I Have Food, This is Good

After reading my rant, sure as shit, some bitches came climbing out of the wood work all butt hurt saying “I’m a regular, no?” My response of ‘who is this?’ Didn’t exactly please them.

There is no fighting the fact that I am in a bad mood. I have all these big plans but every time I hear a big truck rumble to a stop I wonder if it is the power company, come to shut me down. Before I leave I’m gonna make sure there is a flashlight by all the entrances. Fuck on a stick.

But anyway

Someone called and said “I’m sorry you are in a bad mood Widow, can I take you shopping, or somehow make things better?” Of course I said yes. But I was still uncertain about who I was speaking to. He asked me where I was goign to be dancing. “I have no idea, some really well behaved subbie called me on niteflirt and totally derailed my plans to make it to a club at a decent hour. Why don’t we just meet at the supermarket, since I’m out of food.”

When we met up I knew who he was. He is a piss boy I have seen several times. As we wandered through the supermarket I threw things into the cart. When I found products that I thought would be particularly well suited for tormenting him with I would open them. “Pickled egg?” I asked coyly, as thought he had a choice. I shoved the whole jar of picked eggs down his throat and made him drink the brine. I smiled, then we moved on.

I put pretzels in his nose and marshmallows in his ears. I dressed him in a series of hideous grocery store rompers, sun hats, ugly shades, and threw a big ass beach umbrella in the cart. We made our way to the pathetic produce section. I spanked him with a leek and gagged him with an apple. Other shoppers were giggling, huffing, trying not to look, and being incredibly polite as people in New England are apt to be. One old lady looked at us with a big grin and said “you two are having more fun than anyone in this market. I want whatever you had, pour me one” and then turned and went back to her shopping seemingly quite content to have seen something amusing durring what was surely an otherwise mundane shopping experience.

When I was sure I had everything I needed I asked the person behind the deli where the bathroom was and we headed that way. After parking the cart by the bathroom door I pulled him into the multi-stall bathroom behind me. I could have gone into one of the stalls but I had to pee so badly by this point that I just hopped up on the counter, lifted my skirt and said “drink.”

He dropped to his knees and I heard them hit the tile. It sounded painful. His jaw dropped and I shot a little stream of piss right into his egg hole. “Swallow” I told him. Then he opened back up and I just let it all out. I pissed in his mouth. All over his face, into the bits of pretzel and marshmallow that were still stuck to his face.

Surprisingly he was able to drink most of it. He did get wet, but not nearly as wet as he would have if he had not been an expert piss chugger. There was a little puddle on the floor. “Lick that up” I said, as I grabbed a paper towel and dried myself off. After he was done licking the floor clean I jammed the paper towel in his mouth. “Wash your hands” I told him, “make bubbles.”

At this point I was just being a smart ass. But I was having a good time. After we are cleaned up we went to the register and he bought the strange assortment of things in this cart, including an empty jar that previously held pickled eggs. When the cashier looked at it I said “he got hungry.” The cashier looked at him, a bit wet, bits of food all over him, reeking of piss. The cashier didn’t say a word.

After loading the groceries into my car he said “ I hope I was able to cheer you up a little bit Widow.” And I sent him on his way.

I’m in a slightly better mood. I have an icebox full of food, so if the power company shuts me down while I’m out tonight I will have a massive mess to deal with. Hopefully that does not happen. Maybe you will come see me at whatever club I end up in. Watch for the tweet, then come and play.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s