fritzified.com

[WARNING: R-18 THEMED. NSFW]

I have insect bites. Two on one arm, five on the other, one on my right calf, two on one inner leg, and one somewhere on my back. Bad thing is I don’t know what bit me so self-medicating has only left me feeling more desperate after trying about five different remedies including drenching the blasted bloated fucks with ammonia. In fact, I’m so desperate that I’d try anything to make me forget my discomfort, say talk to a dog and imagine him responding intellectually to my otherwise pathetic take at an engaging convo perhaps.

—————-

I sit by the gutter, foot on someone else’s spit, along a busy national road, feeling sucky at not knowing what to do with the P150,001 I just won off a sponsored Dance Dance Revolution SuperNOVA2 contest, besting 57 hopefuls, 98% of which are 12-14 year olds. I take a deep breath and almost instantly let out a wheezing cough. There must have been 23 big trucks all going in slug-pace in front of me, all belching varying amounts of thick smoke as dark as Lindt’s 85% cocoa dark chocolate variant.

I regain my composure, took out a kerchief, and wiped specks of tiny snot off my mouth. Almost on instinct, I reach inside my shirt’s breast pocket and took out a now-furry, brown-colored gummy bear. I dab off tiny cotton shavings from its squishy-cute and booger-like textured body before biting off its head. I have a thing with decapitating gummys. It gives me a giddy feeling in my armpits. Yellow gummi, not brown, I just realized. Whatta dummy.

In calculated silence, it made its way towards me like a majestic lion, sure of its stride like creeping twilight.

“Hello, old chap!”

“Hi, dog.”

“You look like you’ve gone gambling and lost your retirement fortune.”

“On the contrary. I just won the Dance Dance Revolution National Championships. Just don’t know what to do with the prize winnings yet.”

“What about buying a weary, homeless dog some chow for starters?”

“Sure man. I could use the company.”

At Cafe Lupe, 50 minutes later, 46 minutes of which the duo had spent waiting for an order of Kadios leaving them wondering whether the restaurant’s staff got the entire order from far-flung Iloilo. Fucking snails those. Good thing they’re now closed.

“A dog biscuit and a second-hand dog collar for your thoughts?”

“Dopamines.”

“What about them?”

“Just that you humans produce them in abundance and we dogs only have enough to make us derive pleasure from smelling a beetch’s cunt-call when she’s in heat. I mean, do you even hear us moan when we make mad animalistic love? I’d answer that for you, my good man. No!”

“So why do I see dogs shagging almost any other she-dog in the residential block then?”

“Did I just hear that coming from someone whose race reinvented pleasure and self-pleasure? Whose perverted ways utilize almost every crevice conceivable for stimulation? Don’t even get me started on narrating how may prefixes your people have associated with the act: cyber-, phone-, 3G-, tantric-, webcam-, back-of-the-school-building-on-one-of-them-banana-trees-, peach-mango-pie-, electric-typewriter-vibration-induced-, big-squid-, dressed-chicken-, empty-toothpaste-tube-, a-can-of-SPAM-, Tiramisu-Meltdown-, Yellow-Cab-Ham-&-Cheese-Calzone-, baked-macaroni-, between-two-hotel-mattresses-, OH YOU-FUCKING-NAME-IT, you sick fucks have done it! So look who’s talking!”

(whispers) “Keep it DOWN! JESSA, er, Zaragoza, why are you so hung up on this?! So you’re saying you do the deed ju..”

“Say it, damn it! We’re both adults here and there’s not much patrons in this gone-down-hill restaurant anyway! Secks! Say it! SECKS!”

“OK, damn it, secks! Yeah. So, do you fellows just do secks for reproduction without deriving anything from it pleasure-wise?”

“Yeah. Some do it to practice IF IN CASE, you know, they get to luckily star in smut like that popular My K9, My Lover series.”

“The WHAT?!”

“We plan to outnumber human-to-horses bestiality films by the year 2010! It’s every dog’s dream since Black Beauty #83. What? Why are you looking at me weird now? What’s wrong with that? Can’t a decent dog-breed so much as dream?! So what do you want to do next? Totally ban us from starring in movies?! OH, so you’re starting with Underdog’s CGI and you think you could make do with the technology moving forward?! Remember this! Lassie would have been nothing without my kind! NOTHING! Gahd, you humans are so inconceivably naive!”

—————-

OK, that makeshift conversation just made me more tense. I’ll go have hot candle wax drip on my raw bites now. Let’s see them microbes survive THAT! I’ll keep you guys posted if the sores die down from the heat. Or if I survive!

BRB.