Tim Simmons struts and huffs down Bolinas Avenue WANTING the locals to know that he is there in Fairfax and that he could sum up what he thinks of it in one word, fuckin’ WEIRD. His jeans are so tight that his beer-belly blobs up and down like a sack of liquid shit for all to see, with the pride of the south gurgling inside it and the last remnants of the sole Budweiser ordered at 19th and Broadway in the last month. Given the choice of several excellent home-brews on draft and many imports, he demands a cold Bud and a burger, only to find out they don’t sell food at all, just booze. And so that fat gut of his has two Buds and the leftover double cheeseburger from Burger King rumbling inside as his toxin-filled body tries, as usual and in vain, to find some sort of nutrients in his latest input. His job, of helping run coax cables up “monopoles” has landed him in a place so terribly liberal, so devoid of the southern town of Wartburg he was raised in and loves, that he finds himself cast out, alone.
“These California hippies can suck my fat fuckin’ cock-sausage.” He passes two gay gentleman.
“Yeah, I know. I get it. You’re in fuckin’ love.”
Tim walks to a hidden area where he feels most at home urinating. He begins to think about his old friend Jack Jones from Asheville, the one with Bipolar Disorder that talked him into taking this stupid job in California.
“FUCK YOU JACK!” he yells and then falls violently to the ground, crying and urine dripping onto his fat leg.
He sits alone with his urine, vomit, and degradation.
Let me take over now. This is my fuckin’ story, ain’t it? Here’ s what happened next…. These four queers felt sorry me and took my drunk ass inside. I was fightin’ em’ at first, but those dudes are stronger en’ ey’ look. I can tell ya’ that. They took me in and I had nowhere else ta’ go. They taught me bout’ art and fuckin’, fuckin’ good food and how ta’ dress. They showed me a shitload a’ things and ya’ know, it was hard at first. That bein’ cause’ I’z taught to think they was pieces of garbage an all, made it tough to get along at first. Heck, I even tried the gay thing – somethin’ I NEVER thought I’d do. I asked if dude wanted me to rub his shoulders first of “warm-up” but he sayz he just wants to get right to the penetration part. So there, I guess I became a “liberal,” that day, if liberal means buttfucking. But we didn’t do it. I couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t get aroused by a man.
Tim, is that it? Is that the story?
“I guess that’ s it. Can I crap now?”
