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Glad you like it, Ellis. Don't worry, there's more where that came from. Here's the first installment of another tale (what is it about certain suits that makes them the first choices for this game?)...
Good Young Boys – Part 1 of 2
The sun was setting over the fields of the Mid-West as Cop Killer and DJ Oi sat on the bonnet of DJ Oi’s pick-up truck and sipped a couple of lukewarm beers.
“Well goddam,” remarked DJ Oi, “that sure was a good day’s work, CK.”
“Sure as injuns is injuns!” replied Cop Killer. “No offence to the Native American people. I reckon we musta got about three days worth of refuse shifted just in the muthafuckin’ mornin’, DJ Oi.”
DJ Oi ran a calloused hand through his close-cropped, straw-coloured hair and stared out moodily across the fields. After he had been doing this for some time, his policeman-threatening comrade noticed, and spat on the dirt road in disgust.
“Aw goddam, Oi – you’re not still thinkin’ bout that goddam motherfuckin’ no-good city girl, are ya? I sure done told you she was no good!”
“Jeez, I’m sorry CK”, replied the sca-loving jockey of the record decks. “It’s just… I’ll be darned if I didn’t think she was the fox I’d been waiting for. Why in tarnation’d she have to go off with those goddam stinkin’ anti-geographication protestors? I bet she’s turned into one of those goddam lesbianists, not that I got anythin’ against women of that persuasion as you well know, my own grandmother bein’ one, god rest her soul.”
Cop Killer took a deep slug of his cheap American beer and shook his head.
“Now just you listen here, mah friend. My daddy once told me, ain’t no use cryin’ over a woman you can’t have when there are pigs in the backyard that you can have, if you take my meanin’. That’s like leavin’ a nigger with a shotgun, no offence to the African-American population of this land.”
DJ Oi looked over at his friend in puzzlement.
“You mean I can come over and fuck yer sister again, CK? I sure would like that a mighty fine amount.”
Cop Killer smiled at his more innocent friend’s naïve response, and idly stroked his stubbly, chiselled jawline. Then he reached over and stroked DJ Oi’s stubbly, chiselled jawline.
DJ Oi gulped, and jumped off the bonnet of his truck rather too quickly.
“Jeezus, CK, what the hell d’ya think ya doin’? Damn near made me take a swing at you, touchin’ my face like some kind of… like some kind of goddam gay, not that I have a problem with gay fellas at all, nope, in fact as you well know I’ve been in a few fights in my time with those goddam homophobe bastards for makin’ prejudiced remarks…”
“Relax”, laughed Cop Killer, hopping off the pick-up to join him. “I’m juss playin’. You wanna take a swing at me though?” He set his beer on the bumper of the truck and pulling off his wifebeater to reveal an upper body grown firm and buffed from months of shovelling refuse, and bronzed from sitting out in the sun in the yard outside his family’s trailer, smoking dope and shooting at varmints with a pop-gun.
“Sure, you faggot motherfucker”, chuckled DJ Oi, in turn pulling off his Black Sabbath t-shirt.
Cop Killer grinned wickedly and beckoned to his friend with both hands.
“Gimme yer best shot, runt!”
“You rang?” asked runt.
“Not you!” chorused the boys in unison, and so runt went back to listening to the Aphex Twin and masturbating over New X-Men #114.
DJ Oi charged into Cop Killer, catching him full in the chest with his shoulder and sending the pair of them tumbling down hard into the dirt, a cloud of dust spiralling up around them. Over and over they rolled, each struggling to get the upper hand, their arms locked around each other’s waist, their hands alternately tugging at each other’s jeans and smacking at the naked, dusty skin of their muscular torsos.
Eventually, due to his superior experience, bulk and ability to fuck shit up, Cop Killer emerged with the upper hand. He crouched astride the prone body of his friend, pinning one arm behind his back, and with his free hand gripping the back of DJ Oi’s neck.
His eyes glanced down at the back of the blonde kid’s Wranglers.
“Goddam”, muttered Cop Killer, his voice low and throaty, “but if you don’t have the sweetest ass I ever set eyes on apart from mah cousin Tallulah, DJ.”
Nervously, DJ Oi tried to laugh, but it faltered in the back of his suddenly very dry mouth. He could feel his suddenly rigid cock pressing through his jeans against the earth.
TO BE CONTINUED… |
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