“Put the gun down and dance with me s-sugar! Y-You KNOW i-it AIN’T f-fair t-to knock it i-if you HAVEN’T e-even tried it! A-And I can promise YOU, o-once you try it you won’t wanna e-ever knock it AGAIN!” he roars with a jovial laugher, while dancing around the room. He comes to a stop in front of her, puts his hands behind his head and gyrates his hips seductively before ripping his shirt open, displaying a chest full of hair and a belly that falls disturbingly over the elastic waistband of his trackpants, jiggling like a bowl of jelly. With a grunt and an added wheeze, he tosses his torn shirt to the ground while a sea of sweat begins to cascades down his brow.

“I said it BEFORE, and I’ll say it AGAIN, FAT MAN! YOU AIN’T GETTING YOUR GUN BACK, AND I DON’T DO ANYTHING THAT’S MORE THAN TWICE MY SIZE, AND YOU’RE MORE THAN TWICE MY SIZE!” she screams as she takes several steps back, clutching the revolver to her chest tightly.

“I get it, you like to play hard to get,” he says with a playful wink as he bends down and rips his pants off. “You can thank Channing Tatum and Magic Mike for that, I don’t leave home without these bad boys on since I saw that movie, it changed MY life!” he says as he continues to dance around in his socks and underpants.

She rolls her eyes and lets out an exhausted sigh. “I hate that MOVIE as much as I hate FAT guys who can’t take a HINT.”

“Oh, I can take a hint sugar,” he says as he continues to dance around, hopping on one leg, and then the other as he pulls his socks off. Then he sashays his way up to her, wriggling his shoulders from side to side. “But I read BODY signs better, and honey I can tell you’re dripping for me because I’m getting hard for you!”

She puts a hand against her lips. “I think I just THREW-UP in my mouth!”

“THEN WASH IT DOWN WITH A GLASS OF BUBBLY!” he roars excitedly as he spins around, stumbles awkwardly across the room and grabs a bottle of something from the chiller. He grabs two glasses out and slaps them onto the bar, twists the wired cage off the bottle and catapults the cork across to the other side of the room. “I hope you like Dom Pérignon, it is the best for a reason!” he says as he begins filling the glasses while sweat pours off every  inch of his grotesque form.

“I almost like DOM as much as I like FAT CUNTS who don’t know how to take NO for an answer and love SHIT Channing Tatum movies!” She spits venomously while grabbing at the air before her and squeezing it tightly as if it was someone’s throat.

He spins around with glasses in hand, champagne spilling from them both as he does. He lets out a nervous laugh as he looks down at the glasses, then thrusts one out towards her. “D-D-D-Don’t be like that SUGAR, Dom Pérignon w-was after all Marilyn Monroe’s FAVOURITE thing to drink, and that chick was HOT TO TROT!”

“YOU CHAUVINISTIC FUCKING PIG! I SAID I HATE CHAMPAGNE!” she roars as she knocks one of the glass from his hand, sending it crashing to the floor in a sea of bubbles and glass.

He stares at her with menacing eyes as his lips curl, and his brow furrows. “That’s coming out of your PAYMENT!”

“I don’t give a SHIT what you take FAT BOY! I told you from the get go that I WASN’T into it. So why don’t you take your FAT ARSE over to the doorway and unlock those FUCKING locks and LET ME OUT OF HERE!” she screams as she holds the weapon nervously out towards him once more.

He shakes his head and smiles nervously over more, “I ain’t d-d-doing that s-s-sugar! I-I-I p-paid good m-m-money for you, and I-I-I’m gonna get what I-I-I deserve! NOW put t-t-my gun down b-before y-you hurt yourself, an-and GIMME a kiss before the new year s-s-starts!” he slurs as his fingers form the shape of a v, and pokes his tongue through it in a disturbing fashion.

“YOU WANT A KISS FAT MAN! KISS THIS!” she bellows as she pulls the trigger back tightly, and kisses the air as the bullet tears through his skull.

***

Follow the below link to purchase A Twisted Kiss On New Year’s Eve 2022 and read all 31 five minute short stories.

Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted thirty-one in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…

 

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