Thursday, February 24, 2005

Who can resist the anus... the end?

I can only imagine the thrill of it all:

It's cold, you shouldn't be out this late. The snow crunches underfoot and it's icy in patches - dangerous, dark. It's past twelve, and the only ones out are you and the creatures of the night...not the types to bring home to mother.

Swish, swoop, wiggle.

And you sense it, in the corner of your mind. You are not alone. (Not again, it's too early in the year, too cold for this.)
Your heart speeds up, your breath comes fast, and you tilt your nose gently skyward. Can you smell it? Can you taste it in the air?

God. Damn. It.

You promised yourself never again. After the pain of the last encounter, you swore that you'd resist the next time.

(But she looks so innocent, could you get hurt again? You're stronger now. It won't be like last time.)

So pink, so sweet.
Surrounded by the softest fur...

You're done for.
You run as fast as you can towards that prize - so close! The joy bubbles up from your belly...

Oh. God, no. Not again.
Her vitriol hits you square in the face. You cry, you moan, you drool in desperation.

Then, afterwards, you drag yourself home and tap gently on the door. Mother's up. She takes one whiff and her lips curl in disgust. She drags you to the bath and scrubs you with caustics, all the while screaming of your stupidity and your filth. You just take it, head low, as she roughly lathers your face, your chest, between your close your eyes to the shame, and promise yourself that next time it will be different. Next time you'll be strong.

Recipe to de-skunk dogs:

1/4 c. Baking Soda
1 Tbs Dishwashing Soap
1 Qt. Hydrogen Peroxide