Introduction (Beauty is Ugly)

“Did you see Aurora today?”

“No man. Why? Did she have a skirt on again?”

Jim and Peter were talking about their favorite subject: sexy girls. Aurora, however, was beyond the typical girls they would discuss. At only sixteen, Aurora was something of what the boys called a goddess.

“Dude, she had on THE skirt on. Not just A skirt,” said Jim.

“She’s got such a fine ass. Did you get a look when she was going upstairs?”

“Yeah man I did! It was fucking sick!”

“You ever gonna hit that?” Peter asked.

“No man. You don’t just fuck Aurora, dude. You can’t. It’s impossible. I’ve never even spoken to the chick really outside of Chemistry. But I can tell that she just isn’t that kind of girl. She’s got too much class. She’s perfect.”

“What the fuck, bro? Gettin’ all emotional and shit.”

“Dude, do you really think you could get Aurora to fuck you?”

Peter’s head dropped. “No,” he said shamefully.


Staring into the mirror, she criticized the right side of her neck. There was this mole. She would stare at it until she was fully disgusted. Aurora was fixated with it. In between classes she would go to the bathroom just to look in the mirror and pick at her mole.

“It never fails,” a girl remarked upon entering the bathroom. She and her friend snickered as they walked into stalls side by side.

Aurora’s chest sank, and she resumed the fight against the mirror. The girls finished up in the stalls and came up behind her.

“We need the sink you vain bitch!” They shoved her into the wall, and left the restroom without washing their hands.

Broken, Aurora gathered her books and folders and headed to her next class. She stared at her feet as she walked down the hall. The boys all turned their heads as she passed. Jim, ecstatic for Chemistry with Aurora, waited for her outside the classroom door.

“Hey!” He said as she approached.

Aurora barely glanced up, gave a timid smile, and made her way into her seat. Jim followed behind her, and sat down beside her.

“Look, I know we’ve never really talked before, but my buddy Peter and I thought it would be really cool if you came to my party tonight. You down?”

Aurora nodded and took out her homework.

“Cool. Just bring yourself and friends if you like. Beer and food and shit is already gonna be there. I’m stoked you’re coming.” Jim smiled big at her, his braces gleaming.


Aurora was clearing out everything she was going to need for her homework to do over the weekend from her locker. She silently and singly waited for the bus to arrive. She sat in near the back alone up against the window. About five or six other students got off on her stop; they all walked in pairs usually on their way to hang out together. Aurora was slow paced behind them all going home alone to wait for her parents to get off of work, and home from the bar.

She left her school materials in her bedroom and went immediately to the bathroom from there. She picked at the mole on her neck. Frustrated that she could not remove it with her own hands tears fell from her eyes.

“Ahhhhh!” Aurora screamed and shoved everything off of the bathroom counter and onto the floor next to the toilet. Her chest was heaving with adrenaline. Her cheeks, no longer red from the snowy weather outside, were now red with fury.

Aurora picked up items from the ground and smashed them into walls, flinging them across the room. A soap dish hit the mirror. Toothbrushes landed in the bathtub. A metal tissue box made a hole in one of the walls. Towels were spread across the floor. Even the shower curtain was torn from its rings.

She slammed the door to the bathroom, concealing her massacre from the hallway’s view. Aurora plopped into her dad’s recliner, turned on the TV, and drank one of his beers. Then she drank another and another. She took a few shots, had a glass of wine. By six she was nearly unconscious on the kitchen floor.

Two reasons why Thanksgiving might be worth while

It's that time of year, and let's get one thing straight: I hate Thanksgiving. Everyone sits around pretending to be oh so fucking grateful of each other. However, on a day to day basis, no one does anything to show appreciation of their loved ones or friends or whatever else they claim to be thankful for. But all in all, if nothing else, there are always people like me who hunt down and post random funny shit on their blogs to show that during Thanksgiving they are thankful for humor. But like everyone else, I am going to forget to be thankful during the other 11 months of the year. I suck. Woo.

Heart

This home has love its walls.
This home has love on its doors.
I hear your dying calls.
But live for the home that is yours.

Could I just have a gas fueled heart?

I will never feel the same when I look into your eyes.
So captivating, so devine.
A beauty beyond the Texas skies.
Pulling me in with knots intertwined.
So certain am I they are the prize.
So full are they, devouring me with lies.
My heart it cries.
Your eyes will be my demise.

Halloween Short Story: Ending

Jackson awoke on his bedroom floor feeling as if he’d been unconscious for days, though it wasn’t more than minutes. He had no recollection as to how he ended up on the floor, he could only vaguely remember a very pretty woman whom he did not recognize being in his house. He blinked his eyes several times until he could see clearly. He remained motionless on the floor, trying to recover from the dizziness.

“You fainted,” said a woman’s voice.

“Oh Mindy, darling, thank God!” Jackson exasperated.

“Mindy? Mindy! You’re cheating on me?” the voice shrilled.

Jackson shook so hard, it appeared as if a switch on his body had been turned on and set to vibrate.

“Let me show you then, just what you’re going to miss.” The faint woman rolled him over, and straddled his body. “How could you find someone new? How, Chuck? How?”

“I-I’m…n-n-not…Ch-Ch-Ch-Chuck,” Jackson stammered.

"Well then who is Chuck?" the woman replied.

"My brother!" Jackson yelled.

“How can you lie to me? You have no brother. Last time we were together you left me before I could even climax. Just promise me this time will be different.”

Jackson opened his mouth to speak.

“Shhhh,” the ghost hushed him, placing two fingers sensually over his lips.

She took off her furry black bra and panties, leaving only cat ears, a bow tie, a cat tail, and suit cuffs on her body.

Aroused now, or at least as aroused as a man of his years can be, Jackson laid back and accepted the ghost’s advances. He closed his eyes, and felt her untie his robe, and slip off his boxers. Her hair tickled his inner thighs; she stroked him gently. Then, in a teasing manner, she got up and walked off into the hallway and down the stairs. He followed eagerly.

Running after her now, she ran from him playfully. They merrily chased each other all around the downstairs of Jackson’s home. Jackson trapped her in the kitchen. She smiled innocently, and opened a drawer. She fingered over the miscellaneous cooking utensils until she found his Thanksgiving turkey carving knife. She pulled it out, and ran it across her breasts. She thrust her chest forward and let her eyes roll back in her head. She licked the sharp edge of the knife, eyes closed and lips luscious.

Jackson stepped closer to her, smiling like a virgin. Her eyes opened sharply, and glared at him. The once aroused expression on her face turned to fury. She slammed the kitchen drawer shut, and stomped towards him. Once again afraid, Jackson took a step back, and then another and another.

The ghost bolted at him, and chased him angrily now around the downstairs of his home. Jackson raced upstairs for his room. She was too swift for him. By the time he was at the top of the stairs, she was at his ankles. She dove for him, barely missing, but sliced the back of his left calf.

Jackson let out a scream as he fell to the floor. Bracing himself against the wall, he pulled himself to his feet, and hobbled towards his room. She scurried around him, and blocked the doorway. Jackson backed up against the wall opposite his room, and scooted sideways. The ghostly woman put hands on either side of him against the wall. Jackson ducked beneath her arms, and tried to run.

The woman let out a loud roar of amusement. Jackson made his escape in the wrong direction; he was stuck between her and the window at the end of the hallway. He inched closer to it, desperate with no where else to go.

She sexually lingered in closer to him, knife ready at hand. Finally, they were against the window pane. Jackson could feel the cold blade pressed into his neck, and her warm breasts pushed into his chest.

She removed the knife from his throat, and pulled herself into Jackson’s arms, forcing him to hold her. “I always loved you, Chuck.” She inserted him into her, and then threw both their bodies into the glass and out the window.


“Come on guys. We’re late for movies with Grandpa,” Mindy told her children as she hurried them up the walkway to his front door. The kids joyously shouted out “trick-or-treat” and rang the bell.

No answer.

“Louder guys. Louder,” Mindy said to the children with a smile. As instructed the kids shouted out as loud as they could, but still nothing.

“Dad?” Mindy called. “Dad!”

The house was as silent as death itself.

“Wait here,” she instructed her children, and then headed for the side of the house. As she approached the side, she could hear a woman moaning loudly, as if she were having sex. A man’s voice roared with pleasure.

Mindy wandered more into the dark side yard at her father’s home until she heard something crunch beneath her feet. She kneeled down to it, and touched the ground. Shards of glass, she wondered.

Worried about the glass outside of Jackson’s home, and fearing her kids would her the two people having sex, she got up to go get them. Just before she started walking away, she heard a woman distinctly scream, “Oh, Chuck!”

And in reply to her scream, she heard a man mutter, “Call me Jackson.”

Halloween Short Story

Jackson raced upstairs, and went back into hiding. All throughout the house he could hear tapping noises and footsteps. Suddenly, all fell silent again. Jackson perked up in bed, craning his neck towards the door listening for more mysterious noises.

Silence. And then crying.

“He-hello?” Jackson called out.

All he got in reply was louder harder sobbing.

Jackson manned up and crept out into the hallway. No signs of life were in view. He flicked the light switch to turn on the lights of the stairway. And then he flicked it again, and again. The lights never came on. Jackson’s legs turned to jell-o, and he crumbled to the floor allowing a tear from each eye to drip down his cheeks.

The sobbing became even louder now, and for the first time Jackson recognized it as a woman’s voice. “Sweetie?” He called out in hopes that it was a harmless little girl.

The sobbing paused, and then, “Sweetie?”

“Who’s th-there?”

“Sweetie!”

Jackson retreated into his room, peaking around the edge of the door.

“Sweetie!” The voice called louder.

From around the door, Jackson saw a voluptuous sexy young woman appear at the bottom of the stairs.

Halloween Short Story

Jackson was sitting in his living room, lit only by the glow of old horror movies he had playing on his TV, when the first trick-or-treaters arrived. Ding! Dong! Jackson ran for his candy bowl and devil horns. “Well what do we have here? A witch. A princess. Superman.” He named off each one of the children’s costumes as he gave them a handful of candy each. “Oh such great costumes.” One by one they wished him a happy Halloween, and dispersed onto the neighboring houses.

He headed back for his lazy boy in the living room to continue watching the original Psycho. With his feet propped up and the seat reclined, he was nearly asleep the next time there was a noise at the door. “Trick-or-treat!” The children were calling. Back at the door with his devil horns he handed out candy in the same friendly manner as before. He closed the door as he waved the children onto the next house. Just as it latched, there was another knock. That was quick, Jackson thought.

He opened it up, candy bowl at hand, and found nothing. He shrugged, and closed it again. Another knock. Puzzled, he reopened the door. Still no one. He scratched the wispy grey hairs he still had left on top of his head. He looked to either side, and there was not a person to be found. He went back inside, once again closing the door. The pattern repeated, only this time Jackson did not open the door. There was a constant knocking for the next few minutes, and then the bell rang. “Trick-or-treat!”

Cautiously, and less friendly than before, Jackson gave out the candy quickly, and hurried back inside. As soon as the trick-or-treaters were gone, the knocking resumed until the next bundle of kids showed up at his door. “Trick-or-treat!” Jackson didn’t answer. “Trick-or-treat!” He silently stood behind the door. He heard a mother mutter to one of the kids, “Come on honey let’s go.” Jackson heard the kids trot away, and then the knocking came back.

Terrified, Jackson shut off the TV and headed upstairs for bed and hid underneath the sheets like a child frightened by the boogie man. He closed his eyes and unsuccessfully tried to sleep. The knocking turned to banging, and was now not only at the front door, but at the windows and on the walls. Jackson tried summing it all up to teenage mischief, but felt that it was otherwise.

Silence.

Nothing but the wind could be heard now. Jackson felt as if the terror of the night had subsided. The silence lasted a solid twenty minutes until it was broken by “Trick-or-treat!”

With his fears at rest, Jackson climbed from bed and passed out candy to the children. He waved goodbye to them, and gently closed the door. Just after it latched shut however, there was another noise, but not a knocking one.

The squeak of a door opening sounded from the kitchen, and then it slammed shut. Jackson darted to his hall closet and retrieved a golf driver. He snuck into his own kitchen, and before entering he took a swing around the corner of the doorway knocking a toaster into the wall. A flicked on the light, and there was nothing in the kitchen. The only thing that was altered about its appearance was the toppled over toaster that Jackson hit. He backed away slowly into the living room. The TV that was once on was now off.