Tag Archives: Shortstory

Sky – A shortstory

Sky

A fantasy short story.

By Jenny K Brennan

Sky

“Hey cutie, you’ve been sniffing that beer for almost an hour now. What’s crawled up your ass?“ Without waiting for an answer, the woman put her frosty drink on the table and sat down on the seat opposite to the sad puppy. She used both hands to pull her hair out of her eyes and let the swell of platinum blond fall down her naked back. She loved that feeling. The soft touch that made her skin tingle and start a shiver down her back.
The puppy-eyed guy across the table was something new. Nice looking was an understatement, but she suspected that the perfect polish and high-class intended casual could get tiresome. Snob. A ‘my shit don’t stink’ guy.

But then again, maybe not. The sad eyes and faraway gaze was nothing if not intriguing. He seemed tired and just a bit wary of her. His eyes were some shade of green, reflecting the light in the bar in a way that made them shimmer with silver, in the next moment streaked in sunset cobalt clouds, wind-torn and fleeting, beautiful and knowing.

The young woman shivered and realized she had lost her smile, actually lost any sensations of the world around her wile losing herself in him. His shredded mysterious eyes, and whatever misery he was just barely hiding. Curious puppy watched her right back.

He frowned suddenly and started spinning the glass, around and around. He didn’t like beer. Why had he ordered a beer? To seem like everyone else. But if he didn’t drink and didn’t make noise, he would never blend in anyways. He let his eyes drop to the luke-warm brew and smiled. He knew it wasn’t much of one. Crooked, halfhearted, pained.

He looked up as if he had just thought of something and pushed the glass to the side. “Buy me something I can actually drink and I’m yours for the night.” He said and meant it. The more he watched this stranger the more his first impression faded. That hair was natural. That was something of a novelty. Interesting. A bright-eyed curiosity that was open and direct in the way she focused on him instead of her appearance. No fiddling with locks of hair or out of place garments. Not that she was wearing much.

She didn’t answer him and the blue eyes darkened slightly as she frowned. Clouds sweeping across the evening heaven, he thought and suddenly he knew. Recognition struck hard and fast but acceptance came just as quick. That was how it had always been for his kind.
And hers. He straightened up and cocked his head raising his eyebrows just a fraction. Her frown deepened just as the curiosity. Flared up into something he would have taken for frustration. And it was too. He let out a short laugh and shook his head slowly, wondering when she would know. The moment stretched as the air around them stilled.

“Sky, snap out of it.”

The blue eyes widened in shock and her mouth opened as if to speak but her remembrance and acceptance came just as quickly as his had. Sky’s world whirled, scattered, and rearranged around her in a flash. Once it settled in the way it had always been and should always be; she barely remembered who she had been for a brief time in human disguise. She shook her head no, but not in denial so much as protest. The hand holding the fizzy drink cramped and shattered the glass in the half second of dislocation of thoughts, memories, and realization.
“I am.” She whispered to the sparkling remains of the glass that lay in front of her in a puddle of drink. She ignored the little rivers probing their way across the Formica for an edge, a crevice, a lower level to settle in. She tore her eyes away from the mess and looked up. Reproachful or relieved to be so abruptly woken from a thousand year dream, she didn’t quite know. A thousand years? It hadn’t been that long surely? She looked at her former, future, forever, lover looking for answers.

He looked back at her. He smiled. And straightened up. His eyes didn’t just look streaked in kobold cloud, they were shredded led, streaked with silver and deep green. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. He looked at the mess of broken glass and alcohol slushy on the table and pointed at it, put a finger on a piece of glass and made it tip and Klink against another. He pulled his hand back and leaned forward and finally said. “You can put that to right, can’t you?” He let his gaze and finger indicate chards and liquid, making a sweeping, collecting motion with both hands as if putting everything in a pile. “I know you can.” he paused and grinned as everything came back to him too. He had been sure, just not certain. Certainty was not how it was in his existence. Certainty was what had led them to this point. Too much certainty, too many assumptions, not enough humility and old fashioned observation and responsibility. But that wasn’t important now. What mattered was that he had found her.
“I know you can, because I showed you how.”

#
They had been on top of the world once. Masters and mistresses of heaven and earth. Dictators of all elements. Sky, Steel, Wave, and Flame. They held the balance of all things and let things become what they would, by pondering possibilities. Then they played with the creations their curiosity made possible; much good came out of fortunate chance, evolution, as well as the natural selection and survival of the fittest made some things better, and some things inevitably inferior. Quality control was never on the agenda.
There was nothing inherently bad about their play with life. All things made could be unmade, they said to each other when abominations surfaced. But nothing was ever made undone, as the process held too much of interest to the four. In the end, one can argue that a harder line would have been more appropriate, but once over a billion of the most flawed creatures chance had ever created lived and breathed, it was too late to rethink their slipshod attitudes. They grew tired of the play, bored by creations that started to grow stale and close-minded; they started creating tales of their own, and all of a sudden the charm of thinking civilizations faded and was replaced with despair over the growing aggression, the frequent territorial disputes, the stubbornness to se beyond self fulfilling prophesies written by mad men.

The four broke apart and scattered across the earth, to ponder, to analyze, to hide from the monster that had evolved from their innocent games and wishes. With time, they all forgot to ponder as the shame grew powerful, and despair did not suit the four. They saw the simplicity of ignorance and wanted the bliss it could give.

So they forgot.

#

Sky looked into Steel’s eyes. She remembered, as if she had never forgotten. Her voice never touched her vocal cords when she spoke to him. “I could. Why should I?” She made a sweep with her hand over the glass and one brow rose. “Why don’t you? I am not as good with stone as you. Why don’t you do it? If you think I should.”

Steel sat back, watching her, still smiling but there was a shadow of apprehension behind his eyes. He put one hand on the table without moving his body any closer, and touched a chard with the tip of a finger. He stared at it, tensed into perfect stillness as his eyes shifted and clouded over in steel gray, copper, deep fertile brown… then he relaxed and pulled back, dropped a trembling hand in his lap. His eyes turned to dull amber and he shrugged and sighed. “You are right. We cannot mend this world, why mend a piece of imperfect glass.”

Sky fixed Steel with a chilling penetrating stare for a moment, mirroring his posture with both hands in her lap. Then the sculptured features softened and she smiled. The ice between them melted and gave life to soil long thought barren. Seeds dried and forgotten started to stir in hidden depths. It wouldn’t take long for them to sprout, to rush into eager growth, bloom, and fruit.

Sky thought, with a moist glint in her clear blue eyes, why not? She caught Steel’s eyes and she saw the same thought, heard the same words echo from within him. Why not?

“We are still young.” She whispered.

“We can try again. Steel replied, holding a hand for her to take.

“Wave and flame will want what we want. They are on their way already. Sky looked up in the heaven she couldn’t see but sense through the corrupted metal and wood, through pollution and the interfering signals crowding the air. “Yes, they are coming.” She squeezed his hand and let out a long pent up breath of frustration and disappointment.

Steel looked into Sky’s hopes and wishes taking form. For one moment that would become forever if they wanted it, he saw a world made again, creatures living with one another, working in harmony, not in constant pursuit of territory. A world swept clean of toxins and second rate sentience. Steel smiled, leaned over the table and kissed the mistress of the sky, sat back to wait for their brother and sister. He took a long lingering look at the shabby bar, its imperfect glass, its sample of flawed humanity. And he knew. Nobody would miss Earth. They could make up a new name, something with a nice ring to it. Undo. Reset. Start over.

Steel smiled and he let the excitement sparkle through his words. “We can do better.”

Thanks for reading. Now, don’t miss other works on Studio Chaotic.


 

Phobia – A not so irrational fear Part 2 of 2

Phobia – A not so irrational fear.

By Jenny K Brennan

Part 2 of 2
Read Part 1 here.

“Trust me, you little shit!” I said to the bug. I barely recognized my own voice. I drew in air through my nose in short raspy drags as I rraised a heavy boot and drove it down hard. The thing didn’t even twitch before I crushed it and
squeezed its insides from its shell with a sickening wet crackle. White
stringy slime and black flakes appeared around the edge of the boot.
I stepped back, dragging my foot, and scraped the thing off. “If you hadn’t
bothered me, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

I stared for another moment and walked to the front door, giddy with
delight. I had to tell David. I smiled, threw the door open and rushed out
on the porch. And there I stopped, fought, and failed, to swallow a whimper.

Crawling, turning, shivering, the oily bugs covered every surface. Patio
set, the truck, garden shed, all layered in shiny black beetles. As I
watched, a clump fell from a maple branch, and my bamboo windchime clattered
for the last time, scattering bugs as it crashed to the ground.

“David, where are you?”, I choked on the words and my legs crumbled beneath
me. I turned toward the garage to call again, and I saw him.

He lay just beyond the porch, covered in bugs. Their thick blanket broke up
as I stared; revealing blue cotton, pale skin, a shrivelled limp hand. They
evacuated his body in moments.

“David.”, I tried to say, but it was locked as a scream in my head.

Cold, numb, I somehow found my feet and went to him. As I dropped down
again, all but one creature moved away. It shivered and buzzed madly,
struggling to get free from a thin gold chain that had slipped between hard
shell and flimsy fraying wings, trapping it.

I grabbed it; wrapped my fingers around bug and chain and ripped it loose. I
felt it shudder and crack, before throwing it into the crowd of retreating
bugs, trailed by a sparkle of gold. I released the scream, a horror without
words, in rage without limits. Then, I saw his face and stopped. If I hadn’t,
I never would have. David didn’t like screaming, he was.

Was.

I touched his cold skin. I brushed away his hair and stared at his open
eyes, his slack mouth, waxy white features.

“David.” I whispered. “I killed it, David. I’m not afraid of bugs anymore.”
I looked up from my dead husband, to the house, our house. It was theirs
now.

Thousands, millions of black silent monsters covered every surface. A slow
river of insects poured over doorframe and threshold, taking possession.
That was the final straw. “Evicted am I? You just knock yourselves out you
fucking bastards! Did you forget me? I’m right here!” I screamed. I raged, I
cursed and pleaded until my voice broke.

I lay down beside David and held him, wondering why they wouldn’t come to
take me too, to ease the pain that scraped, clawed, and scratched at me with
its inevitability. “I’m going to wake up soon. Any minute now.”, I told
David as I smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt.

I pulled my legs up, dragging the heavy boots along the grass, and then I
could smell it. A sharp, sickly bitter scent. It came from the shoes, from
the remains of the one I had crushed. The bastards wouldn’t touch me. I
glared at them, empty of fear. “You fucking cowards!” I sat up and something
eerily like a laugh escaped me, “We’re not having such a great day, are we
honey?” I refused to feel the burning behind my eyelids, and postponed any
recognition of ache.

I eased my feet out of the death-marked work boots, grabbed them both with
my usable hand and threw them. They landed on the porch and bugs nearby
shuffled, jumped, or flew from the scent of death.

In the few seconds remaining, I rolled David onto his back, snuggled close,
pulled his hand on to his chest, and braided our fingers together. I closed
my eyes.

The sharp rustling started, increased, stopped. I knew what they were doing;
they were shifting, preparing, then they would jump.

I waited.

Phobia – a not so irrational fear- Part 1 of 2

Phobia -A not so irrational fear

By Jenny K Brennan

Part 1 of 2
Go directly to Part 2 here.

“Kate, don’t look.”

But, I had to look. I sat on the floor with the vacuum next to me, poking at
sticky cobwebs in a cupboard with the hose. I needed a break anyways, so I
killed the machine and made the mistake of looking up.

David stood rigid at the sink, an expression on his face I had never seen
before. I turned my gaze to see what he stared at and froze; the insect
above him dominated my narrowing vision. I wished to sink into the floor had
it been possible, would have been very comfortable between floor joists.
Until David took care of it. He always did.

Illuminated in unforgiving clarity by the afternoon light, the bug clung to
the cupboard corner. It was the size and shape of a kiwi cut in half
lengthwise, sleek and oily black. I couldn’t see its legs under its dome of
bisected exoskeleton, and didn’t care to.

Without looking away from it, David reached a hand toward me. I placed the
end of the vacuum hose, a hard plastic pipe, in it. He moved it into
position and nodded. I pushed the button, realizing as the machine started
whining that it simply wouldn’t work. The bug was too big, the pipe too
small.

He poked the insect with it; there was nothing wrong with the suction so it
should have, in the least, trapped the flat black thing on the end of the
pipe.

Its reaction was instantaneous: It convulsed and shivered, whirring fast,
its biological motor in overdrive. It jerked away from the plastic and
jumped. I shrieked. The shell unfolded, sprouted wings, and launched my way-
droning, hissing. I screamed, ducked and dived, scrambled on all fours
behind David and then stood. Shuddering and flaying my arms about my head;
I could do nothing but whimper: “Get it! Get it! Get it off me!”

“Hey, easy, honey.” David’s voice registered only when he put his arms
around me. “It’s not on you! Sweetie, it’s not!” I cowered in his arms, and
opened my eyes, allowing my arms to drop away from my head only when I could
see for myself that it was so.

“Holy fuck!” David breathed and held me tight. He reached down, shut off the
vacuum, and sighed. “I guess I need to take care of that, huh?”

The thing sat silently in the corner, where dry wall met drywall, just above
the wayne-scotting, protected by the shallow ledge, a small shelf filled
with crystal trinkets on one wall, and a framed wedding picture on the
other. “I can’t get it there.” David said. “Not without…”, he trailed off.

I knew what he meant. That was not a bug that could be easily squished in
paper towel, nor flattened with fly swatter. This thing was unreal; it was a
bug from hell. I could still hear the vicious humming; still feel the
displaced air as it swept passed. I took a deep breath and nodded.

“I have spray in the garage. It should work. Kills everything.” I chose not
to hear doubt in his voice.

David understood. Spiders, flies, Daddy longlegs, wasps, earwigs, ants. He
accepted my fears. I loved him for not making fun of me when I panicked, for
his patience. And the terror eventually eased. These days I could clean off
cobwebs, and hear a bumblebee fly about without screaming. I understood
David’s oft repeated words: “If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother
you.”

“Do you want to come?” He mumbled. I stood stock still and shook my head. If
I let it out of my sight, I wouldn’t know if it got away… He nodded. “I
know. I’ll just be a sec, ok?”

I trembled, but allowed him to ease from my grip. “If I don’t bother it.” I
said with more conviction than I felt. “Go.”

He kissed my forehead, let a hand linger on my shoulder, and then stepped
through the doorway to the hall.

I pinned the insect with my eyes, daring it to move, begging it not to.

I listened as David opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. The
door closed and I was alone. With that. thing.

I watched it. It still didn’t move.

David’s steps faded. I cursed our decision not to connect the garage to the
house.

The creature shifted, emitted a shrill rustling, and stilled. My heart
hammered, every muscle burned with adrenaline, I was paralyzed by fear.
“David, please hurry.”

It jumped, unfolded its wings, and came at me. I screamed, flung my arm as
I stepped back. A hard thud against my hand silenced its frenzied droning. A
searing pain spread across the top of my hand, but quickly turned numb.
Astonished, I stared at the thing as it sat on the floor like a large black
pimple. I held my arm to my chest and backed away, breathless, as I couldn’t
seem to find air between heartbeats.

Keeping my eyes on it, I reached around the doorframe and grabbed a pair of
boots from a shelf. David’s, big, clunky, bug-crushing work-boots. Just what
I needed. I glanced from boots to bug-too far to throw.

“Now, you just stay right there.” I wheezed. I fumbled, couldn’t seem to
grip the boots, or feel anything below my left wrist. I glanced at my arm
and quickly looked away. There was no time for it now. Fear would have to
wait. I had a job to do. Keeping my eye on the bug, I pulled the boots with
my other hand, and stepped into them.

“Don’t move.” I hissed, taking a step. My left hand grew numb from
fingertips to elbow, skin waxy white. I felt no pain, just an icy tingle.

“This won’t hurt one little bit.” I stepped closer.

Continue reading in Part 2 here.

Anna – Open letter from a sex-addict.

Anna

By: J K Brennan

To: Unnamed girl, thirteen and under.

My name is Anna. I sell my body.
It’s a bargain, let me tell you. But that’s nor here nor there.

I’ve also destroyed my body with drugs. Hash, heroin, shit like that. The drug thing began long after the selling started though. I know it usually is the other way around. An addiction turns expensive and the prostitution comes as a symptom of drug abuse, not the other way. But that is how it was. Because, and here is the real problem.

I’m a nymphomaniac.

It started when my boobs suddenly grew. I had waited for so long to get boobs just like my friends had, and when they budded into pathetic little mini titties, I was so happy. I bought my first bra. With matching panties of course. I padded the bra with toilet paper to start with, and then when my little babies grew, I bought another bra that was just a little bit padded, and pushed them together and up. I looked like a real babe.

I started buying clothes for my weekly allowance, which was quite generous since I was a spoiled brat, and everything I bought was tight and sexy. My first set of stockings, you know the one that go to the thigh and is held up by a sexy garter? It cost me an entire month’s allowance. But I had to have it. Just like I had to have that first piece of lingerie. Silky, red and black, with buttons and ribbons and strategic transparent spots, and did I mention slutty? Very slutty.

It had buttons at the crotch and I played with them so much I wore them out. That was when I realized my boobs had grown so much that I could actually stick out my tongue and touch my nipples with it. I learned quickly to please myself with my fingers, and then by using different things I found in the home. Silly things really, but as long as it didn’t cause injury, it always turned me on and got me off.

Then, as I came closer to fifteen and my boobs were as big as they ever would be, I started inviting friends home for “movie and popcorn nights” as my mother thought they were. She was never home anyways. She was a lawyer see, and she was stabbed, but that is another story.

But really, I had my first orgasm given to me by someone other than myself, or by any of the many dildos I had bought online, on one of those nights. I can’t remember ever eating popcorn.

And then I realized I wasn’t quite normal. I wanted sex all the time. Girl or boy didn’t matter. Two or more didn’t matter either. Threesomes were awesome, in any combination of male female. It was all the same to me.

Life was good. But then I was supposed to go to college. I didn’t have a problem with that. I had a brain that only needed to hear something once or twice, and I learned. It wasn’t fair I know. My fellow students struggled to rise above average. I skimmed through and was top in my classes. It did give me lots of time over for my extracurricular activities though… it was great.

Well, I got my degree, but decided I didn’t want to study anymore. What was the point? All I had to do was borrow a book from the library, read it from cover to cover, and I was done. So what if I didn’t have papers to prove it. I knew what I knew. And if anyone wanted proof, they could just give me a test, I’d ace it, and viola.

But then everything started to fall apart.

I’m not sure what happened first, but my friends, my fuck-buddies as I called them at the time, all started to drift away. They fell in love, found jobs away from me, got married, children and minivans.

I didn’t want that. I just wanted to party. No, actually, it wasn’t that kind of fun I wanted because I never drank, never smoked, and never watched movies or read books for entertainment. I craved sex. Orgasms, the heat, the mind numbing ecstasy. I needed new and exciting things all the time. Tie me up and abuse me, I’m happy. Give me a whip and a basket of rubber accessories along with someone to abuse, and I’m happy. Put me in front of a video camera while being filled and probed and used, broadcast it live on the web, I’m just as happy. Excite me, exploit me, degrade me, adore me, and make a slave of me. Ooh, yeah, that’s the spot Baby.

But all of a sudden I was alone. The HIV scare had started and people became afraid of casual sex. Well, to be honest, it scared me too a bit even if I wasn’t a gay man, which was what the HIV targeted according to those days ignorant prissies and priests. But sure, I got tests for stuff and came back negative. I learned early that condoms would keep me from making babies I never ever wanted to have, so it wasn’t such a big deal, even if the guys grumbled a bit…

So I watched porn and masturbated til my eyes and fingers were sore. But it was so boring. So dull. After a week I was climbing walls in my little studio apartment. I tried to go to a bar, but there is something about drunken people that drunken people never understand. They never perform. Besides that, they smell bad, and they have an annoying habit of wanting to stay the night to sleep it off, or simply pass out, giving me no choice in the matter but to let them stay. Preferably in the tub so I can start their morning with a nice refreshing icy cold shower.

Needless to say, I wasn’t popular. I didn’t want to move away from my home town either. It was a safe place after all. My mother paid my bills. There was also that detail about her not paying for me anymore if I moved far away. So it was easier to stay even if everyone knew me. They all thought I had all kinds of sexually transmitted icky to spread, but I didn’t. But I suppose; once a slut, always a slut. It doesn’t really help if it happens to be true. But I was a slut without aids, or Hep C, or any of those itchy, leaking, smelly, eventually harmful deceases. Why would anyone believe me though? Once a nympho, always a nympho.

I don’t think there is such a thing as nympho anonymous.

There is? Hmm. I suppose that for me, it would be a great place to find likeminded people and setup “play” dates or special group therapy sessions hehe.
Sigh. I really didn’t mean to tell you all of that. But hell, it was my life. From the time I was thirteen until the moment, around twenty-four when my mother died from a sudden loss of blood, and consequent complications; yeah, she was stabbed by some unhappy customer, she was a lawyer see, and she was a good one, thus her well deserved death.

I suddenly had no money, my life had been eat, sleep, and fuck. It wasn’t such a bad life at all. Instant gratification and no strings. Perhaps I simply lacked empathy, or simple human emotions beyond a twisted instinct to reproduce. Flawed mainly because I never did reproduce anything, except my dear mum’s signature on a couple of pieces of paper she forgot to sign.

What papers? Well… just normal papers with numbers on them.

Checks?

I suppose some of them were. But come on now. What kind of responsible person would leave the checkbook in a drawer without a proper lock? What the hell, she didn’t even hide the key.

Where?

Well, in her nightstand, under the drawer. Yeah, with tape. But that’s not the point here. You digress.

Ahem, where was I?

Oh right, my mother died right? So there was no more money coming. Sure I could have found a job I suppose. But why should I? There are millions of other people that can do that kind of stuff.

Hey, don’t get me wrong here; I did try for a while. Online seemed to be a good place to make money. Everybody said so. But it was so distracting to shuffle serious business with web cam masturbation. Trust me, it can get confusing. Chat, invoice for three “this side up, push buttons to open”-T-shirts, video conference with employees and customers that always seemed to end with a virtual nekkid poker game. I’m telling you, those guys are such perverts.

Here I am, making a serious offer for twenty-three boxes of “Super slide lube” and they start asking me how my business is going and I say the money slides in just fine, and they think I’m coming on to them or something. Jeez, and hell, I didn’t know they were serious about not demonstrating products. I do believe in product research and transparency when it comes to things I want people to pay money for. I wouldn’t expect a customer to pay for something if it’s not thoroughly tested first.

There was a big stink about it, and it was suggested I’d shut down. It was expressed quite forcefully I might add. I kept telling them it was not a porn site, and I didn’t need to warn visitors, but hell. I was getting tired of it anyways, so I sold the business on eBay.

That kept me floating for a little while, the eBay money. But as all good things end, there’s a sudden stop sooner or later. I tried being normal. Normal as in working at a grocery store, as a town hall clerk, a pre-school teacher. But come on, face it.

Customers are idiots, public service just sucks, and little kids don’t learn too good.

I could have excelled. I have no doubts. It was just all those other people. Well, you know what I’m saying. A shrink told me once that I had no sense of responsibility and didn’t respect myself, that I should manage my passive aggressive behavior and cut back on my casual relationships and stop blaming other people for my failures.

She was just like all the others, saying shit about me, looking at me funny. I’m telling you, she was fucking sketchy. And fuck her saying I don’t respect myself. I have nothing BUT respect for me. It’s just everyone else I can’t stand.

Shithead skank trying to shrink my head when society just kept pushing me down. It got depressing, let me tell you. I had to tell her to go fuck herself in the end, because I sure wouldn’t touch her skinny ass.

Oh shit, I lost track of my story again. It’s that retarded brain doctor. She put things in my head, some kind of psychic subliminal bullshit. I can’t concentrate when I’m being fucked over every time I turn around.

Sigh.

Oh, yeah, Broke; then one day there was an eviction notice in the mail. I always knew that Nazi son of a bitch landlord had something against me. What the fuck, it’s not like he didn’t get good money from the other five hundred people or so in his fucking building. I gave him good head often enough, I didn’t see the problem.

Anyways, fast forward a little bit. Here I was. I found a pimp, a place to live, and I didn’t have to see a shrink anymore. That was good. It was a bit tricky to tell paying customers to use protection though, or to be a little bit gentle with the soft parts. Or bones and teeth for that matter.

I was fine for a while, then I got banged up a bit and lost quite a lot of my pretty, which depressed me. I started getting lazy, I finally said yes to drugs. So to cut the story short; in my third year of working steady as a sex worker, I tested HIV positive.

I think it was because I shared a needle with my buddy Suzy. She’s alright. I mean, she’s not really right in the head, but she’s cool if you know what I’m saying. And she doesn’t have any teeth left so she is quite good with her mouth…

Well, anyways. I was trying to get at something important. I don’t know if it means shit to you or not. It doesn’t mean much to me anymore, but you know; I have a bit of social conscience left in me.

Morality? Did you hear me use that word? I’m not that fucking wasted. So let’s not go there.

Hang on, I wrote it down. Here somewhere.

Ah, here we go.

Girl, when your boobs start growing, tell your parents that you want to be a nun and move to a convent. Trust me, boobs are evil. You don’t want anything to do with them.

Yours truly
Anna

By J K Brennan

Down the rabbit hole- Unreleased. Want to be on the JennyK list of awesome people? Help me raise some cash to keep writing, and complete my album!