mousethistle

DOCTORS AND NURSES: THE BIRTHING PROCESS. (You don't need to read the original Doctors and Nurses to understand this one, neither does this follow on from the original, the characters and narrative style are just the same)       When you finally come around it's dark. And wet. The last thing you remember is plucking a splinter from the old wooden fence out your ass, Kink giggling manically; a blonde troll among the bovine shadows.       You came down to the farm the night before. An educational retreat Kink told her father- who's asleep upstairs in the separate cottage, half a mile down the way. Finding yourselves. Making your peace wit

     ‘E-bomb?’     ‘Yeah, right here, yo’     The words drop out of my mouth in response, even though I promised just about everybody I know I would go straight for a while, and even though my serotonin levels are so dangerously low I’m too depressed to even bother to kill myself, and even though, and this strikes me as particularly fucked, the kid dealing looks a lot like the old bearded Christ, and smells of cold beef and paint thinner. The stinky guy scopes over his shoulders, digs the scene. Digs on me, a very long, sly look. He’s not gay; he’s just clockin’ to make sure I’m not El Narco

DOCTORS AND NURSES: THE BIRTHING PROCESS. (You don’t need to read the original Doctors and Nurses to understand this one, neither does this follow on from the original, the characters and narrative style are just the same)       When you finally come around it’s dark. And wet. The last thing you remember is plucking a splinter from the old wooden fence out your ass, Kink giggling manically; a blonde troll among the bovine shadows.       You came down to the farm the night before. An educational retreat Kink told her father- who’s asleep upstairs in the separate cottage, half a mile down the way. Finding yourselves. Making

DONKEY PUNCH. ‘What the fuck, Tad?’ Judas stands in the centre of my bedroom with her long, white fingers splayed wide in anger. Her bare feet with the chipped black toenails grounded in a sea of chewed open condom wrappers, littering the patterned 70’s carpet. ‘what were you thinking?’ I shrug awkwardly, trying to conceal my manhood with one hand and scratch a drying speck of semen from my chest with the other. Judas pays neither hand any mind. She’s fixated on the bed and- probably more so- the recently living girl star-fished across the mattress. She wades through the contraception wasteland; a banana