An Epic Game of 'Toe

Paperback Piss Boy has graduated to Hard Cover Holy Man and it’s only eight o’clock. What an evolution we have on our hands here, folks. The young kid, once full of promise, has reached his potential and grown into a full-fledged addy. That’s what that means, right? When the kids say addy? They mean adult, right? Send me the addy? Send me the adult? SEND ME THE MAN, I’M IN DIRE STRAIGHTS HERE!

HOLY SMOKING GLOWSTICK SOMEBODY SMACK ME UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH A SILVER DILDO I’M REELING FROM ALL THE RITALIN I’VE BOOFED!

It’s been a long week on the prairie. The grass is waving in the wind like a schoolboy happy to see his parents. Whistles of piss rip through the soil after the local coyote had too much to drink. A rabbit scampers past and then stumbles into a hole in the ground. He tries to escape but is swallowed whole by a very small snake. The snake is then swallowed whole by the hole in the ground. The hole is then swallowed whole by a swallow. The swallow is made whole by the wind.

I played tic tac toe with a local seamstress at the farmer’s market. She didn’t take too kindly to my initial come on. I saw her sitting cross-legged on a broken willow when I asked her if she enjoyed the company of other men. “What do you mean, other men?” she challenged.

I replied, “men, who are other than.”

“Other than what?” she questioned.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” I retorted.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Excuse me!?”

This is when I challenged her. I says... I says, “don’t make me break out the tic tac hoe I mean toe.”

“I don’t want to play tic tac toe with you, that was incredibly rude.”

“RUDE!? Come on, I was just asserting my dominance.”

“What makes you think you have to be dominant?”

…

……..

………………

I let the time slip away like an overdue chore. Staring into her broken brown eyes, the beauty of her figure faded with the darkness of the dawn.

I slowly but not sensually grabbed a stick and drew a board in the soil.

“Your move, Miss Dicknuts.”

She wanted to say something like “I really don’t like the way you speak to me,” but she was halted by the fact that she did. She did like the way I was speaking to her, but she didn’t like that she liked it.

She didn’t take middle. What the fook? Who goes corner O to start a game of tic tac toe? Is this lady an idiot? Is she messing with me? Does she know something I do not? Here I was, I thought I had thrown her for a loop, but now I was thrown. Tossed. Tilted and twisted.

I responded by drawing a picture of Al Pacino in the opposite corner. Checkers had turned to chess, and we were three inches deep in the game.

She scanned me up and down, to see if I had any explosives. No. I was only blowing her mind. She was about to be down like the towers, and she didn’t even know it.

Oh my stones, she’s going for middle! Slowly, and this time very sensually, she began to draw two humps in the middle square. “Those can’t be…” I thought. There’s no way. “They… the… wha… she… no… those… those aren’t balls, are they?” The conversation in mind stumbled like a student new to booze.

She looked me dead in my nasal cavity, lifted the stick upright beside her head, and flicked it back towards the board in the soil. She tapped the mid-section of Al Pacino, then the balls, and finally the O.

“Dick, sack, O…”

I never saw her again.

- Butternut Billycream

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