Post by Chris Hedges on Aug 30, 2010 5:45:44 GMT -6
This one is kind of a parody. It came to be because of a writing challenge. There was a strict word count limit of 1000 words and the story had to include several key words or phrases. These were: Smoked Salmon, A Priceless Jewel, A Girl Named Bertha, A Clown and Johnny Carson.
I always thought it was a tad goofy, but it was fun to write! :-) Anyway, have fun reading it.
Stupid. Stupid! How do you get yourself into this shit?
Claire bolted around the corner of the alley, barely avoiding an overflowing dumpster as she went. She threw quick glances over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being followed, although she was fairly sure the trick had given up trying to catch her after the first block, but you never could tell with those guys. Her ear hurt like hell; the earlobe was split completely through where there was once a cheap, gold plated hoop earring. The bastard had ripped it completely out; blood ran down her cheek and soaked into the white, silk blouse she had found at a thrift store on 32nd Street.
Claire slowed her pace to a brisk walk as she turned into a connecting alley and tried to let her lungs catch up. The smell of rotted meat mixed with urine hung thick in the air. With a wince, she touched her bottom lip, now split open.
That fucker just cost me three nights of work. Who wants a blowjob from a hooker with a busted mouth?
Claire stopped walking and let herself slide down the brick wall to the ground where she hugged her knees. Leaning over, she spat, trying to rid the salty taste of smoked salmon the trick had left in her mouth. She wanted to cry, but wouldn’t let herself. If she learned one thing in the two years she’d been living on the street, it was not to show weakness, no matter what. Weakness could get you killed, especially if you’re a sixteen-year-old girl who turns tricks to keep from starving, but it was better than the alternative; going home and letting her dad fuck her for free. At least she could get paid for it in the city.
Confident she was alone, Claire brought her fist to eye level and opened her fingers. Lying in the palm of her hand was a jewel of the likes she’d never seen before.
“It’s priceless. It has to be,” she whispered to herself.
It was of the most beautiful shade of red, the size of a large marble; rounded on top and tapered to a point, reminding her of a miniature snow cone. A very expensive snow cone. It was worth the lost earring and split lip she received when her trick caught her hand in his coat pocket, when it should have been working in tandem with her mouth on his member. It was a miracle she was able to break free of him and escape.
“I’ve gotta find Bertha. She’ll know where to unload this thing. Then I’m outta this fuckin’ city for good!”
As Claire began to stand, footsteps echoed from the far end of the alley. Her heart skipped and her stomach contracted, threatening to unload all the deposits of the evening.
“The jewel!” Her mind screamed. “You have to hide the jewel! It’s your only ticket out of here!” She could only think of one place to put it. That place had helped her survive the streets for the past two years; maybe it would help to protect her only chance at freedom for at least this one night. Quickly, she reached under her black mini and pulling her white panties aside, inserted the jewel into her vagina.
The footsteps grew louder and now she could see the shape responsible for them. It was too dark to be sure, but it looked like the trick she stole the jewel from. She turned to run in the opposite direction and collided with a man she hadn’t heard approach. Startled, she fell to the ground.
“Now, now. This isn’t the time to exit stage left, sweetheart. Ever hear the expression, ‘The show must go on.’” The man said as the other man came up behind her.
Claire stared up at the man, not believing what she was seeing. But, that voice. There was no mistaking that voice!
“You…you’re Johnny Carson. You…you’re dead!” She stammered as she tried to shuffle back from the figure only to be grabbed under each arm and hauled to her feet by her last trick.
“Oh, I’m not as dead as you might think,” said Johnny. “It’s all part of the arrangement. I get to live forever…IF, I deliver a certain jewel to a certain demon on a certain night. My assistant, Steve, I’m assuming you’ve met, was supposed to bring it directly to me. Not stop off for desert on the way.” Johnny glared at his assistant.
“Sorry, boss,” Steve said.
“No harm, no foul,” Johnny said with an authentic Johnny smirk.
“Now, sweetheart, my demon is waiting. If you wouldn’t mind excavating that jewel from your cunt, we can get this business done with.” Johnny held out his hand. Claire was surprised to see tattooed on the palm was an evil looking clown. Strangely, it resembled Ed McMahon.
“I...I...don’t have…” Her words were cut off by a stern slap to the face.
“Don’t toy with me!” Johnny screamed. “Steve, help her remember where it is.”
Steve moved in close to her and grabbed her under her thighs, lifting her into the air; sprawling her legs open. Johnny stepped up and ripped Claire’s panties away.
“Don’t worry, Claire, I did this once in Thailand. I guess you could call me experienced.” With that said, Johnny thrust his hand into her. A scream ripped from Claire’s throat.
“Shush! You wanna wake the dead?” Johnny said. “Where is it…where is it…wha…” Something clamped down on Johnny’s wrist from inside Claire. It was Johnny’s turn to scream. Inch by inch, Johnny was drawn, flailing and screaming into Claire. Birth in reverse.
Steve, too paralyzed with fear moments ago, released Claire and ran screaming, clutching handfuls of his hair, in the direction from which he came.
Claire stood, smoothing her miniskirt. “I met a demon myself, Johnny. For the price of a blowjob and your soul…I get to live forever. I wonder where Bertha is.” Claire laughed.
I always thought it was a tad goofy, but it was fun to write! :-) Anyway, have fun reading it.
Street Smarts
By: Chris Hedges
By: Chris Hedges
Stupid. Stupid! How do you get yourself into this shit?
Claire bolted around the corner of the alley, barely avoiding an overflowing dumpster as she went. She threw quick glances over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being followed, although she was fairly sure the trick had given up trying to catch her after the first block, but you never could tell with those guys. Her ear hurt like hell; the earlobe was split completely through where there was once a cheap, gold plated hoop earring. The bastard had ripped it completely out; blood ran down her cheek and soaked into the white, silk blouse she had found at a thrift store on 32nd Street.
Claire slowed her pace to a brisk walk as she turned into a connecting alley and tried to let her lungs catch up. The smell of rotted meat mixed with urine hung thick in the air. With a wince, she touched her bottom lip, now split open.
That fucker just cost me three nights of work. Who wants a blowjob from a hooker with a busted mouth?
Claire stopped walking and let herself slide down the brick wall to the ground where she hugged her knees. Leaning over, she spat, trying to rid the salty taste of smoked salmon the trick had left in her mouth. She wanted to cry, but wouldn’t let herself. If she learned one thing in the two years she’d been living on the street, it was not to show weakness, no matter what. Weakness could get you killed, especially if you’re a sixteen-year-old girl who turns tricks to keep from starving, but it was better than the alternative; going home and letting her dad fuck her for free. At least she could get paid for it in the city.
Confident she was alone, Claire brought her fist to eye level and opened her fingers. Lying in the palm of her hand was a jewel of the likes she’d never seen before.
“It’s priceless. It has to be,” she whispered to herself.
It was of the most beautiful shade of red, the size of a large marble; rounded on top and tapered to a point, reminding her of a miniature snow cone. A very expensive snow cone. It was worth the lost earring and split lip she received when her trick caught her hand in his coat pocket, when it should have been working in tandem with her mouth on his member. It was a miracle she was able to break free of him and escape.
“I’ve gotta find Bertha. She’ll know where to unload this thing. Then I’m outta this fuckin’ city for good!”
As Claire began to stand, footsteps echoed from the far end of the alley. Her heart skipped and her stomach contracted, threatening to unload all the deposits of the evening.
“The jewel!” Her mind screamed. “You have to hide the jewel! It’s your only ticket out of here!” She could only think of one place to put it. That place had helped her survive the streets for the past two years; maybe it would help to protect her only chance at freedom for at least this one night. Quickly, she reached under her black mini and pulling her white panties aside, inserted the jewel into her vagina.
The footsteps grew louder and now she could see the shape responsible for them. It was too dark to be sure, but it looked like the trick she stole the jewel from. She turned to run in the opposite direction and collided with a man she hadn’t heard approach. Startled, she fell to the ground.
“Now, now. This isn’t the time to exit stage left, sweetheart. Ever hear the expression, ‘The show must go on.’” The man said as the other man came up behind her.
Claire stared up at the man, not believing what she was seeing. But, that voice. There was no mistaking that voice!
“You…you’re Johnny Carson. You…you’re dead!” She stammered as she tried to shuffle back from the figure only to be grabbed under each arm and hauled to her feet by her last trick.
“Oh, I’m not as dead as you might think,” said Johnny. “It’s all part of the arrangement. I get to live forever…IF, I deliver a certain jewel to a certain demon on a certain night. My assistant, Steve, I’m assuming you’ve met, was supposed to bring it directly to me. Not stop off for desert on the way.” Johnny glared at his assistant.
“Sorry, boss,” Steve said.
“No harm, no foul,” Johnny said with an authentic Johnny smirk.
“Now, sweetheart, my demon is waiting. If you wouldn’t mind excavating that jewel from your cunt, we can get this business done with.” Johnny held out his hand. Claire was surprised to see tattooed on the palm was an evil looking clown. Strangely, it resembled Ed McMahon.
“I...I...don’t have…” Her words were cut off by a stern slap to the face.
“Don’t toy with me!” Johnny screamed. “Steve, help her remember where it is.”
Steve moved in close to her and grabbed her under her thighs, lifting her into the air; sprawling her legs open. Johnny stepped up and ripped Claire’s panties away.
“Don’t worry, Claire, I did this once in Thailand. I guess you could call me experienced.” With that said, Johnny thrust his hand into her. A scream ripped from Claire’s throat.
“Shush! You wanna wake the dead?” Johnny said. “Where is it…where is it…wha…” Something clamped down on Johnny’s wrist from inside Claire. It was Johnny’s turn to scream. Inch by inch, Johnny was drawn, flailing and screaming into Claire. Birth in reverse.
Steve, too paralyzed with fear moments ago, released Claire and ran screaming, clutching handfuls of his hair, in the direction from which he came.
Claire stood, smoothing her miniskirt. “I met a demon myself, Johnny. For the price of a blowjob and your soul…I get to live forever. I wonder where Bertha is.” Claire laughed.
