MY LUMBERJACK

Marie was doing a story on lumberjacks. She was worried she would end up surrounded by a group of smelly, unkempt freaks, and she was. She just didn’t expect them to be so hot. She expected more beer guts and excessive body hair, but she was surrounded by happy trails and six packs. It made the smell of man sweat and sawdust bearable. It was easier to ignore their shaggy hair and constant spitting. Okay, maybe not the spitting. That was gross, and she found it difficult to walk without stepping in a loogie. The nasty bastards smoked and chewed tobacco, so they had excessive phlegm, and since they worked outside, they just spit EVERYWHERE!

Yes, she was disgusted by them, until they’d turn around and walk away. Then they’d pick up those axes and start swinging, with their muscles all taut and rippling. She decided to just not walk around.

“Did you want someone to give you a tour?” the foreman asked her.

“Yeah, sure. Will that require me walking through that, though?” she asked pointing to the loogie minefield.

The foreman grimaced. “I’ve never looked down before. That’s gross. Don’t worry; I won’t make you walk through that.” He turned away from her and called to a guy named Anthony.

Now Anthony also had a happy trail and a six pack, but it looked like he’d had a haircut in the last decade, he didn’t smell like tobacco, and he didn’t seem to be hacking up snot. Marie was pleased. She also noticed and was perplexed by his choice of pants. The men all wore tight-fitting jeans, but Anthony’s jeans were a bit baggy. They didn’t sag, they were just loose. She wondered if he ever worried they’d get caught in the machinery.

Before she could say anything, the foreman told Anthony to turn around and promptly tossed her on Anthony’s back like he was a pack mule. “Take Ms. Marie to the processing plant and show her around. Keep her off the ground, it’s nasty out here.”

“Will do, boss,” Anthony answered, like it was perfectly normal to carry women around his workplace on his back.

“Do you do this often?” she asked him.

“Do what?”

“Give women piggyback rides?”

“No, we don’t get many women around here. I suppose if more were here, I’d give more rides. What did you want to see?”

“If we can just follow the path of a felled tree so I can document the process, that’d be good.”

“Alright,” he agreed and walked her to the far end of the plant. “You saw them logging outside, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, over here is where they come in from the yard.”

He proceeded to walk her through the process, and she learned a lot. She also learned that he was the only one who wore baggy pants and would often get teased or scolded for it. He was reminded several times to stay back from the heavy machinery, so his pants wouldn’t get caught in it. He was also taunted about, “Being baggy, because there’s nothing saggy.”

Marie thought the guy who had come up with that phrase was an idiot. She was also surprised that it didn’t seem to faze Anthony at all. They called him Teeny Weenie and teased that he was wearing baggy pants to hide his tiny dick. Marie realized that all the tight-jean-wearing lumberjacks were outlined in their tight pants. She could tell you who hung left and who hung right. It was slightly disturbing, and she was happy to be on the back of the only person who didn’t seem to be putting his penis out there for show.

By the end of the day, she was happy to get out of there, but when Anthony set her down by her car, she watched him stretch and pop his back.

“I’m so sorry. I was so distracted by what was going on, I totally overlooked that I was such a huge burden on you. Let me buy you dinner. It’s the least I could do,” she offered him.

“That’d be really nice, thank you. I just need to clock out. Would you like to just meet at the local diner?” he asked.

It was an hour later that they met up at the diner. Anthony had showered and smelled very nice. His black pants were loose, but not as baggy as the ones he had worn to work.

“You clean up really nice,” she said in greeting.

“Thank you, you look great,” he complimented her in return.

They had a nice dinner and enjoyed each other’s company. At the end when she tried to pay, he stole the bill and insisted. He was such a sweet gentleman all through dinner; she invited him back to her place.

They sat on her couch, and she could tell Anthony was nervous, but she wanted to give him the go-ahead to kiss her. She finally just took matters into her own hands and planted one on him. He smiled and kissed her back lightly.

“Is this okay?” she worried.

“Yeah,” he said a little shy. He was so damn cute. He spent all day around crude, gross men, and he was so bashful and shy. It was then she realized that he might be self-conscious about what he had in his pants. He was teased all day in front of her. She needed to reassure him somehow.

She ran her hand down his chest, tickling his abs. She loved those abs. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t look down, hoping to help him keep up his confidence. “Anthony, have you ever heard the saying, ‘It’s not the size of the marker that counts, but how you scribble?’” she asked him.

He looked at her confused. “Do you want to color something?” He looked at her refrigerator, where a poorly-drawn horse was talking to a cat. It had been drawn by Marie’s niece, who was no artist, unless she was going for abstract. Otherwise, the picture just looked like a guy sitting on a bat and vomiting an orange blob.

“No, I don’t want to color. What I was trying to say is…” how did she reassure him without sounding like a whore? “It’s not the size of the sausage, but the way it’s stuffed.”

He looked at her even more confused. They had just eaten. “Are you hungry again?”

“No, no, um…It’s not the size of the pipe, but how it’s plumbed,” she tried again.

His brow furrowed, but Anthony was determined to figure out what the hell she was getting at. “Maybe give me one more,” he encouraged.

She decided it was best to be blunt. The massive amounts of sawdust must have addled his brain. “It’s not the size of your dick that counts, but how you use it.”

His eyes popped wide. “That’s what you were talking about?” he asked shocked.

She giggled and leaned in to kiss him. Now that he knew what she wanted, he was eager to please.

“Marie,” he whispered as he groped her, “I know the size of my ax doesn’t matter to you, just the way I swing it, but I have a pretty damn big ax.”

She looked at him wide-eyed, as he guided her hand down to the front of his pants. He wasn’t kidding. His once-loose pants were very tight; at least they were all down the left pant leg. “Whoa!”

“Yeah, that’s why I wear the baggy pants. I can’t walk in anything else.”

“Wow, that’s a really nice ax.”

He gave her a big grin. “Thank you. How about you let me do some swinging?”

“Yes!” she agreed eagerly.

When she wrote up her report on the lumber mill, she went very in-depth on the different ax-swinging techniques. She knew Anthony would read it and truly appreciate the amount of thought she put into it.

And he did…repeatedly.

By Savannavansmutsmut

Timber

Timber

This must be the place, the event sign reads "15th Annual Lumberjack  Competition and Festival". I park my Hummer H2 and shake my head, only here would I not get teased about my choice of vehicle. I like my cars like my men big, strong and endurance ready.

I walk up to the ticket center and provide my name to a very curvy and bottom heavy cashier. She squeals and with a country twang yells "Well who do you know Missy? You've got yourself here an all inclusive V.I.P ticket , umm humm". I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders and laughing lightly ask her what does all inclusive include?
Excitedly she explains "Well everythang sugar!"
Booze? I ask back
"Ev-ery tha-ng" she enunciates.
Well damn, I'm going to have to give Julio a big fat thank you when I see him.
I beeline straight to the bar area, flash my VIP gold card and place my order. One Kamikaze downed before it even settles in front of me. Next I request a double amaretto sour, I start sipping on that while simultaneously motioning to the bartender for another. (Don't judge me, I come from a long line of "professional drinkers").
I even earned some serious cash in college by betting against and out drinking guys that were two to three times my size. And today my friends would be no different.

Deciding to check the competition out I request an extra tall amaretto sour light ice. Walking around the festival with my drink in hand, I spot all types of characters from shorties to the buff and beautiful; some thin fellas as well as lumberjack girls.  But nothing and I mean nothing could have prepared me for the gorgeous creature ahead of me.  He was splitting logs like he was conducting a freaking orchestra, effortless. The heavens opened, light shown on him and I swear I heard the angels sing "Ave Maria".

This perfect specimen of man was slinging the axe like it was nothing. T-shirt off wearing jeans with suspenders and boots only, the visual alone was enough for me to cum on the spot. Just as I completed the thought he lifts his head and our eyes met and holy shit did he just wink at me?

There's no way, right?  And just like that he's back to splitting logs, one after the other.  I try to pull myself together and act as if in that moment,  I didn't just pick out my wedding gown and the baby names of our future children. Shit that man was hot! But, It's time to replenish my drink. 
The crowd is yelping and hooting, looks like Mr. Future Husband just won. I smile and move on to the next spot, this festival is amazing.

After about an hour I walk in one of the bar/pub areas. I take a look around and I am a kid in a candy store. Most of the guys here appear to be single, at least the ones I was undressing with my eyes. 

Most have beards or goatee's but i really enjoy a nice clean face. Four Amaretto Sour doubles later and I push off the bar and start in the direction of a tall, dark complexion, bald fellow with no facial hair. Nice and thick in all the right places, at least I hoped. 

As usual my  preoccupied thoughts made me lose focus and I clumsily bump into one hell of a beautiful beast. Tall, ripped, olive complexion an absolute demi god with short wavy jet black hair. It's HIM; with a  gleam in his eyes he looks down at me and smiles. The wicked smile on his face as he held me face to chest told me several things,  #1 he was definitely a good time #2 He liked what he saw and #3 he was going to be mine.

Too much to drink, little lady? He questioned  in a deep velvety voice that made my panties melt right off of my body. With that comment I collected myself in a huff, "That handsome is very unlikely", I retorted. 

"Really? Because I seem to remember  you downing 4 tall drinks Amaretto Sour ring a bell? And before that ? I'll guess another and probably a Kamikaze  shot?" 

Still wrapped in his arms I say as calmly as I could "Why Sir, Are you following me?", I say in an exaggerated false astonishment. 

He replies with a simple sentence that immediately has my pussy purring. "I've had my eye on you ever since you walked in".
I now realize he is still holding me I coolly look at his hands holding me at this point up and I raise an eyebrow. He catches my drift and chuckles lightly and says "If I let you go, are you sure you won't fall in your inebriated state?" 

I realize that comment offends me. I am actually offended. 
I casually retort "I'm no where near inebriated, thank you. In fact Sir I would challenge you to try and catch up with me but, you appear to be full of assumptions and we all know what happens when you assume," I finish with a raised eyebrow. 
Chuckling lightly he calls the bartender over and orders two double Amaretto Sours we clink glasses together and drink up.
 The drinks keep coming and I am in my element all eyes are on me. Soon this tall thick tree will fall and wait.... I didn't bet any money. Well I will rectify that immediately. 
The next round of drinks come and before I take a sip i say " You know normally I make a wager.  How about $500.00 says I walk out of here no problem as sober as I came in. He retorts how about $500.00 says you walk out of here wobbling. 

I think this over and say "You're on!"
With those words the entire bar goes wild. Money is flying everywhere bets are being placed. I pull out five 100 dollar bills and he does the same, approximately six drinks in and my tiny bladder calls. I promise to return after receiving directions from the bar staff I make my way to what is labeled as "The Hens House". 

Taking my time and checking my make up, I think I sure hope I'm not wasting my time. Maybe I should be watching the games but I can't walk away now, never have I walked away from a bet and I sure as shit won't start today.

With one final check I open the Hen House door only to be met by Mr. Demigod himself. "I was beginning to think you fell in" he teases as he towers over me. "Miss me did you, Sir?, How is it i still don't know your name?" 

"It's Brenden and you don't have to call me Sir if you don't want to, you can call me handsome again". He smiles this amazing megawatt smile with perfectly white teeth."

"Down Kitty, down" I mentally chastised my vagina. 
With three inch platform construct boots on, Brenden is still towering over me and is now moving in for a kiss. Thank you, thank you, all things holy in the universe, he leans in and I reach up to close the gap when I hear a loud EXCUSE ME! Well that snaps me back into reality. 

Walking back to the bar I place my hand on Branden's shoulder and whisper "You know you can fold now if you want and we can get back the the games or more important things." Inwardly I'm hoping he'd agree to the latter.

He appears to search my face and thinking he says "How about one more drink" with those words he really takes a look at me. As if we didn't just sit here for almost two hours with playful banter and all. But his intense search of my body and face is suddenly making me feel self conscious.

What is he thinking?   I don't dare look away; instead I reach for my glass and enjoy all that is him and the heat that is generating between us. He's staring at my face and head, as if he could see my brain and all things inside it.  I have this tingly sensation my spidey senses are going off but my libido is over riding it. "Shit, I wish I was riding him" and just as I think this he smiles and says "drink up!" I do what he says but that nudging in the back of my head continues. He takes my hand and the crowd says their "Awe's and Boo's" he just waves his hand in the air and says "Another time fellas" as he guides me through the now packed bar.

It's there again that nudge, my brain is slowly putting pieces together. He takes me to a key card entry spacious office which is the size of some apartments, where he starts to make another Amaretto Sour at the wet bar. I try to play cool and walk around the spacious room. 

Awards and photos decorate the walls, Mr. Lumberjack  2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 through 2014, he's on the cover of Men's Health no shirt, veins bulging jeans hanging off of his waistline with an axe in hand suspenders hanging. Well damn that's one hell of a picture. The caption reads "Most eligible bachelor 2012-2015, Mr. Universe 2010, a Masters degree and many more shiny gold or crystal awards, recognitions blah, blah blah. I then read the name Brandon Fraiser-Garner trying to appear unimpressed I asked are these all yours? He tilted his head in acknowledgement.  And again with the tingly scalp I nonchalantly scratch my scalp and meet him halfway as he brings me my drink.

"Are you impressed he asks?" "Should I be?" I ask in an attempt to divert from answering and take a sip and it's delicious my girly parts purr again in appreciation. He has this mischievous smile on his face. 

"What's so funny I ask?" "You" he states. "Me?" "Yes, your such a contradiction." "Really?" I reply "How so?" In a matter of fact all business way he says "Your thoughts don't match your outer expressions or actions. I find you absolutely amusing and refreshing". "My thoughts? I say what do you know about my".... that's when it hits me. The nudging, the crackle of electricity, the easy banter. "Witch!"

His reply is quick "I prefer Warlock". "Really" I say? As I shut my mind down like it's Fort Knox. "Well, Sir I'm glad to have amused you tonight." I finish off my drink and and  make a quick pivot to exit the way I came in. (I do not like games and I hate losing) I make a quick dash for the door but he's faster.

He blocks me, like a brick wall I slam against his chest and into his strong arms as they wrap around me. I get a whiff of his absolute essence, the gods are good. His scent... it's all consuming, a sensory overload and I involuntarily lick my lips as a moan slips from my lips"Ummm" and practically purr.

"Where are you going? Don't leave just yet. "he says.
With another whiff of him i inhale deeply and nod my head.
Brenden explains "When I saw you walk in today and then stumble into my arms, well I knew I had to have you. In. here. In. my. office. Over. my. desk. In. my. chair. On my. couch. On. the. wall. On. my. rug. Everywhere. on. every. inch. of. my. office I want. you. I want you wobbling out of here like I bet you would, intoxicated off of my dick".
And that was all it took.

A true lady never tells all.
To be continued. .....

~Victoria Maundrell

1-27-12

A SAFE PLACE TO STAND

My mother had always been a busy woman. I remembered even as a baby hanging on to her legs, watching people race around her. She was always careful not to step on me with her fancy shoes and never was upset if I spit up on them. I was her angel, her perfect little boy. She took me on business trips and conferences. More than once, she had run out of diapers for me and just pinned a hotel towel on my bum until she had a chance to get more.

As I grew, she always had a place for me set up in her office. She always kept me close to her. I went from a blanket to a playpen to a cozy corner to a desk of my own. Each time, it was always portable and easy to move. I never paid much attention to my mother’s work until I was ten.

She seemed more stressed than usual. I had just finished my school assignments and made my way over into her workspace. She used to not have a workspace, but when I got to that talkative stage, she made a circle around her desk and told me I had to wait to be invited in before I spoke to her.

I hated that circle, especially today. I stood stoically waiting for her to look up from her desk. She had been snapping at the person over the phone, telling them good luck finding her and taking her down. She had slammed the phone down and started to cry. After two minute of frustration, I finally broke the rules and crossed the line, literally.

I moved to her side, touching her shoulder first to see if it was okay and then gently wrapping my arms around her. She cried into my side for a moment and pulled herself together. “You love me, baby, don’t you?” she asked me.

I smiled widely, “Of course, Mom, I love you the best.”

She pulled me into her lap, even though I was too big for it, and I let her. She gently moved the bangs from my face. “There are so many mean people out there, baby. I don’t ever want you to have to deal with them.”

“Is that why I always stay with you? Why I do school at home?” I asked.

She smiled widely, “That’s exactly why, baby. You’re so much better than them. They don’t deserve to know you.”

I gave her a hug, not fully understanding what she had said at the time and asked if I could play cars in her circle. She smiled, telling me yes and I quickly moved under the desk at her feet. Since I had learned to crawl, I spent my best times under her desk leaning on her legs as I played. I knew she was there and she knew I was there, too, but we were doing our own thing, just being together.

When I was fifteen, I obviously didn’t fit under the desk anymore, but that didn’t stop me from sitting on the floor next to her and leaning on the side of her leg as I read the latest novel she had picked up for me. She would frequently pat my head and smile down at me as we both worked in silence.

I was sitting behind the desk out of sight one night when someone came bursting into the office. I was about to get up to see who it was when she put her hand on my head and ushered me underneath her desk as she moved out from behind it.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a strong angry tone. She didn’t sound afraid, which made me feel safe.

“I’ve come to ask you why you’re doing this, Grace. Why must you come after and destroy everything I worked for.”

She laughed at the man. I could tell she didn’t think he was funny, though. “You’re the one that told me five years ago that you would destroy MY LIFE, my business, everything! Do you remember that phone call? The one where you shouted at me! Threatened me! That was the day I decided to give up on you. That was the day I decided you would never be good enough for us and you needed to be taken out!” she shouted at him.

“So this is about vengeance. You’re one crazy bitch, you know that? You always have been and you’ll never take away my family’s business, I won’t let you! You were a poor whore when I met you and that’s all you’ll ever be to me!” he shouted back.

My mother started laughing again and I heard her walk over to her little mini fridge and get herself a bottle of water. “Oh, Carl, you’re so dense. Your ‘family’ business is already mine. Your grandfathers are dead, your uncle is gone, your father is senile, and I’ve proven that you have a drug problem and are not fit to run the business. So, as guardian of the only living heir, the business falls to me.”

I tried to process what she was saying, but I didn’t understand it.

“Heir?  There’s no heir, you crazy fucking bitch, what kind of shit have you been trying to pull?” he shouted. I heard something crash to the ground and quickly jumped up to save my mother, but she wasn’t the one that needed saving. She was the one that had thrown the vase at the guy.

The man wiped the water from his face and for the first time that evening, we got a good look at each other. I stood stunned, looking at the man before me. He had my nose, my eyes, my chin, my hair. I looked over at my mother confused.

“Richard, meet your son. His name is Taylor and he’s the new president of your company.  Now get out of my office.”

The man stood looking at me stunned. His eyes narrowed for a moment at my mother. “How long have you been planning this?”

She shook her head at him. “I didn’t, obviously,” she said motioning to me, “But here he is and we were content until you got pissy about me ‘stealing your business’ while trying to make a few deals. I was just trying to support our son!” she snapped. “When you threatened to ruin me, you threatened my baby as well and NO ONE messes with my son. Now get out. You brought this on yourself, you snobby, selfish, white-collared bastard. You just got owned by a backwoods waitress that you didn’t give two fucks about and never looked back at. Now get out!” she shouted.

He glared at her and then shot me another confused look before he ran out.

“Mom?” I asked.

She waved her hand at me, “Just, not now, please.”

I nodded and she went back to her seat at the desk and I sat down on the floor next to her, picking up my book as I leaned on her knee. She reached down, giving me a watery smile. “Never think that I haven’t always loved having you underfoot, baby. You’re the only reason I made something of myself. You made me fight to make our lives better so don’t ever for one second consider your existence a mistake,” she leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

“Was that jerk my dad?” I asked.

She let out a sigh, slouching in her desk chair. “Yes, and I loved him at one time, but I was never good enough for his family so he left and never looked back. Thankfully, he left me you,” she said cupping my cheek and I knew then that it didn’t matter who my father was. I would always have my mother.

At the age of eighteen, I took over my family’s business. There were some very disgruntled distant cousins that were sure they would get the Talcon throne, but there was no fighting direct linage. I was the heir; the stock shares and business were mine. My mother supported me and had been training me for this for the past eight years.  So even though I felt overwhelmed at times, I still knew what I was doing. She was always there to help me through everything.

When I was twenty-three, there was a woman from the local coffee shop that always smiled at me and just her smile made me feel good the rest of the day. My mother, being so close to me, noticed and I finally confessed to wanting to ask this Mandy girl out.

At the age of twenty-four, my mother cried at my wedding. Mandy was just a lowly coffee barista, but she made me happy and despite the board members’ protests, my mom insisted I do what made me happy and that was marrying my girl.

At twenty-five, I became a father. I had a son and suddenly the board didn’t care that Mandy wasn’t a snob; she had given them an heir. She was suddenly loved by all, but most of all, me. I liked to keep her close and finally convinced her to work as my personal assistant.

I stood from her chair and walked over to the cabinet to grab a map for my latest project as my son pulled himself up on her legs, looking at me through them. I couldn’t help but smile and remember my own safe place. I would give my son everything, just like my mother had given me. He would always have a person to lean on and a leg to stand with. He would always have us.

~Rose Von Barnesley

****************************************************************************

“Look, see here? I told you I had photographic evidence.” When I told my best friend Alanna not to date my brother it was for good reason. I want to keep her as my friend. I’ve lost plenty of friends my entire life because of him. I love my older brother but I know what most women don’t, He is a PLAYER! Yes, he good looking. Yes, he is a smooth talker. Yes, he can make you feel like the only woman in the world, but he also says makes every woman feel like that. He has been a ladies man since the day he was born. I was breast fed for my first 6 months of life. Mom says she breast-fed Matthew until he was 2! How crazy is that? He was the cutest baby and he knew it. Any woman who held him got their boob grabbed. Any woman who wore a skirt, Matthew found a way to get a good view. Now he has decided to put the moves on my best friend and I was going to do my best from preventing that from happening.

~ Selene de Modelo  

1-6-12

Carlos was sick of people not believing he had a homing bull. Everyone was always going on about homing pigeons, but a homing bull was so much more secure and no one would intercept his bull and try and steal his message like a homing pigeon.

“Really, Juan, it’s the only way to go. No one messes with my homing bull.”

Juan rolled his eyes and looked at Diego, “You really think he trained a bull to bring him messages?”

“He’s nuts if he did. Why on earth would you do that?” Diego asked Carlos.

“Because it’s the most secure way to communicate.” Wasn’t that obvious to them?

“Have you ever tried email?” Juan asked.

“It can be hacked!” Carlos snapped throwing up his hands. His email getting hacked was the reason this whole bull idea came about. No one would ever post pictures of him and his Mrs. Fluffy all over the internet again! Thank heavens they believed they were photo shopped or else it would have ruined his political career. Truth was he often enjoyed bath time with Mrs. Fluffy and needed a new safe way to speak to her when he was away on government business.

“I don’t believe a man can have control over such a beast, Carlos. I’d like to see you call this homing bull of yours,” Diego challenged.

Carlos put his hands up and called his big friend, happy to see he was sporting a message for his master.

The giant beast came running and leapt over the first wall and was halfway over the second when he got stuck, but it was no matter. Carlos was close enough to grab the note.

“Fire wall, that’s all I’m saying,” Juan complained as the smelly beast farted right next to his face.

“Where can I get one of those?” asked a woman sitting behind them. “I could use a more secure way to communicate, too.”

Carlos smiled widely at his two friends like he had just proved his point as he removed the new picture of his naked Fluffy. Aw…he could wait to get home to her now.  His homing bull was the best idea he’d ever had.

~Rose von Barnsley

****************************************************************************

Ding Dong The Jerk Is Dead

I walked into work as I normally do on Mondays; sunglasses on, head down and hung over. I definitely did not want to be there, coming to work was getting harder and harder for me. Although I was popular in High School (for all the wrong reasons)coming to work always made me feel as if I never left that shitty Hicksville High.

As I clocked in hating life and hating my sleazy boss James; who would cop a feel anyway he could and always by “accident”, nothing I could ever nail him with. God how many times I wished he would crash and burn on his way to work, get hit by a bus, walk into a grocery store as it was getting robbed. Oh, how I day dreamed of ways to end his life. But every day he came to work,and my prays UNANSWERED.

Unfortunately for me my desk was next to the water cooler and Hansel and Gretel (Thats not their real names, I just never cared to learn their Aryan names)the gossips were hanging around the cooler blabbing away.

Hansel: Yes Gretchen, (so I was close) yes just like I say, we were all in Spain and James being da biggest nin com put ever, wore a red tie to da show. Ya, and we were sitting right dah in de front row. And all of da sudden James was gone and in his place was de giant bull. Ya and I could think of a betta person to have had dis happen to.

Gretchen/Gretel: What do you mean Hans? Where did he go?

Hans/Hansel: What? He’s gone Gretchen gone. The kila!(Sweddish for Jerk Off), he go to meet his makah. Ya.

Gretchen: He’s dead?

Hans: Hello? Missy Mc Fly have you not listen to de story? The bull run up onto him and he’s die.

Before I knew what I was doing, I jumped up shouting “What did you say Hansel?”

Hansel: Dat James die in Spain? He said as he shrugged his shoulders.

I jumped on him, wrapping my legs around him crying and shedding tears of joy. Blubbering “Thank you God, Thank you.” Then it occurred to me… Damn, Hansel is built!

Trying to control myself and regain some sort of composure,I slid off of him feeling something hit my “spot” I assumed it was his belt that was until I noticed a very prominent bulge in Hansel’s pants. He was definitely built in all the right places.

Right then and there I knew coming to work would take on a whole new meaning.

FIN

~ Victoria Maundrell 

12-30-11

The Game Of Life

What do you mean you’ve decided to go with a “different look” ?

Do you know who I am? 

WELL DO YOU?

I AM AN I. CON.

Where’s Richard? 

WHERE IS HE? 

I am Barbara Millicent Roberts and I refuse to be treated this way!

I AM NOT GOING TO DEAL WITH THE LIKES OF YOU ANYMORE, YOU SNOT NOSED BRAT!! Babs shouted as she pointed a gloved finger in Richards face.

How old are you ANYWAYS!! (She continued to rant) I can still smell the breast milk on your BREATH!!

Babs took a moment to compose herself and took a few cleansing breaths, silently grateful she enrolled in those anger management classes on Tuesday nights.

Slightly composed Babs says “Now be a dear and run along and get your father for me.” as she smoothed her perfectly pressed pencil skirt and took off her white gloves to show her flawless manicured talons.

Babs was in rare form and Jackson was putting on one hell of a show to appear cool, calm and collected.

While Jackson’s outer appearance was Oscar worthy, the rest of the board members of Mattel were all showing signs of discomfort.

Everyone knew of Babs, Barbie’s hard life.

Starting off in the industry at such a young age was not easy. Being “Barbie” the role model for every little girl globally became too much for the young girl from the small town of Willows Peak, Wisconsin. As hard as she tried to be the American girl people expected her to be, it all came to a crumble in the 80’s.

Barbie joined a Rock band The Rockers who introduced her to drugs and alcohol. 

Shortly after she got pregnant by her on and off again boyfriend Ken Carson who she later found in the bed with a male “friend”. After this discovery Barbie went into a downward spiral. Her daughter Skipper was taken from her after neighbors reported her as a negligent mother. Skipper was then raised by Barbie’s mother back in Wisconsin as her own daughter. 

Unfortunately this wasn't the end or “rock bottom” for her. She later reconnected with Ken who had a great idea on how to make some “real” money. He introduced her to his homeboy “Steven”, who ran an upscale escorting service. Steven introduced Barbie to the “crew”  Teresa, Midge, Christie, Todd and Stacey. Here she filled all kinds of fantasy’s from housewife to astronaut. But something was missing Barbie craved the bright lights.

Ever since then she has tried to regain her role as the leading lady in the industry. But, drugs, stress,alcohol abuse and her unconventional lifestyle have aged and tarnished the star drastically.

No one at this table had the heart to tell the old girl she was washed up and needed to accept this or that the Richard she keeps requesting every day around the same time was dead and had been for over ten years. No one bothered anymore it was useless she was a broken record stuck in a different time, a time when she was an icon and every little girl wanted to be her a time before drugs, men or Skipper a time before she lost her mind.

Fin-

Victoria Maundrell

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Delusional Reflections

This is worse than insulting! I can’t believe they had the audacity to make such an offensive creature and put my name on it. As if I would ever look that disgustingly old. I stormed into my room wielding the action figure I had commission to celebrate my rule over the kingdom.  I had already sent the crafter to be beheaded.  I threw the doll across the room screaming.

I pulled myself together and walked over to my beloved mirror to make myself feel beautiful, “Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” I asked.

My old friend shimmered into existence smiling at me, “You of course my queen. There is no one fairer in the land.”

I sighed in relief, “Thank you mirror.  I needed that.”

“No need to thank me your highness. You ask a question you get an answer.”

“Yes, I am so glad you are here. Come look at this disgusting old hag they made into a doll. I swear it is uglier than when I changed myself into a crotchety old woman to sell poison apples.”

“I am sure you are mistaken.” The mirror said nervously. “No one would dare create such a likeness. They must know they would lose their heads.”

“That they did.”  I said picking up the doll holding it up to the mirror to see.

The mirror grimace and I stood shocked gaping at the sight. In the reflection the doll was a beautiful perfect likeness of me.

“Mirror what is this trickery? I am trying to show you the doll stop with your tricks!” I shouted.

My old friend shivered and shimmered and moments later the dolls actual likeness came into view. I looked at my own reflection appalled, “Mirror, why have you reflected such a disgusting hag! I do not look like this doll! You yourself say I am the fairest in the land.”

“Yes, well, you do look part albino. I really don’t know anyone who is fairer than you. You must use mass amounts of sunscreen to keep from frying.”

“NO, NO, I AM BEAUTIFUL!” I scream throwing my doll at the mirror.

“Oh I never said that. I said fair and you are overly pale. I keep thinking you are going to drop dead but you just keep coming back. How are you not a corpse yet?” The mirror asked.

I ripped the mirror from the wall and smash it on the ground furious at its lies and trickery.

I heard a sigh from the floor. I saw its mouth in the broken glass.

“This is exactly why I didn’t show you. I hope you cut yourself on me you old hag!” It shouted and then disappeared in a puff of smoke and left the broken glass unenchanted on the floor.

“Devil mirror, I am not hag, I am beautiful! Guard!” I shouted. “Tell me I am beautiful.” I ordered.

He bowed at my feet, “Of course my queen, you are the fairest in the land.”

“WHAT!” I screamed offended, “Off with his head!”

It was time I got myself a tan.

~ Rose Von Barnesly

12-23-11 *Updated*

Cat Scratch Fever

I’ve finally found her my dream girl Stefon came in screaming as he twirled around and around. While blasting some God awful song from his computer about loving cats. She’s gorgeous and well educated and she loves cats, did you here me Mister Millie she loves cats. Stefon went on excitedly about his new E-Harmony date. Mister Millie appeared uninterested and found a few stray hairs on his luxurious coated that he needed to tend to (lick, lick).

Mister Millie thought to himself why does he even bother torturing himself, poor sap thinks every date is the big one. The Misses Right. But, for him It never happens and it probably never will. Mister Millie continues his internal rant as he lays on his back admiring his delicate paws as he recanted. First it was Christy with the uni-brow who loved all animals, BUT cats. Then it was that nice Caribbean lady who was already MARRIED. Then that granny who tried to steal me and lied about her age.

Poor, poor Stefon since he posted our new Christmas photo the inquiries were less and less on his dating page. I tried to tell him he should use just himself as the profile pic but he insisted on using that one saying we were a package deal.

Noticing the time Stefon pàda-boùray and kick ball chained his way to his bedroom to get ready for his date. Mister Millie had never seen Stefon act so excitedly about a date before. This intrigued Mister Millie and so Mister Millie followed Stefon to his office where Stefon was checking his E-Harmony page for any updated messages from tonights date.

Stefon was a really good guy the kind that always finished last, the guy that every girl just wants to be friends with. I mean he wasn't ugly by any stretch but at the age of 38 he was already balding with a receding hairline. He was built physically 6’2 230 lbs, muscular but for some reason girls found him strange. They didn't understand why a grown man would pampered his cat Mister Millie as if he was a child and often brought him on second dates . (That’s if he made it that far)

Stefon retired early after doing well in the software business. He inherited Mister Millie from his dead grandmother and loved him as he was the only living connection he had of his last known family member. Women never understood his love and the connection he had with Mister Millie because they never got that far with him; always judging the book by its cover. Stefon figured if they were going to immediately judge him then they weren't for him. Mister Millie recalled as he purred and rubbed his back on Stefon’s leg. Stefon noticing the affection the over-sized and over groomed cat was giving him, so he gently picked up all 30 lbs of Mister Millie and whispered I know this one is IT Mister Millie just watch. Mister Millie watched in awe as he saw a very good looking but emotional woman talk about her love for cats and how she just wants to take all cats and dress them up. Mister Millie just sat still in shock as his eyes turned heart shaped, he knew Stefon had finally met his match. And Mister Millie was in love too.

Watch Stefon’s dates E-Harmony video:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTTwcCVajAc

And of course the Re-Mix video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sP4NMoJcFd4&feature=related

FIN-Victoria Maundrell

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Michael was sick of all the stupid Christmas postcard pictures he kept getting. It was like the world was shouting at him that he was a lonely loser.  His girlfriend of four years had stayed out all night again, not bothering to let him know if she was home safe, leaving him to babysit her stupid cat again. He was sure she loved that damn thing more than him and decided if it was so deserving of being loved, he might as well make sure everyone he ever met in his life knew that he hadn’t killed the smelly beast. 

Yes, it would be like his silent postcard to Santa. See, Santa, I haven’t killed the devil cat. I was good so bring me something good this year, too, he thought.

He grabbed the cat and went to the local studio where the stupid photographer ate up the idea of shooting the cat. Michael wished he could shoot the cat, just not with the camera. The man even dug out a little Santa hat and snapped away, helping Michael really get into the shots.

In the end, it was a toss-up between the picture with the cat in the Santa hat and the one with Michael wrestling naked with a ball of yarn playing with the kitty. In the end, the Santa hat won out.

He quickly made his way to the post office and bought the postcard stamps and ran his freshly purchased pictures through his printer so they would be sent to everyone in his address book.

He threw them all into the mailbox with glee and stormed back to his house where he started throwing all of the picture Christmas cards into the fire. “I’ll show you!” he cackled to himself.

It wasn’t two days later that the calls started rolling in.

“Son, what have you done?” his mother cried, “A Santa hat? We’re Jewish!”

His Rabbi called worried for his soul, along with half of the temple congregation.

He had a lot to answer for, but instead of saying anything, he just shook his head. “I should have gone with the yarn picture. It wouldn’t have raised as much of a ruckus.”

~Rose Von Barnesly

****************************************************************************

The start of Puss in Boots.

Puss wanted nothing more than to wear Funny hats and Clothing. His original owner Robby seemed to understand his Feline friend and would dress him up for every occasion. Birthdays, Easter, St Patricks day, and Christmas. As you can tell Puss was a very happy Kitty in all of his funny hat splendor.

Sadly on day his beloved human was killed in a horrible knitting accident, while he was hard at work on his new costume. A knitting needle to the jugular later and Puss was now an orphan. He found the last work of Robby’s which was a Small pirate hat and boots. THIS Is how he became Puss in Boots!

~Jennifer Thornton 


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Holiday Date

There is nothing worse than showing up to a family holiday gathering without a special someone attached to your arm.  This year I was determined not to go this alone. Unfortunately for me, I made this decision only 6 weeks before Christmas. With limited time to spare, I hopped on the Internet with the hopes of finding a quick date. I could not afford to pay for a date so I decided to just use a dating website. I knew I wanted to find someone who at least had the same interests as I did. That way I could do my best to pass this off as a real date.

After just a few days I found a guy I thought was a perfect guy. His name was Tim. He was tall with dark eyes. He was balding on top but that was fine. Everything else about him just seemed to fit for me. He was even a lover of cats. It’s hard to find a man that has a genuine love for the feline friend.

Tim and I went on a few dates. I began to enjoy spending time with him. We would talk on the phone for hours. He really seemed like an amazing person. After our fifth date, just one week before Christmas, Tim asked me back to his home. I was actually excited to see his humble abode.  He lived in a comfortable loft just outside of Manhattan. After giving me the grand tour, Tim introduced me to his “son” Tigger. I thought it was really cute that he referred to his cat as his son. Tim told he had to use the bathroom and would be right back. Once he was out of site I took the time to snoop around. I really wanted to get a better look at the wall of photos he had. As I got closer I noticed that many of the photos were of Tigger. When I came face to face with his wall I realized that every single photo was of Tigger! In the center of all the photos was a professional photo taken of Tim and Tigger for the holidays.

This was just too much. I grabbed my purse and ran out of his place and didn’t look back.


I guess I was going stag to Christmas dinner, again.

~Selene de Modelo 


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An excerpt from

FOR OLD TIME SAKE

A future story by Dollybigmomma

An excerpt from

FOR OLD TIME SAKE

A future story by Dollybigmomma

I was so glad Christmas was finally over.  I had no idea how allergic to mistletoe I was until I had to take it down from all over the center where Edgar had pinned it in every doorway he could get to.  A trip to the dermatologist and pharmacy later and I was finally not trying to claw the hide off my body for the first time in two days.

Edward came in pushing Mrs. Tucker in her wheelchair.  They were both laughing as she showed him some pictures she had gotten in the mail.

“It’s good to see James is doing so well,” Edward grinned.  “He was always telling us stories about that cat of his roommate, Ken.  I guess he finally made peace with it.”

“Oh, my dear boy, I’m so happy you and my Jimmy were such good friends in college.  He’s such a sweet boy, but he always just seemed so…I don’t know, different somehow,” Mrs. Tucker said looking confused.  “Anyway, he and Kenneth are coming to see me today and I have a surprise for him,” she winked and glanced at me.  “I’m going to introduce him to Miss Bella,” she whispered loudly.  “I think they’d be perfect for each other,” she beamed.

“Oh, is that so?” Edward said grinning even wider.  “Well, I’m sure he and Miss Bella will have a lot in common and get along swimmingly,” he said and it looked like he was trying to hold in a major fit of giggles.

I couldn’t help my curiosity about what they were talking about so I wandered over to join their conversation.  “So, what are you two plotting?  Planning on cheating at bingo again, Edward?  I’m going to have to sit in and monitor your activities this time.  You and Edgar darned near started a riot the last game.  You know you’re setting a bad example for him, right?” I said sarcastically.  “The ladies might take turns beating him next time.”

“Yeah, like he wouldn’t enjoy that. Granddad can hold his own, Bella.  Besides, I think you’re going to be busy this afternoon.  Mrs. Tucker’s grandson, James, is coming by with his roommate for a visit.  He was actually a friend of mine in college.  He’s a really nice guy, a real…straight shooter,” Edward said through barely-suppressed giggles.  “Mrs. Tucker here thinks you two might hit it off.  I know you two have a lot in common.  If I remember correctly, James loves to bake, he’s an avid gardener, and he collects dolls.  You two will likely become an item before the evening is out,” Edward said positively vibrating now with silent giggles.  God, could this man be any more immature?

“He sounds lovely, Mrs. Tucker.  I’ll be sure to show him around, and I’ll even make him a cup of my special chocolate,” I smiled and Mrs. Tucker squealed a little excited.  Poor thing.

“You know, maybe he and his roommate would like to go out this evening with me and my friend, Jacob.  He’s coming in this afternoon to visit, too,” I said and pulled out the picture of Jake I had gotten from him with his Christmas card.  Jake’s modeling career was really taking off and he had more men than he could shake a stick at chasing him now.  However, I didn’t tell Edward that.  I handed the picture to Mrs. Tucker and her eyes bugged out at the picture of Jake in nothing but an elf hat dangling a large, strategically-located cluster of mistletoe, his blindingly-white, wide smile and glossy dark hair making it obvious he had chosen the right profession. 

Edward was looking at the picture over her shoulder scowling.  “Maybe you all shouldn’t go out this evening, actually.  They’re predicting freezing rain you know.  Better to stay in and be safe,” he said with a concerned face.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.  We’re going to the restaurant at the Westin.  I’m sure if the weather gets bad, Jake and I can just get a room and spend the night,” I said and Edward looked like he was about to blow a gasket. 

  “Seriously, Bella, I think you should stay in.  Tell you what; if you’re so set on going out, why don’t I go along and drive?  I lived in Chicago for a number of years and am used to driving in bad weather.  In fact, I insist,” he growled and stalked off.

“Oh, that dear boy is such a sweet thing.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was jealous,” Mrs. Tucker said shaking her head,  “However, that can’t be the case as he was perfectly happy for you to meet my Jimmy,” she said showing me the picture of her grandson. 

No wonder Edward was giggling.  I was sure Jimmy and I would have a lot in common indeed.  Way more than dear old Mrs. Tucker obviously realized.  By the way he was acting, I was sure Edward would rather me stay in with Jimmy trading recipes, doing our nails, and giving each other pedicures than be out on eye-candy Jake’s arm.  Too damn bad.  If he wasn’t man enough to say something, then he could come along and watch me flirt my ass off.

This was going to be a fun evening.

~Dolly Big Momma