Tales From
Wilton Manors
Zine
9 (2015-10)
LET ME BORROW YOUR
BRAT! (Short Story - by
F i s h w o g g l e )
I want to borrow a kid. Hell
yes I do! I never had me one of
my own . . . thank god. But I
wanna borrow a little
bastard . . . a little shit-ass . . .
but a cute one. Why? Because
when I was passing the park
there were about 7 of the
cutest little mamas (and about
4 ugly ones) pushing their
goddamned snotnosed cretins
on the swings . . . or . . . well . . .
you know . . . tossing the ball
with the little shits. But to hell
with the kids . . . I wanna gab
with them cute little mamas.
To the toss-pot with their
husbands! Them sons-ofbitches
chose to join the rat
race . . . that’s their “get-go.”
Me? I don’t do nothing’!
Fuck work! I’d rather walk
around and look at the broads.
So . . . hell yeah! While them
scratch toadies are at work . . .
I wouldn’t mind playin’
around with their little wives a
bit. A hup-two twiddlebee
visit to their humble homes.
Some
cucumber
sandwiches . . . a chat on
Obama or two . . . a bit of
footsy under the table . . . a
peck or two on the back of the
neck . . . scratching the kitty
bellies and a little chuck nuck
to the muzzle of the brat who
is just about ready for a napsy
wapsy. A little cooing like a
turtledove to put the
peckerwood with the
sandman . . . and then a little of
the old in-‘an-out with the
little mama-san. I’ll drink
from the coffee mugs and take
their broads in the master
bedroom! Oh certainly I
would! No scruples at all!
Not an iota of remorse! Hell
yes! To hell with them! They
chose the 9to5er . . . which in
this computer Babylon soon
ecame the 7ti7er. That’s
their get-up. The
scrumbillial . . . and shake the
chickens! They chose their
bed . . . and I’ll lie in it! But I
need me a brat! You can’t just
walk up to the gals on a
playground empty-handed!
Hell no! You’d look like a
creep. No creepiness in me!
Hell no! A regular saintly lad
I am! I don’t wanna look like
a lecher! No! So I’ll need a
kiddo . . . and one of you
broads surely have one to loan
me. I’m speaking to you
women that are raising a kiddo
on your solo . . . all by your
ono. The fellow (bastard!)
took to the air . . . flight . . . far
away . . . no child support . . .
so you slave . . . just getting by.
Well, I’ll look after your little
scrumption for ya. No fee at
all! No! Daycare? Don’t you
worry about it! I’ll look after
your little sweetie for free. I’ll
look after your boy. I think
it should be a boy. I think he
ought to have longish hair. I
somehow feel that chicks
think a little fella with long
hair is cute. Probably reminds
them of how their husbands
use to look when they still had
a head full. Now he’s losing it
in clumpfulls . . . bad genes,
stress, and too much
caffeine . . . then red bulls and
stress kills off the little hair
follicles like they were
Cambodians at a Khmer
Rouge convention. When
them chickos see a cute little
woopzer with a little head full
of hair . . . well . . . the broads
get kittenish. Their hubby’s
hair is gone . . . or going fast!
Shit! Mine ain’t! I got a
goddamned sloppy muss
mess of hair! A regular hippy!
Ha ha! Yeah baby . . . . your
fella’s hair is getting gone!
All them bad genes, mega
doodle stress, and keeping
that nose up the boss’s fat ass!
Kills off the old scruff scraff.
Well . . . I got me plenty sister!
Ha ha . . . gobs of it! But
hell . . . you broads that are
reading . . . where was I? Got
all bamboozled there . . .
almost lost you my sweet little
reader. I was talking about?
Oh yeah! A little cute fella
with some long hair. I went
out with this gal named Jessie.
And it weren’t ‘till she had me
under her thumb until she
sprung it on me that she had a
kid. Miles was his name. And
as much as I hate kids . . . he
turned out to be a little cutey.
And that little motherfucker
had him a mess load of hair.
Me, a regular hippy-hater,
thought he was cute. I told
him though, “Boy . . . if you’d
grown up with a father like
mine, you wouldn’t have no
goddamned girly girl locks.
Hell no! Boy! My dad wanted
a clean cut American boy!
And he made sure I was that!”
But Miles was a long haired
little faggot. And shit! Din’t
the gals just coo like
turtledoves when I took Miles
to the park! Hell yes they did!
I learned fast! Sure I had
Jessie waiting for me back at
the pad . . . waiting for me to
come home with her little
treasure. But fuck that! Jessie
could only give me one
woman’s attention. I wanted a
selection! Like they had down
there with all those cute little
mothers at the park. Miles
wanted to go home. But screw
the little cretin! He just made
it possible for 15, cute as hell,
vixens to take notice of me . . .
you can wait you little fairy!
Ah . . . but Jessie kicked me to
the curb. Why? You wonder
dear reader! Well me too!
Why would that little
chickadee kick me out?! Me!
Such a gentleman! Me! Just a
gentle, good-hearted, saintly
sort of soul! Well she did.
And I had to leave that woman’
drunks layin’ there on. The inju
lost Mile’s little charming ways
little wipplepoof to drag along d
there . . . to get in like flint with
You got one you’ll loan me rea
beautiful gams . . . them sweet
little gratuity for your brat! Tel
nest egg. I can afford a little so
me here at Wiseblood and tell m
take ‘im . . . or her! I ain’t no s
snickerdoodle will go up to the
corner . . . I mean when the gal
crib . . . I’ll call you . . . tell you
on. Is it a deal?
s bed where I’d spent all them
stice! With her gone, I also
. Shit! Now I need a new
own to the park down
the stay at home mamas.
der? I’m desperate! All those
kissers. I’ll even give you a
l me how much. I got a little
mething. You broads write
e the rent on your kid. I’ll
exist! I and your little
park. I’ll leave him on the
lets me come on into her
which corner to pick him up
Catholic School Boys In
Trouble (Part 8) by Brett
Butler - The summer flew by
and I would soon be back for
my senior year of school. This
may sound strange, but
Pickles and me vowed that we
would rule the school. That
would be hard to do since
Pickles was so depressed over
having to leave Louie at
summer camp, and me, well
my summer did not end on a
good note. It was the last week
at summer camp and Jordan
and me were continuing our
make out sessions. We were
not boyfriends, because I was
still confused about my
feelings for Luke Roberts.
Pickles was still not talking to
me because of my make out
sessions with Jordan and
Louie would call me Puta
every time he saw me. During
the last week of camp, we
were told that we would play
against the Soldiers for Christ
Christian Boy’s Camp across
the lake. “God, what kind of
kid would go there”, Pickles
said talking to Louie as I
pretended not to listen. “I
know a Puta wouldn’t go
there”, Louie said looking at
me. I ran out of the bunk and
bumped into Jordan. “Are you
ready for the big game”, he
asked. Jordan had been
training me on how to play
softball. I was getting good at
it. “Yup I am ready to whip
those soldiers’ butts”, Jordan
said as he laughed. We looked
at each other and started to
kiss. God, I have to admit, I
was falling for him. I could
hear Louie yelling in the bunk.
“The Puta is at it again.” I also
have to admit, it was fun being
a bad boy, but I missed
Pickles. The big day had
arrived. The bus carrying the
Soldiers for Christ Christian
Boy’s Camp pulled in.
Pickles, Louie, and me
watched as these big muscular
boys marched off the bus. I
thought I was hallucinating,
when one of them was Luke
Roberts. I ran over to him.
“Luke, I missed you.” Luke
smiled, took my arm, and
dragged me behind the
building. “Not here, they
don’t know about me here”,
Luke explained. As I talked to
Luke, Louie had followed and
was watching me. Luke kissed
my cheek, I almost fainted,
and then I heard “Puta.” Louie
told Pickles and I begged them
both not to tell Jordan. I wish I
could tell you that we beat
those boys, but they killed us
in the game. At the barbecue,
Luke was talking to me and
that’s were it all went wrong.
Jordan came over and put his
arms around me. “What’s
this”, Luke asked. “He’s my
boyfriend”, Jordan proudly
said. I jumped away. “I never
said we were an item.” I could
see the pain in Jordan’s face
when I said that, and that’s
when I realized that I wanted
to be with Jordan. “You were
playing me all summer”, Luke
said. “No, no I was confused”,
I tried to explain to them both.
Louie came over. “He’s a big
Puta, all over Jordan every
night and then kissing you
behind the building.” Pickles
ran over and pushed Louie out
of the way. Jordan and Luke
just shook their head and they
both walked away from me.
Pickles put his arm around
me. “I am sorry honey.” So I
am back at school now. Jordan
and Luke will not answer my
calls, emails or texts. I don’t
know how things could get
any worse. “PUTA”,
someone yelled out. I turned
to see Louie in our school
uniform. Pickles ran over to
him and hugged him. I fell
back against the lockers and
rolled my eyes. I was sure this
was going to be the worst
year of my life.
Happy
Halloween!!!
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