by Greggor V. Püchaps
I was just any normal man, living an ordinary life. My name was Ron, but my friends callled me Ronnie. I was the assistant manager of the local convenience store called “Stop N Run”. Not many people ran to get here, let me tell you that! Most of our regulars were the pimps and hos, the girls strutting in wearing their thongs and demanding where the hot dogs and Cheese Nips were. Yeah, I was used to taking shit from people. I had all my life.
But nothing prepared me for the shit I was about to take. The shittiest shit of my entire life.
After a long night at work, I decided that I deserved a break after I had been continuously looking at the MacDonald’s sign from accross the street. Mmm yummy. I was a bit hesistant -- after all, I was the employee of the month, and had been for the past 20 years, since I was the only employee and also assistant manager, janitor, clerical assistant, and personal love slave of a short, stumpy Italian man who also ran the local beauty supply store.
My life was devoid of meaning, I finally realized. I was 46 years old and a virgin. I was 46 years old and addicted to chocolate. I was 46 years old...and never went to a strip joint!
I let out a small “putt putt” from my pants, and then I finally realized -- I had to live for myself! Without even bothering to lock the cashier, and without bothering to zip up my fly after I finally “came” after masturbating to the elderly lesbian woman with short, boyish green hair who was working at the Macdonald’s, I ran out the door. It was time for me to meet --
“Moana! Moana! Moana!”
The crowd was in an uproar. Their favorite superstar, Moana, was preforming for the last time at her namesake bar/strip joint. Okay, maybe only about 20 people were there, but she did have some type of fanbase. The entire population of the room, with dimensions measuring 11 by 11 feet (very similar to a large cardboard box that say a utitlity sized refrigerator would be shipped in) was faced in the direction of a small stage. If you could call it that.
The aforementioned stage were blocks of concrete shoved up against eachother, and the lights were simply Christmas lights (shoplifted from the local 7-11 no less) that were being manually “flashed” by being pulled in and out of the wall socket, over and over again, in quick succesions, in missionary position by the DJ, the obscure and not so famous DJ Big Meat who was also the Halal Butcher over on Forest Lane.
“Moana!! Moana! Moana!!” The cries continued, and it began to get ugly. The men began pulling on eachothers, smacking eachother on the asses, and were gettin’ rowdy!
Suddenly, the room went totally dark. DJ Big Meat had gotten the cue to stop flashing those lights. Moana of the Jungle was about to take the stage.
My momma never told me life was going to be easy. She done always told me to watch my manners and respect my elders and stay out of the way of whores and moving cars!
Well, let’s just say I disregarded all of her sage advice after I chased after her with the tractor and almost near ran her over! She filed for divorce, which really didn’t make sense because I was her child! I was only 15 at the time! I mean, really what did she expect! And here I was a grown man! A man with a job, opportunity. And when she’d come over to wash my clothes, make me a sandwich, and give me my money, she wouldn’t nay say a word. Well, enough about her.
I sped through traffic, as I quickly “fiddled” down there after a long day of frustrating work. Man, life is hard! I wondered where the nearest strip club was...I had to see a naked body! A hottie with a body. But my biggest secret was my fetish -- my green hair fetish. After I started playing with troll dolls, I knew that I could only love a woman with green, smelly hair. The hair of an angel. The hair of a common house plant. I remember Sandy, a girl I used to work with over at Paul Neary’s gas station told me about this bar she used to work in. It was called something like -- something like Kona...Kona of the Mungle. No, that’s not right!
I pulled out my wallet and flipped through all my cards. Oh, there it is! I had an old, tattered business card with a half naked, green haired, black lipped woman laying in a small bathtub filled with green water, probably supposed to resemble a swamp of some sort. Hmm...5667 N. Swampy Lane. Not too good a part of town, but it was worth the risk. I had to see this Moana for myself. She had a reputation.
As I settled back in the car and resumed driving, I turned the card over and looked at it and read that it said “Ronnie honey, I need the child support real bad. Love, Sandy.” Oh, that’s who she was. Sandy...
I was a little nervous, sure. But nothing could get in the way of a super star! And even though I had four big macs, two 12 inch subway sandwiches (just the length I like), and had an eternal churning, uncomfotable feeling in my stomach from the week old beans I had just eaten, not to mention that they had been sitting in a dank janitor’s closet for the past 7 days and had been covered with a slight greenish slime. I also had another feeling -- the premonition that when I sat on the honey pot there wouldn’t be a nose cone, but only a big, wet, soggy mess. But despite this, I couldn’t be better. This was my night.
As the lights went out, I knew that it was time for me to go on. I was wearing nary a spray on thong and some Canadian bills glued onto my sa sas. But tonight, I was going to do something different.
I had rented a quite large Barney the Dinosaur outfit from the local customer (for more information call 1-800-cun-tsay). I had to say that my personal assistant Pammy, who was a 7th grader I had kidnapped from the local grade school (she had flunked a few times and i DID need some help) had asked me not to wear the costume, that it wasn’t going to do my career any good. But I ignored her cries as I shut her in the “punishment” box, the closet where I store all my soiled and stained thongs.
I quickly applied my distinctive black lipstick, made to resemble a hyena in heat, and put on my large mask, which completely covered my head and made my oxygen intake considerably less. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do! I quickly ran a hand over my sa-sa’s, noting their lack of firmness and how gravity has affected them over the years. I touched my large dinosaur head, feeling the hardness of the foam, the subtle smell of BO and fish fries that permeated this sordid outfit. It had my name written all over it!
Suddenly, the music started blaring. The bass was thumping and it was time for me to put on a show for my boys! I spread the curtain, a ripped up sheet with blood stains on it, and raced onto stage as the spotlight came down on me! Well, okay it was just a VERY high powered flashlight, but it’s the SAME FRICKIN THING!! STOP TRYING TO BERATE MY CLUB!! I started bumping and grinding to the music in my Barney suit, flipping my dinosaur tail back and forth, my large oversized feet hipping and hopping to the music.
But somehow looking at the face of the crowd, I knew that something was array. I was sweating severely in the hot, stuffy costume -- and I knew the crowd was more interested in what was underneath. I pulled off my Barney wig hat and grinned from ear to ear. My teeth, not brushed in over 2 years, shone yellow against the blaring light. My eyes, heavily made up in green made to resemble the swampiest swamp and the most mustiest thong, gleamed with merriness. Um, I knew this because I demand that I have a mirror in front of me at all time. Pammy carried it for me.
But damn the mirror, I was putting on a show for my crowd, not for me! I kicked that brat over as she fell backwards into the audiance. I knew that man in the front was looking at HER tight ass and not my frumpy, 46 year old sagging ta tas!! I needed the attention here, I WAS THE STAR!!
I parked my car in front of what looked very much like a deserted building. Was this the place? I checked the address again. Noting the riggety spray painted sign that read “Moana of the Jungle”, I knew that Lady Luck was calling my name. I stepped out of the car, zipping up the fly of my pants and wiping my soiled hands on the side of my trousers. I walked with a purpose to the front door and opened it up wide.
I wasn’t ready for what I was about to see.
A woman, clad only in the bottom half of a large, purple outfit (which I assume was based on a prehistoric creature of some sort) was moving her head back and forth, in a sort of chicken like way, made to resemble what chickens usually do, I assume, in their natural habitat in the barnyard setting. Her hands were covered with a brown filth which she spread all over her naked top.
“Who wants to be done did by Moana? Who done wants me? Why no one not sayin nothing!”
The noise of the crowd was masked only by the noise of the stereo, which is to say that there was no sound generated by the crowd, which consisted of several homeless people, a green haired, elderly lesbian woman (who seemed very familiar), a handful of nuns praying on the rosary, and a medium sized, undescript woman wearing a brown bag over her head.
Suddenly, a nun nodded and was pulled on stage by the bouncer. Moana, if that was her name, proceded to freak and fry the nun without mercy! The nun, in a state of shock, fell down the ground and was quickly discarded by the numerous vermin that wander around the stage at this time of night (or morning).
Moana pulled off the nun’s habit and pulled it around her body.
“Oh, it smells like sex!” She rubbed the habit all over the floor, in attempt to clean up the brown substance that had appeared from no where but traced Moana’s exact steps! What could it be! She got down on all fours, tossing her green hair back and moaned loudly. She grimaced slightly as she bent down and began licking the stage while rubbing on her costumed dinosaur thighs.
“Oh yeah, feels good, huh? Feels like I’m eating a candy. A lollipop. Or should I say a meat pop? Mmmm!!”
I was in the groove. I knew the audiance liked it when I started moaning. That’s where I get my name after all! I was just going at it... moaning, rubbing my costume, trying to clean up the “stuff” which had “cum out of nowhere” (wink winK). As I was looking for a trace of a nose cone, the lights suddenly went on.
“Moana,” said Steve, the sound technician. “The show is over. Everyone is gone.”
I shielded my eyes, befuddled. Where had everyone gone?? I thought everyone loved Moana. I loved Moana, after all! I touched myself thinking about Moana at LEAST 4-5 times a day at 45-55 minutes intervals.
“Moana, clean up the mess over there! The Chinese people that bought this shit hole in hopes of having a restaurant want it spic and span or else the deal ain’t going through!”
“But where be my cookie and cakie cake?” I said, trying to look through the building for at least one fan left!
“Shitty shit, you’ll just BM it up all over the stage if you eat somethin now!”
I sighed, cursing that bastard under my breath. “I’m going to my dressing room!”
“Sorry shitty, the FDA said we had to burn it down because it was so filthy. How did you stand that stench? You know we were fined 400 dollars for the inproper disposal of waste, i.e. your disgusting thongs!”
I couldn’t take it anymore! How could they be so mean to me! I WAS THE ONE WHO GAVE THEM MONEY!!! I WAS THE ONE THAT SOLD MY BODY TO PAY FOR THE RENT FOR MY BAR/STRIP JOINT!!
In a drunken rage, I raced outside, tearing off my costume and my thong, thus left with only a few dollars canadian glued to my heaving bosom. I didn’t know what to do...I didn’t have nothong left! Not even my thongie thong!
After paying a somewhat hefty entrance fee of $45 to watch some overweight woman dance onstage in a disgusting ensemble, I was pushed out by a group of angry nuns who apparently weren’t enjoying themselves. A small, green haired elderly lesbian woman who I had tried to hit on several times throughout the 4 minutes that I had been allowed inside Moana’s bar had finally decided to take action and gave me a thorough cussing out.
There I was dejected, and had only caught a brief sight of flesh. Of the most beautiful flesh I had ever done seen. I whiped out my tool in a state of urgency, until I heard the trampling of leaves. I was shocked. By now, everyone was gone. A section of the building was in flames, but I hadn’t even noticed until that moment. What was going on?
All I knew was that I needed to go. My momma always told me to take a shit when you felt that special feeling. As I crotched over a small dish I found laying in the bushes, I pushed as hard as possible as a sputtering sound emitted from my nether lip and a large movement emerged from its cocoon. I gasped, flipping my green afro back, grabbing onto my foot as I proceded to pull it to and fro in ecstasy. Oh, how good it feels when I let loose!
Suddenly, all the horrrible events of the previous night (which was only about 7 minutes earlier) flooded my mind despite my attempts to escape reality. I started crying, and thrasing about in the bushes. My hair, stained green from repeated stainage and nastiness and my body, covered with filth, was pushed harder and harder against the cold, hard dirt. I was in pain. I wasn’t ever going to escape this horrible badness. My life, my livlihood, my club were all ripped away from me! I started yelping in quick successions as I felt pudding slide down my inner thigh.
Shivers ran up my spin as I heard a God-awlful noise. The noise of the Devil. I raced over to the source of it, attempting to find who was capable of emitting such a nasty noise.
"Hail, who goes there over yonder," I said, peering into the bushes. I was standing in the deserted parking lot, waiting for who knows what. Waiting for destiny. A small whimper emerged from the bush, a muffled moan perhaps.
I pointed my flash light in that direction, the direction of the sound. The adrenaline rushed through my veins as I saw a green tuft of hair come through the leaves of the bush. Suddenly, black lips followed. And then, seconds later, standing before me was the most hideous creature I had ever laid eyes on.
She plucked a few stray brambles out of her toussled hair, and belched a little. Wiping her nose with the back of her filthy hand, she grimaced slightly.
"W-w-who...ARE you??" I gasped, backing away from this dreaded monstrosity of a person.
"I'm Moana. Moana of the Jungle"
She proceded to race towards me, faster and faster, until suddenly she did a double flip and started humping my leg. Brown ...brown pudding, as I could best describe it started dripping down my leg. I looked at her in the eye as we fell backward onto barbed wire, but continued this nasty deed. I entered her from behind, all the while pulling out clumps of her stringy, greasy hair. Ooh, a french fry!! Yummy, I thought, as I popped that morsal of fat into my tight lipped mouth. I came, as she screamed, her legs thrusting upward into spread eagle position, the musclces so tightly clenched that it looked like she could have rigor mortis...and she started moaning, and screaming, and moaning and screaming...
She whispered something into my ear, and I had no choice to whisper --
“CLEAN ME!! CLEAN MY HOLE WITH YOUR SEED!! CLEAN ME, SEATTY SEAT!”
Oh, that bastard. He should know better than to try to hide his going-ons from me. Sure, I might not be the sharpest knife in my book, but I sure tried my darndest. I raced faster on my tricycle, my little legs pumping all the while. My thong was riding up my ass crack, and I liked it. I liked the feeling of air on my thong as the thong rode up my ass as I rode on the tricylcle. It made me feel sexier than if I was eatin’ some meatballs or somethong!
I stopped, and jumped off the trike. Ha, not hard. I saw that rustling in the bushes. That bitch is going to pay too. I was covered with blood and pudding, and trotted quickly over. I kicked him hard on the gut as he bumped her up and down, deafened by the sound of her moaning.
“WHAT THE FLIPPY FLIP!! HOW DID YOU FIND ME?” He screamed, pushing the chubby broad with green hair over to the side, tears streaming down her eyes.
“YOu mah babies daddy so you gonna pay! Where is mah money!”
“Sandy, NO!!!!!”
She lifted a chainsaw, and pulled the wire. It buzzed loudly and ran forward at the two of them.
“You’re gonna thongalong, bastard!”
