Donald and Thurma – Part 2

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If you haven’t read part 1, start here.

Donald and Freddy sat at a back table, a beer to each of them.

“Who you keep staring at?” said Freddy.

Donald shook his head. “Nobody, forget it.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Who is it?”

“The girl I ran into at the door. She seemed nice.”

“We want bad bitches, not basic bitches. Where she at?”

Freddy poked his head up like an ostrich, prompting Amanda and Thurma to stop looking in Donald’s direction.

“The blonde or brunette?” said Freddy.

“God, you have to be so obvious?”

Freddy smacked Donald on the forearm. “You have to be such a bitch? Blonde one’s hotter, go for her.”

“No. I like the brunette,” said Donald, glancing at Thurma after he said it.

“Makes sense, you don’t have enough confidence to take down a tiger like that blonde. Girl got a dumper.”

“Tiger? Dumper? What?”

“Are you gonna go over there or just sit here and talk about going over there?” said Freddy.

Donald scratched the back of his head, then crossed his arms and sunk into the table. He took a sip of his drink.

“Let me finish my beer first. That way I have a reason to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Freddy knocked the glass mug off the table. It shattered and the blue moon washed away.

“What the hell?” said Donald.

“Oh shit, looks like you need another drink! Now get your ass over there and talk to her.”

Donald bit his lips, checked out Thurma again, then stood up.

“Fine.”

“And remember-”

“What?”

“Be an asshole. Else you’ll be stuck in the friend zone again.”

Donald sighed. “Got it,” he said, then started over to the bar.

  • * *

“Oh, he’s coming,” said Amanda, nudging her friend.

“Which one? The douche or the one who maybe lifeguards during rainy days in autumn?” said Thurma.

Amanda’s head bobbed back. “That was a pretty specific description.”

“Just tell me!”

“The tall one with the good-boy hair.”

“God no. Shit. I don’t want to do this. Come with me to the bathroom,” Thurma said, then stood up from her bar stool.

Amanda grabbed the bottom of her skirt and whipped it up.

“Stop!” Said Thurma, snapping back into her seat.

“Haha. You’re going through with this. Remember – demand respect.”

“By being a bitch?”

“Yep.”

“Oh shit. God dammit. Got it.”

The two went quiet, and Donald took the seat beside Thurma.

  • * *

Donald turned to Thurma, and the two met eyes. Neither smiled, and both instantly looked straight ahead.

“Waddup,” said Donald.

“Who are you talking to?”

Donald looked at her. “Oh. Didn’t notice you there. You’re so short.”

Thurma raised her eyebrows, then turned to Amanda. Amanda pushed her so hard Thurma’s barstool rocked and sent her colliding into Donald.

Donald caught her in his arms. “Be careful! You okay…  idiot?”

“Yeah, I – What?”

“What.”

Thurma pursed her lips together. “You’re not good enough for me. Bye.”

“Oh. Ok,” said Donald. He began looking around for Freddy, but his friend had disappeared from their table.

“Who are you looking for?” said Thurma, hands to her hips. “And why are you still here?” She brushed one of her curly brown locks back behind her ear, then stood with her hands at her hips.

“More… bitches,” said Donald.

“You’re looking for more bitches?”

“Yea. Badder ones. You’re a basic… be-yotch.”

“We prefer the to be called females.”

“Oh ok. I’m looking for more females.”

“You sound like a moron.”

“Ok,” said Donald. Both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, then stopped when they thought the other person would. Neither said anything, and both looked away.

“You’re kind of a b,” said Donald.

“A b?” said Thurma, before pressing her tongue into her teeth. “What’s that b stand for, eh?”

“I said ‘B’, not ‘A’.”

They both smiled and laughed.

Something gave Donald a sudden jolt forward, and his momentum sent him shoving Thurma into Amanda. Both girls spilled their drinks all over their dresses, then stared at Donald with shark jaws.

Wide-eyed, Donald slowly turned around to see who had shoved him.

“Waddup bitches, see you’ve met my friend. Huge cock, case you were wondering.  Name’s Freddy,” said Freddy, as he extended his hand out for the girls to shake.

To be continued…

– Thomas M. Watt

Donald and Thurma – Part 1

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Donald sat in the passenger seat of Freddy’s Escalade, still glaring at the same text:

I just think you and I are better off as friends.

He shook his head, then stared out the window.

“I’m telling you bro,” said Freddy. “You took too long to make your move. That’s where you messed up.”

“It shouldn’t be like that,” said Donald.

“Well it is like that! Girls like dudes who are aggressive. Stop pussy-footing around, I want you to be a man tonight.”

Donald scoffed.

“C’mon dude,” said Freddy. “This bar’s going to have a ton of hot chicks tonight. You’re gonna get yours, and you’re going to feel a lot better.”

“I could give two shits about getting laid,” said Donald.

“And that’s your problem.”

“Why?”

“She stuck you in the friend zone, didn’t she?”

“So?”

Freddy turned to Donald and raised his eyebrows. “What is the one thing that separates friends from lovers?”

Donald gazed at the text again, then sighed.

“You can’t be afraid to hurt their feelings. There’s a reason girls always fall for assholes.”

Donald stared out the passenger window for a bit.

“You hearin’ me bro?” said Freddy.

Donald stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Ok. Tonight we do it your way.”

  • * *

Thurma and her friend Amanda walked to the bar together. It was only a few blocks from their apartment.

“I’m telling you!” said Amanda. “Greg walked all over you because you let him. You have to stop being so nice to these assholes.”

“I never said he was an asshole,” said Thurma.

“All guys are assholes.”

Thurma laughed.

Amanda playfully smacked her arm. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. At least, that’s the way you have to approach the game.”

“What game?”

“Love! It’s a game, and if you haven’t figured that out by now than I’m afraid even I can’t help you.”

“Why can’t I just be myself and find someone who likes me for who I am?”

“Because that doesn’t exist. Guys like bitches and hoes. Which one are you?”

Thurma cracked a chuckle. “Neither, jeeze!”

“Well I’m a bitch.

“Not to me,” said Thurma.

“To guys I am. And you know what?”

“What?” said Thurma.

Amanda’s phone beeped. She held it out for Thurma to see, then smiled at her. “Oh, what’s this? Another ‘I’m sorry’ text? God, I swear I must have ignored a hundred of these already.”

“That’s mean.”

“All is fair in love and war Thurma.”

“So what are you telling me? I should just start acting like a bitch to every guy I talk to?”

“If you want them to respect you, than yeah.”

Thurma shook her head.

“One night. Just try it out! See how it feels.”

They reached the bar, and Thurma took hold of the entry door when Amanda grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back.

“What?” said Thurma.

“I want you to promise me. One night.”

“Be a bitch?” said Thurma.

Amanda grinned. “Demand respect.”

“By being a bitch?”

Amanda looked off to the side, then shrugged.

Thurma rolled her eyes. “Alright. For one night.”

“That’s the spirit!”

She turned around and reached for the door handle again, but this time she met hands with Donald, who grabbed it at the exact same time.

“Oh,” said Donald. “Sorry.”

Thurma laughed. “It’s okay.”

“HEY! Let’s move it along here!” said Freddy, who came up quick behind Donald.

“Ya, please do,” said Amanda, before pulling Thurma away from them.

Donald entered the bar with Freddy, and shortly after Thurma and Amanda followed behind.

To be continued…

  • Thomas M. Watt

The Worst Kind of Marriage – Part 5

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Missed the beginning? – Click below for Part 1

Bethany finished up the stairs. She entered the room first, while Amanda followed behind. Huerto, The sick pervert who had kidnapped each of them and called himself a husband, was in the back, carrying his rifle with him.

Bethany looked to the bed. Her puddle of blood still remained. She clenched her stomach wound. She was dizzy.

Get a hold of yourself.

Bethany squeezed her eyelids closed, grimaced, then remembered she had one chance to escape.

Find the knife.

“Ok my little lady. Are you ready to get our wedding underway?” Said Huerto to the young blonde teenager.

Amanda sniffed, but did not answer.

“I love you, you know,” said Huerto.

Amanda sniffed again.

“Say you love me bitch!”

Huerto smacked the young woman across the face with his rifle. After she kept at a hunch and he started to swing again.

“HEY!” Said Bethany.

The pock-marked Huerto stopped. He looked at her funny, smirked then raised the barrel in her direction. “What was that, honey?”

“Don’t hit her.”

Huerto shifted the bolt handle then locked it down, loading his rife. “Dear, I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve forgotten how this relationship works. Have you?”

Bethany looked down. She spotted the bloody knife. It was on the ground behind Huerto.

“I’m the master, you’re the slave. Right?”

Bethany gulped. She looked at Amanda.

Amanda barely shook her head. “No,” she mouthed with her lips.

“Right?” said Huerto, holding the gun to Bethany’s pale cheek.

She finally nodded.

“All right, great!” He hugged Amanda in close with his free arm. “Let’s get the ceremony underway. Are you excited baby?”

Amanda didn’t answer.

Huerto threw her headlong into the desk near the window. “I said, are you FUCKING excited!” He walked over to her then kicked her in the stomach.

Bethany looked at the ground. The knife was in plain sight, and Huerto’s back was to it.

“ARE YOU?” Screamed Huerto.

Amanda cried.

Get it. Get the knife.

Bethany started after it, but as soon as she did Huerto whirled around and loosely aimed the gun at her. “Where are you going?”

Though she was curled up in the fetal position, Amanda bit Huerto on the front of his shin.

“Ahh!” He returned his attention to her and smacked Amanda in the ribs with his barrel.

Bethany moved fast, too fast. When she reached for the knife she kicked it instead. Over shoulder she saw the painful expression on Amanda’s face. The young girl bit Huerto’s leg again anyways, and dealt with the repercussions.

The knife had slid under the dresser. Bethany crouched to her hands and knees and reached for it. The blade cut her fingertip and she felt it spin away.

C’mon!

She could hear Amanda getting pummeled. Time was running out. Bethany lowered all the way to her stomach, felt around underneath, then finally took hold of the handle. She shimmied her arm back out, knife in hand. She gritted her teeth, shot to her feet, then turned around.

“What the fuck are you doing?” said Huerto. He was holding Amanda up, his fist clenching her hair.

Part 6, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

The Worst Kind of Marriage – PART 3

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Part 1 –

Part 2 –

Bethany was in the closet, towel wrapped around her mouth and her bleeding stomach in her hands. Bethany’s husband, Huerto, had locked her inside. He was also the twisted man who stabbed her.

She listened in as he opened the front door, and hoped to God the visitor was a policeman.

“Hello? Can I help you?” said Huerto.

“Good morning sir, I just came to talk to you about the good book.”

“Oh?”

“Do you mind if I come in?”

There was a brief pause. “You know what, fine. Come on in,” said Mr. Huerto.

Bethany wanted to cry. She wanted to pout and shout or punch her fist into the wall but she knew it was too late. No matter what sound or shriek she made it would do nothing to help. As soon as she heard the door fasten close, she knew all hope was lost.

“Why don’t you come in here little lady,” said Huerto. “Got something I’d like to show you.”

Despite knowledge of her effort’s futility, Bethany started smacking around in the closet chaotically. She screamed as loud as she could, though her voice never left her head. She flopped around, whacking the clothing all around her, and began kicking the door as loudly as she could.

The door to the closet swung open. A chain rattle swiftly and an overhanging lightbulb turned on.  She saw Huerto’s pock-marked face. He wore a brown wig like it were a loaf of bread, and always wore one of those blue button downs with the birds and flowers. Huerto slapped Bethany across one cheek, then the other, before finally throwing the young teenage girl visitor at her. Holding the bible into her chest, the young girl had a black mark on one eye and a towel wrapped around her mouth. She met eyes with Bethany.

Huerto rubbed his hands. “All right, all right. I’ve never had two wives before. Hmm.” He laughed, then pulled them both in for a hug. They didn’t hug back.

“Well, you two wait here while I go figure some stuff out. I’m excited to have you at the Huerto residence Amanda.

Amanda tried to yell, but it expelled like a hum.

A tear ran down Bethany’s cheek.

Huerto smiled, poked Bethany in the tit with the barrel of his rifle, then shut the door to the closet and locked the two of them up together.

Bethany reached out and hugged the girl, who began shaking convulsively. After wrapping her hands around her head Bethany managed to undue Amanda’s towel. Not that it would do any good, a shout was only as good as its nearest set of ears.

After a lengthy struggle, Amanda returned the favor and removed Bethany’s gag.

“I’m Bethany.”

“How long have you been here?” said Amanda.

“Too long.” She looked down, then back up again. “I’m sorry.”

Amanda looked away. Her lower lip was trembling. “What’s going to happen now?”

“I don’t know. I need to get treatment.”

“What happened?” said Amanda, before noticing the river of blood staining Bethany’s gown. “Oh my…” She covered her mouth and her blue eyes widened. She looked mortified.

“Fight with the husband.” Bethany smiled as best she could.

They laughed. Weakly, but they laughed.

Part 4, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

Julie and Benjamin – Part 2

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Julie and Benjamin sprinted away, shackled together by a chain-linked set of handcuffs. The police officer chased after them.

“I knew something like this would happen!” Said Benjamin.

“Well it’s hard to go unnoticed when you’re wearing handcuffs, Benjamin.”

The couple turned the corner and ran through a bush hedge into a backyard. The backyard was littered with bullet-holed beer cans and empty shell casings, along with a single rocking chair and a flaky wooden shed.

“In here!” said Julie.

“Are you crazy?” said Benjamin, as he tugged back his handcuffs and kept her from entering.

The sounds of approaching  sirens were accompanied by the shouts of, “Police, police!”

“Fine,” said Benjamin, practically dragging his wife behind as he kicked open the door. They slammed the door behind and found themselves engulfed in darkness. The cruisers could still be heard outside.

“This is all your fault,” hissed Julie.

“My fault?” said Benjamin. “It was you who talked me into your stupid plan!”

“Shut up.” Said Julie. “Just shut up. I hate you. I hate that I’m here with you. I hate that I ever married you.”

“Oh,” said Benjamin. “That hurts. That really hurts, Julie.”

“You’re not a strong man. You’re a coward.”

“Well you’re fat.”

“I am not fat!”

“Shhh, keep quiet.” Said Benjamin.

The two kept silent for a bit, as the sound of footsteps trudging through soggy grass could be heard just outside.

“Nobody here,” a voice finally said. The officers could be heard stomping away.

Julie issued a sigh of relief. “If only you didn’t get so nervous, we would have gotten away.”

“Oh please,” said Benjamin. “We got caught because you didn’t keep the officers distracted long enough.”

Julie scoffed. “It was a fool-proof plan, Benjamin. I was sobbing like a baby, and all the policemen were trying to calm me down. All you had to do was go through their lockers, toss all their uniforms in the sack, then walk. But no, you had to trip on the way out and spill everything.”

“Well it was a stupid theft in the first place. The more I think about your reason for wanting the uniforms, the more I question your sanity. By the way, thanks for taking the initiative to bolt after we were cuffed together!”

“I can’t believe I married such a… bore.”

“I can’t believe I married an insane woman.”

A light turned on. Julie and Benjamin turned to see a man sitting in the shed, a rifle in his lap and a cigarette in his mouth.

“You two done woke me up.” He puffed out smoke. “Ain’t nobody supposed to be on my premises, this here’s private property. You know what that means, don’t ya?”

“What?” said Julie.

The man stood up. A twisted grin overtook his face, and he held the rifle at his hip, barrel pointed in their direction.

Part 3, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

Julie and Benjamin – Part 1

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Julie and Benjamin sat across the table from one another, staring eye-to-eye.

“I don’t love you,” said Julie.

“And I don’t love you,” said Benjamin.

“So why are we still together?” said Julie.

“I don’t think we have a choice at the moment,” said Benjamin.

The two continued on staring, eyes locked on one another, and even after the waiter served the lobster, neither bothered to glimpse at the meal, let alone eat it.

“You know you’re pathetic,” said Julie.

“And you know you are fat,” said Benjamin.

“I hate you.”

“And I, you.”

The waiter came by, delivered the check, and Benjamin told him refused to pay for a meal he didn’t even eat.

“You ready?” said Julie.

“Are you?” said Benjamin.

The waiter returned and took the full plates of lobster back with him.

“Yeah, you go first.”

Benjamin laughed. “Nice try.”

“Fine, then I’m going first.”

“Someone is going to spot us. We are going to get arrested.” Said Benjamin.

“We don’t have a choice,” said Julie.

Benjamin scoffed.

“All right, on the count of three. 1…2…3!”

The couple stood up, knocking over the table when they did. Their wrists were handcuffed both handcuffed, and an iron chain dangled between, binding the pair together. They sprinted side by side out of the restaurant. After they charged through the front door, they ran straight into a police officer and knocked his cup of coffee onto his uniform.

The three all stopped and shared the same dumbfounded expression, until Julie finally tugged the iron chain and the couple sprinted away.

The policeman chased after them.

Part 2, Coming Soon!

– Thomas M. Watt

Before Comfort’s Bliss

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Thighs sliding, fingers cramped, sweaty pores, moving hands.

Rocking swiftly, moving gently, moaning sounds, hefty taking.

Hands caress, muscles push, breaths grow heavy, lamps are shook.

Moving swiftly side to side until a turn brings her to rise.

Rising up from up to down, pushing forth, pulling out.

Turning over, once again, breaths do mate, fingers blend.

Kissing, touching, quaking lots, moving down from neck to next spot.

Lips do squish, tongues they kiss, elbows bend , her pelvis kicks.

Eyes they meet from eye to eye at first they see but soon they fly.

Enter back into her body, watch her glisten, feel her naughty.

Twisting over to one side, slides to hip, leg twined is fine.

Hair grows wild in his hand, pulling hard, faster again.

Moving closer, dripping sweat, to her forehead, feel her breast.

Sheets all rustle, bed does break, blankets fall and moans do rage.

Raising volume hear the sounds from one man’s push till one girl’s found.

Voices quiet, thoughts they bleed, grips of holding pressing deep.

Heads come closer, heat it rises, slanted mattress provides for driving.

Springs they rattle, muscles ache, one limb stiffens, one girl shakes.

Hurrying on, fast again, lips they meet, breaths quicken.

All at once the sounds explode as does the load as does the show.

The two embrace for one small kiss before a rest and comfort’s bliss.

– Thomas M. Watt

Various thoughts that fit Together in my Untamed Mind

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Pretty girl, sitting there, gazing wide, looking fair.

I know you see it, I do too, the art from God, the voice of truth.

The problem is, you know it’s true, we’ve come from heaven with work to do.

I know my calling, know it fine, called to live my life divine.

By God who judges, He who speaks, the One who whispers my heart to sleep.

I know you want it, want it bad, knowledge of this so makes me sad.

For it’s not quite me of which you want, nor my heart, nor my cock.

But you want the dwelling bruise, the heart that aches, the lasting blues.

I’ll say it simply for some ears – the truth hurts me, the truth you fear.

For when she longs and so “Wants you,” all she wants is the pursuit.

Give her mystery, give her myth, a taste of wrong, a hint of bliss.

Her one true goal is to have you chained, but once she does, you’ve lost the game.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Taste of Tainted Lips

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“Oh, Big Steve! Keep bouncin’ that ass Big Steve! Oh- Greg? Is that you? SHIT!”

The pan was already searing hot by the time Greg cracked his first egg and dropped it on. Almost instantaneously, the egg sizzled from translucent to white. Eyes weary, he used a fork to scramble it as he cracked then added a second. He thought back to the afternoon before, and let out a breath.

Darlene entered the kitchen. She caught his eyes and buttoned her lips, then shifted her weight to one side and shook her head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Greg.

Darlene sighed. “Babe if you just let me-”

“I said I don’t wanna fucking talk about it!” Said Greg, zinging the fork into the white plaster wall.

“But babe.” Darlene moved to his side. “We need to discuss it, that’s all.”

Greg returned his attention to the eggs, fuming through his nostrils as he stared bleakly into them.

“Babe?”

Picking up the iron pan by the handle, Greg lifted it high overhead before slamming it back down into the stove top. “Dammit Darlene, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?” His chest heaved up and down for five heavy breaths, but she issued no response. “I mean, c’mon babe! How the fuck is talkin’ about it gonna make things better? Let’s be real here, you and me-”

“What about you and me?”

Greg shook his head. He picked up some of the scrambled egg remnants, turned his back to Darlene then flicked them into the sink. He turned the faucet on and ran his hands underneath the water stream. “We’re fuckin’ over. I mean, shit.” He gulped. “You know it, I know it. I ain’t gonna heal from this sort’a thing.”

“Well you could if you try! It was a mistake, I admit it-”

“I DON’T CARE!” Greg was surprised to find himself on the verge of laughter, even as his heart sank into his stomach. “Baby, put yourself in my shoes for a second. I come home, from a hard days work, lookin’ a grab a cold beer, maybe sit on the couch, watch the game for a little bit.” Flapping his arms up into the air and gazing towards the ceiling, Greg continued. “Lo and behold, I walk in on my girl messin’ around with Big Steve the professional fly-swatter-guy. I mean shit, Darlene! What the fuck kinda job is that, even? FLY SWATTER? You know you could just buy the equipment for about four bucks or something.”

“It was a big fly, babe, and  I already told you, I made a mistake.”

Greg put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “A mistake would’a been kissin’ him. Maybe even sleepin’ with him. But dammit babe, I walk in to see the guy sittin’ on your face in my bedroom, shit! I don’t know whether I should be more mortified, repulsed, angry or just weirded out! I’m out their bustin’ my tail everyday, and for what? To come home and see Big Steve over here gettin’ rim-jobs about two feet from my pillow?”

Darlene sighed, then came closer. “You know that I love you, Greg,”

Greg shrugged. “I mean, not exactly.”

“Aren’t you gonna say it back?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I don’t feel like sayin’ it back.”

“You’re really going to hold this little tiny mistake against me?”

“Babe,” Greg shook his head, threw a dish-towel down, then started away. “Just think about what’s gonna run through my head every time I gotta kiss you, and there’s your answer.”

THE END

– Thomas M. Watt