Tagged: gross

One Final Shove

  • by jenstop licking your arms
  • the flippin’ nipple
  • My sister ditched me
  • breathless rumor-mongering
  • a sluglike glob of substance

Tune in next time part 605      Click Here for Earlier Installments

One final shove from Tessa sent me through the hole and I landed atop John in a painful heap. So far, no poop, which meant I’d been right about how disused this outhouse was. I scrambled off John and stood with my back against the wall, making room for Tessa. John wasn’t as quick, and in a second Tessa came feet-first through the hole and landed gracefully on top of him, the oil lamp in her hands.

John groaned. I reached down to help him stand and found him nuzzling his own arms. “What the hell, stop licking your arms!” I cried.

John threw me both a withering look and a gesture from our Academy days called the flippin’ nipple. “They hurt,” he complained.

“What are you, a dog? Licking them isn’t going to help.”

“I don’t need this from you,” John said. “My sister ditched me at the auction because of all your breathless rumor-mongering. I had to finish the job by myself.

I wondered which sister he was talking about.

“On your feet,” Tessa said. She reached to help John stand, but recoiled when she saw a sluglike glob of substance on his gloved hand. “That had better be a slug,” she muttered savagely.

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“Don’t Make Jokes About Poop”

  • by jen“It’s my one rule.”
  • Olga’s younger and more receptive sister
  • spider-infested genitals
  • an awfully big adventure
  • smelled like a liquor cabinet

Tune in next time part 603      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Don’t make jokes about poop,” Tessa demanded. “It’s my one rule.” She slammed the outhouse door closed. “Now,” she said, turning her attention to John’s awkward situation, “what do we do about Olga’s younger and more receptive sister here?”

“We could dump him through the hole,” I lispingly suggested.

“I said no poop jokes!”

“This place has been abandoned for ages. Anyone who tried to use the toilet would wind up with spider-infested genitals. I’m sure that if we shove John down in there he’ll have an awfully big adventure, but not a terrifically stinky one.”

Below our tangled limbs, my trapped frenemy wriggled, trying to free himself. He worked up a sweat and soon the whole tiny room smelled like a liquor cabinet. I worried about the safety of using an oil lamp in such an atmosphere.

“Hey,” John’s voice resonated under the floor. “There’s a tunnel down here. It heads in the direction of Bumpengrynd. Push me through the hole and I’ll make my way there quickly, protected from the storm!”

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