He couldn’t pull the sponge from her hand. She held on tight and stood there, head down. “You know, you really ought to finish eating. Since you won’t be eating for a while.” Susan’s voice sounded ominous. He hadn’t heard her or anyone speak this way in a long time. “What?” Paul was confused. “You know, I saw you at the bar. I thought you looked average and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to give you the time of day. I was thinking to myself, ‘homeless men don’t belong in bars.’ But, I was wrong.” Susan stated, “Somehow, you got me to bring you here, you got me to let you take a shower, to cook you

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breakfast. Hell, I even let you fuck me. Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy fucking me? Did you think that your charming techniques would allow you to stay here? Homeless man, Paul. Or is it Eric? Or Ray? Or Devon? Which one is it? Did you really think you could do this for this long and get away with it? Or did you just plan on screwing women your entire life? You know, you’re the reason I don’t date men. I saw you sitting there, at the bar and I knew who you were. I had seen you plenty of times. In a town like this, people talk. You may be able to change your appearance but you can’t change your eyes. Those damn eyes gave you away. I knew the second you looked at me who you were. I’ve heard it plenty of times. You really ought to pick a new bar.” Susan knew his secret. He was exposed. He sat there, eggs in his mouth, half chewed. He bolted for the door. BANG! He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked down and saw his white shirt stained with blood. The bitch shot me. She really shot me. He thought. He fell to his knees, raised his head to see Susan standing there in front of him. “You really almost had me. But, in the end, who’s really the one who got fucked?” Susan put the gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger. She stood there for a moment, unashamed that she just murdered a man. “Dammit, now I’m going to have to clean this up before she gets home.” Susan was a maid. She had no home, she cleaned houses and apartments for people around the city. She only took jobs that would allow her to stay there if the tenants were going out of town so she could live there. She had somewhere to stay, food, and a shower. She was a doppelganger.

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III. Sequoia I lost my virginity behind an old, abandoned building that sold construction equipment. It was late one night and lightly raining. In his Toyota Sequoia, we started making out. He was just some random guy I met online. We were texting for a few days before we actually met and he wanted to come to my work to screw me in our employee bathroom when I was closing the store. Sadly, I thought I had more dignity than that. So, he picked me up, after work, and off we went. I can’t tell you his name because, honestly, I don’t remember it. And, for the sake of good storytelling, I‘ll just call him Sequoia. So, we’re making out in his car and his hand slides down to my crotch where he started rubbing my dick. Of course, my pants didn’t stay on too long after that. There was no candlelight dinner, no special moment. Just him, sucking me off in the seat of his car while the door was open. “Suck my dick.” Sequoia said. So, I got on my knees and started sucking him off. He pulled me up and started kissing me again, “I’m gonna ravage that ass of yours,” he said, “let me get a condom.” Needless to say, my first time wasn’t so glamorous. He turned me around, my hands on the side of his car like he was a cop about to frisk me down. He pulled down my pants and, with a good wad of spit, lubed up. In he went. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it but, after a few pumps and him really getting it in there, it wasn’t so bad. So, he’s fucking me from behind and I can feel that he’s getting ready to come. Then, the unthinkable happens. My first time getting fucked, this stranger I barely know and behind a some random building, in the rain and a cop shows up. Great, what an awesome way to lose your virginity. “Shit,” I said, “fucking cop car just pulled in.” I thought he saw it but he kept pumping away at my ass and I, for some reason, wasn’t about to stop him. “I’m so fucking close, I’m not stopping. Fuck the cop.” Sequoia says. “Fuck. Dude, just get in the backseat.” So, I open the door and we fall into the backseat. He’s still fucking me and the cop gets out of his car. He comes over, knocks on the window and shines the light in. I hide my face and the cop just keeps staring. “I’m about to come dude. I’m seriously almost there. Is he… watching?” Sequoia said. “Gentlemen,” The cop said to us, light still shining on my bare ass and Sequoia’s cock, “I need to blow my load, too. Open up.” Sequoia opens the door and the cop just whips out his cock and starts jerking off. It should also be mentioned that Sequoia, although very good at sex, was drunk. “Oh yeah…” The cop just kept jerking his dick right in front of my face. “Oh shit dude,” Sequoia’s tone didn’t sound so great. Now, what is about to happen will forever be the memory of my first time having sex. Like I said, no candlelight dinners, no special moment, just… this. “I’m gonna puke.” And, as Sequoia starting blowing chunks in the backseat of the car, the cop started coming and I just put my head down, in shame. Real classy there buddy… real classy. “What the fuck. Sorry dude,” The cop, put away his wang, zipped up and walked away. He looked back and shook his head, got in his car and left. “Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t even come yet. I know you probably don’t want to -” “No, sorry. Take me back to my car.” I said to him. “So… I guess there won’t be another chance?” Sequoia was looking to fuck me again in the future, “Since, well, I didn’t even come and you got a hot ass.” As he slapped my ass, I turned around and punched him in the stomach. Pants still down, he fell to the ground and cringed. “No. Not later, not ever. I’ll walk.” And, as I walked to my car, in the rain, I just laughed at myself and figured, what the hell, at least my first time will trump every first time there ever was.

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IV. Shit I’ve been twenty-one since I was eighteen. Lying about your age when you have a lot of facial hair is pretty easy. So, I was bored one afternoon, cruising around on craig’s list looking for some action. And this guy responds to one of my e-mails. He says he’s interested, wants to fuck me, help me experience getting fucked more and loves young guys. So, we chat for a bit, exchange pics and finally I drive my ass out to his house. I’ll call him “Jim”, for now. So, I get there and he is nothing like what his pictures looked like. Fuck. He’s ugly and fat and I really don’t want to go through with this. “I can tell you are disappointed,” Jim notices the look on my face as I stand on his front step, in disgust, “Listen, I’ll fuck you good. I’ll go slow, we can have fun. Hell, I’ll give you $100 if you just come inside and I’ll give you another hundred if I can fuck you.” I’ll make one thing clear: never have I solicited myself for sex. Never will I, either. He offered, I didn’t refuse. It’s like paying someone to clean their toilet that they just had explosive diarrhea in. No one actually wants to do that so people offer to pay someone to do it instead. “Fine.” I stepped inside and we went to his bedroom. “Oh, you’re quiet, right?” Jim asked me. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.” I wasn’t exactly sure why he was asking. “Okay, that’s good.” So, Jim lead me into his bedroom and we sat on the bed and he told me to lie back. Laying on that bed, watching the fan above my head rotate was hypnotic. He was sucking my dick and playing with my nipples and all I could think of was how I just wanted to put a fucking paper bag over his face. “You like to get rimmed?” Jim was standing over my naked body now. “Never done it.” I responded. “Mmm, fresh meat.” So, he went down and started to eat my ass. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first but, after awhile, I was a fan. Got me hard and that’s all that mattered. I felt him slide in a finger and then two fingers and then three, “Tight hole man, that’s awesome.” This dude was fat, ugly and weird. Why did I stay? Oh yeah, the money. “Hey, can I go ahead and get that other hundred from you?” It kind of fell out of my mouth, I wasn’t aware that I said it until he stopped sucking my dick. “Uh, sure… are you still wanting to get fucked?” His face was confused but it didn’t make it look any better. “Oh, shit, sorry, thinking out loud. Yeah. Let me get that from you first though.” So, he handed me the other hundred dollars. But, two-hundred dollars would not suffice this moment in life. My second time having sex and, so far, sex hasn’t been that interesting. This dude tells me to get on my hands and knees so he can fuck me. So, I did and I was glad that I wouldn’t have to look at that face the whole time. “Man, let me lube that up.” Jim sounded like he was about to eat a fucking steak. “Hey man, go slow, I haven’t been fucked much and your cock is thick.” As I was saying it, the fuck shoves his dick in my ass. Immediately I felt pain and immediately I pulled away and flipped over, “Dude! I told you to go slow!” “Shhhhhh!” And he put his hand over my mouth. “Jim! What are you doing? Is there somebody in there?” A woman’s voice echoed from down the hall. What the fuck is going on here? “No mother, just the TV.” Jim yelled, “Go back to sleep.” And I was petrified. His mother was down the hall. Not only was he ugly as fuck, he lived with his fucking mother. “Alright, back to business.” “Naw dude, you’re not fucking me. We can just jerk off. That hurt too much.” I stated to him. “Fine.” Passive aggressive gargoyles are passive aggressive. So, we’re sitting there, jerking off and his hand wanders to my thigh and then my ass. He starts fingering my ass and after some time of doing it he looks at me and says, “I’ll give you another two-hundred if I can fuck that hole.” So, being the unintentional entrepreneur that I am, I gave in. “Under one condition: you go slow and you lube up good.” I was not happy but, walking out of there with four hundred dollars was working for me, “And, I want the money now.” Back on my hands and knees again, he starts working my hole. This time, he listened and it wasn’t that bad. Still painful but not like the first time. Suddenly, there’s this… noise. I’m not sure if it’s what I think it is but then it happens again. I’m distracted and I keep hearing it. It sounds like a… fart. I turn back and this dude is fucking me and farting. And then, it hits me. The smell is unbearable and I’m repulsed and I tell him to stop. He pulls out and I look on the bed. In my horror I realized that this ugly, gargoyle of a man took a dump while he was fucking me. He looked at my face and at the shit on his bed and then back at me.

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“What?” He asked. “What?! That’s all you can say?! You took a shit on your bed! That’s… that’s…” I was yelling. “Shhhh! My mom!” He tried to silence me. “No! Oh, fuck!” I grabbed my clothes, put my boxers on and ran out of his room. I ran into his mom in the hallway, “Your son is fucked up.” Driving back to my dorm room was miserable. I could still smell it in my nose. I called up one of my friends and told her what happened and she laughed at the whole situation. In the midst of my phone call I get another phone call. It was from Jim. “What do you want?” I demanded. “I want to see you again. I’m sorry man, I didn’t know you weren’t into scat.” He sounded pathetic. “Fuck no! That’s fucking disgusting and you live with your mother! Dude, you’re a freak!” Hanging up on him was wonderful. I called my friend back and we talked until I got back to my dorm room. I walked into my room, still in my boxers to realize that I was smelling it because it was on my back. Not only did I drive in my truck with shit on my back, I walked up to my second floor dorm room, shirtless, with shit on my back. “Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.”