Stories

Jake and I should have never called for those hookers. It might have been the two-for-one deal the ad promised. I mean, who could pass up a sale like that? It could have been the fact that Jake had all this extra money he was stealing from work and we were tired of the titty bar. It might have been that our fiancées were thousands of miles away and we hadn’t had any pussy in months. Whatever the reason, it turned out to be a retarded clusterfuck....
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A couple weeks ago, I decided to spend some of my unemployment money on these Booty Pop Panties. I’m not gay and I don’t normally wear panties—not that I have a problem with that. It’s just that since I got out of the hospital last year, I have some body-image issues. I was about forty pounds over weight when I went into the hospital, which is crazy for me. It was all that goddamn sobriety; I ate crap constantly and didn’t exercise much. (I looked like a heroin addict when I was drinking, which was fine with me.) I lost about sixty pounds while I was in the hospital. I lost most of the muscle I had, though I still had a little belly. Can you believe that shit? Anyway, even when I was fat, I had a nice ass...
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Two and a half weeks ago, I decided not to masturbate until I get published. This might not sound that difficult (besides the publishing part), but I am by far the horniest person I know, and I don’t have a girlfriend. There aren’t any even on the horizon...
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I met her at work. She was my patient, for lack of a better word, and looking back, I realized I was her only friend. No pressure to be someone’s only friend, right?
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I was on the pot for the third time that day—I had only been up for 15 minutes—when I realized I had a serious problem. My daily consumption of between 6 and 40 beers was wreaking havoc on my digestive track...
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Poor Mojo's Almanac(k)