The Journal of a Common Freelance Writer

[Pat]

 

Chapter One

If you don't laugh, bite me.

 

Jenny was wearing the sexy panties, the ones I had bought for her for Christmas, and damned if the button on my jeans didn't open itself when I noticed. It knew I was in for a fun night; it always did. I unzipped them, and cast them off to the far corner of the bedroom. They would sit in a slump there for quite awhile. I didn't have to bother with any underwear; as usual, I was "going commando." I jumped onto the bed, not bothering to pull back the sheets. Some voice in my head told me to fuck her through them, and I listened. Then, here's the twist: I stopped writing erotica and I rubbed my cock as fast as I could, until I came all over my freshly lubed fist.

 

Yeah, as if I could ever get a woman. I'm just lonely old Scott, who drives an '83 Turcell, and indulges himself in some of the weirdest shit this side of the Mexican border. Any woman would take one look at me and run off screaming if I asked her on a date. I'm not saying this based on assumption, either; it's happened multiple times. I'm sure it's happened to you as well. We've got more in common than you realize, reader. Half of you will read this and recoil in disgust; the other ones, the ones I infinitely respect, will agree. They're not afraid to hide themselves, and anyone that is, can fornicate themselves with a rolling pin, for all I give a shit.

 

I quickly scraped the fresh semen into the jar I had been keeping it in for what seemed like years. As soon as it filled up, it would be off to the sperm bank yet again. It was another one of those habits that were deemed "unacceptable" in our current day and age. People are too afraid to express who they really are, but I'm not. If I'm out in public, and someone asks me how I pass the time, I'll gladly tell them; even if they give me a look that says they'll be looking for a white van in the parking lot after closing time rolls around.

 

Oops, once again I spilled a little of my "liquid pleasure" onto my work. Much of my writing hasn't been submitted anywhere, just because I couldn't control myself enough to keep from ejaculating onto it (although, I will admit, some of the time it was on purpose). This was too good to go into the trash, though. I'd just have to re-write it... but something in my head told me not to. That stain gave it character, made it seem more like a true instance of romance than any porno I had downloaded on one of my late nights on the computer.

 

That reminds me, I have a fondness for the internet. It's like it was made for people like me, who have absolutely nothing in common with the general population. I found this forum the other day, where all the people seem to be like me. I can't remember the name of it, but I think it starts with a lower-case "b." Anyway, even with my ancient computer, I can't get enough of the internet. There are just so many times I'll get on the computer at 8PM, and get off at 4AM. I just wish I had a printer, I would be able to get off that old typewriter. Come stains would no longer be a problem (if they were even a problem to begin with).

 

The internet is full of niggers, though. I can't fucking stand them. I'm not referring to black people, either; the definition of "nigger" is "an ignorant person of any race." Or some shit like that. Point is, I go by the classic definition, which has nothing to do with negros. I'll post one of my stories, and people (if you consider niggers "people") will say it's "disgusting." Fuck them.

 

See, this is another reason why my shit will never get published; people misread it. I guarantee you, by the end of the day, I'll have twenty emails from people who thought I was referring to negros when I said "niggers." They don't read, they just look for ways to piss off other people. You people consider me a parasite? Maybe you need to buy a mirror. Then again, maybe I do too, I honestly have no clue what I look like right now. That happens when you spend most, if not all, of your time on a typewriter or computer.

 

I'm going on a rant though. Shit, I'm past rant and into "why won't this freak just shut the hell up?" I'm surprised any of you have kept reading to this point, to be honest. I took your expected weekly erotica and turned it into a journal. You can't blame me, though; I needed someone to talk to, through my true self rather than my fantasies. Now that I think about it, it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep this going. I bet a ton of you fans would like to know what my week is like. I guarantee it's nothing like the life of the cheating bastard in all of my erotica. For now, though, I think I'm going to go and fill the jar once again.

 

Until next time, fans.

[Lochie_old]

Oh Pat, you're so creepy.

[Eminence]

As we discussed, I really quite liked this, shocked as you were. I like the style more than anything; it just flows nicely and seems pretty evenly balanced. Get writing chapter two - I want to see where it's going.

[ToyMachine]

I really liked it until the whole ni**er deal. I just felt it didn't fit in with the overall piece. Other than that weird as f*ck but fun.

[Pat]

The "ni**er" paragraph was a last minute addition. I was unsure about keeping it in (I'm sure I'll receive complaints, and someone might even go far enough as to report the topic), but Phil (Eminence) told me he liked it, so I kept it in.

 

As I've mentioned previously in private, the next chapter will be less of random thoughts and opinions, and more of him actually doing something. I've got it planned out, and it's quite a bit unoriginal, but what the hell, I think I can pull it off.

 

Also, this might be confusing, but I'm submitting Chapter One into January's SSOTM. I'm not submitting the entire story, because it's not a one-shot. I doubt Craig will have a problem with it.

Edited January 8, 2009 by Pat

[Oxidizer]

Going by the first chapter, I think you'll be able to pull off your quote/unquote unoriginal idea.

 

Nice job mate.

[Rhoda]

I don't have a problem with you submitting this as your piece. If you wish, you can begin a new topic for this story as a whole and I'll edit this topic title to say "January SSOTM".

 

Anyway, in terms of feedback, all I can really say is I thoroughly enjoyed this. It seems like it could come from the lips of an insomniac who hates the world, fueled by coffee (as cliche as that may seem). It works well in this case.

[Pat]

Go ahead and add the good ol' SSOTM tag to the subtitle. I'll open a new topic when I finish chapter two (with chapter one pasted into it as well), and then after January's SSOTM ends, this version can be locked away.

 

I'm glad you liked it, by the way. Worth the wait?

[Rhoda]

That would be the best idea, yeah.

 

And it was, I liked the introduction more than anything. I can't explain what was so good about that opening paragraph, but I was fooled into thinking this guy was the stud we were set up into thinking. Good work Pat, this is the sort of stand alone material we need in SSOTM.

[Hayden]

Eloquent. I didn't know you were writing an autobiography!

[Pat]

Eloquent. I didn't know you were writing an autobiography!

I'm not, stoo-pid, I'm writing a biography. You should know who it's based on.

[Lochie_old]

Eloquent. I didn't know you were writing an autobiography! 

I'm not, stoo-pid, I'm writing a biography. You should know who it's based on.

yo mama?

ZINGGG!

[Pat]

 

Chapter Two

If I wanted your opinion, I'd fucking ask for it.

 

She wanted a divorce. I don't know how I knew, but I did. All at once, I didn't give a shit about my job. My huge office, the mindless peons who did all my work for me, they didn't matter one bit. All that mattered was getting home to Jenny and showing her that divorce just wasn't an option. I wasn't going to beat her. Contrary to what you might think, I don't believe in spousal abuse. I was just going to whip it out and ride her like a mechanical bull. And if she still wanted a divorce after that, then I'd oblige. After all, her sister was pretty hot.

 

 

---

Yeah, this was good. This was damn good. Last week, I wasn't sure how I was going to continue the story. I got too wrapped up in explaining the internet to you sad fucks who were hoping for some of my usual erotica. I bet I stopped your hard-on cold in its tracks. Gave you a good old case of the blue balls. And I bet you didn't realize that I was glad that I had caused you pain. I probably lost half the amount of readers I usually have. Like I really give a shit.

 

Anyway, let's talk about something that's worth giving two shits about. How many of you actually leave your computer once in a while? I bet none of you do. I've seen the stories. You fuckers just sit there all day, playing WoW or SA-MP or some gay shit like that. You roleplay because that's the only way you can have a truly fulfilling life. I mean, why go outside and apply to be a cop, when you can do it online and never have to leave your snacks behind? That must be every cop's dream; having some donuts near by 24/7. Hell, I bet there are cops that keep donuts with them in the pockets of their uniforms.

 

I've never cared for cops. They're fucking scum. They know their lives suck, and they feel the need to make our lives suck in turn. I was driving home from work, yesterday - YES, I HAVE A JOB, UNLIKE YOU LAZY FUCKS - and I got pulled over. Now, he said it was only because of my tail light, but I swear, that cop looked for anything he could use against me. Dumb shit didn't realize I had cleaned out my car the day before, and I had taken out about three ounces of marijuana. Probably more, that's just an estimate, and I never was good at math.

 

God, math. When I think of how hard they tried to drill that useless bullshit into my head, I feel like screaming. I hated each and every one of my teachers, just as surely as they hated me. I didn't do the usual outbursts in class; forget all that juvenile stuff. No, I skipped straight to completely fucking up their lives. I jacked off in their coffee, I hacked their servers, and once, I even took a shit in one of their cars. Maybe next time they'll remember to lock their damn doors.

 

Yeah, I'm a sick freak. I admit it. In a way, I think admitting it makes me even more sick. But hey, that's not a bad thing. Sick people rule this world. If you're polite, you get ignored. Sure, people think better of you, but they don't pay attention to a damn thing you say. And why should they? You're just giving them the opportunity to tell you their beliefs. But the sick fucks, like me, we run this planet. If we say something, we make sure you listen. And if you don't, we just try harder. People often wonder if we know when to give up. Trust me, we do; we just choose not to.

 

 

---

I burst in through the front door. There she was, suitcase in hand, just like I imagined. I even knew what she was going to say next: "Jeff, we need to talk." I ran across the room, unzipping my pants as I went, and the second she opened her mouth, I shoved my erect cock into it. It took her by surprise, and we both went sprawling onto the oak flooring. I pulled it out, and just in time, too; a second later, I heard the "CLACK" of human teeth chomping together as hard as they possibly could. I pulled her skirt up, and thrust myself into her pussy, coming and going all at the same time.

Edited September 18, 2009 by Pat