#outrageous that only one let us have butch frank

[butchviking]

please postt he fem frank photos......

ok some of these were preexisting u have likely already seen the first two or three but i wanted 2 include all the good ones

[senor-plume]

Shovel (A Short Story)

  He called his wife on the phone. There was nothing else to do.  He had masturbated two times already that day. Not a thing on the television and besides it was raining out. Nothing inside, nothing outside.   She picked up and said hello. The second he heard her voice he regretted calling. He could have gone out and stood naked in the freezing rain. He could have swallowed a fist full of sleeping pills and unplugged the phone. He could have tried to get it up one more time and go for three strikes on hid belly. But he didn't. He called his wife and now it was too late to turn back. "How are you doing Marie?" A loud and long sigh came from the other end. He heard her suck in her breath and he braced himself. "Well, you know the guy downstairs is supposed to shovel the walkway. The motherfucker pays less rent than I do because he's supposed to help around this shithole apartment. I got home from work to find that not only was the sidewalk not done but the son of a bitch never got around to the driveway. I had to park on the street with all the other assholes who live on this godforsaken road. So I went to his apartment to find out why nothing had been done. You know me, Vince, you don't want to piss me off! So I go and bang on his damn door. Blam blam blam blam! His wife answers stinking of booze. That lady is fucked up. Do you remember the time she came up to my place when you were over fixing the sink? She started screaming at me to keep the banging down and I was like "listen lady, my fucking husband is over here fixing my sink and if you don't like the fucking sounds you can kiss my big fat clogged up sink of an ass!" Holy shit that was a riot! Anyway, she opens the door and I ask her why her fucking husband has not shoveled the sidewalk and all. I mean he had 24 hours to get the damned job done. Of course, I didn't say that! I just said: "hey, is Frank around? He was supposed to shovel and all." And then, you know what she said to me? You are not going to believe this. She said that Frank cut his fingers while slicing a fucking ham and got 66 stitches on his left hand! I almost shit myself! So, of course, I asked her how he was doing. Just to be human, you know? She said he was in the tub relaxing with a drink. And you know what this means? Don't you? This means that no one is going to shovel the fucking snow! I'm going to be parking on that street for weeks! Jesus Christ. Why me? Of all the places I could be living, I live in this stink-hole place with a sloppy meat cutter as the handyman idiot." "Why don't you call the landlord and let him know the walkway is not being cleared. I'm sure he would want to know."

"What do you think I am? An idiot or something! I called him. Of course, I called him. Jesus! I called him the second I got my boots off. He said that as long as Frank is laid up..that's what he said! Laid up! What a moron! As long as Frank is laid up that maybe I could shovel for a while. He said he would knock off 30 bucks from the rent. The fucking gall of that fat bastard! Who the fuck does he think I am? Some lesbian butch? I told him to cram it. I said he could stick that rickety old shovel up his over used asshole. That's what I said Vince. So help me, that's what I said. He couldn't believe it! He went silent. Then I said, "No way, Jose" and slammed the phone down. I nearly busted the fucking thing! Haha! So, hell, I don't know what to do. Hey, hold on for a sec."

He heard her put the phone down on the table. He knew that table well. He bought it about 5 summers ago at the local Kmart. He carried the damned thing stuck in some cheap box up two flights of stairs in a horrible heat. Dragged it into the kitchen and put it together by himself. Alone. A very big accomplishment for a man who needs instructions for a hammer. This was supposed to be a surprise for Marie. She had been bitching about the old table ever since she had moved in. She came home that night. Put her keys on the table and without even looking at Vince who was sitting in one of the chairs said: "Jesus, Vincent, where the hell did you dig this nightmare up? Kmart?"

But still, to this day the table sat there. In his old apartment. A testament to his failures. He lit a cigarette and as he placed the match in the tray he heard her cough into his ear. Then curse and then, much to his dismay began to speak again.

"My God. I finally got out of my dress. I don't know why the hell I still, wear this ugly old thing you got me. I do know this though, I have to shave my legs. They are getting mighty hairy. Hey, you still like my legs, Vince? You used to go on and on about how much you adored my legs. Back in the early days. Before it all went to shit. Ain't that right Vince? So, you still like them? Do you think about them when you try to fall asleep on that bed of yours? Do you?" "Yeah, I guess I do. I don't know. Sometimes, I guess." "You guess? You guess? What kind of answer is that? Jesus, Vince. You are and always will be a real twit. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah, twit with a capital T."

  An hour later they hung up, or actually, she hung up on him. Pissed off about something or other. He stripped out of his sweat soaked shirt and decided to have a beer or two. Topless at the kitchen table, Vince sat with the bottle of Miller and stared out the window. The rain had turned to a very light snow. The street lights were just coming on and soon he would have to get ready for work.

  What the fuck happened to me Vince thought. How the hell did I become a third shift jackoff with an insane soon to be ex-wife and a car in danger of being taken away by the bank? It was too much for him apparently as he stood up and with the bottle in his hand, went to the bedroom where he fingered through a stack of books on the floor. In fact, the room was surrounded by books. Like ropes in a boxing ring. All four walls tattooed three feet high with books of every color and size. In no particular order, one could see. He grabbed Albert Camus's 'The Stranger' and flipped through the pages. He put it down and turned around. He put the bottle on the nightstand and walked over to the corner by the window. He kneeled down and searched. After a while, he picked the book he wanted. Terry Anderson's memoir 'Den Of Lions'. He opened the book and found the bent corner and read:

"Prayers in the night hurled fiercely at an absent God; plea's, promises, bargains offered, but no answers."

He picked up a shirt laying on the bed and put it on.

  Eating a bologna sandwich alone at work, Vince sat reading the paper. More bad news. Unemployment up. Riots in Germany. Bombs in the Mideast. The president is still a moron and worst of all the paper yanked Doonesbury from the funny pages after a controversial strip. Garfield is not funny, it's downright depressing he thought to himself. What is this world coming to? He gathered up his empty paper plate and coffee mug. Walked over to the garbage can and threw them in. Shit was rumbling. His stomach felt ill, so he headed off towards the men's room.

On his way, he ran into Marcella. She just lifted herself up from the water fountain and spotted him charging down the hall like a moose. "Vince! Hey hey, you, Moose? How are you?" He slowed down. Stopped actually and greeted her in return. "Marcella. Fine. I am fine. Did you hear about Doonesbury? The paper axed it, man." "I know. I read about it this afternoon when I woke up. It's an outrage! It was always the first thing I'd read when I got the dumb old paper. Hey, you in a hurry? Got time to grab a smoke outside? I'm dying for a cigarette."

His bowels churned. Bologna and depression do not mix. His belly was bursting, screaming for relief. And yet, he said: "For you, my friend, of course. I could use a dose of Turkish gold myself. I just ate."

Marcella smiled and pulled at his arm. "Ok then, Mr. Moose, let's go smoke."

 Outside they stood on the truck delivery station. Pallets laid around them in the snow among the discarded cigarette butts. Just a sliver of moon hiding behind the clouds made it a dark evening. Or morning.  It was around 3 AM and it had stopped snowing. They stood there silently smoking. Vince looked up at the sky. He wanted to see stars but it was impossible. It was too cloudy. "I wish we could see the stars but it's too cloudy." Marcella exhaled a puff of smoke and laughed "What is it with you and the stars? Every time we come out here you always talk about the stars. Just why is that Vinnie?"

Vince flicked his camel into the air. It landed with a suicide grace. He watched it as it slowly went out in the snow. "I don't know. I think I just like things that are far away."

"Interesting Mr. Mooseman. What about me? I'm right next to you. I bet you don't like me, eh?" She smiled and poked her elbow into his side. She laughed. "Well, out with the answer Moosey!"

He stood there silent. He reached into his pocket for another smoke. Lunch break was almost over but there was time for at least one more. He would have to wait two more hours before he could use the bathroom though.

"Marcella, may I ask you a question?" "Sure...why not! It's Friday and I'm in a good mood! But you're not ducking my question are you?" "I'm glad you're in a good mood, Marcella."

He lit the cigarette and put away his lighter. His fingers were getting cold and he wished he had brought his gloves from the car. His head tilted up as his lips opened. "Marcella, do you shovel your own driveway?" She laughed. "No, no. My son does. He's good at it too. Every time it snows, he's on the job! What a silly question, Mr. Moose. Why do you ask?"

He took a drag from his smoke and flicked the half done thing onto the ground. He turned away and began walking back to the building. No reason, he said. Just simply curious.

He opened the door and felt the heat hit him hard. He had a minute left to punch back in. He walked quickly to the time clock. There really was no time to do anything else. --------------------------------