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Authors: Chad Kultgen
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wish I had let her hear Alyna in the background. I wish I had the balls to call Casey right now and tell her I fucked some drunk bitch in the ass at her Groundlings party while posing as her teacher. I almost wish she wasn’t my girlfriend.
The waiter comes to our table and we order the same things we always order and strike up the same conversations about the same things we always talk about for the rest of lunch. After an hour we leave.
When I get home, I put in the Tori Amos CD that I bought from Alyna and jerk off.
some chapter
Hobo
I’m walking out of Jerry’s Famous Deli in Westwood when a semi-insane-looking hobo says, “Could you spare some change, brother?”
I have thirty-five cents in my pocket and I’m fully prepared to give it to him. I reach in my pocket, get the coins out, and begin the process of handing the money to the hobo when the following occurs.
Somebody says, “Don’t do it.”
I look over, and walking toward the hobo and myself is an Asian girl with fucking full-blown Down syndrome. She’s wearing glasses and her tongue’s kind of hanging out and she’s waving her arms around like a maniac as she keeps saying, “Don’t do it. Don’t do it.”
I pull the money back from the hobo, waiting for things to develop.
The retard says, “Mister, don’t give him any money.”
I say, “Okay.”
She points her retarded finger at the hobo and says, “What’s wrong with you? I make six dollars an hour. Why can’t you get a job?”
The hobo is speechless. So am I. The retard’s not.
She says, “You could get a job if you really wanted to, but you don’t. You’re lazy and I hate lazy people. You should not ask people for money that they’ve worked for. I would never give you money. I make six dollars an hour. I have a job. Why should I give you my money?”
I can’t tell if the hobo is genuinely moved by the retard’s rhetoric or by the poetic justice of this whole thing or what, but he stands up, says, “Shut your trap, I’m leaving,” and takes off down the street. All the while the retard keeps yelling after him, “Get a job! I have a job!”
Once he’s finally out of earshot the retard turns to me and says,
“You should never give them your money. They are lazy. I hate them.”
Then she turns around and trudges off down the street. I hope she’s on her way to deliver some more motivational speeches to hobos.
When I get home I wonder what retards are like when they fuck—
if they’re crazy, or if they go limp. I wonder if they’re any good at sucking dick and I decide I would fuck a retard if given the opportunity so I could answer these questions.
chapter sixteen
Casey’s Homecoming
I’m at the airport to pick up Casey. As I’m waiting by the baggage claim I see a guy in a brown jacket holding some flowers that he probably bought at the airport for his girlfriend. I know Casey would like me to be waiting for her with flowers. I see the little guy selling the flowers. I also see an average-looking bitch standing across from me.
We exchange a glance. Casey’s plane lands in ten minutes. I wonder if the average-looking bitch would accept a no-strings-attached offer to fuck in the bathroom. I wonder who she’s here to pick up. Probably her boyfriend, who probably bought flowers for her at whatever airport he’s coming from. Casey’s been gone for two days, in which time I haven’t fucked. I decide to buy her flowers.
Fifteen minutes later Casey wanders out into the baggage claim area like a lost little kid along with all the other people who were on her flight. The guy in the brown jacket gives his flowers to a girl who doesn’t look that much different from the average-looking bitch. She kisses him. The average-looking bitch gets flowers from a guy who doesn’t look that much different from the guy in the brown jacket. She kisses him. I give my flowers to Casey. She hugs me and kisses me and says, “Oh, thank you. You’re so sweet.”
As she’s
The waiter comes to our table and we order the same things we always order and strike up the same conversations about the same things we always talk about for the rest of lunch. After an hour we leave.
When I get home, I put in the Tori Amos CD that I bought from Alyna and jerk off.
some chapter
Hobo
I’m walking out of Jerry’s Famous Deli in Westwood when a semi-insane-looking hobo says, “Could you spare some change, brother?”
I have thirty-five cents in my pocket and I’m fully prepared to give it to him. I reach in my pocket, get the coins out, and begin the process of handing the money to the hobo when the following occurs.
Somebody says, “Don’t do it.”
I look over, and walking toward the hobo and myself is an Asian girl with fucking full-blown Down syndrome. She’s wearing glasses and her tongue’s kind of hanging out and she’s waving her arms around like a maniac as she keeps saying, “Don’t do it. Don’t do it.”
I pull the money back from the hobo, waiting for things to develop.
The retard says, “Mister, don’t give him any money.”
I say, “Okay.”
She points her retarded finger at the hobo and says, “What’s wrong with you? I make six dollars an hour. Why can’t you get a job?”
The hobo is speechless. So am I. The retard’s not.
She says, “You could get a job if you really wanted to, but you don’t. You’re lazy and I hate lazy people. You should not ask people for money that they’ve worked for. I would never give you money. I make six dollars an hour. I have a job. Why should I give you my money?”
I can’t tell if the hobo is genuinely moved by the retard’s rhetoric or by the poetic justice of this whole thing or what, but he stands up, says, “Shut your trap, I’m leaving,” and takes off down the street. All the while the retard keeps yelling after him, “Get a job! I have a job!”
Once he’s finally out of earshot the retard turns to me and says,
“You should never give them your money. They are lazy. I hate them.”
Then she turns around and trudges off down the street. I hope she’s on her way to deliver some more motivational speeches to hobos.
When I get home I wonder what retards are like when they fuck—
if they’re crazy, or if they go limp. I wonder if they’re any good at sucking dick and I decide I would fuck a retard if given the opportunity so I could answer these questions.
chapter sixteen
Casey’s Homecoming
I’m at the airport to pick up Casey. As I’m waiting by the baggage claim I see a guy in a brown jacket holding some flowers that he probably bought at the airport for his girlfriend. I know Casey would like me to be waiting for her with flowers. I see the little guy selling the flowers. I also see an average-looking bitch standing across from me.
We exchange a glance. Casey’s plane lands in ten minutes. I wonder if the average-looking bitch would accept a no-strings-attached offer to fuck in the bathroom. I wonder who she’s here to pick up. Probably her boyfriend, who probably bought flowers for her at whatever airport he’s coming from. Casey’s been gone for two days, in which time I haven’t fucked. I decide to buy her flowers.
Fifteen minutes later Casey wanders out into the baggage claim area like a lost little kid along with all the other people who were on her flight. The guy in the brown jacket gives his flowers to a girl who doesn’t look that much different from the average-looking bitch. She kisses him. The average-looking bitch gets flowers from a guy who doesn’t look that much different from the guy in the brown jacket. She kisses him. I give my flowers to Casey. She hugs me and kisses me and says, “Oh, thank you. You’re so sweet.”
As she’s
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