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Some years ago, I was spending some time in town. While there, I stayed with my former friend Glenn. He had a house in town and I had my own room with its own bathroom there. Things were going pretty well. We enjoyed meals together. We went fishing together. We bowled six frames and then went out and oogled the local sluts. Things were pretty good.

Then it happened. After I took an absolutely monstrous, twenty-four pound bloody dump in the toilet attached to my bedroom, the toilet overflowed. I still had a lot more shitting left to be done, so I went down the hallway to try to use the bathroom in Glenn's room. Oddly enough, the only two bathrooms in this house were attached to the bedrooms. You had to walk in on a motherfucker in order to use the toilet. Poor design. I have since hunted down the architect and allegedly murdered him. You take it as it comes. I was raised to teach lessons to the disadvantaged whenever possible. I am not above busting kneecaps to make my point and sometimes I take it the proverbial "too far."

I have 300 lbs of feelings about what happened next. What I witnessed as I opened Glenn's bedroom door and walked in wearing just my ratty bathrobe with absolutely no tie whatsoever and it is also made for a MUCH thinner person was difficult to explain. At first, what I saw was "black light" throughout the room along with jungle music. Glenn was on his bed, on top of something or other, grunting and thrusting while moaning out the words, "I have never made love like this before. This is a one-time thing only."

Like any correct thinking person, I yelled out, "What in the name of The Lord is going on in here, Ishmael?" This was the first thing that occurred to me. So the phrase was uttered and memorialized in both stage and film. Perhaps you've seen the show Daddy's Pilgrims off-Broadway? Maybe you haven't. You have shit taste in everything. Makes me want to puke.

I had just finished reading about the troubles in Ireland, which is what I was doing while sitting on the other toilet, when I came upon this scene. I'd been reading in depth when I made a mess out of Glenn's other toilet. Now I was going to ruin his "love life." Because it was SICK.

"Umma gunna. Umma gunna... marry you..." Glenn was moaning like a Bruce Springsteen song.

If you are like me then you have driven around neighborhoods vomiting at the sight of people eating in their houses at the dinner table with the window blinds open like they are living in a fucking zoo. What I saw in Glenn's room was much, much worse than that.

There was a Halloween sound effect record playing on the record player in Glenn's room. If you don't know what a record player is and are too stupid to click on the link, it is something we listened to music on when life was great for everyone all the time (the 1970s). This is what he was listening to. He was listening to creaking doors and fluttering bat wings and this type of thing. He was listening to it on a record player in a blacklit room while naked on top of something that he was thrusting into.

In retrospect, it might have been better if I left the room before it got worse. It was about to get much worse.

"This is what I do when I am alone," was what Glenn was moaning now. And he was looking directly at me. He had a dish of dog food under his mouth that he was apparently eating out of. And he was still thrusting. "This is my time! My time!" Glenn then began laughing maniacally.

Glenn had obviously gone around the bend. His soul had been lost to Sweet Jesu. I had to end him. This absolute truth became more absolute when I saw what he was thrusting into. It was a pillowcase stuffed with straw, i.e. animal feed. This was truly shameful.

"I am having time alone with my lover!" Glenn moaned out as I approached him with a tire iron in my hand, my smile widening to creepy proportions.

"You've gone around the bend. You've embraced liberalism. I need to put you out of your misery," I told him.

"Oh god, this is the only pleasure I have in life! Behr, please!" Glenn was still thrusting. The thrusts went on unabated. It was disgusting. "I am soon to reach my inevitable climax from this activity!"

I knew I had to end him before he reached that climax. If he did, it would increase the bond between Glenn and the pillow case filled with straw. They were already emotionally involved. That was obvious from the way he was thrusting. It wasn't the kind of thrusting I do when I pin a woman against the back wall of a bar or comedy club and have my way. This showed genuine caring.

I had not seen the skeletal remains of Glenn's long dead mother on the rocking chair behind me, but when I raised the tire iron to strike Glenn down, the boney hand of Glenn's mother reached out and grabbed my wrist. Even with my X-Man type hand I was unable tor resist the cold and icy grip of the dead. I was immobilized.

At this time I had not yet been to Hades. This was decades before that, so my only encounters with the dead came during wartime. I had never before seen the skeletal remains of someone's long dead mother reach out and grab my wrist with the icy grip of the dead. It was unsettling.

"Unhand me, woman!" I shrieked into the skeletal face of Glenn's long dead mother. "I am a businessman!"

She rose from her chair, and as she did so, Glenn continued thrusting into his "lover." He didn't seem in the least bit troubled by what the skeletal remains of his long dead mother were up to. On the other hand, she had me fully engaged in otherworldly combat. Things were about to go into slow motion.

I activated my X-Man type hand with full power, but it was still not enough to escape the icy grip of the dead. Glenn continued thrusting, looking over at me as he spoke the words, "Unto trembling I submit. My body and my hips! Alay! Alay!" I was at a loss. He still hadn't reached his climax and mother's skeletal remains had now fully risen from the rocking chair and her other hand was sliding down the back of my ratty old bathrobe.

"Tonight, you learn," said a disembodied voice that floated in the room. I decided to associate this voice with the skeletal remains of Glenn's long dead mother. Then I realized that wasn't it at all. The voice was coming from the straw-filled pillowcase. Now I didn't know what to do. Glenn had genuine feelings of a straw-filled pillowcase with a creepy, disembodied voice. This had to be end of days.

Mother's bones now fully embraced me as I watched two other sets of skeletal remains coming out of Glenn's closet. They were ambling towards me with a sense of purpose. Their hands wrapped around my legs and arms and pulled me down onto the ground as the record began playing the sounds of a man screaming in absolute terror. Glenn cackled. He was having a great time with his lover. It was like they were on their honeymoon. I threw up again.

My robe was pulled off and boney hands were roaming all over my body. The skeletal remains did not speak, but they made a lot of scraping sounds when they moved around. Definitely not erotic, but then they went for my cock and ball assembly.

Glenn got halfway up off the bed. He flipped the pillowcase filled with straw and began doing it doggy style. I found it difficult to look away. I also found it difficult to understand how I knew this was what was happening. My mind was changing.

When Glenn finally reached his climax, which came with a loud grunt of "Please Sweet Jesu! Save me from any more of this behavior!" the skeletal remains dragged me over to the bed and put me on top of the pillowcase filled with straw.

"They want you to do it," Glenn told me as he drank a cup of water and wiped his brow with a towel. "They will make you do it. They will make you like it."

"But why, Glenn?" I asked him.

"It is the way of things, sweet Behr. It is the way of things."

We stopped being friends after that night. He called me once a week for a few months and left me apologetic mesages, but I don't need all that drama in my life.

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