Sweety Pie heaved over the ball of dough and loved it more than he’d loved anything else that had ever existed. He was naked from the waist down. He was wearing his apron that was littered with dried pieces of dough that he called “The Friends”. Sweat ran down his forehead like a salty stream … Continue reading Sweety Pie →

He threw back that caffeinated tar like it was water. There would be no faggoty and degenerate dairy in his cup to soil the essence of his masculine purity. Degeneracy was not far from him, though. An image flashed upon the TV. A woman in a bikini. He threw his mug at the TV, smashing … Continue reading The Patriarchal Tradcon Warrior →

Cry, old woman Cry. When you can’t remember those island streets And Your beer stained Nakedness is yelling things you kept buried When You were sober...

Thirty-five hurtled into her like a team of runaway horses and trampled every last remnant of youth that had clung to her like the fading prize fighter clings to the ring ropes before taking that final punch that sends him into retirement. Everything had been fine until that goddamn doctor had told her that most … Continue reading In it for the Jizz →