Hostage underneath the old oak tree

[notes]

Someone is drinking themselves to death with water

Someone is selling women at a farmer’s market

Someone is buying children to use as ornaments in his basement

Someone is carving names into trees as homosexual innuendo

Someone is stealing from a sex shop and leaving the toys at playgrounds

Miss Tucker finds the toys and the people who were fucking about find her underneath the old oak tree

She threatens to kill them all but they have video evidence of her action

They make her buy a woman from the farmer’s market

They make her bury her pink dildo in a sandbox

They make her take children near the trees and imply the nature of others’ relationships

They make her… buy a child and give him to the Garrate (basement)?

She calls the police on them all and everyone but one is sent to jail for lack of evidence

She pays fines instead of jailtime and loses her home

She lives on the streets where the one who wasn’t imprisoned stalks her

Miss Tucker and the other person end up having mutual masturbation in an alley and sing a song entitled Underneath the old oak tree

Some bald whore peers up from her wound with the eyes of a bloodhound…

[/notes]

__

“There was enough ash on my dick to smoke it up raw. Yeah and I didn’t know her name but I just started cussing the bitch out for not being careful. Yeah man. No, she just stood there all quiet and shit and I just left. No it didn’t hurt, the ash hadn’t been lit all that much. Yeah, I went there again after about a week. About another month or so. I don’t know where she is.”

And the lank replaces the phone into the receiver in his modest suburban house and spends the rest of the hour moaning quietly in his room and the rustle of bedsheets can be heard. He thinks while he jerks if his parents will find him and walk backwards from his room and he thinks this every time and has thought this since he began. He isn’t a dangerous boy. He just called the man who sells women from the farmer’s market and lied to him through ignorant bravado from the cock. He wasn’t out of stock.

A dwarf pool of his glisten on his stomach and he rests looking at the ceiling. Face is returning to the pallid and the doorbell rings and downstairs still sticky he invites in the lady of the dollar. Her voice is light, too light to hang in her own throat and he doesn’t ruin anything by asking himself if she really sounds so childlike. She doesn’t waste time.

He doesn’t much like that she doesn’t waste time. His entire effort upstairs was to prolong this, at this price, and this especial minute will be a simple minute instead and the lady of the dollar will walk out walking right instead of crooked. And she asks for liquor when he offers coffee.

“You don’t drink coffee, kid. You’re too young.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“But you can get me a shot and I can pretend you drink coffee swirling around in your hipster silks.”

And the lank, seventeen in muscle and twelve at the core, retrieves the bottle of 151 and sets himself up a shot. He isn’t used to drinking. The lady of the dollar is used to everything.

“So, what’re we in for?”

“You know.”

And he’s just too shy and she wants to get his rutting around finished quickly.

“Come here, stand up.”

He stands before her and she grasps his basket.

“You jerked off recently, didn’t you? That’s sweet.”

He doesn’t answer because she answered herself and she peels his shorts down and here is a sight that isn’t spectacular. An erect teenager who can’t hope to impress a seasoned lady.

“How do you want it done, kid?”

“I don’t just want it done.”

“You want me to pop out my titty and let you suck or something? I’m not your girlfriend, we’re not going to whisper the sweet nothings and stroke each other’s arm hair. How are you going to fuck me? And do you have a condom?”

“I have a condom but I don’t want to just fuck you.”

“Good, maybe I can leave this place in five minutes. I’m not comfortable coming to houses, especially not some kid I don’t even know.”

“My parents won’t be home all day.”

“I won’t be home all day either, so do what you’re going to do.”

He leans into her, eyes closed and he comments on the soft down of her cheek and she laughs with hammers in her words, says, “I’m surprised you didn’t come soon as I walked in.”

“Do you want to go to my room?”

“Anywhere there’s a bed, but I’d do it in a shed by now. Hurry up.”

He leads her by the hand and his hand is sweaty and she doesn’t tell him this and in his bedroom in his modest suburban house he takes off his shirt and stands a decidedly unimpressive sight.

“I forgot how skinny kids are.”

He looks down and wants to blush but to do so would be to succumb to anger.

“Why are you being such a bitch? I’m trying to be nice to you.”

“You’re right. I’m used to dealing with murderers for all I know. Okay. Lay on the bed, on your back.”

He does so, five inches higher into the air. She with expert hands places her clothes in a neat pile on a chair and slides onto the bed, straddles him.

“You ever done it before?”

“No.”

“Your money.”

And fidget two strangers, neither at each other’s level and the boy, when his mountain has softened, cries that he payed to lose his virginity. The lady of the dollar washes the trash of his virginity and wanders near blind into town.

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~ by Jeremy on July 20, 2008.

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