XXXXXXXXXXXXX to pers-h9q5x-152.
show details 6:23 am (2 days ago)
I'm totally not interested in meeting you -- I was only going to reply for the cheese, but then I skimmed to the end of your incredibly ordinary post and saw that you can't even manage to provide me with that. So now I'm just replying to tell you that your obsession with people of seemingly ambiguous gender is preposterous.
Colin Heintze to XXXXXXXX
show details 7:20 PM (17 hours ago)
You want preposterous? How about this she-male running the checkout here at the E-mart calling the cops on me. Totally uncool, man. Shit, I should probably start from the beginning.
So, I'm running a bit low on fertilizer for my latest "performance art" piece for the federal government (take away my right to own a hyena, will you! It's my shit-fucking house, I should be allowed to keep it if I want. It's not like I didn't put up fliers telling the neighborhood children not to trigger its predatory instinct by running). I decide to go to the Emart, where they sure as shit have everything, from the forty boxes of Sudafed capsules needed for my "chemistry experiment" to the lube, duct tape, and sleeping pills for the Tuesday night date.
Anyways, I enter the god-shitting mart and all the sudden I'm being shoved out of the doors by a bunch of hermaphroditic employees. The main she-male, a dykey-looking flit speaks to me as I throw wild haymakers into the thronging crowd.
"You can't be be in here!" He/she/it says.
"Why the cock-fuck not?" I say in my rumbling baritone. I feel something warm in my hand and look down to see a fresh scalp, still steaming in the winter air. Goddamn Koreans - their hair ain't one strand different from an Apache's, so I'm not sure whether I'll get a stiff jail sentence or just a chuckle and a "be on your way, son".
The tranny points to a poster hanging on the wall of the store. It has a picture, not a very good one mind you, of me with the words "do not allow on premises under any circumstances."
"Oh, god!" I sputter, choking back tears. "My...my brother. Oh my god... he was here, wasn't he?"
The tranny looks at me suspiciously. His face is all wrinkled-up like a colobus monkey, though he's Korean so it looks more like a colobus monkey who can't drive and spent his entire childhood studying.
"Yes. My brother was a soldier stationed here...he got shipped off to Iraq where an IED exploded next to his head. He never was the same after that, I'm afraid. Wild he was. Uncontrollable. Brain damage, you see. I moved here to care for him, but I'm afraid to say it was too late. He passed on... last week."
The manager still seems skeptical so I start crying. While I wipe the tears from my cheek I look upon the store with fond memories. It was that very lunch counter there where I sodomized the elderly prostitute in front of the other store patrons. And there is the maternity-wear section, nicely re-painted and renovated. I must admit, I'm impressed - they definitely covered up the fire well.
"So sorry!" The manager chimes, bowing to the waist like some kind of transvestite I just paid twenty bucks to help ease the DT's.
"No problem," I say as I walk past him cockfully. "Everyone makes mistakes."
Now, keep in mind that a Korean department store isn't like Target or Walmart. There's a dick-baiting liquor section right in the middle of the store. To be honest (and I want to be honest to you, my darling), I don't remember much of what happened next. I remember opening the forth bottle of wine and wondering if I should really drink it with all the glue I've been sniffing. I remember the lights. The screaming. Someone shouting "keep him away from the pet department!" followed by a severe allergic reaction on my groin area. Anyways, next thing I know I've got my "art supplies" and I'm waiting in line at the checkout. The androgynous clerk asks me if I want a bag. I grab the nearest elderly Korean women and clutch her against my chest, saying:
"Hell, I've already got one right here!" and, whispering in the old woman's ear, "Come home with me and I'll give you the best action you've had since the Japanese army was last in town."
Turns out, the clerk has no sense of humor and calls the cops on me. So, now I'm sitting in a Korean jail wondering who I will sodomize and who I will merely sell for menthol cigarettes. My lawyer is somewhere in Maine detoxing for the weekend, so I've had to rely on bribes to get shit done. looks like I'll be out tomorrow without that rat-fink-of-a-Jew lawyer's help, and let me tell you, I'll be coming down hard from the glue and speedballs. Point is, I'll be shaking like Muhammad Ali at his 60th birthday party, so I'll be game for some action if you are. You down?