Home

FotoFlexer_Photo

The sun light peaked in brightly through the old, dirty window. My eyes fluttered open as I began to look around, I wasn’t at home… Immediately the familiarity kicked in. I was in the bed of my sweet little bisexual cream puff. I smiled and stretched my arms out.

That’s when I realized it, Donut wasn’t in bed with me. That was strange.

I threw my legs off the side and stumbled into the tiny adjoining living room, there he was, on the couch.

“Hey, Sweety. What are you doing out here? Come cuddle with me,” I told him, lightly stroking his hand.

Quickly he pulled it away and jolted his body to a sitting position.

“Get out,” he demanded.
“What?” I asked in shock.
“Get out of here, *****. I am serious, we are through. It’s over. I want you out of my house right now and I want you to lose my number.”

I was dumbfounded.

“What?” I asked again.
“OUT! NOW!” he demanded.
“But wait…why..what happened, I mean…what did I do?” I asked in a sudden panic. Donut and I had only been dating for a few months but I already knew that he was “the one”. I loved this guy with my soul.

“I told you not to come here last night and you did anyway. I told you specifically that I would never be with a girl who cuts herself.”

I was confused.

“Look at your wrists, *****!”

I looked down, they were cut all right.

“Now get your shit and get out!”
“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! It wont happen again! I’ll do anything. Just tell me!” I begged.
“It’s DONE! Get out!” he ordered.
“Please, I said I’m sorry!”

Donut was not listening. He grabbed my shit and helped me outside before locking the door behind me.

I was absolutely devastated.

I stumbled to my car. Once inside I began hysterically bawling, I was shaking and my wrists were throbbing. In a daze I dove over to my friend Flowa’s. Once there I got out of the car and stumbled to her door.

“Holy shit. What happened to you?” she asked me concerned.
“Donut..he dumped me..He told me not to come by last night and I did anyway..and he and his friends were really mean to me and called me all sorts of names. I went to his bathroom and cut my wrists with his razor! I don’t remember much of anything, Flowa’, I was really drunk.”
“You did what? Oh, my God! Let me see them!”

I turned my arms over.

“They aren’t bad, *****. You were just trying to get his attention I think.” she said, pouring peroxide over my wounds, “they aren’t deep enough for stitches or anything. You know that’s a really fucked up thing to do, right? I’m worried about you.”

“I love him, Flowa! He told me we were over! He told me in the beginning that he had an ex girlfriend who used to cut herself and that he would never date anyone again who did something like that.”

“OH MY GOD! I fucking hate him! That guy is a tool! I told you he was a piece of shit from the beginning. Don’t worry about it. You can do so much better.”

This was not helping.

“YOU DON”T UNDERSTAND FLOWA’! I FUCKING LOVE HIM!”

“Calm down. I know you do. Give him a few days to get over it, okay. Things will calm down and he will be back. You are the best thing to ever happen to him, he will never get a girl better than you.”

Bitch had a point.

“Go home and shower. I’m sending Bahssten and Red to get you and we will go to brunch.”
“Will there be champagne?”
“LOTS of champagne!” she promised.

I was in.

I drove my pathetic ass home, crying the entire way. Once inside I climbed the stairs and walked into the bathroom. I was just running the water when I noticed it, the flowers Donut has given me for Valentines day the week before were gone. In a frenzy I grabbed a towel and ran down the stairs. Grandma was in the kitchen.

“Where are my flowers?” I asked her in a panic.

“I threw them out.”

“What, why? They were not YOUR flowers! You had NO RIGHT to do that!” I screamed.

“They were dying. Why are you so upset?”

“Donut dumped me!”

“Is that the bisexual who lives in the ghetto?” she asked.

“I have been dating him for months! You don’t know his name? The one I’m in love with!”

“Calm down,” she said, “You were not in love with him. He just damaged your ego is all. You will meet someone else.”

She was lucky she was old or I would have bitch slapped her.

I moped all the way back up the stairs and readied myself the best I could. Once dressed I slapped on a pair of sunglasses to conceal my tears and shoved a box of tissues into my bag. I may have been ready to drown my sorrows with liquor but I still needed some supplies. Bahssten pulled up not a moment too soon.

“Hey ya. Cheer up! We are gonna’ have a great time today with the Fun Girls. Look around you! It’s a beautiful day! I mean come on, *****! How lucky are we? Livin’ the dream right here!” The amazon Barbie spit out.

“Shut up,” I said.

She laughed, “Hey, that guy was a total tool! He was creepy *****. He is doin’ ya a favor. You are too good for the douche.”

“Thanks.”

Bahssten drove us into the city. As promised we had plenty of champagne. They tried their best to cheer me up but it just wasn’t happening. Constantly was checking my phone and texting apologies to my puffed daddy just to be ignored. We drank until the sun went down. Red and Flowa’ eventually had to leave but Bahssten was in it for the long haul.

Just as we were saying our good byes the phone rang. It was my friend Ben. I hadn’t heard from him in ages. Ben was actually the ex boyfriend of an ex friend of mine. As it turned out had had “the hots” for me for several years prior. He was living in LA and wanted to know if I could meet him for sushi that night. I was sloshed and in no position to drive but Bahssten was down for the adventure. We hopped into her ride and headed out to the restaurant. Once there we ate and had rounds of sake and beer.

That’s when it happened, Ben invited me to his place for the night. I was toasted and still hadn’t heard a word from Donut. I was just drunk enough to be mad at him, actually. I decided this was a great idea. I would rock Bens world and not only seek revenge on Donut for dumping me, I would rid my vagina of his left over man bits and fill them up with the life juice of Bens.

Brilliant logic.

I said my goodbye to my friend and gladly hopped into Ben’s ride. Ten minutes later we approached his house. He opened the door for me and I peered inside to the clutter fuck from hell. Great.

After Ben cleared off some moldy food wrappers, chunks of cat hair and dirty socks from his Bed we sat down together and he kissed me. Just then a mouse scurried by and into a hole in the floor board. Even though I was grossed out, I figured I was already there and had made up my mind. That’s right I was going all the way, be it on top of a pile of rodent feces or not. I was sticking to my guns.

After a few minutes of sloppy face licking, Ben pulled out his baby chode and bent me over the bed. That’s right, even though he was an avid cat lover, he still liked to do it doggy. I was crying on the inside while wishing he would just hurry up. Someone heard my prayers because it ended rather quickly. Ben released his little baby load on my back and then he farted.

Guess the mold wasn’t quite gross enough. He rolled off of me, onto his back and within 30 seconds was fast asleep. I know this because all of a sudden he started moaning. Not a sex moan, but a high-pitched squeaky moan, like a cat in heat. It was the strangest thing I had ever heard. Every so often he would add another toot of his ass horn to the mix.

It was like being serenaded by the Opportunity Village choir.

I laid awake all night in tears. It was probably one of the worst nights of my life.

Donut never answered my texts. Donut never returned the countless phone calls I made to him the following weeks. Donut never even returned any of my emails. Not for a year anyway, but you guys already know that story.

Read the Donut series in its entirety: HERE

—————————————————————————————————————-

If you enjoyed what you just read, become active in the authors warped community:

*Don’t forget to “LIKE” the “It’s Not My Fault.” Facebook page!*

*Leave a comment below*

*Buy the Book!*

*Subscribe to the “It’s Not My Fault” Youtube & Funny or Die pages*

*Follow this shit on Twitter*

*Stay updated on Google+*

5 thoughts on “Donut Chode

  1. You have strangely predictable taste in men. You know that, right? If you ever met someone who was going to be a positive influence and not make you cry you would have a hard time being faithful. You use your body to get… what exactly? Yelled at, dumped, quickied, farted at repeatedly, and a reminder of the shitty side of life. I strongly recommend you take a break from self-destruction and take a look inside yourself (not like the gynecologist) and see what is left of any hopes and dreams from childhood and, even if they are impossible, use them as a baseline to form new hopes and dreams. Using Donut or the backdoor barkeep or the farting fucker to set goals for yourself won’t do you any good. Satisfy your own cravings for a while, take a breather, and find positive influences. Leave bad influences behind. 🙂

  2. Pingback: Donut | It's not my fault.

  3. I hoped so, but glad to read your blog is fiction. Gals that are living that life should not look back on childhood dreams which brought them to such a place. Look forward, dream forward, live forward.

What do YOU have to say about this? Comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s