TAP TAP TAP!
I slowly began to fade into consciousness.
“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be to the airport by now?”
“What?” I asked, releasing a small cough.
My throat felt like I had swallowed a Joshua tree. The night before was my 21st birthday and even though I had been using a fake ID for a year already, I wasn’t going to let the date go to waste.
“Your grandfather is already waiting in the car to take you. Get up now!” my grandma ordered.
I shot out of bed faster than a homeless man trying to release his load on the subway tracks.
“My suit cases?”
“They are already in the trunk honey. You better put some makeup on in the car. You don’t want to frighten anyone.”
I ran into the bathroom and took a glance at myself. I hated to admit it, but that bitch was right. I looked like Sylvester Stallone after losing a fight to a tranny.
Still, I was determined to make that flight. You see, I was off to see my tall and lean, long-haired piece of man meat.
Well, okay, “meat” is a bit of a stretch. I was on my way to see Clif, and as you may remember me telling you all those years ago, Clif was what I liked to call a “clit fucker.” That’s right, Clif had the smallest penis I had ever seen. Actually it’s still the smallest penis I’ve ever seen and I’ve changed baby diapers.
Back to my story.
I grabbed my purse, brushed my teeth and threw on a tiny black dress. Even though I was heading to the Midwest in December, I still needed to be fashionable!
*If by fashionable I mean look like a giant skank.
Within seconds I was down the stairs and buckled in my grandpa’s car.
“Looks like someone’s been burning the candle at both ends. I hope this boy shows up to get you. He wasn’t very reliable when he lived here. Remember the time he stood you up in Los Angeles? That was only an hour away, you are flying clear across the country this time.”
I let out a huff, “I talked to him last night. He’ll be there.”
“You know it’s only 3° where you are landing today, you are going to be sorry you didn’t dress warmer when you get off that plane.”
I folded my arms and stared straight ahead. I had only been awake about twenty minutes and in all honesty, I was so hung over I wasn’t even sure I was awake. Who did this old fart think he was, lecturing me like this?
“Now don’t get drunk on the plane,” he continued, “You have a long flight ahead of you and it’s a huge airport. It would be a big mess if you couldn’t find your luggage and worse yet if that boy doesn’t show up.”
“I know how navigate an airport! This isn’t my first time on a plane you know?” I countered.
“Oh you don’t have to get nasty, I’m just trying to help,” my grandpa spat out with a change in his tone.
I noticed his face turning red, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to be talked down to. “You are being condensing. I’m just trying to go on vacation and enjoy myself. I don’t need your negativity.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s your funeral.”
We pulled up to the front of the airport. My grandfather got out of the car to help me with my luggage. I had a giant suitcase full of clothes, a second containing half my shoe collection and a medium-sized carry on, you know for all of my cosmetics.
“These are sure heavy, do you really need all of that stuff?” My grandpa asked.
I gave him the death stare.
As quickly as I could, I piled all my junk together and headed inside. Who did this walking corpse think he was giving me shit this early in the morning?
…ok, afternoon. Whatever.
Once inside, I checked my luggage, then headed to the security gate.
The line was longer than a porn star’s penis, stretching from one hall to the next. It twisted and turned more than my stomach after eating at an Indian buffet.
By the time it was my turn to be strip searched by the acne ridden, power tripped rent-a-cop, my feet were blistered from my whore heels and my bowels were about to explode.
*Hangover diarrhea is no joke
Finally, I was in the terminal. I could excavate my anus and hit the bar. Just as I was about to stand in line for the woman’s room, my flight number was called. I didn’t know if I could keep my cheeks together long enough to board the flight but I didn’t want to risk missing it either.
God damn it.
They were boarding by number and when I looked down at my ticket I knew I would be one of the last to get on, still I waited.
Once my number was called, I hurried onto the plane, found my seat and began trying to shove my carry-on bag into the compartment above. As I reached up, I let out a tiny fart. The smell hit me almost immediately.
“Please don’t let anyone know it was me!” I quietly prayed to the butt gods.
I gave the bag a second shove, this time while doing an anal kegal for safe measure.
I rushed over to the tiny bathroom in the middle of the plane and finally had sweet release. It was like a fireworks show of smelly mud.
Even though I firmly practice the “courtesy flush” method, the smell was so horrendous, it made me gag and before I knew what hit me, I could feel another type of explosion bubbling forth from the opposite end.
Thank God the bathroom was tiny and the sink was practically just above my knees. I leaned over and projectile vomited into it.
After I was sure my guts were empty, I cleaned myself off as best as I could and opened the tiny door to return to my seat. Once the door was open I came face to face with a line of people also waiting to use the facilities.
Crap! Pun intended.
I watched in horror as passengers began to pinch their noses, others began to cough. One woman even shouted, “Oh Lord, the smell!”
I was mortified.
Cowardly, I looked to my feet as I began the walk of shit-shame back to my isle.
Now I REALLY needed a fucking drink. I sat down and prepared for take off. I wanted that damn flight attendant to come around with her cart asap. I put my head back, closed my eyes and waited.
I was rudely interrupted by a bump to the knees, “Sorry about that.”
I opened my eyes to stare up into one of the ugliest faces I’d ever seen. It was man probably in his early thirties, but he looked like he could have easily been in his 50’s. A terrible hair cut long since grown out stuck to his head in an abundance of oil. He was wearing a dirty, ripped, tie dyed t-shirt he probably made himself in the 10th grade. Around his neck was the oddest looking shell necklace I had ever seen. I glanced downwards to see a faded pair of blue jeans that had more holes in them than a pair of fishnet stockings. His feet were covered in white stained tubes socks inside a pair of brown Birkenstocks sandals.
I quickly stood up to let the grease hippie get to his seat.
He took the middle one.
I was going to have to spend the next five hours arm in arm with this dill hole. I began hoping that the plane served more than just beer and wine.
Eventually the plane took off and we hit an altitude high enough for drink service.
“Do you have tequila?” I asked the flight attendant when it was finally my turn to order.
“I’m sorry Ma’am, we usually do but I haven’t had a chance to refill my cart all day. We had been behind schedule my entire shift up until this fight.”
“The captain thought it was more important we get you all to your destinations on time than…”
“Well do you have ANY alcohol?” I spat out.
Who did this bitch think she was trying to deny me my life juice? There was no way I could endure the next 5 hours sober.
“Yes Ma’am, we have both Bobweiser and Bob Lite,” she offered.
God damn it!
It was going to take me like 6 of those stupid fuckers to even catch a buzz. At least I hadn’t eaten breakfast and barfed out most of last nights dinner. I was hoping that would help.
“Fine, give me a Bob Lite,” I ordered, rolling my eyes and handing her my debit card.
“We only take cash on board.”
“What? They didn’t tell me that when I booked my flight! I need that beer!” I screamed.
“Ma’am please, you will have to calm down. We are in a flight and…”
“That’s why I need the beer lady, to calm down!”
“I’ll take a Bob Lite too. One for each of us, please.” I looked over to the freak sitting next to me holding a $20 bill. Suddenly, my feelings for him changed. Maybe I didn’t hate him after all.
The flight attendant opened two cans and started pouring into little plastic cups.
“Wow! Thank you! That’s so nice of you,” I said to my new buddy.
“Yeah, no problem. He replied with a smile. My name is Bubba.”
I let out a chuckle. Yup, that suited him all right!
“I’m Asterisk. So Bubba, what brings you out to the ole Midwest?”
“I’m going home. I was in Los Angeles for a farm convention. I’m a pig farmer!”
Oh Jesus Christ.
“Have you ever been to a pig farm before?” he asked.
Suddenly I was beginning to wonder if the free beer was going to be worth the impending conversation. I picked up my cup and guzzled down half of it in a single swallow.
“I raise all kinds of breeds of pigs for slaughter.”
I picked up my beer and finished it.
“But I do it humanely… by hand. I don’t believe in none of them fancy machines. The meat always tastes better if the animal is calm when it dies. There’s a chemical reaction.”
“Wow, interesting.” I lied.
“Did you know pigs scream like babies when you put the knife to their throats?”
“How about a second round of beers, Bubba?”
“Huh? Oh, sure!”
I figured I could let him keep talking if it meant free beer. We caught the flight attendant on her way back down the other side of the aisle and loaded up.
“From every kill I keep a souvenir. I take a tooth from each pig. I have a giant collection.”
“Wow,” I attempted to humor my new friend even though I was pretty grossed out by him.
“Pigs are intelligent animals. Smarter than dogs. Some of them even think they are dogs. Every once in a while one will become my pet. After I slaughter one of my pet pigs, I do something a little special with their teeth. I drill a hole through them and string them into my necklace to always keep ’em close to my heart. See!” he said, removing the weird piece of jewelry from around his neck. “You can hold it if ya want.”
“Uh, no that’s ok Bubba. You better put it back on if it’s so special, you wouldn’t want to lose it.”
I was suddenly horrified as I looked around the plane for other empty seats. The cloud car seemed unusually full and I didn’t spot any. It was back to my original plan.
“Hey, looks like you could use a refill!” I suggested.
“Oh, that was the last of my cash.”
Great. Just great.
I closed my eyes, leaned my seat back the allotted 2 inches and pretended to sleep the rest of the trip.
It took FOREVER!
When we finally landed, I jumped up, grabbed my carry on and slowly scuddled out with the rest of the weary passengers. After hunting down my luggage I went outside to look for Clif.
The cold hit me like a suicidal elephant hitting the concrete after jumping from a 50 story high-rise.
Damn it. Grandpa was right. There was no way I would ever tell him though. I reached into one of my over sized pieces of luggage and pulled out a giant fur coat.
I pulled a cigarette out of a half empty pack and lit it. My hand shook horribly and I couldn’t tell if what I was breathing out was smoke or steam. I took a few puffs and then decided to go back inside to text Clif.
“I’m here! Where are you?”
About 5 minutes later he responded.
“Sorry, just leaving work. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Fine, but text me when you get here, it’s too cold to wait outside.”
With that, I took my ass to the airport bar! It was about God damned time I’d caught a buzz, and catch a buzz I did since clif didn’t show up until 2 hours later!
Pfft I didn’t care!
I was feeling grand and sultry. Why I had even grown a genuine Merlot mustache.
Lucky for me, Clif arrived in an old rusted van. Plenty of room to store all of my luggage. I stumbled into the front seat while he loaded my baggage.
Speaking of baggage…
“Hey, would you mind if we stopped off and picked up Opal on the way to club?” Clif asked after a short hello.
“Opal? Who the fuck is Opal and why would I care? And what club? I thought we would just be going back to your place.”
I had spent most of my day on a plane hung over with a pig murderer. The time zone was 3 hours ahead and it was already dark out. I just wanted to snuggle up in a warm cabin with my shrunken head of a man. I pictured a warm fire and being naked on a bear skin rug.
“Opal is my girlfriend,” he admitted.
“But don’t worry, she knows all about you and she’s cool with it. We have to hit the club. It’s my night to DJ.”
*Now I hope you all remember my advice from before, NEVER EVER go out with a DJ. All DJ’s are man whore losers with small penises. Trust me. I’ve banged my fair share. Also in case you forgot, never ever, ever let one go down on you. They have horrible dental hygiene and you will end with some bizarre form of V.D.
Great because that’s my last public service announcement today. You are welcome.
Back to my story…
So what could I do but just go along with it? I didn’t fly home for almost 2 weeks and I wasn’t about to spend my hard-earned vacation in some domestic dispute.
Plus I was drunk.
Still, I had to hold my ground. “Uhhh, I’m not into chicks Clif, so don’t even think about it!”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that,” he promised.
I decided to stay positive. The club would have a full bar. All I had to do was keep my whistle wet for a while and I’d have a swell time I probably wouldn’t remember anyway. Maybe there I could meet some hot, horse hung hunk that wouldn’t mind hosting me for a few days.
Why, I’ve always been an optimist!
Within a few minutes we pulled up to an old paint chipped house and a skinny hippie girl with green dreadlocks and a septum piercing hopped into the back of the van.
She introduced herself and started a conversation about her college life or maybe it was about her job.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
It all sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher to me.
We couldn’t get to the cub fast enough!
Clif parked his van in front of an ancient wooden building resembling a barn. Intrigued, I opened the door and took a step out.
That’s when it happened.
Like a paraplegic competing in the winter olympics, I slipped and fell flat on my back, sliding in a circle. My legs were stretched out, spread like a lady of the night as I tried to stop myself.
My plane had only touched down a few hours prior but already, I hated the midwest.
Clif and his bitch pretended to be humble as they lifted me from the grey slush but I knew deep down they were both laughing.
Once inside we were greeted not by the sound of a heavy base beat, but instead the incessant hollering of a hick down on his luck.
There were deer heads and antlers mounted to the walls.
I looked around to see a bunch of homos in cowboy hats and chaps grinding each other on a dusty dance floor.
Now, I had just hit my head after all so I decided to give Clif the benefit of the doubt by blinking my eyes a few thousand times.
It didn’t help.
“Uhhh, Clif. I thought you DJ’d industrial music?”
“Oh yes, I still do! The Bare-Back lets us have 6 hours a week as a goth club!”
I guess it made sense. I mean the only thing more queer than a gay cowboy was Clif.
Who was I to judge?
I walked over to the bar half moping as I realized I wouldn’t be meeting my dream prince there. At last, all was not lost. There were still shots to be had!
I don’t remember much after that.
The next morning I awoke in a tiny stale bed in an ever tinier room. My suit cases covered the majority of the wall space. I looked out a cracked window to see a blanket of white.
I cracked open the door and tiptoed down a narrow stair case.
“Good morning sunshine!” a familiar voice rang out.
Clif and Opal were sitting next to each other on a small love seat.
More like a hate seat but whatever!
“Would you like some coffee? I can add some Baileys!” Clif offered.
“Can I just have the Baileys?” I asked.
They both laughed.
“Sure! Or I’ve got some Vodka if you prefer.”
“O.J.?” I asked hopefully.
Once my 80 proof mimosa had been concocted and I was sipping away happily, the assholes began.
“Here ya go Asterisk!” Opal said, handing me a pathetically rusty license plate.
“What the fuck Opal? I don’t want that!”
Both idiots started laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?” I asked, obviously not getting the joke.
“You sure wanted it last night!”
What the fuck were they talking about? I squinted my eyes really hard as if that could jog my memory. It kinda did, maybe a little.
Ok, it didn’t. Fuck you.
“Shut up! The Midwest is boring! I had to drink!” I said in an attempt to excuse myself.
“You haven’t even been here 24 hours yet,” Opal pointed out.
I didn’t get her point.
“Opal was trying to get you in the car last night after the club. You promised you would get in, but only after you peed…” Clif began.
“So I made yellow snow, so what?”
Both laughed like perverted Santa’s with twins on their laps.
“Ha! Ha! I wish! You made yellow icicles!” Clif continued, “You pulled your dress up, climbed onto the hood of my van and stuck your bare ass against my windshield! That part was kind of hot.”
“No I didn’t!”
“And then you pissed down the front of my car! You used my license plate as a foot stool until it fell off. Lets go outside, I’ll show you the icicles! They are still there!”
“That’s scientifically impossible! Urine is warm!” I attempted to school them.
“Not in zero degree weather!”
Opal interrupted, “The best part was when she held the license plate to her ass and was running in circles like a retarded chicken screaming, ‘Wanna go for a ride? I’m street legal!'”
“You guys are jerks!”
“Oh come on Asterisk, it was funny,” Clif attempted to console me.
I wish I could say the trip got better after that but really it only got worse. Opal stayed for several days leaving me without any alone time with Clif. When she finally did leave, Clif was back to his 12 hour work schedule, leaving me without a vehicle in his isolated cabin. He didn’t have a TV. The internet was pretty much useless. I was so bored I called my grandparents daily.
I couldn’t wait for the week to pass and I’ve spent time in prison!
Finally, it was my last night.
Around 5:00 pm there was a knock on the door. It was Opal. With her was some dweeb she introduced as her brother. He had a giant bottle of vodka in his hand so I figured he was OK. After all, the cabin had ran out of liquor days before and I was eager to finally treat my alcohol withdrawals! Both headed to the kitchen and a few minutes later returned with 4 large glasses.
The dweeb handed one to me. “I’m Gilbert.”
I couldn’t care less what his name was. All I cared about was the free hooch.
“How long have you known Clif?”
I rolled my eyes. Great, now I was going to have to entertain small chat?
“I don’t know, maybe a couple of years.”
“I just met him a few weeks ago. Seems like a pretty cool guy!”
Yeah right. This nerd wouldn’t know cool if he stuck his dick in Elsa!
Once my buzz kicked in, I decided to have a little fun with Gilbert. “So Gilbert, what’s the craziest thing you have done sexually?”
Opal started cracking up, “Gilbert is a virgin!”
“I am not! Susan and I had sex 4 times!”
The room rolled in laughter.
“Have you ever tried anal?” I asked.
Gilberts face turned red. “No, but it is on my bucket list.”
Letting out an evil chuckle, I stood up and grabbed Gilbert by the hand. Yeah he was a dork, but I was so damned bored I probably would have humped a goat at this point. “How about I help you cross it off?”
Gilbert’s eyes bulged in excitement as he followed me up the narrow stairway. Opal watched us disappear with their jaw agape. Clif just shook his head.
Once inside the tiny room I removed Gilbert’s pants exposing the tiniest pair of tidy whities I had ever seen!
Luckily what was trapped underneath wasn’t so tiny. I bent down on my knees and inserted the tip of Gilbert’s girthy general into my mouth. He let out a small squeal as I slowly began to deep throat him. After a few minutes of foreplay, I decided it was time we went into combat. I motioned Gilbert over to the bed where I sprawled on all fours. My ass was positioned high in the air as I instructed him to send his troops to battle.
Gilbert began to thrust himself inside my anus. It didn’t take more than a few pumps for him to release his soldiers.
When it was all over, I rolled onto my back and lit a cigarette. I watched Gilbert put his tidy whities back on. Once my cigarette was out I slipped on a nightie and Gilbert followed me back down stairs.
“I did it!” he yelled. “I crossed anal off my bucket list!”
“Stop it!” Opal begged. I could tell discussing sex with her brother was making her pretty damn uncomfortable. Good. Bitch deserved it after ruining what was supposed to be my sexy vacation with Clif.
“Go put your pants on, we have to get out of here,” she ordered Gilbert. Luckily for me they both had school early the next day which meant I finally was going to have some alone time with Clif, even if it was my last night. After all that was why I made the stupid trip to begin with.
Once they were gone we retreated to his bedroom. “I sleep naked,” he said.
Both of us took off our clothes and slid under the covers together. Clif spooned me and that’s where it stopped. We fell asleep like that, he never even touched a nipple!
The next morning we awoke to the ringing of my alarm clock. Even though I was a bit hung over and more than sore from last night’s civil war with Gilbert, I was OK because Clif promised to stop at an ATM on the way to the airport. That’s right, this time I would be prepared to buy my own in flight spirits!
Just as Clif finished putting the last piece of my luggage into his van we saw it.
Sliding along the icy dirt road was a small red car covered in dents.
“Who is that?” I asked Clif.
“I think its Gilbert!”
“No way! What does he want?”
Sure as shit, Clif was right. The car skidded to a stop and Opal’s idiot brother emerged with an arm full of roses.
“For you my love!”
“Uh, I don’t think I can take those on the plane, but thanks. We have to get going now,” I tried blowing the nerd off.
“I will take you myself Asterisk! I left school early hoping I’d be able to catch you before you headed out!”
“Uh, no. Clif better take me. We were going to stop off at an ATM and…”
“I can do that too!”
I looked over at Clif with a look that begged for his rescue.
“Get in the car,” he whispered. “Sorry Gilbert we were just heading out. We’ll have to catch you next time.”
Clif climbed onto the driver’s seat and turned over the engine. I locked my door as the vehicle started to move.
Gilbert took off our direction. He was running behind the van, the stupid flowers were still in his hand. “Asterisk! Wait! I love you! I promise, I will write you every day! I will fly down to visit! I will make you a good husband one day. Asterisk I…”
His words trailed off as we made it a safe distance from the cottage.
Jesus Christ that was scary!
I made a second trip to see Clif a decade later but that’s another story!
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