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Guppy Parsh · (02-21-2014)

More silence…

“Did I ever tell you about make sexy fiancée who I fuck all the time?” the voice was wicked and evil, like Count Dooku, but it wasn’t from Star Wars or anything that NERDS watch.

Guppy continued to bob his head.

“I met her in ‘Nam when I SERVED THIS COUNTRY! FUCK haters I’m a VETERAN!” the voice was decorated in countless medals. “I'VE FOUGHT in WARS, Guppy.”

Guppy’s teeth pieced the skin.

“There was this Mexico war once and this FUCKING SPIC walks up to me and tried to give me a FUCKING taco,” the voice’s anecdotes were always poignant and beautiful. “I said, ‘No, PACO, go FUCK yourself, BITCH real AMERICAN boys like ME don’t fucking eat tacos. YOU FUCKING DIRTY MEXICAN bitch’, he didn’t know English, but it didn’t stop me FROM owning HIM.”

The succulent tastes entered Guppy’s mouth.

“Then this LATINO tries to lead me over to some GAY fucking horse. I shove the SPIC down and I fucking wring his

neck; I told the cops that someone else told me to kill him, so I didn’t get in trouble,” the voice had all the police departments in the world wrapped around his raging cock.

Guppy’s teeth were perfectly placed.

“I looked his gay horse dead in the fucking FACE, but the dumb ANIMAL thought I wanted to MATE with it,” the voice loved to spread its love.

Guppy jerked his head back and pulled.

“I SLAPPED that BITCH of a horse across its LONG face and then I fucked it to death with my horsecock,” the wicked voice laughed like a scary hyena.

Guppy’s face was soaked with liquids.

“I POPPED THE HORSE’S pink pussy,” the voice was a conqueror in every definition of the word. “Then I yanked my horse killing COCK out of that DEAD horse.”

Guppy removed the apple from his mouth and smiled, wickedly. He moved to the pot filled with water once again, but the red void of death behind him whistled to catch his attention.

“U’ve had enough APPLES, Guppy. It’s time to go confess your SINS!” the voice was very religious and its mother was sick.

Guppy stood and put on his cashmere coat. His going out clothes were soft like Florida beaches.

I was the ocean, and the waves. I was the Miami Heat.

My basketball had black lines on it. I’d throw it at hoop. I’d bounce it. I’d fade away.

Far from the uncertainty that’d face me. I was like Kobe Bryant, my shirt was yellow with letters and numbers on it, my face was wet, and I never passed on anything.

Share your dinner, ADAM. My mouth dances in water. My soul is drenched with keys and pitches.

I never threw a screwball. I only changed it up every now and again. I was all about speed, precision, velocity, time. The confines of heartless urethras is desolate and unmarry. The charms of my betters were wasted. They weren’t fast enough to catch the Guppy or the Parsh. Curves and corners couldn’t be cut, but I slashed them. If I wasn’t first I’d be second.

Passion outweighed my toenails. Foreheads and cracks were like pleasure. I bathed with soap, water, and shampoo. I was just a doctor then, a simple-minded doctor.

My yellow shirt ripped. The numbers and the letters faded away.

I can hear Wednesday.

“Guppy!”

Wednesday is calling me.

“Yes, Wednesday?”

But Wednesday can’t hear me. Torture is all that Wednesday hears. I’ve been a bad boy.

“What would YOUR MOM think, Guppy?” the voice, even in its limitless knowledge, had queries. “GET OUT AND GO to fucking CHURCH you lazy ASS!”

Guppy stepped towards the door as the cloud followed behind him.

Confessions…

Guppy fin.

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