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