So what then now?
I’m watching a crowning newborn’s head squeeze out of a vagina that I have licked and sucked dozens of times. Along with the child, there are other oozings: chunky blood, alphabet soup; she fucking shit herself! Shit all over the hospital bed. Red and brown streaks on the wailing baby’s forehead. The doctor acts like a professional while I bite my fingernails and wonder how I’m ever gonna fuck that putrid hole again.
***
I’m bleeding again. This time out of the thumb instead of the toe. Bit the skin and ate it, then sucked the blood for a while. Dipped the finger in my chalice of bourbon to feel the sting. You know, if you keep sucking on a wound it prolongs the bleeding. The warmth of the tongue and heat of the breath keep it flowing.
She hates it when I bleed, the fucking cunt. I even wipe it on a special rag and don’t get any on the couch. Just watch your pissy bitch Netflix dramedy and quit paying attention to what I’m doing. Or fuck it: raise your voice and wake the retarded titty sucker. Whoever wakes it has to soothe it back to sleep.
Regret your entire fucking life right now, you fat hog.
***
She wanted some infant onesies, so we went to Ross and then we went to TJ Maxx and she found one fucking thing she liked. Now she wants me to fuck her. It will be the first time since she squeezed it (and the gore and the shit) out of her pungent crack. How am I supposed to get it up? She’s fatter than she was before, belly all laffy taffy, and I can’t picture her cunt being anything other than a miasma dispenser.
I could fuck her ass. It would probably make no difference, as usual. She just wants to feel “close” for a few minutes.
***
Well good fucking God…somehow, I got it up. I made her suck it, of course, for a solid ten minutes. The last seven were me just fucking her slack dry mouth. By then, I was close enough to busting, so I stuck it in her goddamn cavern and wiggled it around until I came. She pulled me close afterwards for a kiss and her breath smelled like formula. I almost puked in her mouth.
***
The shithead is crying. Waaah waaaaaaah waaaaaaaaaaaaah! She’s gone to get groceries and I’m here, on the couch, watching shit, wondering if I’m man enough to change its diaper for the third time in two hours. Is this motherfucker incontinent? Is this natural?
***
It was only piss, not shit. At least my miserable life has been spared that newborn feces smell for another hour. Oh, I also had to nurse it with a bottle. I’d like to shove that bottle up its butthole. Hey, that’s probably a tight ass! If I lost all my scruples, I could have a go at fucking its little pink button. Not even stained brown from years of shitting yet. Shove my dick so far up its guts it would poke its little beating heart.
So, I’m on the couch picking my big toe. It’s bleeding and I’m letting it continue to flow down my heel. I’ll lick it off when it goes too far. I can still lick my feet because I’m a skinny motherfucker. Not like my rotund wife. She was fat before the pregnancy, but when she was almost ready to squeeze it out, she was about as round as she was tall. Now she’s back to her normal size, when she has clothes on. Under those clothes are rolls of lard, cellulite, stretch marks, and probably active mold or fungus since there’s so many hidden areas to wash.
***
Did I mention that I like to drink? Got a nice bottle of Four Roses Special Reserve sitting on the coffee table. I would drink straight out the bottle, but Cuntmouth bitches about it. So I pour large quantities into my chalice and throw an ice cube in there. It’s actually not terrible.
***
Lately, I’ve been night-dreaming (like a daydream, but it’s at night and you’re not asleep) about slipping my wife one of those drugs that you see in movies that makes the person unable to move but keeps them awake. Once the drug was working, I would go and retrieve our child and shove it back into her putrid cunt. Lots of lube would be involved, obviously. And once I managed to get it back in, I would take a sledgehammer and smash her belly until the entrails and shit and piss and organs were pasted all over the bed, and then I would light a cigarette.
***
Went for a walk in the park today. The trees were special and I saw like three chipmunks. There was a girl with her mom. The girl was probably twelve or maybe ten. Anyway, she had a solid and firm little ass. And she was wearing tiny tight blue shorts! I don’t even know if you can call them shorts, because they were basically thin form-fitting pieces of fabric. Her ass-cheeks were well-defined. Like a ripe peach split down the center. You could tell that she had been walking a while and her ass was sweating and it made me think that I could just crack her mom upside the head and slide my dick into her without any warming up. The sweat would be the lube. I could break her hymen with one easy thrust.
I could shatter her whole world by acting upon this instinct.
***
The shitheel is crying again.
***
Oh, so she doesn’t want to do dishes tonight because she “feels bad,” even though she’s been in bed all fucking day. Fat flippant farty floppy festering fuckhole. I’ll do ‘em. I’ll do ‘em.
This goddamn water takes forever to heat up. Scrub scrub. GET HOT, MOTHERFUCKER. You know what? That fat bitch…I’m gonna start strokin’ my dick right here. I’m pumping that nub till it swells, thinking about that sweaty tight ass from the trail. Oh yeah. Split those cheeks. She’s so small I could probably carry her on my cock. Holy shit, I’m about to bust.
Where should I cum…on this plate? No, haha, YES. The bathroom. I’ll spray my load into that fat cunt’s conditioner bottle. Goddamn, I feel good. Look, the water ain’t even warm yet. That bitch is gonna have some cummy hair…
***
Another day, another big spiky unlubricated dildo up my dickhole. Fuck this life, I want a hammock. Not a ham hock that takes up four-fifths of the bed. I want beaches and margaritas, sunsets and jacuzzi jets. I want to piss in a bathroom that doesn’t smell like used tampons and belly roll cheese; spoiled diapers. We’re just rotting flesh sacks, simply here to clean up the piss and shit of a newer sack that will devour our savings and our lives. And the heifer is down with that. She wants this life. I should dig my thumbs into her eyes tonight, after this beer.
***
So, maternity leave is up for the old tub of lard, and we (she) decided that it would be best for her to go back to work at her state job because it pays more than my long and illustrious Taco Bell career. That means Yours Truly is now a Stay at Home Piss and Shit Cleaner.
Seriously, it’s probably diarrhea-ing right now as it stares at me from the little play area in the living room like a retarded bobblehead. To tell you the truth, I’m close to taking offense. Are those probing blue eyes judging me for drinking this bourbon? It’s understandable if it’s about the integrity of the drink (I don’t buy any bottle over $35), but I don’t think that’s what’s being judged.
I glare back at the thing until it stupidly giggles and drools on its blankie. You know what I want to do? I want to rip the head off of that stuffed T-rex, then slice the baby’s little neck with a paring knife until severed, grab the sewing kit, and do a little switcheroo. Wonder what the missus would think of that sight greeting her after a long day of work?
