#One was beating up a rapist and accidentally punched a little too hard

[enekorre]

Via @mickeys-dick-smasher

d’ya think if i ask the bottom surgeon nicely theyll let me have two

[imaginesmai]

Michael Gray-Umbrellas

Hi guys, it’s been a while! I wanted to do something special for the 500 followers, but I have already more than 600. I’m so happy, really!! So, to celebrate, I’m working on a little surprise for you. I will try to have it as soon as possible, and it’s related with requests. Can’t wait to show you! 

This was requested by someone, but as I said in a past post, I deleted accidentally some of the names of the people who requested. I hope you like it, whoever you are!

MICHAEL GRAY-C FOR CATCALL (ANGST ALPHABET)

Umbrellas were kind of a problem for the society. First of all, they were always too small; it didn’t matter where you put yourself, you would always wet your back or your front, and your socks would always get soaked. Second, people with umbrellas. Most of the people didn’t realise that using an umbrella meant triplicating your body’s width, and that always led to painful bumps and even a bruised eye. As a consequence, you had always hated umbrellas. They were ugly, hid people’s face from you and got you wet anyway. That was, however, until you met Michael Gray.

Being a bookworm meant having time to think about stupid things like the problems about an umbrella, and it usually meant not knowing too much people in your town. Sure, you had friends and family, but you didn’t like to go out and you weren’t really popular. If Michael hadn’t decided to pass by your favourite library and throw his coffee on your new dress you wouldn’t have probably met. He did, he bought you a new one and literally chased you until you said yes to a date. After that, it was all history; two years of a happy relationship with the man of your dreams.

Which led to that moment, you wrapped around his arm as a huge umbrella covered you both. Rainy days in Birmingham were common, but you didn’t like them. The only thing you wanted was to wrap yourself in the biggest blanket and cuddle with Michael after a long day of work.

“You’re awfully quiet” Michael pointed out, not looking down at you. “Usually, you would be talking nonstop about something right now.”

“It has been a long day, you know that the coffee shop has a lot of costumers in winter”

You had been working in a coffee shop for more than a year then. It had been Tommy who had found the job for you. The coffee was close to the Shelby’s place, and Michael had made a routine picking you up after he got out of work. That way you could walk together to your shared apartment.

“You could take some free days. I could ask Tommy for them too, it would be nice to spend Christmas in a more… quiet place, don’t you think?”

“What about Christmas party? Or New Year’s one? Actually, what about every Shelby’s party?” you frowned, getting closer to him when you felt the rain hitting your side. “I’m sure Polly wouldn’t be too happy about that. She starts planning them in summer.”

“Love, I don’t want to go there. I want to spend Christmas with you, not with my nosy family. And I’m sure you think that way.”

You huffed, looking up at him. Michael was already looking at you, with a half smirk on his lips. He knew you loved the idea, you were always pestering him about not having enough time for the both of you. And honestly, he would love a quiet Christmas with the love of his life.

“If we do so, I’m not telling Polly, you are. Also, I don’t want to hear any last-minute trip with the boys or to find Arthur in our door the night before.” The Shelby used to do that a lot; calling Michael at the worst hours and ruining your plans. Your boyfriend didn’t mind helping them, yet you didn’t enjoy the sight of Michael bloody and bruised at your doorstep at three in the morning. “If you really want to go, you have to promise me no surprises. Just a quiet Christmas.”

“Just a quiet Christmas, Y/N. You, me, we can bring Chester if you want.”

A smile crept in both of your faces when Michael named your little dog. He had found him in the streets some months ago; his mother, nowhere to be seen, and next to him two dead puppies. Chester had survived by chance, and thanks to your cares, he was then a healthy beagle and the light in your lives.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea” you laughed. “He tends to be a little aggressive towards new furniture.”

“Polly can always-“

Michael’s next words died in his mouth as a hard slap rang all over the street.

To get to your shared apartment, you had to walk through the bad neighbourhood of Birmingham; that’s probably the main reason Michael always waited for you to get out of work. There lived beggars, whores, junkies and homeless. By then, it would have been normal that you had had a problem with someone. In the end, there were killers, children’s rapists and mad men in there. But it hadn’t until that moment.

You were pushed a few inches forward, and had it not been for your arms wrapped around Michael’s, you would have fallen to the ground. The ghost feeling of the hand against your backside made you walk towards Michael’s other side, and look to the culprit from there.

It wasn’t just one, there were three of them. The first one was laughing, showing you his toothless mouth. The one in the middle had his hand inside his pants, probably had it since you appeared in the street, judging by the huge bulge. And the last one was looking at you, letting you know that he had slapped your ass.

“I really thought it would be more loose” he said, not hiding the lust from his eyes. “Seems like not every Shelby is an used whore.”

“I want to touch it too!” the first man tried to get up, propping himself up in the wall.

You opened your mouth to say something, and begged to your brain to let it be something different from a cry. But Michael beat you to it.

“That’s not fucking nice from you, mates. Apologise to her.”

As if Michael had told the best joke ever, the three of them started laughing at mocking his jokes. The one with the boner, who got up too quickly to Michael or you notice, tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to step back before Michael had punched him square in the face. If anyone had to say, Michael was the least aggressive Shelby. He always preferred to use the words and tried to keep everything under control. However, threatening his girl called for drastic measures.

The guy fell to the floor with a pained scream, and finally, he removed his hand from his pants to cover his nose. Soon, his two friends were up, rage in their eyes. You clutched Michael’s arm tighter, the rain and the problem with the umbrellas long forgotten.

“You think you’re tough, hm? If she’s your bitch, you shouldn’t let her dress like that. Is begging for attention” the toothless one said, his voice rough. Michael’s fists clenched at his side, and the hand that was gripping the umbrella became white.

“I really suggest you to stop talking and apologise to my lady” Michael said under his breath.

“What are you going to do, hm? Bore us with your great speech, Shelby?” the one who touched your ass laughed again, already knowing who Michael was. If that was supposed to be a relive, it wasn’t. It just meant that those men knew who your boyfriend was and they weren’t afraid of him.

With the corner of your eye, you saw a shiny object in the hands of the toothless, and you gasped when you realised it was a knife. Not too big and probably not too sharp, but dangerous enough. Tears welled in your eyes in fear, and you tried to pull him backwards to leave. However, he didn’t move an inch. All Michael did was raise an eyebrow.

“We’re going to give your “lady” what she’s asking for, you’re going to watch and, just when I cum in her, I’m-“

A bullet hitting him in the middle of his eyes made him shut up, and the toothless man fell to the floor with a loud thud. Everything was silent for a second, until his friend started to shout at you and to threaten you. From his mouth fell all type of threats, all of them related with you or with Michael’s family. Although you were sure he was going to kill both of you there, when he tried to take a step towards yourself he fell dead to the floor next to his friend, blood coming out from his forehead.

The only one left was sitting on the ground with the help of his elbows. The blood of his nose was mixed with the rain, that was heavily falling on all of you. Still, not a drop of water had hit your skin since Michael hadn’t drop the umbrella.

“Please, please I didn’t do anything” the man cried, trying to get away but slipping on a puddle. “They-I told them not to, b-but they didn’t listen. I-I told them she was your girl-“

“You think this is because she’s my girl?” Michael frowned, rage filling his voice. “You shouldn’t do that to any woman, single or taken. If she doesn’t give you consent, you can’t even think about her.”

“Yes! Yes, I promise I-I told them that!” an ugly sob left his lips. “L-Let me go and you won’t see m-me again, I promise!”

“I mean, you’re right” Michael sighed. “Maybe if it had been any other woman, I would be angry. But this is my woman.”

He couldn’t beg for his life anymore as a scream tore from his lips. Where previously had been his boner, now there was a hole with blood pouring out. Your eyes widened as Michael put the gun back in his pocket, and gave you a soft smile before walking again.

That time, the hand that wasn’t holding the umbrella covered your shoulders, and he left a quick kiss on your forehead. You nuzzled into his side, gripping his middle and smiling up at him too. And even after three dead bodies and a harsh conformation, still not a drop of water had landed on you. It seemed that sharing an umbrella with Michael wasn’t that bad.

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[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part 38

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

AFTER DRIVING CHUCK’S CAR AND BELONGINGS—INCLUDING CHUCK IN A PLASTIC URN—HOME TO INDIANA, Cal flew back to Las Vegas to tend to other matters pertaining to his son’s death including contesting the coroner’s ruling that suicide was the cause. Since the house was empty and Cal had no money, Lou agreed that he could crash there until things were sorted out. He did request that Cal pay him one hundred dollars a week for rent and as a way to collect on some of what Chuck still owed. Cal would also have to pay for the utilities, which Lou never bothered to cancel.

It was a pitiful situation, really. The grieving father was living in the same house his son had died in and like his son, the house was dead. The little bit of furniture barely saw any use. There were no photos or artworks on the walls. There were no friends stopping by or meals being prepared in the kitchen. There was no conversation and no laughter, only tears late at night as Cal tried to sleep on the bed, using only an unzipped sleeping bag as a cover.

He wasn’t smart or savvy, but Cal Keller was determined, more determined than he’d probably ever been in his life, to emend the coroner’s ruling. After a week of phone calls and visits to the Clark County Coroner’s office, he got his investigation. The coroner interviewed everyone on the long list Cal provided. The list contained names and phone numbers of friends and co-workers; everyone in Chuck’s cellphone address book.

The coroner wanted to know whether Chuck had seemed sad, what his life was like shortly before he died, what the relationship between Chuck and the person on the other end of the phone was like, how Chuck met that person, how his death affected that person and a host of other questions to complete the inquiry. When all of the interviews were done, and the information was assessed, one thing was clear to the coroner: Chuck Keller was a sweet, fun-loving, exciting, smart, generous, adventurous, humorous, driven man who struggled with an alcohol addiction and had hit on hard times but was turning a corner. He was also a fucking idiot who accidentally killed himself after a night of heavy drinking.

That truth could not be forgotten. It’s so easy to turn the dead into saints because our grief so often soaks our memory in sentimental melancholy, especially if the departed was young. But without that truth, Chuck’s death had no other explanation than suicide. Him being a fucking idiot was critical evidence. It was the smoking gun.

And so the coroner changed the ruling: Charles Keller died as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Cal could have returned to Indiana after that, but he wasn’t quite ready to leave his son’s adopted hometown. R.J. flew out to Vegas and stayed in the house with Cal, where the two men could grieve together. Lou had no idea. Besides, he didn’t give the house much thought since the one hundred-dollar rent checks were coming in the mail every week.

✶

ONE MORNING, WHILE LEXI WAS GETTING DRESSED FOR WORK, a heavy and fast pounding on her apartment’s front door startled her. Wearing only her bra and a pair of dress slacks, she grabbed her robe from the bathroom and answered the door. It was R.J.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he pushed past her, letting himself into the apartment.

“You know Cal?” he said pacing.

“Chuck’s dad? Yeah.”

“You know that motherfucker…”

“R.J. What the hell are you doing here? In Las Vegas?”

“Came out here a week ago. Couldn’t be home. It’s too damn sad right now, you know? So I came out here to help Cal with stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know! Just stuff. You know. This ain’t easy for him, Chuck’s dying and all. Me neither.”

“Does Lou know you’re staying at his house?”

“Who?”

“Never mind. So what’s the problem?”

“You know Cal?”

“We’ve established that.”

“But did you know that that motherfucker is a motherfucking faggot?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night, we was drinking by the pool and just talkin’ and stuff and I got pretty wasted. And I fell asleep in one of them chairs out there and next thing I know, I wake up and Cal is sucking my dick.”

“I’m sorry!?”

“Like he’s on his knees with my dick all out, and he’s suckin’ on it.”

“How is that even possible?”

“He undid my pants, I guess.”

“And you were, like, hard?”

“I ain’t gay!”

“I didn’t say that. But neither is Cal.”

“Then why the hell was he suckin’ my dick?”

“Are you sure about this? You didn’t just dream it or something?”

“I told you, I ain’t gay!”

“Alright. So what did you do?”

“When he was done, I stood up and said, ‘Hey! What the fuck are you doing?’ Then I punched him in the face. I almost knocked his ass out and right into the pool.”

“Hang on a minute. You said, ‘When he was done.’ Do you mean that you woke up and even after you saw Cal Keller was giving you a blowjob, you kept letting him? So, you actually finished.”

R.J. stopped pacing. “Well, yeah. I mean, I was drunk. I didn’t know what was going on at first. Not until I blew my wad.”

“Oh, my God, R.J. Okay, so then what happened?”

“I made him take me to the ATM and made him give me all of his money in his account or I’d beat him to death.”

“You mugged the guy after he sucked you off? And how much money did you get?”

“Two hundred forty dollars. I told him that he’d better not tell anyone or I’d beat him to death.”

“So why are you telling me. Why are you here?”

“Because!” He began pacing again. “That motherfucker did it again!”

“When!?”

“This morning!”

“Let me get this straight. You were allegedly raped in your sleep, beat up your rapist, mugged him, threatened his life then went back and slept in the same house as him.”

“Yeah.”

“And how did he come to give you another blowjob? You weren’t still drunk this morning.”

“I was sleeping.”

“And you woke up, again, with Cal blowing you.”

“Yeah.”

“And you finished again, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But I ain’t gay!”

“R.J., why are you here? Why are you telling me this if you don’t want anyone to know?”

“I just wanted you to know what happened in case Cal said anything to you. My way is the way it happened. Not his. Got that?”

“Sure. Got it.”

“Anyway. I’m leaving town in a few days. Going back home. Maybe it’s better there now, you know?”

“I doubt it. But it’s bound to be better than getting raped in your sleep. Where are you staying until then?”

“With Cal.”

“And you’re not worried about him blowing you again. Against your will.”

“I told him this morning, before I came over here, that if he did it again, I’d beat him to death.”

“I’m sure he’ll heed that warning.”

See? Sadness makes people do the strangest things.

✶

THINGS WERE LESS WEIRD FOR LEXI AND ME, BUT LIKE CHUCK’S FRIENDS AND FAMILY BACK IN INDIANA, those of us in Vegas had to lean on each other. Lexi and I met every Monday and Thursday for lunch, and if work got in the way of having lunch, we met at Bella’s, which had announced that it would be closing on New Year’s Day. The view was no match for The Great Recession. Many of the homes in the surrounding gated communities were adorned with foreclosure signs on their Xeriscaped lawns.

It was a fittingly dilapidated view for the sordid story that Lexi told me of Cal and R.J.

“It’s like a goddamn blowjob factory in that house,” I said. “Cal Keller’s Blow Job Factory: Now open!”

“It’s the oddest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”

“Can we believe it?”

“It doesn’t make any sense for R.J. to tell me a lie like that out of nowhere.”

“Yeah. I think he was protesting too much. Covering his tracks. Making it seem like rape when really, they’re just two grown men sharing feelings of loss and finding comfort in sleepy blowjobs. I bet R.J. wasn’t even sleeping. That’s just part of the game they play to keep it kinky and exciting and, you know, less homoerotic.”

“Exactly.”

On our way out, Lexi ducked into the restroom. I waited just outside the restaurant and took in the early Vegas winter air. The forthcoming winter and following spring are the best times of year in that city. I was yanked from my reverie when I heard my name being called.

“Neal?”

“Gina.” I hadn’t seen her in nearly two months since Chuck died. “What’re you doing here?” We hugged awkwardly.

“Just, you know, grabbing some dinner. I know this place is closing and, well, I always liked the food.”

“I haven’t seen you around the property. Everything good?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just busy.” She was with a guy who, in that particular light, resembled Chuck. “Oh, sorry, this is my, um, friend Aaron.” We shook hands. “We’ve gone out a couple of times.”

Because of Gina’s surprise, I had momentarily forgotten about Lexi who would no doubt be out of the restroom and standing among us any second. For everyone’s sake, I thought it best to not have the two women see each other. I tried hurrying Gina into the restaurant and out of sight. I opened the door and ushered the couple to the hostess stand.

“That’s great; you’re a handsome couple,” I said. “Try the special tonight. It’s great if you like pasta. Excuse me,” I said to the hostess. “This young, attractive couple would love a table for two. Something romantic, by the window perhaps.”

The hostess looked confused. So did Gina and her date.

“Neal…?” Lexi began.

“Okay, well, I gotta run. Great seeing you. Enjoy your meal,” I said as I backed away, took Lexi’s hand and started leading her out of the restaurant.

“Hi, Lexi,” Gina said.

“Shit,” I said under my breath. I let go of Lexi’s hand as she pulled away.

“Gina.” Lexi looked quizzically at the man standing with the woman who had unintentionally—and unknowingly to both women for the better part of two years—become her mortal enemy.

“How are you? How have you been?” Gina asked.

Lexi broke her stare. “What?”

“How have you been?”

“Good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear. I’ve been good, too.”

“Okay.” It was like she was watching the Hindenburg crash into the Titanic. I took Lexi’s hand again and pulled gently, but she resisted.

“Do you still talk to Lou?” asked Gina.

“Yes.”

“Ever talk to Chuck’s parents?”

“Of course,” she said with a tone slightly peppered with spite.

“Oh.” Gina looked down.

“I don’t know what you thought you had with Chuck, or even what you actually meant to him, but he and I were going to make it.”

“Lexi, come on,” I said.

“Maybe he loved you—he probably did—but he loved me, too. And he loved me since we were kids. And he loved me at the very end. He always loved me through everything, and I always loved him through everything. Everything.” She was crying. Gina had begun crying, too.

“I know,” Gina said. “I couldn’t hold a candle to you, Lexi. I tried, but I couldn’t.”

Lexi had been looking for a fight, but that disarmed her. “What?”

“Even at our best, I knew that somewhere in the back of his mind, he was thinking about you.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you?”

“You’re welcome?”

The women looked at each other a moment as the tension fluctuated and the awkwardness built.

“Are you ready to be seated?” the hostess cut in.

“They are,” I said quickly. “Come on, Lexi.”

As Lexi and I walked out of Bella’s, I heard Gina’s date ask her, “Who’s Chuck?”

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37