My Failed Novel: Sixth Episode

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Ptsew. Blood-speckled toothpaste-saliva mix again. I stand there unmoved, staring at the ungodly mixture make its way down the porcelain to the bottom of the sink.

I examine the spots on my dick, the ones that appeared a month or two after you ended it. “Who the fuck are you? Where have you come from?” I wonder aloud as I ply away the pubic hairs, trying not to pop the newly formed white heads. Sweat begins to bead from my forehead as I try and imagine how I will explain to Amanda my new found zeal in abstinence: “Hey babe, not tonight, I thought it best if we just relaxed, and cuddled” or some shit. “Whoa, you’re quite the frisky one, aren’t I supposed to initiate that?” followed by a covert fainting of sickness or destitute exhaustion from – God knows what excuse I’ll make up. Sad, as I think about how the one opportunity I’ll have to allow her to start lovemaking, and I can’t take advantage of it. Lord knows that, as soon as these white fuckers have removed themselves from my man-domain, I will pounce her like a female butch spotted-hyena clitoris-rapes her male companion (note to self: stop watching animals fuck on youtube). Concentrate! You’ve got a foreign enemy invasion on your wang, this is no time to think about sentimental animal rape. I am not mentally equipped to deal with this right now. I have nothing in my arsenal that can help me deal with this…this situation. Normally, with a zit, I would just pop the fucker and calmly amuse myself by squeezing out the white stuff. This tactic, unfortunately, scares the piss out of me, for fear of what might come out. What if some fucking large fucking maggots or some other white ungodly creature comes out? What the fuck then? Die. Probably just up and die. That’s my only recourse if such a situation were to ever arrive. This is why I can’t do hard drugs: the fucking dictionary has a definition for a word that means ‘the feeling of insects crawling under ones skin’: Formication. It’s so common they named a fucking word for it. My vivid imagination has actually become a point of consternation for me as of late. I’m awoken by nightmares, involving a similar dick infestation, but instead of being tiny skinlets, my dick is covered with what can only be described as hornet’s nests. Hornet’s nests filled with maggot like creatures. Just under a thin see-through layer of skin…in my dick. Luckily it’s just a dream. But every now and again I wake up and wonder whether or not I should perform my ritual morning check up. What if I find that the dreams have only been premonitions; that my skinlets have transformed into the propheciesed maggot filled hornet’s nests. What the fuck then? Who could I tell? I could only imagine the doctor’s reaction. “What can I do for ya there son?” “Well, I don’t exactly know how to describe it” “Well alright then, let’s just have a look then, shall we?” “Well, maybe I should describe it first” “Ha, don’t be silly son, I’ve seen it all. Rashes, gouges, crabs, puss, discolorations. Hell, I’ve even seen a man with ants in his urethra” “Wait. What? Why the fuck would anyone have ants down their dick?” “Who knows. I’d gather for kicks, wouldn’t you say? People find all sorts of ways to pass the time” The doctor in this fantasy becomes impatient and just sort of stands there like an upset mother watching her bratty child have a temper tantrum in the toys-r-us. As I remove my draws, his expression mood from humoring to all out child-like terror. As he makes for the door, he trips over his doctor chair and falls to the ground. As I attempt to help him up, still with my draws down, and his eyes still focused on the whatever-the-fuck-is-on-my-dick, he begins to crawl towards the door, never letting himself remove his gaze from my area. This fantasy obviously borrowing heavily from girl-too-petrified-to-get-up-and-save-her-sorry-ass-from-a-man-with-a-drill/guitar-so-she-slowly-crawls-away-pathetically horror movie canon. As he finally reaches the door and the audience thinks he’s going to get out, I let out a gutteral cry as my middle section gives out a geiser of blood as millions of maggots come crawling out their hornet’s nests/things, revealing an eaten away inside filled with maggots. As I fall to the floor with glossed over eyes and mouth agape, the maggots proceed to fill every square inch of the doctors office, crawling onto his face and suffocating his cries of agony, hand still clutching the door knob. The scene ends with the maggots crawling onto the screen….which, if the movie is made into a 3-D thing, might initiate a collective “oooo” and “ahhhhs” from the crowd that clutches at hallucinatory bugs they believe to be in touching distance from their faces.

I decide to just leave the white head infection alone, and continue with my morning (afternoon?) routine.

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About dontdontoperate

28 year old originally from Barrie, Ontario, Canada. H.B.Sc. from UofT with a major in chemistry and a double minor in philosophy and math. M.Sc. from UofT in physiology and neuroscience. Finished my Ph.D. in biomedical engineering at McMaster in the fall of 2013.
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