Bottles and Cans

Katherine had a bad toothache in the morning. She had eaten many Sour Patch Kids the night before and passed out watching Frasier before she could brush her teeth. Moments of weakness like this is really what made me want to twist her tit and chin her left kidney. I was awakened with the complaining sound of an Egyptian caterpillar.

"Flakeshire, I feel like I've been chewing the heavy duty aluminum foil in the draw-orrr," she said sleepily.

"That sucks," I say as I turn my head from my pillow at an ever so acute angle.

"But don't you want to make me feel better?"

I had tuned out the slithery woman and fallen asleep. Then, I proceeded to dream about the woods and calm rivers. It was dark out and friends were in random places along the way as I traveled in the wilderness. Calling out for them to say hello to me, they spit their tobacco my way and walked off, backwards, staring at me until they were out of sight.

Meanwhile, Katherine brushed her teeth for five minutes and got ready for work.

When I awoke, she was already gone; and she had left a note. It said:

Dearest Flakeshire,

I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you. You see, I am not English and I am not a waitress. I've been hired by The Perverted Veterinarians Journal to write a story about the man with a penis shaped like a giraffe's neck and head. They figured they could give an amateur writer like me a fair salary to date you for a year to really get into the story the way they wanted.

It has only been four months, but I've been getting stomach cramps from your odd-shaped dick, and can honestly say that it is time for me to move on and write my story. If I stay any longer, I will only fall more in love with you, and it.

Once Yours,

Janelle Jackson

I can't say I'm completely surprised. My penis is pretty fucked up. So are my dreams. Better go brush my teeth.