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Fuck This! - The Image Collector [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The Image Collector

[ website | David Scott Moyer ]
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Fuck This! [Sep. 28th, 2014|06:21 pm]
The Image Collector
Another writing group assignment. I was in charge this time. I passed out photos I had taken for my 1000 Words series, and tasked everyone to write 1000 words about them. I got this one. Just under 1000.

P1017612sm

Fuck this! Why did I let that asshole drag me all the way out here for some hillbilly costume party? Fucker didn’t even give me time to put on makeup, which I hate doing, by the way, but he fucking expects it, you know? Now I’m looking at my reflection in the tailgate of his piece of shit truck, standing in pig slop, and all I want is a fucking cigarette, but did I bring them? No, he dragged me out of the house so fucking fast I didn’t realize I had forgotten them until we were half way to bum fuck Egypt, where there isn’t even a store, much less one that sells tobacco. Now I’ll be mooching off other people all night, people I have nothing to say to and sure as hell don’t want to listen to either. Fuck me! If I could call a cab, I would, but there isn’t even a fucking phone out here, and cell service? Ha! There's no profit selling smart phones to a bunch of cows, pigs, and the half dozen people who fuck them. God damn, this sucks. At least there is liquor. I hope they have something that wasn’t made in a bathtub. Maybe if I have enough to drink, listening to these inbreeds talk about the time they stayed the night in the motel down the road to have a Kardashians marathon will be tolerable. And what about him? He’s already off hitting on some bimbo dressed up as Daisy Duke. I hope it’s a guy. Serve that fucker right to get to third base and find a dick staring him in the face. Now that might make the evening interesting. “Hey! Sweetheart, got a cigarette? Thanks hon. Hey, you see that guy over there necking with your sister? Oh, your mother? Sorry. Well, I just thought I ought to tell you, he has a raging case of herpes. You do know what that is, right? Thanks for the smoke. Can I have another one? Thanks.” Fuck I needed this cigarette. I don’t even care that it is a nasty ass generic light. Stupid bitch didn’t even tell her mom. Figures. Her mom is probably a case study in STDs anyway. He’s going to get more than he bargained for tonight, and he sure as hell isn’t getting squat from me until he’s had every test in the book and then some. Fucking men are ruled by their fucking dicks. Everything they fucking do is to impress the current piece of ass or to catch the next one. If there isn’t any pussy around, they are just trying to out macho each other to bolster their egos for the next time one of us slaps them down. What is that fucking noise they are trying to pass for music over there? That song from Deliverance sounding like it was played by three fingered drunken monkeys. I’m supposed to dance to this shit? Fuck, I can smell them from here, or maybe that’s just the pigs, not that I can tell the difference. First time I’ve ever put perfume on my upper lip, but whatever works. Time to go separate the asshole from Daisy Dukes. Oh, fuck! They're already gone. I wonder which one of those nasty doublewides they went off to. Mother fucker! I’m just going to sit in the truck and wait. I can’t fucking believe it. They don’t even have radio out here. Wait, there’s something. What the fuck? Is that some alien transmission? Oh, right, it's fucking Indians. To Ho No Dam Dam, or whatever it is they call themselves. What a weird sounding language. No way I’m listening to that shit. Oh fucking great, now it’s God radio. Just what I fucking need. Some greasy haired, self-righteous southern adulterer telling me I’m going to hell. I can’t believe people hear this crap and then send money. Fucking idiots. I bet everyone who lives at this ranch worships this guy. They sure as hell aren’t listening to the Indians jibber-jabber all day. I swear if any of these freaks are going to heaven, I’ll pass. I choose hell, thank you very much. All the fun people are going there. Now where the hell did that whore take him? I know from a fuck of a lot of experience that he only takes about 3 ½ minutes to finish his business, and that’s with me. No way is he lasting longer than that with some strange tramp. I wish I knew how to hotwire this thing. I’d leave his randy ass flat. Fuck. Now I need another cigarette. Maybe he brought his. Not in the glove box, I wonder what trailer he's fucking mama in? Fuck it. I don’t fucking care if I interrupt them. I’ll just grab his smokes and his keys if I can find them and hightail it out of here. ‘”Hey, anybody in here? Damn, what is that smell? Fuck, that hurt. Walked right into a fucking bathtub. That sure isn’t hooch they are cooking in there. What the fuck? It stinks in here. I can’t see a thing. Where is that fucking lighter? Oh, Shi…….”
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: cobaltika
2014-09-29 01:45 am (UTC)
That's fucking hysterical!! I fucking love that fucking story !!!!
(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: farbel
2014-09-30 09:59 pm (UTC)
I'm fucking glad you fucking love it!
(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: serendipity
2014-09-29 07:45 pm (UTC)
Lots of anger in that there humor.
(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: farbel
2014-09-30 10:03 pm (UTC)
I channeled someone...
(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)