2. The Pain of Waking

I’m standing on this corner of my head where we first met;  I’ve got both feet camped in the sleeping bag and I’m not moving.

He kisses her; he goes to work; he drives into the porch; he takes out the thrash; he goes inside; the lights go off. 

I’m standing at this very corner, waiting, hoping, wishing that one day she would wake up and find out that she still miss me.

After the honeymoon, they spent three Christmases here; last year they went to Taipei.

I’m still standing on this corner. Rain or shine, I’m standing my ground. Anytime now she will be running out that door and into these arms where she belongs.

I may have been kicked outta her life and purged of everything that was us. At least, I still have this corner inside my head.

I’m still here and this corner of my head is getting cold and empty. I don’t know what am I even doing here anymore. Maybe I just wanted to fuck her in the bed where their wedding portrait hangs, and then leave her feeling guilty the next morning. Wait, been there, done that and I have been found craving for even more.

I don’t get what the fuck she sees in him? He is tall, good looking, rich and caring. I mean I am all of that and probably more but only in reverse.

I am still standing at this very corner, the very corner where we met.  It just makes no sense, but what can I do, when I am still in love with you.





Weeks, months, years… I am still standing at this corner




Maybe if I close my eyes and open them again, she would appear in front of me and beg me to take her back.








*close eyes.


*open eyes and look across the empty side of my bed, the radio clock is showing 6:55am.







Gotta be up in 5 minutes.

1. The Pain of Sleeping

3:59 fucking AM and I don’t have no fucking clue as to why am I doing right now.  I’m still fucking wide awake at this fucking ungodly hour with bloodshot eyes and body as tired as a fucking flaccid dick that has gone through countless pieces of cunts.  I'm watching the fucking hands of time as it fucking moves towards the breaking of dawn as I struggle to fucking sleep.

Feeling raped by the deprivation of sleeping…

Why can't I sleep? Why God? Why can't I fucking sleep?  Sleep God why? Why the fuck God? Fuck why? Fuck? WhySleep? Fuck God.

FUCK! It must be her.

It is funny how I used to vow that I will never again to lose any sleep on the count of her dumb ass, yet here I am here with my eyes wide open and my brain on overdrive. 

Why the fuck would anyone wanna lose sleep on someone they don't fucking give a rat's ass ? 

I've did everything from reading to meditating to conjuring bodily fluid with the help of my hand and porn. I mean I could still go on doing the five fingers shuffle till I fall asleep but I would rather reserve some of my man juice in case a random hot chic decides to knock on my door to ask for direction to my night “club”. Then again, I read somewhere that a fucking  kid died because he went over his jack off limit and I would never ever wanna be found dead that way because some kid has already done that and it would be so un-fucking-original. 

Counting sheep are fucking lame.

Maybe I’ll count the amount of girls I've slept with. You might be thinking that half of them are hookers but you’re wrong. Not because it is I am against prostitution and human trafficking, it’s because I don’t fucking believe in paying for sex.  

Hmmm… I guess that would take too much of my fucking brain juice to recall who or how they look like. Moreover, that could lead to some serious masturbation and that is the last thing that I fucking wanna do.

NEXT: 2. The Pain of Waking

My Bad Girlfriend

Let me tell you about my girlfriend...

My girlfriend has a magnetic pussy that attracts dimwit dicks like me to do her dirty deeds.

She shakes her ass and wave her tits like some fucking magic wand as she cast some enchantment spell on me then she butt fucks me emotionally anyway she please...

While her worm tongue loves spitting fictitious tales about us because I found out that...

She lied about everything.

She lied about her and she lied about me…

She lied about her collecting stamps when clearly it was her ex's and their STD.

She lied about a baby being on the way when she had been slacking on her gym days.

She lied about always wanting me to be there but it has became obvious that she only calls me when she's going shopping.

She lied to her friends saying everything's fine, that she had me hooked by my balls and she could reel me in any time.

She lied about her tits saying they were real but they're about as fake as the way she feel.

She is so full of shit; she should be a septic tank.

Any sane guy would rather get hit by a truck than stay with her and be fucked. I guessed I'm just a demented motherfucker sliding down a razorblade while using my balls as brakes.

But darling Carin, let me tell you something...

Every time I tell you I'm almost in heaven when you gave head, that is because your head sucked so much, it got me thinking I would rather be better off dead

Every time I tell you that I want you, it means I've just finished getting aroused by porn and I'm too lazy to rub one out myself.

Every time you bring me along your shopping spree I was there because of your friends were there too

Darling, the Truth is...

I was sleeping with you just to get to your other friends and now that I've slept with every single one of them behind your back, I guess it is time to move on and get myself another bad girlfriend.

P.s. Darling, don't flatter yourself because you made me cum every time you give head, I was merely trying to choke you with my semen.

Spreading Joy

The year was 1995, most of you were still in diapers, learning to control your bladder & bowel and sucking on your mommy's titties counts as breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I was in my teens and was coming outta my obsession with the Cobain’s grunge movement. To some of us, grunge music fucking died the day Kurt decided to paint the wall with his brain details. I was lucky I didn't fell into the whole Boy Band plague that was spreading like a fucking disease. If I did, you wouldn't be reading xniquet's middle finger technology, instead this blog would be in pink (ahem!) and called 'I'm Justin Bieber's Whore', indirectly indicating that you who reads it would be gay or just somewhat damaged in the head.

Leisure was going into a video arcade and converting all my weekly lunch money into 20 cent coins, just so I can beat the crap outta M.Bison but I often get my ass served on a silver platter, courtesy of Sagat's Tiger uppercut.

Still in high school, I was a nobody; I wasn't smart, I wasn't a jock. I was your average Joe that no one would notice. Even if I was a wraith that haunts the school, no one would ever notice that the school is haunted.

The only sport I did with was munching a pack of Doritos’s while watching Stone Cold Steve Austin open a can of whoopass and placing a fucking sharpshooter on Bret 'the hit-man' Hart on TV. On important events like Royal Rumble and Wrestlemania, I would usually hang out at those Mamak restaurants because they usually buy the Videotape for those events and use them to attract customers like me. I would be there when they air it and I'll make sure my short glass of "the tarik" (milk tea) would last the whole 3 hour duration of the show.

Honestly then, I was a pretty down to earth guy. I go to church on Sundays and I would say grace before I eat but only when there's people around. It's not too much of a “between me and god” thing, it was just for show.

Occasionally, I would jack off to my dad's dirty videotape that was wrapped in old newspaper that he hides in his tool box. If you think that is nasty, wait till you see the video, the girls in the video hardly shave. Nothing is more repugnant than watching a guy fuck a girl with bushy armpit hair.

You know back then getting a boner was as easy as popping the lid off a soda. When you are young, everything seems to be extra sensitive, it doesn't take much, in fact I remember the first time a girl try to nibble my ears, I almost had a Spontaneous Semen Combustion in my pants but now it would to a hell lot more than just tongue fucking my ears.

Other than that I was a really promising young lad, born and raised to be nothing more than just a mere peasant.

But look at me now...

1995 was indeed a year for a lot of “Firsts” for me but I don't really wanna go there because this fucking piece of memoir is about Joy

I knew Joy since I was 10. Joy was the typical girl next door but she didn't really live next to me. To go to her place, you would have to walk a couple of blocks down my house and then take a public bus to town and then walk across a big ass sky bridge to the other side of a huge ass road and wait for a blue color bus then switch a couple more buses and cross a couple more sky bridges before you reach her fucking house.

But that didn't stop me from seeing her every Sunday. That's because she and her parents attended church every week. I don't know what the fuck their reasons were but mine was simple...

TO SEE JOY

I must have undressed her a million times in church during those long, dry and boring sermons, and I think I might have stick my long hard penis into her too during one of them long ass extended Easter Sunday service.

That was as far as how our sexual relationship went for the first 5 years but it all happened inside my head.

You see according to rule of the nature, I had no chance in hell dating a girl like Joy because If I was a 5, she would probably be an 11.

But a twist of fate landed the both of us in one of them Baptist Convention Bible Camp and it changed everything. I guess locking up a bunch of teenage together and the nonstop bombardment of bullshit Christian value into their fragile little mind would make any teen horny like hell. (I would say it was the Boy Girl Relationship 101 talk) It was then that I find myself making out with Joy on the last night of Bible camp during Pause & Ponder time that everyone should be spending in solitary.

I didn't hit a home run that night but it was really-really close. I was about a cunt hair away from plugging in my unit. But it was still good because I got to inspect every inch of her body and I have to say that Joy was perfect almost seraph-like , well except for that big mole on the right side of her breast which was really distracting but she was still consider what we guys like to refer to as a “Good Fuck”.

There she was clad only in her skin, on her back and wide open, waiting to spread her joy to this desperate, burnout, over-masturbated degenerate’s worthless life.

And I stood up like a man on a mission to receive the joy which I have been thirsting for. So I thrust my holy trinity namely Index, Middle and Ring into her moist unknown which made her squall so loud that I thought I was a fucking talented finger fucker.

The harder the scream the harder the thrust; I almost believed my god given talent was finger fucking.

But I found out that she was actually screaming in pain because three fingers were more than she can take. I think I did hear her scream stop but I thought it was like one of them porn moment when the girl pretends to not want it but with a little persistent and roughing her up a little and she would be like 'hell, fuck me harder...!'

1995 was also the year that I learned that things that happen in porn don’t really take form in the real world.

On our way back from the camp, I sworn she was walking funny, like there's something coming outta her ass.

And so that was the beginning of the end of us. What we were or could have be went straight into oblivion.

She never talk or even look at me ever since.

FIN.

Epilogue:

You know, a couple of years back, I was invited to my friend's wedding that was held in a Baptist church in Penang. As I look across the crowded room in the reception hall, there she was, standing next to a young pastor. She was still as beautiful as ever and that smile of hers was made for spreading joy to those who feast their eyes upon.

I wanted to go up to Joy and say hello but my feet just wouldn't allow me to do so. Not after what I've done to her.

I was glad I didn't because later my friend told me that the pastor besides her was her husband. I kept my fucking mouth sealed about me and the pastor’s wife. I imagine he wouldn't take it nicely because he seems to have a shit load of respect for that pastor.

As for Joy, what we had ended that night and I will never be anything more than just a cock stain in her life.

A Far Cry Beneath This Weary Heart

"I'm over her"

... is probably the purest variant of self denial ever known to men. I don't blame the low life fool who does that to his own wretched life because I was once in his pathetic shoes.

That makes self denial the best form of masturbation that we all yearn after we crash and burn in a love story that sank faster than the fucking Titanic.

The manual stimulation of your pride for your over-rated dignity.

Yes, our pride is somewhat like a genital that needs to be pinch, rub, lick, stroke, suck and whatever freaky stuff you fucking do in the shower that you think we don't know.

But when the pleasure is over and when it's time use the paper toilet, that’s when we fucking realized that we're just kidding ourselves.

Masturbation is fun but it just ain't the real thing.

I was fucking minding my fucking business and doing my fucking dirty deed when in a fucking instant I just fucking realized that I was in that “familiar territory”. What if today is the fucking day that I fucking bump into her?

What if she is with someone new?

Could be her brother or father or an ape dressed like a man.

What if she’s wearing a fucking ring?

She probably bought it to scare away them horny pursuer

What if she is carrying a baby?

Probably a lost kid she found near the vending machine.

An endless array of what if’s swirls inside my fucking head as self denial mind try to strategize how am I to react if I really come face to face with the devil and all of her splendors.

Maybe when I see her coming, I should pretend to be talking on my cell and use it to call my other cell phone, so that it would appear that I have fucking moved on and my hectic life leaves no space for her. What do you mean pretend? I am that fucking busy and my saturated life doesn’t even have a place for a speck of dust. I have places to go to and come back from.

But every time a someone that looks like her comes near, I swear my heart wanted to popped right outta its socket. But as soon as I realized that it wasn’t her, my balls would unravel and I would chuckled at my foolishness. I secretly let out a sigh of relief.

Seriously, there is no fucking way; she would fucking bumped into me, alone, pigging out in a KFC outlet with my mouth and fingers so greasy that it would put any Chinese food to shame.

I would rather die than be caught in that fucked up situation.

I died that day.

There she was standing in front of me, looking different but still the person I adore. The ring, the child and the someone new came true like they were some sort of biblical prophecy.

My self denial defense mechanism was telling me to pick up my cell and call myself but I seriously doubt it’ll be convincing.

The masturbation has gotta stop.

I'm the paralyzed soul

I’m the crippled love

I’m the loathsome low life that has awakened up from all pinching, rubbing, licking, stroking and sucking. What kind of heart would I have if it doesn’t look back? I must admit that I really never had the choice, when it came to her.

She smiled and they walked away, leaving me and my greasy mouth & fingers, petrified. Staring at my half ate fried chicken, I really cannot remember a time when my favorite food in the world would be so tasteless.

Is this closure or just a chunk of my flesh being torn away? If only she knew that I am still trying to put one foot in front of the other, step away and get on with my worthless life.

The Tweet That Turned Into a Blog Post

I'm falling into words I've never knew, I've never thought I would bravely say those 3 words to you, but it was in my heart and it felt new.

Was it true for you?

Was it new for you?

I know you want to pretend and play the game of "we should just be friends". But it couldn't possibly stay that way because it is just impossible for me to hold these strong yet peculiar feelings in and to go on pretend.

Do you feel the same?

Do you want the same?

I know that you've been hurt many times but in the end, I want you to know that I am not one of those low life mutants that you once call your boyfriend. You know that I would gladly bare it all if you would just take in what I have to offer.

I'm glad you feel the same.

I'm glad you want the same.

Everything was great but things started to go wrong when I pull down my pants and boldly say those three words, you screamed and you left me dangling there.

Where did I go wrong?

What did I do wrong?

Maybe it was my choice of words but seriously where in the fucking world do a guy who only wants head would say...

...because the general term of

...should be use instead.

But if it is any consolation, from the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one...

whom I want for head.

My Dad is a Taliban

* If you can't stand having your precious God being mock at. I suggest you fucking leave *

What I meant was my dad is a Taliban of his church but he isn't a jihad monger that has a closet full of explosive rigged clothing as his wardrobe.

So, let me rephrase the sentence again; my mum always said that my dad is like a Taliban.

A Taliban holds a fucking AK in one hand and raises his Quran in the other, while my dad holds a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the bible on the other.

Can you imagine that hymns of worship to the fucking almighty and dangerous second hand smoke actually come out of that pie hole for half a century?

50 years, 30 sticks a day, look where it has landed him? If you wanna know, that's half a million sticks of cigarette.

I know he isn't proud of it but I can assure you that he fucking enjoyed every single drag of nicotine that went in his lung.

But I don't blame him for that because god fucking made us with this insatiable lust for self destruction.

We all have our own poison and most of us haven't really realized it until it is too late.

I fucking think God has a sick sense of humor almost sadistic. He gave us life only to watch us die. Why did he even create us in the first place?

No No No...

If you are gonna say that if we all confess our fucking sins to Jesus and do all the fucking bullshit the fucking bible says, we can go to heaven and spent our entire eternity praising God in heaven.

*to all Christians who is celebrating Easter today, I'm sorry for calling your most sacred book the fucking bible, it should be the Holy fucking Bible instead.*

Now, who in the fucking right mind would wanna spend a whole fucking eternity sucking God's cock in heaven? I would rather take my chances down in hell.

To some, they reckon religion teaches us to be all good and shit but did it ever occurred to you that the single most influential force that drives a person to kill another person is their religion.

No, it’s not Charlie Manson or Adolf Hitler but God who is the biggest murderer of all time.

So ask yourself this the next time you close your eyes and put your hands together or when you're holding your joss stick or while you're bend over and on your fucking knees. What the fuck are you doing? Why are you praying to the single most destructive entity ever known to men?

If you are going to say the holy fucking bible tells me so, I suggest you read some Dan Brown, now that's a motherfucker who knows history.

Anyway, Happy Easter & don't choke on your fucking eggs.

Memoirs: SYL

The greatest justice Facebook has ever done is to let "ugly-pork-chops turned choice-cut-models" get even with their ex-boyfriends that have left them while they were still a lump of saturated fat.

Having their newly formed body’s photo taken by little men with cameras much bigger than them; then posting up shameless picture of themselves portrayed as 'models' on Facebook. Making their ex-boyfriends remorsefully wished they should have never dump them.

But then again, I speak for all the asshole ex-boyfriends like me that the only regret we ever have is that we shouldn't have met before the transformation. It’s like moving into an un-renovated house; eating a banana that isn't ripe; going in a toilet when the shit odor is still there; or penetrating before it is properly lubed.

It's unpleasant but we've moved on and we are not coming back for seconds.

But if there's any consolation, even though you've haven't caused a ripple here but you have definitely raised a lot of cocks in the process. Cocks that belong to nerds that prowl on the Facebook in search of pictures of girls who likes to be clothed in more skin than fabrics to be added to their "for masturbation" folder.

Congratulations, you've given Facebook a new function: a free amateur soft-core smut page; a masturbation catalogue for 30 year old nerd who still uses their parents' computer.

I'm sure that there’s one or two of your pictures are in these nerd's folder. Stored away safely, so that their parents won't caught them jacking off to it. And since, it’s a global kinda thing, I'm pretty sure someone, somewhere is stroking his penis to your picture even as you are reading this.

Then again I'm not here to judge or criticize these models-wannabes’ pictures even though it's gross and shameful. Hey, who am I to tell someone that she can't be a model in this life or the next. I'm not here to say that their pictures are fucking distasteful. No, I'm not here to inform them that they're just masturbation material.

And I'm certainly not here to point to my readers who these girl(s) are.*pssst...you can email me to find out *wink *

I'm sorry if I've got carried away talking about smuts but they do excite me in a dirty way.

So here I am, sitting and staring at a picture of a face. Someone which I never had and never wanted to have, not because she grossed me out but because she was my best friend's girl and according to the 'bro code', even a tinge of thought about her would amount to betrayal and I was not about to take my chances.

What she and I had was the purest kind of friendship; we could talk, hang out and enjoy doing stuff without having any sexual tension between us. Nothing we did would sex us up because we both knew our places. You know, these days it’s hard not to spend a lot of time with a girl and not think about fucking them but she was the one exception. You might be thinking that she's probably was some fugly pork chop or the hunchback of Notre dame but on the contrary she was a major hottie. She walks in a room filled with guys and I can guaran-damn-tee you that there would be blood pumping into these guys' penises.

She can easily raise cocks but somehow not mine.

But that was a long time ago; she sorta faded into oblivion after her broke-up with my bestie. I've never had the chance of talking to her after my bestie officially labeled her a bitch and barred us all from ever having anything to do with that fucking Medusa.

I thought it will be for the best that I let my bestie get her outta his system before I go see her and pick up where we left off or maybe even more.But days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months into years. I've never seen her since, not even a cunt hair trance of her.

15 years passed and now my bestie is married and we never spoke of her again.

Somehow I just couldn't get rid of her chokehold on me. Once a while I think about her and when I'm not thinking about her, my subconscious mind would dream about her. Lately, it has gotten worse for every time I'm in a crowd, there would be someone with her face in it. You know the 'what could have been' is bitterly corroding me from the inside out.

I've been in a relationship limbo for far too long and maybe it’s time for me to reach up for that something more that I've always been scare to try.

It wasn't easy but I managed to find her on Facebook but I never had the courage to add her because I'm really not sure how she would react to a person who didn't stood up for her when her ex continuously called her a bitch in front of everyone.

But when I've finally grown a pair and gathered my guts to make myself known to her in Facebook, her account went missing; maybe she disabled it or something.

The only lead I have of her is that she is currently in LA.

So, here I am and I know there's millions in LA...

Maybe I'm just crazy

Maybe I misunderstood

Maybe I'm wishful thinking

But maybe, just maybe the next time the face I see in a crowd belongs to her and not someone else.

Memoirs: The Shape Shifter 2 – Sounds of Impalement

Hello again, it has been an exceedingly long period of time since I penned down my thoughts but by and by I am glad that I am able to do so and resume my chilling tale of my rambunctious encounter with a shape shifter that goes by the name of Joyce but I reckon Joseph is a more suitable name for it.

*Paused* Please pardon my manners for I have just regurgitated in my own mouth thinking about it.

A lot of changed since I last wrote but I assure you none of my potency has depleted; I am coming to you from the sunshine state of California, seated in a diner; I'm having shots of caffeine over some slapjack while the background music is playing something from Dana Fuchs (Hmmm... I wonder if she gets her name misspelled all the time) but I would rather have something from the Ozzman. To be honest, I have grown increasingly fond of the song 'Crazy Train' because it sort of sums up what I am in this century.

*Longer pause* It's been far too long, my writer's lobe has been left unattended to and it is tremendously hard for me to concentrate with my brain all tangled up like a pretzel. But with the help of my friends in this century, I was able to conform to today's current writing standards; I was told just by adding a magic word to my writings, it would seem modern and updated. Let's see if you could spot what word I was referring to...

... if you ever fucking doubt me when I say that she was a fucking criminal through and through. Her fucking crime was being too fucking beautiful; her beauty could easily turned a crooked toothpick into a erected towering timber and believe me if a fucking rubber condom is used to denote the times that I wanna fuck her, I would be telling you that I will be wearing a whole fucking rubber tree.

All crimes must not go unpunished; her hideous atrocity must not go on un-noticed.

I am Azrael, God's little fucking angel of death and I am here to rain down fire and brimstone on her from my fucking erected flaming sword I keep in my crotch.

I am Vald the Impaler and my long hard sharpened stake made of meat is ready to impale her for all her iniquities.

My grandsire have always said that I have the blood of a vigilante in my fucking veins but today I can fucking assure you it flows in my penis for I have sacrificed myself to be her judge, jury and fucking executioner.

I really don't have to tell you what when down that night after we have left the club and into a private room. All I can fucking say that it was the sound of crucible; the shriek of agony; the scream of calamity; The fucking sound of impalement ringing from my torturing device that I like to call my meat stake.

I've pray earnestly to God and He has granted me strength... penile strength, all night long.

They say that time flies by so quickly when you are having fun and so it is too when you are torturing someone. It felt like only seconds when I gave my last thrust into the void that lingers between her legs, making her squeal like a pig at the end of its death march to the butcher pen.

I wish I could do more harm to her but alas I am only a mere human.

Morning comes and it was time for me to leave but I couldn't leave without stealing a peek at the beauty of my victim.

But I was in shocked when I did so, because the woman sleeping on the fucking bed now isn't the person I left the club to get acquainted with my dick. I am staring at a completely different person.

Whatever happened to her beautiful violet colored eyes and flawless eyelashes that captivated me? Her eyes looked like they belonged to a fucking pug.

The fuck happened to her perky breast? Now any man boobies would put her tits to shame.

Is that her hair or a stack of hay on her head??? And her face... I am just lucky I didn't turn into a fucking stone after I gazed upon it.

Oh fuck me; last night I didn't fuck an Aphrodite but it was a Troglodyte.

Right about then, I was having a 'derection' and I could feel that my penis was permanently shrunk by an inch and a half but it's alright. You can shrink my penis a dozen more times and I can still assure you its size and length is still way above any standard penis. (Standard Japenese penis doesn't apply here).

Later that day, I told my cohorts about my fucking encounter with the shape shifter and they told me that I was fucking lucky that it didn't grow a penis in the morning.

Or did it?!!! *glump*

This is just too much for me to fucking handle right now, so will you all excuse me for I am going to go back to my place to have a fucking heart attack.

TTFN "

if you've missed the first part of the Shape Shifter, here it is

Memoirs: Thou Shall Not Fuck Your Cousin

Here I am sitting in a chapel, anxiously waiting for her to march down that aisle and into the arms of the one she has chosen.

I wonder how she looks.

They say a bride looks the prettiest when she walks down that aisle because of the radiating happiness that comes from within her.

But we all know that's bullshit. That fucking look on her face is the look of satisfaction, the look of a woman who has got her vagina stuffed to her fill by her husband to be. That's the look of woman who has been liberated from her sexual deprivation; in a matter of minutes, she knows she can get dick action from her other half anytime she wants to. Regardless of how she fucking looks; even if her legs feels like cactus; or her cunt smells like the gutter behind a Chinese restaurant; or her armpit that she haven't attended to has chunks of talcum powder stuck on her curly armpit hair. Yeah, she's all set to go. Once they said their vows, her fucking husband is obligated to fuck her.

As you look to the altar, do take notice of the guy too; you might notice that he isn't as enthusiastic as the bride, because he is simply handing over his dick on a silver platter; when this ceremony is through, his penis is legally bound to a life of penis solitary.

The wedding march is playing, all heads turn and there she was looking like an angel. I am fucking sure that is what that is going through the minds of the many gathered here, but this rotten twisted brain of mine was thinking something else.

It was wondering how she is in bed? But then again it will never happen because she was my fucking cousin and I think there is an unsaid rule in our family that state:-


THOU SHALL NOT FUCK YOUR COUSIN


So I concentrate to the things above her neck and try very hard not to stare at her half exposed breast.

And a million thoughts races through my fucking skull…

That face, that smile is something that I’m going to hold dear for a fucking long time. Even though I have never been that close to her, most of our interactions are just courteous act by a well-mannered cousin; our banal conversations works better than a tranquilizer that could put an elephant into a coma. You may not have known this part of me but yes, underneath these foul-mouth chuckle head, there is a gentleman. If you don't believe me, get your sister or mother in something sexy and I guarantee you they will get an erecting even if they dressed up like a Skank ho, now if that isn't being well-mannered, then I don't know what is.

It was her that pulled me through all those painful yearly family reunion that I fucking downright detest attending straight to my very dark and rotten core. I 'm just going to be really honest with you; normally I would only be happy for someone when misfortune strikes because I take delight in another person's misery.

But this is an exception for me; it’s been so long since I am actually happy for another human being.

Let’s hope this one fucking last.

Memoirs: Everyone Keeps a Pocketful of Horrid Secrets

Evening finds me, home alone, jaded and depressed. My only solace would come if only I could get a shuteye.

Yet...

Morning mocks me as I woke up from a dream that I had of you.

Now…

Daylight haunts me as I realized that you not here anymore. How you fucking left me, and the life that I fucking toil for all disappear.

Sometimes you just haven't a fucking ass clue as to why things around you gets fucked up beyond your fucking imagination. Just when you fucking think that it is safe to let your fucking guard down, someone or something would just walk right up behind you, pull down your pants and fucking rape you right in the ass without even the courtesy of giving you proper lubrication before going in.

Eventhough I've never been cocked in the ass but I am sure coming home to find your fiancé in the arms of a total stranger holds the similar kind of fucked up feelings, far worse than snapping a thick yellow rubber band on your genitals.

I've faced rejections and I’m cock sure you fucking had your share too. But this one is special because I'm not even a cunt hair close to competing with your new lover...


Your new lover could be a better friend like the one you never had;

Your new lover could read a girl's mind far better than any guy;

Your new lover could feel the things that you feel;

Your new lover could share things that I never could;

Your new lover could understand your troubles and needs like I never could;

And you could definitely share your slutty dress, your 5 dollar whore-like lingerie, your deceiving push-ups, your fake ass eye lashes and your cheap perfume...


But one thing your new lover could never be...

This is written by a man who thought he could finally move on and settle down to have a normal life but nothing is what it seems.

Yeah, you might fucking look into your faithful girl/boyfriend’s or wife/husband's eyes and you fucking say you placed your fucking trust in them and that you think they won't ever betray you. [That is what they all said at first]

But how sure can you be, can you fucking see what the fuck is behind closed doors?

The late night working overtime, the frequent business trips, the so-called other gender outings; are they really what they are supposed to be? The increasing number of phone calls that tells you not to wait up for them; don't tell me there isn't a tinge of doubt in you.

Maybe he is on his knees fucking a stranger or maybe it is someone you know and is very close to. Maybe, she is spreading her legs wide apart for her boss or co-worker who could afford to buy her things your pathetic paycheck could never. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he could cum harder when he is with her? She moans louder and is so much more moist down there when another man other than you is fucking her.

Don't shove these thoughts aside because you and I know that we will never be 100% sure that these are just wild and ridiculous thoughts.

I've had a couple of married women before and usually they'll call their husband after we finished fucking. I guess it is an act of guilt to atone for the wrong doings or should I say the wrong fuckings they have committed.

So, I'm really sorry to say this, if you're always getting phone from your other half saying that they miss you for nothing. You know you' fucked! Or should I say your other half has been fucked.

Everyone keeps a pocketful of horrid secrets from their other half, what makes you think yours is a fucking saint?



So ask yourself this today, why doesn’t she spread her legs as wide as she used to? Or why all he gives you these days is just a half ass erection that could barely fill the void between your legs?

Memoirs: Too Many Religions but Only One Asshole

[For Cen]

The parents of a concern maiden came to me one day. They were strong believers and they’ve pledge their allegiance to God’s only and fucking begotten son but it seems that they are concerned about their precious daughter who is now dating a Mussie. They didn’t want to get involve with their daughter’s love affair but unlike those lukewarm bible bashers, they believed that their daughter should be in a healthy relationship with another Jesus freak and they’ll be damn if their daughter would one day give birth to another Jihad monger.


So I invited them over for stew and at the same time we had a Muslim and a Catholic for dinner.


At the end of the dinner party, the parents’ concerns have been put to rest and they went home to give their daughter their blessing.


I was glad that we had stew that night. I made the stew from all the ears, nose, pieces of face and belly of the Muslim and Catholic. I’ve added onions, carrots, turnips, celery, salt and pepper to the stew. It was good. So you see no matter what faith you fucking embrace, we are all the same when we become stew and end up in someone else’s belly. So who are we to judge a person by his/her religion? May it be Catholic, Buddhism, Islam and Hinduism…etc. Once you eat them, they will just end up as shit.






P.s. Seriously the color of their blood is exactly the same too. I couldn’t tell the difference when I was cleaning the blood stain off the wall after I fucking butchered them.


P.s.s. The Shape Shifter 2 will be up next.

Memoirs: The Shape Shifter

(Kept in shorthand)

I am actually from the year 1905 and even though I am of humble birth but unlike some of you, I am not confused when it comes to Father's day because I can precisely and accurately identify who my biological father is and I need not guess who he is from a list of candidates. A certain unforeseen event during one of my laboratory experiment has landed me in this current era where all the ladies dressed up like they were working in brothels.

This is one of the many memoirs that I kept here in this era; this is a horrific account of my encounter with a shape shifter which was able to manipulate her own aging process…


One day before the seventh day of the seventh month; I had the privilege… Na! The pleasure of accompanying my working counterparts to a ball. I assumed it was a ball because their exact words were "Let's go dancing". I was exhilarated because finally I was going to be able to put on my tuxedo and let my stylish top hat see the light of day again; everyone will finally get to see how devilishly handsome I looked when I am all suited up. But when I told them what I was going to wear, to my dismay, I was specifically asked not to overdress and anything lesser than what I had in mind will be good for me. Well, good for them I reckon; I can smell the stench of their jealousy from a mile away.


Nevertheless, I was really excited about the night because I was promised to be brought to the best club in town. In my head, I see images of a grand ballroom with shinny polished floor; there was a breathtaking chandelier above it which illuminated the whole place; the band were in shinny white tux and were playing my favorite dance pieces; waiters were going around carrying trays of glasses filled with champagne; and the ladies all looked stunning in their evening gowns.


But once again it was a major letdown. As our automobile pulled over, I was led into a smoky room with very poor lighting. The floor wasn't as shinny as I expected but instead it was filled with ashes and cigarette butts. Which Let me wonder how am I am going to show off my ballroom skill tonight? There wasn't even a humble chandelier hanging above our heads; just random colored light bulbs scattered all over the ceiling which would make you temporary blind if you look straight right at it. As for the band, I dare say that the owner of this establishment wasn't doing very well financially because he only manage to hire one person to be in the band and that person was just standing there the whole night trying to fix his broken musical instrument that was making awful noises. As for the ladies, they still looked like prostitutes who were on duty but the only difference is their dressing. They were clad in much lesser fabrics than usual especially at their bosoms.


Yes, it was just the beginning of the night and it was looking grave. But things started to change when I met this beautiful young lady named Joyce. She had long wavy hair and her straight fringe was just above her adulterated looking eyebrow. She wore a tight white dress that highlighted her perky breast and I would be lying to you if I tell you that the thought of groping her breast didn't crossed my mind even as I am writing this now. I am not trying to make you feel jealous or anything but I feel that Joyce was somehow taken by me too because I notice that she seems to take notice of my groin area a lot that night. But it was her beautiful violet colored eyes and flawless eyelashes that captivated me. She was like Venus, she was an Aphrodite. But little did I know then I was staring into the eyes of a shape shifter.


Talking about groins, a tingling sense around it I has; that means I gotta take a piss. So I am just going to leave you here today, but do come back to find out how I realized that I just had intercourse with a shape shifter.