Enjoy the Jerk? JERK.
Dear Joe,So life moves on and the (LUWS) Bro’s are still going strong. I can’t front, it’s great and all, but I really need to get something off my chest. I’ve known you practically my whole life so I believe there’s a certain degree of honesty that we should uphold. After all these years of friendship it would be a shame to let anything get between us so I’m just going to let the truthiness go. Just the thought of you ignites my burning rage. It makes me want to give you one of PaullyP’s special eye-jammys. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered I had these feelings and on deeper thought (maybe an introspective toilet-nap session) attempted to consider why? At first I assumed it was a combination of the times you’ve been drunk, and decided it would be a hoot to push me down into a pile of trash, or when you used to come over in 7th grade and eat all my food, or maybe the sum of violent butt-gas you have viciously applied to my face. However, on further reflection, I realized that those actions aren’t the root of my hostility -– because in the larger spectrum of things, your gesture of “pushing me in the trash” is obviously your repressed homoerotic feelings, and perhaps that’s what G.O.D. had in mind for you. But I digress, and that is a different letter all together, so let me start by refreshing a memory and I think you’ll understand.
Freshman year of high school Joe and I were classmates at the reputable Beacon School. Being that is was our first year and we didn’t really know anybody (except Mr. Taliban), we basically gravitated to the first group of girls that glanced our way. They consisted of; an over-weight yet jolly girl named Nicole, a cold-lesbian-looking-bitch of a girl by the name of Evie, and Sara. Sara had big Jewy breasts and well… that’s pretty much it. So we became this little click of teensters doing things that fifteen-year-olds do. Mainly this consisted of; Joe and I giving Nicole a terrible weight complex, drinking and fantasizing about Sara’s luscious D’s, and pretty much ignoring Evie all together. As time went by and our “click” drew closer and my appreciation for Sara’s “personal-titty” grew stronger, my lust became clear. It was time to make my move. So for condensed storytelling purposes – I, a hormonally challenged boy, some how convinced this impressively equipped woman, to be my girlfriend.
Possibly a month goes by and one night we’re all hanging out at Evie’s free-crib up in Washington Heights. I’m there with my girl. The Joe-Man has dibs on either the, pasty-lesbo Evie, or the cheerful-plumpkin Nicole. It was to be a night of drinking, smoking, and in my mind, a prime opportunity to touch a boob or two. As the evening progressed and intoxication levels increased, my usual inhibited ways faded. Everything was tight, that is until I see Joe rush to make a frantic exit out of Evie’s front door. “JOE. Where the fuck are you going?” I gasped – just as I had Sara conveniently cornered and about to exchange my best wanna-make-out looks. Of course there was no way I could ignore the situation so I followed Joe out the door. I could hear his panicked descending foot stomps a few flights below until the echoed movements cleared. What is he doing? There was a quiet pause and then a faint burble sound. Did I miss something, is Joe on acid making weird fart sounds? Just as I was to go see what all the hysteria was about, I heard him ascending the stairs with the same urgency. Maybe he smoked one too many blunts? I mean, it wasn’t like we were blowing lines and he needed to burn off some steam. As soon as he reaches Evie’s front door he grabs me by the hand and spastically leads me to the bathroom and slams the door behind. This is getting ridiculous -– I’m supposed be in the other room showing Sara a PG-13 time and instead I standing here face to face with Joe. “What is it?” I demanded. He had a real scary tweak in his eye. Joe’s always been a little weird but I think he might be losing his shit. Oddly enough, I don’t think I could have been more accurate. Joe pulled down his pants (and draws) as if there was a line up of eight naked Koreans about to let him have his way, but instead, he revealed a splatter of soupy shit spread all over his legs and balls. How am I supposed to react to that? Why are you showing me this absurdly disgusting display of your terrible bowel control? I quickly glanced away and gave him my I-can’t-believe-you-dragged-me-in-here-to-show-me-your-shitty-balls look. He simply explained, “I meant to fart,” and followed with “what should I do?” Being that he was in shit up to his waist, and honestly looked more desperate than I’ve ever experience someone needing an answer, I suggested taking a shower. I wasn’t about to stick around so I left the bathroom only to be bombarded by questions like “what’s wrong with Joe?” and “why is he taking a shower NOW?” I fumbled with something like, “Girls, girls, he’s… he’s ah… not feeling well, I told him he should cool down a bit, take a shower. You know how it is?” They bit for a minute. Then they got annoyingly suspicious and wouldn’t stop hounding me. I know it’s the proper etiquette to always keep a Bro protected, especially from the females, but you know what, Joe was the dumb-ass who thought it would be the plan of all plans to leave the apartment to fart (to avoid the risk of minor embarrassment) and instead accidentally exploded all over himself. So I was forced to come out with the “shitty truth,” but said something vague that alluded to the fact like “he had a little accident,” and left out “in his pants.” At that moment Joe walks out of the bathroom, doody-free and towel around his waist, and admits to the mishap. As you can imagine, that is when laughter began and continued at various levels and durations throughout the rest of the evening.
Ok so granted these girls weren’t what you called “dime-pieces” in any shape or form. But still, you would think Joe from there on out would be groveling to even touch Nicole’s junk-trunk or perhaps even be ostracized from the entire click (I know I would of played along). But no, he was more appealing than ever. The girls were all over him. I couldn’t even get my supposed girlfriend to respond to my original seduction plan.
“Sara want to come get a beer…if you know what I mean?”
“Nah, Joe's telling the best part when he had to scoop the shit out of his shoes and rinse his filthy grundle.”
“Oh, ok…that’s cool”
“You can grab me one though”
“What?”
“Grab me a beer.”
Ok, so somehow Joe was effortlessly able to manipulate a disaster, such as sharting (a term I was recently introduced to) in his pants and swindle it into the most charming adorable act known to some not-so-hot-girls. I wouldn’t recommend trying it, but if you’re desperate, who the fuck knows? Girls are fucking weird. I wish I could say that is where the story ended but then I would be leaving out the best and worst part.
Now it’s the portion of the evening where heads start getting tired and looking for a place to post. In couple’s fashion, Sara and I find one of the few beds available and mark our sleep (planning for more) destination. To no surprise, Joe also in the same predicament, can’t find a spot so Sara eagerly invites him to sleep with us. At this point, my head was steaming. “I’m not sleeping with that corroded shit-head,” I whispered to Sara. “He’s your friend, don’t be like that” she responded. I couldn’t believe it. We some how arranged that Joe would sleep head to toe from us while Sara was in the middle. It sound’s like a real perverse situation and I couldn’t agree more, it was! Needless to say, sleep was on none of our minds but in no way did I think that benefited me. I remember lying there for a while. Nothing was happening, and for all I cared, I didn’t want anything to happen. That was until she started making out with me. I was exhausted even thinking about her motives so I just went with it. Great, whatever, Joe’s sleeping, we’re doing our thing, and who care’s. I mean – I couldn’t be more confused but what the hell right?
The next morning, Joe and I leave feeling pretty good, because when you’re fifteen drinking doesn’t phase you, at least not the same way it does now. Discussion took place about the night before events, standard business, “Can’t believe I shit in my pants,” “Yeah, that’s weird.” Then Joe decided to tell me a confession in reference to the sardine sleep we had with Sara.
“Hey, I think you should know something.”
“What’s that?”
“Sara jerked-me-off last night”
“What! When?
“When we all went to sleep.”
“But she was hooking up with me though… and you were already asleep.”
“Nope.”
“That means…eww…she was double-fisting.”
I hate you Joe.
Sincerely,
EvRocker
