Christmas is Dead & The Weirdest Blowjob of 2014.


So there we go. That was Christmas. How was yours? Worth it? Probably not. They never are. I woke up in a cold house on my own and all I got was a convection heater I bought myself, so I guess you can say it might have been one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. Also, as I wasn’t in my mothers house I didn’t have to listen to a single bit of shit music all day. Christmas is so much better when Adele is out of the equation.

And that’s it for 2014 pretty much too, eh? How was yours? Mine was shit. well, I keep saying this. It wasn’t shit. It was just bland. there were a few ups, which led to downs, then kinda levelled out, but no more or less bland than every other year overall. Although I did get that blowjob back in March. That was cool. Well, it was cool until the point he started saying “daddy needs some chicken” and clucking. I asked “What are you doing?” and he stared up at my face area, hissing through his teeth while the whites of his eyes slowly turned an off green. “Fuck this!” I though to myself and I got out of there, sharpish.

I bolted for the door and he immediately chased after me, grunting and snarling and howling my name. I had forgotten the layout to this particular brothel as I was pretty new in this part of town. I had only just moved in to start a new career in the soaps and oils business but smooth skin was the last thing on my mind and I ran down the hallway and towards the stairs, all while this demon rent-boy was after my smooth, firm Johnston with a lust for my junk I had never seen before and believe me, I’ve seen some lust. I ran down the stairs and almost tripped at the bottom but managed to stay balanced. I ran out the front door and slammed it shut behind me. I was just in the nick on time, too, for as the door was inches away from closing, a hand managed to make it’s way through. I pulled as hard as I could and took that little cunts fingers right off. “What a mug” I thought to myself and walked off. All smug and shit.

I walked off down the street, cool as a cucumber, while the sounds of the rent-boys screams slowly faded into the distance. Or were they getting louder? I couldn’t work it out and then I realised it was neither. I had walked hundreds of yards from that brothel before I realised the sounds of screams and agony was at a constant volume, as thought it were everywhere. I stopped to look around and that’s when I noticed the sky was covered in what looked like a thick, purple smoke.

I stood there for a few moments, baffled, then I turned around and was shocked to see a little girl standing in front of me, maybe about seven or eight years old, and she looked awful. Half of her face was burned off and she was missing most of her left arm. I asked her what was going on and she told me I had died and that I was in hell because I hadn’t lived a good live. “Never loved enough” were her words. Cheeky bitch. I asked her how she died and she told me she died in a fire and that’s why her face was so disgusting. I then asked her what she had done to get herself sent to hell and she told me about this massive drug operation she was funding that got messy. Nine people died. Three she had killed herself.

“How did I die?” I asked her.

“Super AIDS,” she replied. That rent boy that went nuts had given me a form of AIDS so super it killed me right there and then. It was when he started clucking, apparently. She went on to explain that it was to be a never ending afterlife of immense torture and punishment and I told her that she was fucking nuts if she thinks that I’m taking any of that shit. I had two tickets for Wicked the following Friday and there was no way in hell (gerrit?) I was missing it for anybody.

“Take me to whoever runs this God-damned place” I said.

She took me down the street and what was at the end will stay with me forever. It was a giant, fiery mountain, maybe a volcano, probably a volcano (it was a volcano), with a castle at the top the size of two really, really, big things.

“If you knew what was good for you you’d just accept your fate.” she tried to warn me.

“If you knew what was good for you you’d shut your shit-filled mouth, you whore.” I said.

I marched up to that castle and was greeted, rather rudely I might add, buy an old man, with skin like an ashtray and breath to boot. It was as if his entire body was slowly crumbing away. He asked me my business and I told him I needed to tell the dark lord himself that I have two tickets for wicked next Friday and there’s no way I die by getting super AIDS off a dead-beat rent-boy in a dead-end town. He began to laugh and this really wound me up. I pushed him out of the way and when I did he crumbled and blew away into the breeze and I’m not going to lie – it really freaked me out. I’m still a bit freaked out, truth-be-told. That was when it all got a bit too real for me.

Anyway, I shook it off and went in to get this meeting with the devil over with. I opened the castles huge doors to see a giant, red room, with groaning people hanging from hooks off all of the walls, with a single throne in the middle. The grandest throne I ever saw. I walked right up to that throne and that’s where he was. That was when I saw the devil himself. He stood up and he must have been thirty-feet tall. His back legs were that of a giant horse and his muscles were sculpted like fine art and his eyes yellow and dirty. He asked me why I thought he should let me go back to my life and I told him about the Wicked tickets and he laughed. He laughed right in my face. This wound me up. Right up. Again. I screamed the words “mother” and “fucker” at him and properly lost my shit. I can’t go into it because I blacked out but when I came round I had him in a headlock, pulling his hair and shouting “you gonna let me live? Huh? You gonna let me live, you stinking streak of piss?”. Through his tears he agreed and the next thing I know I’m in my bed the morning the day it all happened. Relieved.

Alive.

And I never went back to that part of town again.

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