When I first started writing the story the characters were going to be animals personified as humans... for no reason in particular. They were intended to act entirely like humans, though their animal's qualities may shine through at moments.
This chapter sets the scene for this vision but I have since reconsidered and will change the wording of this chapter to remove that element. Such a theme is demanding enough that it ought to be consistant, humourous, and witty. This is a task I can't take on and wouldn't expect others to follow either.
--Humbleice 22:03, 8 February 2006 (UTC)
Pogo lights up his third cig. Lights... Camel Lights. His friends give him shit about it every once and a while because his ex looked like Camel Joe. He refuses this notion.
Pogo is a medium-sized, brown and white fox terrier. His mom, Mixie, was a slut in the Southside of Seattle and made herself available to just about any mutt wanting to get a quick fix. She wasn't usually picky, but she avoided the bitchies.
Pogo wasn't a mistake though; he was born pure from a Stud just outside of Green River. Mixie used to be prize winner back in her youth and wanted to re-live the spectacle and show. With a liter of five, only the youngest, Terry, gave a shit about mother's motives. The rest sunk further down the spiral of bad friends, good drugs, and no ambition. Pogo was no exception.
"What the fuck you doing mate... put that shit out or take it outside!!" They were playing their usual game of cards; this time at Bono's house. Bono is a big fuckin brute of a rabbit, distinguishable not only by his size but also his shades. He wears wire-framed, dark-blue-tinted glasses that 'saturate his outward view of the world.' He never takes the things off, and for that he is commonly known as "blue balls." Bono and Pogo have been friends for years.
"Don't be such a rabbit's paw you faggot. Since when do you give a shit about smoking up in this shabby-shack?" ...a moment of silence passes by... "Fuck you... I'll be back."
Bono actually was a faggot... or at least bisexual. He discovered this a year ago but never told Pogo. They were roommates at the time.
At the poker game was also Yessa and Job. Yessa is a bloke from Bono's hood and an enthusiast of the game. They aren't much of friends, but an extra seat was available and Bono is pretty good at reading Yessa's tells. Well... he used to be. Yessa spent a few years in the pen for sleeping with the wrong girl... it turns out she was married to a cop; a dirty harry. While in the hole, he spent most of his free-time learning the cards; he still plays clean, but he's smarter than before and his face is a blank slate.
Job is chums with both Pogo and Bono. Although a bit of a nerd, he's also sly, sharp, and coy. He can talk himself into any situations and talk his way back out just as easily.
"I'm gonna join him, Bono" Job quickly replies and stands up from the table. Job doesn't smoke at all, but he never misses a chance for some porch time. He enjoys the sounds of the night and the possibility of free-flowing conversation. At the table it's all about the game... and Job is no good at the game.
Job threw himself on the porch couch and immediately starts talking about his girl, Rachie. Pogo, sitting on the balcony, listens only half-attentively as he mentally drowns in his own thoughts. They never finished their game.
"I can't believe she's leaving me, Pogo. Last weekend she wanted the knot but now she's flying out stiff." Job was a mess. He woke up this morning with an 8-ton hangover, a broken tool, and thong inscribed 'eat me' at the crotch. He didn't know what the fuck happened last night, but his woman problems made all this insignificant.
"Did you try fucking her?" Pogo suggested. "The last time my bitch tried walking out I fucked her just enough to keep her wanting more; I've had the upper-hand since." And he has. Pogo's now fiancée, Annabelle, has a tight collar and a short leash. She prefers it this way. In her early years she was a rambunxious nympho with a magnet for low-class pimps and drug-lords. She's currently on Methadone after a serious heroin addiction but has been clean from all other substance for over 14 months.
Annabelle is mad about Pogo and always has been. They met at an all-night Oracle party. It was Pogo's first time, but Anna was a regular. She thought he looked cute during the meditation session where he innocently overplayed his naivety by insisting on doing it right. They'd been together since. That was 9 months ago.
Annabelle never had intentions of leaving Pogo, but there was a time she felt alone and neglected. Thinking a bold statement might improve the situation, she packed up a few things, told him to sod off, and walked out to the street. Pogo caught up only moments later and coaxed her to come back to the apartment. He's since been more attentive to her needs, and she has remained loyal.
Pogo, Bono, and Job were sitting at the Free Loafing Bar. Bono hasn't said much all night; instead he's surveying the field for opportunity. He left his woman 3 months ago during poker night. It was a sudden act of severance, but not unsuspected. Bono was paranoid about relationships and couldn't handle bad situations. Yessa suggested she was having too much fun during the week, and he had witnessed various men stopping by during the day for a couple hours at a time. He said he'd give him Bono a call at work when it happened again, but Bono had heard enough and cut things off that night. He didn't tell her why, she didn't ask. They've been married for 14 months, 14 days.
"I don't know about that Pogo... she's been pretty distant the last couple days... plus, I don't know if my guy would work even if I wanted too to have sex. What the fuck did I do last night?"
"Heather" Bono coughs as the slaps his hand down on Job's shoulder.
"Oh." Job was dumbfounded. He doesn't remember having sex. In fact all he does remember is running through the streets away from a pigmy horse with wings and a sassy attitude. It was only a dream though... and one of the better dreams Job has had in the recent months.
"I say you fuck her," Bono repeated casually.
Night of SexEdit
"oh fuck... oh gawd pogo... oh god... oohhhh" Annabelle is mid-climax. This is the third time in two hours, which is unusual for her. Pogo typically last long enough to get Annabelle midway through their second run but can't hold on much longer. And after he's done, they're done.
Tonight Pogo barely even feels it. Granted it feels good to him, but he could hold it in for hours. The only thing that separates him from a machine is that his muscles aren't fueled by Duracell and he often needs a moment to recharge. This is a definitely a good night.
Annabelle is on top but is exhausted and somewhat incapacitated. She grabs Pogo's arms and pulls him with her as she gets down into the feline position. They both enjoy this position; it's forceful... inviting... and animalistic. It screams a monument to the glorification of sex. Pogo resists her lead and withdraws from her body. He's tired. He slumps backward and plays comatose while drawing attention to the TV.
Anna, aware he hasn't gone yet, decides to raise his spirits orally; she's adept to this skill and enjoys providing the service. Pogo doesn't resist and continues to lay unconscious.
Once in a while he will breathe heavily to exhaust his inner pleasure. Soon after, he closes his eyes and his mind shoots toward divinity at three thousand miles a sec. Bad memories are erased and thrown off the ends of the earth. A flower grows and blooms right before his eyes. Its piston shoots off like a rocket and explodes into a thousand bright lights.
Instantaneously his comatose body turns into a cadaver and she knows it. She lies down next to his corpse and stretches her arm around his body. She wanted more, but she's still satisfied. She's always satisfied.
The television was set to Channel 5 and Jay Leno was doing his Monday night skit on publication misprints.
"Come on down Pancake Patty's where kids under 7 are free." Leno boasts in his usual arrogant fashion. He immediately follows by adding "yes... I'd like a pancake special with a side of baby and some orange juice."
"I could go for a kid right now" Anna torts aloud, only half-jokingly.
"I could go for a smoke," Pogo replies.
Pogo assumed Annabelle was only being cute. What he didn't know is that she really wanted to have a child.
"Clowns are faggots. They're hideous... child molesting... self loathing faggots." Pogo and Bono had taken a trip to Vancouver to see the Cirque de Soliel. Bono got the tickets from a guy at work who couldn't use them. They were free. They were an excuse to get out of town. Bono was still single.
"Maybe, but they probably get more sex than your blue balls." Pogo replied half sheepishly. He had just suffered from a three hour car-ride of celibacy complaints and self-pity. Bono refuses to masturbate; he says it's not clean. Pogo thinks otherwise.
"Shut your trap you fuckin Welsh; I didn't come out here to take shit from your sorry ass." Bono was sour about the whole thing and envious of Pogo and Annabelle. He found out his wife wasn't cheating on him and that the mysterious men visiting his house weren't there for sex. Regardless, Brenda, his wife, wanted to stay separated; she was disappointed in his lack of trust. As revenge she has since given him the impression that she was hot, horny, and overly active. The truth is she hasn't even tried.
"I used to fuck a clown," Pogo shared to Bono reflectively, "she was fuckin hot too... and there's no way she was a faggot." Charlene was an undergrad at Pacific Lutheran University. She wasn't a good student in that she consistently broke every school mandate, but she was sweet, good-hearted, smart, and fucking gorgeous.
Charlene used a clown disguise while doing shows at the Déjà vu. She wasn't a happy clown or a sad clown... she was just a clown. Her typically garb included brown slacks, a white dress shirt, a grifter's hat, black-framed glasses, and loafers. She was renowned for her perfect dreds, which would hang out and rest on her shoulders. Her breasts were also perfect.
While working at the joint, Charlene didn't care much about the money; she was in it for the excitement. She enjoyed receiving attention, and men gave it to her. Her parents were rich and Charlene was spoiled. She spent most of her earnings on her less fortunate friends, most of which didn't go to PLU.
Pogo met Charlene on the bus going to Queen Anne. She wasn't in disguise at the time. Pogo could help but stare. After a few minutes Charlene approached Pogo and invited him to fuck her; she lived only a few blocks away. Pogo agreed.
"Yeah, what happened to that bird anyway?" Bono inquired... familiar only with the segments of this relationship.
"She graduated and decided to become a nun."
"I've got twenty on that belligerent bitch," Job exclaims hastily to his mates. Job, Bono, and Pogo were at their weekly ritual gathering of Fear Factor. None of them cared for the show too much, but it was an excuse to get together, drink beer, gamble, and drink beer.
Their system worked something like this. Fear Factor has 6 contestants at the beginning of the show; 3 are men and 3 are women. In the first round, they always eliminate one guy and one girl from the show, leaving an even 2/2 for the next two rounds. Bets can only be placed on once per contestant. If the bet's for a woman, the odds are 2.5:1 and if it's for a guy the odds are 2:1. Their cap was usually a $50 bet.
This was a typical night where it was just the three guys playing; in these cases there was always one of the final four contestants that didn't any backing. If that contestant wins, the night is a draw.
"Dammit you fuck... I wanted her." Pogo liked to bet on the ladies because they always came out with something to prove. He's also slow on calling out his bet. Normally he wouldn't mind missing first calls on the girl, but the other female contestant, Janice Brunsewick, looks pretty and has that nice-girl, i'm-just-here-to-have-fun attitude. They never win.
"Fine, I'll take fuckin Fuck Face." Fuck Face was a thin, black man with that constant constipation facial expression. He's got an ego greater than the Fanz, but Pogo knows he's no real contestant.
Bono was the first to make his mark. He placed 40 bucks on Terry Greenswald. Bono never bet on the ladies. He's a womanizer; he knows it; he loves it. Instead he typically puts his money on the hottest guy, which was usually the best built.
One week both Pogo and Job intentionally singled out the guys so that Bono would have to call on one of the woman. Ironically he won that week. It was the first and last time he ever bet on a female.
It was the beginning of the second round. This was Fear Factors traditional oh-my-god-i-wanna-throw-up-you-sick-fucks round; this time was no different. In front of the contestants were a huge container of frog eggs and a pitcher of snake blood. The object was to suck the frog eggs outs out of the container and spit them into a tall drinking glass. Once it was filled a quarter of the way, they would pour the snake blood into the rest of the glass and drink it. This was Fear Factors recipe for bubble tea. Janice didn't make it.
Job went into the kitchen to get some more beers for the boys. They were drinking Pyramid Ale... not the usual, but it's all that was in the fridge. Tonight was going to be a good night.
Rachie walks into Job's place and is coming down from an ecstaciting evening. He doesn't know where she's been and isn't the least bit curious; he hasn't seen her for 5 weeks. At the moment he's just happy to have her back and offers her some water.
"Wow this water tastes sooo fucking good" she replies after she gulps it down in three swallows. "Mmm... and my breasts feel really good; come on and touch them for me." Job was used to her ecstastatic behavior, but it was unusual for him to be sober on her highs. The situation seemed out of place and a bit awkward, but he did as she commanded.
Rachie didn't actually leave Job; it was a misunderstanding he had over a phone message she left. Her mother was diagnosed with cancer and she took the next flight out for Chicago to take care of her. In her message she told Job that she was leaving and that she didn't know when or if she'd be coming back. That was all. It wasn't for a week before he heard from her again and got the rest of the story.
Tonight Rachel went to a rave with a group of her girlfriends. She had gotten back to Seattle a couple days ago but was too depressed to go back to Job. He didn't need that sort of negativity in the air. Plus, her girlfriends always knew how to show her a good time.
Job and Rachel had an understanding. It was okay to fuck other people, but only on a few conditions. First, it had to be announced; no secrets were kept about these things. Second, it had to be separate; no introducing a playmate to your loved one. And finally, it had to be meaningless; secondary relationships weren't allowed. After all, their understanding was to protect themselves from drunken escapades of stupid, irrational behavior and thrilling one-night stands... not to endorse an open relationship.
There was one exception for breaking these rules; the threesome. Threesomes were okay ONLY IF both Job and Rachie were involved. Additionally, the third party must be a woman (Job's mandate) and she was almost always was a mutual friend.
Job told Rachie about Heather the night she called him to explain where she was. He still doesn't remember fucking her, but that whole night was a Gaussian blur. She was a little disappointed when he told her; mostly because of her mother, but also because she had met Heather before. She never sees her again though; nor does Job.
Rachel is sitting on Job's lap on the living room couch; Job is still lightly rubbing his finger over her nipple. She's thinking about divine forests with magical elves, holy water, and a magical aura. He is thinking about his proposal. He can't believe he's reached the point of settling down; he never thought it would happen. In his mind he briefly wonders if marriage will compromise their understanding. Will they become swingers? Will they abandon their friends? Job wants to commit, but he doesn't like bad change.
"Okay!! This is the time Bono pissed his pants when I told him his parents were just renting him out and that he was due back in a few days," Pogo laughs as he shares this delicate bit of information to Bono's new girl, Sensation. Bono and Sensation were visiting over at Pogo's place and for kicks Pogo decided to bring out the photo album of Bono's compromising history. This was a ritual that was performed with all of Bono's new girlfriends. He was used to it by now, but he still couldn't bare to stay in the room. "Sometimes he's so gullible" Pogo adds.
Sensation is true to her name; she's as interesting as she is beautiful, and she was fuckin gorgeous. Her family moved around a lot when she was young and by the time she was 15 she had visited five continents and 35 countries. When she was 18 she went to UC: Berkley where she studied public relations and journalism. She's since slept with 5 well-known celebrities: 2 musicians, an actor, and an athlete. They were the top five on her list.
Sensation is also fairly wealthy; her parents have a pot of gold stashed somewhere in Wall Street, and her job easily puts her in at six figures a year. She enjoys having money, but she doesn't really like spending it. In fact, she believes most luxuries are either bought to fight depression or to invoke vanity; sometimes these are often interrelated, and both often have longer and greater lows than their short, artificial highs.
Why, you might ask, did Sensation end up with Bono? The answer may seem too simple to believe; He approached her and asked her out. Of course, Bono's the sort of guy with an ego big enough to ask out a person as beautiful as Sensation, but he still had to muster up a lot of courage to do so. The ironic part is that Bono would freak out if he only knew what you now know about Sensation. Fortunately for him he doesn't know and doesn't care to find out. Sensation likes it this way too; she's bored of repeating her stories to the insincerely interested and actually prefers keeping emotions out of their sexually charged relationship. On the other hand, she has no apprehension for looking at mortifying photos of Bono's past. And why should she?
"I heard that you fuckin loaf. I was six and my parents were always fighting about me. Why the fuck wouldn't I believe you." Bono sticks his head in the conversation long enough to defend himself... then retreats back into thought on the front porch.
"I wonder if his piss tasted as good as it does now," Sensation replies thoughtfully.
"Oh God!!! That's fuckin... sick." Pogo squirms violently and stands up from the couch hoping to walk off the mental image. "That just fuckin wrong.... ACK!!... I'm gonna get some whiskey... Want anything?"
"Water'll do." Sensation has a pleasant smile plastered on her red face.
"Who's gullible now!?!?" Bono shouts excitedly from the porch.
Kay's running down a road. It's a dirt road. She doesn't know how she got here; she doesn't know where it leads. It's dark outside, about two in the morning.
She's being chased by a car. Actually, it's a Hummer. When she looks back she just sees its headlights; angry, determined. The engine revs every once in a while, but the vehicle never attempts to pass her and never attempt to run her over. She doesn't know why she's being chased, but she won't veer off. Maybe she afraid of making her situation worse than it is now. At least on the road she may come across some help.
About 10 minutes pass and Kay is tired... lost... confused. The Hummer is gone. She doesn't know when it disappeared or where it went. The glow of the headlights is still evident in the front, but there's no sign of its source from behind. She stops to listen, but can only hear the soundscape of the night. When she decides to press on, she quickly comes to a crossroads. She looks at each path and felt more confused than before.
"What the Fuck?!?" She thought her voice sounded awkward and out of place since she hadn't heard herself speak for nearly an hour now. The road splits off into 3 new choices. The road at her 10 o'clock resembles the one she's been traveling on. It's dirty, dusty, and crowded with foliage. The street in front of her looks slightly more developed; it's still old and dirty, but remnants of pavement are concealed beneath all the gravel. At her 3 o'clock is a cement road. This is obviously the path to some sort of civilization, but it's still dark as far as she can see.
The situation reminds Kay of a poem or fable with some sort of lesson to be had at the end. She figures the only way she'd know is if she took all three roads and then evaluated the outcome for some sort of all-encompassing moral. But as she thought about it more she realizes that perhaps the lesson is to turn back before life gets to complicated. Or maybe it's as simple as 'life will lead you to difficult choices.'
She couldn't believe she caught herself thinking about this... but then she decides that the clichéd lessons from the past might help her in the future. On the one hand, the cement road seems too inviting. In every story she recalls, the character that takes the inviting road always regrets it in the end. She moves on to the next road, the dirt road. She thinks the dirt road could resemble the path she was just on. In the end it will just line her up with another set of choices... opportunities. She couldn't decide if those choices would be better or worse, or even the same. She decides it doesn't matter and moves onto the old paved road.
Before she has time to evaluate the road in front of her, Kay hears the Hummer and see's the lights charging at her. She begins to run...
Job wakes up flustered and confused.
It's five o'clock and Bono hasn't slept a wink. After fucking Sensation for nearly 4 hours, he's just sitting back and thinking. His thoughts travel to his sexuality.
"What the fuck you stupid faggot!!? I mean, who fuckin cares anyway?" It's been bothering him for weeks now. No one knows he's a faggot... no one would even consider the idea. Actually, after hanging out with Bono for a few days, you'd come to think he was a phobe or a hater... but his friends know better and they take his attitude with a grain of salt. Regardless, they would never interpret his behavior as a defensive tool.
Bono is happy being with Sensation, and she's done an excellent job driving Brenda out of his mind. Bono and Brenda are still together legally. There seems to be an unspoken understanding that marriage status is mutually beneficial over single status, and neither has taken initiative to file for divorce. Brenda is currently without.
Bono's currently on the masculine side of his sexuality oscillation. This is the fourth time it's happened since he first realized he was into men. He's never acted on his guy impulses and would never consider trying a private relationship. Instead, he's chosen to curtail his urges, with a consequence that can easily be compared to blue balls. Fortunately, this cycle usually lasts only 3 weeks before it reverses and his affection is replaced onto women.
Sensation hasn't noticed a difference in Bono since the cycle began. In fact, with a night like tonight why would she suspect a thing? Bono's drive has been more affectionate and more powerful than ever. In fact, after the second hour of copious, selfless sex she was more than willing to sacrifice her rim upon his suggestion. It was the first time she'd ever let a man infiltrate this area; an idea which felt awkward and unnecessary to her. She was never disgusted by it though; she just never had any real desire to do it. That is, until tonight. There was no regret.
While Bono lay there restless, Sensation is passed out. This was the way of it; always. Bono and Sensation couldn't fuck before work or another engagement unless Sensation had at least an hour to recover afterwards. Desperately, and somewhat creatively, Bono started setting his alarm back in order to make room for morning sex. She thought it was cute. It worked.
Sensation is almost more beautiful asleep than she is awake. Her posture is alluring and yet innocent. She's sound sleeper. She's also cognizant. At nights, after sex, Bono enjoys easing his hand up and down her milk chocolate skin. It gives him a feeling of comfort and hope. When he stops, she'll casually take his hand and place it on her body soliciting more.
"Maybe she'll be okay with it" Bono tries to convince himself that coming clean won't affect their relationship.
"Yeah, the weather's been great all week honey" ...short pause... "I think yesterday the high was 83" ...short pause... "I went down to the beach after our meeting" ...short pause... "Yeah, you'll either be impressed with my tan or make fun of my lobster-burn" ...long pause... "Okay, I'll see you on Monday then" ...short pause... "Okay babe, love you... bye"
Job is looking out the window of his executive hotel room wearing loose linen pants and locally crafted hemp slippers. He's been out on business for four days now and decided to call his fiancé simply to check in and hear her voice. Amanda, the woman he slept with last night, is taking a morning shower.
Last week Kip called to see if Job would negotiate with a client their company was trying to contract. Job is a natural closer. He's flawless. If he can't convince his clients to make an agreement on the terms Kip draws out, he'll catch them in the negotiation process. And on several occasions his negotiations brought a better deal than they had originally asked.
Kip is a social slut with the gift of accommodation. In that respect he's selfless...willing to sacrifice his own well-being for the benefit of others. This is true both in and out of work. He's a respectable man. His chubby side makes him both naturally jolly and entertaining. People feel comfortable around him.
Typically Kip would take care of the administration of their firm. He's responsible for arranging meetings with and accommodating clients, drafting contracts, and handling the books. In general, he sets up his clients for Job to knock them down; it's the perfect pair.
This week Kip was going to take care of the entire closing process. The client they had found wasn't all too important and Job wanted to spend some time with his girl. In other words he wanted to take the week off to go golfing; something he did regularly. His girl was his caddy, a beautiful brunette in her early 20s. She's been his caddy since she was 18.
As he looks at his reflection in the window, he wonders why he wasn't able to enjoy his week off as planned. Nothing ever seems to go as planned. Now he's 700 miles away from home as a favor for Kip. He doesn't mind; he likes his work. But he sure wishes he could be on the course right now.
"What are you thinking about right now?" Amanda is in the bathroom doorway drying her hair off with a hotel towel. She always asked people this question when she caught them being reflective.
It rained that afternoon and didn't let up until Monday.