Clown Excerpt 2
When I got back to work, William, that’s my boss at this law firm I’m talking about, he asked me to help move Abbey’s desk. Abbey’s pretty too. Actually she’s not all that pretty, but she has this insane ass. I’m not really a buttocks guy, I’m a waist/stomach guy, but you probably know what I mean.
Unless you’re a woman. If you are I’m sorry for the offense, but you probably know how men are about these types of things. I mean even gentlemen.
Anyway I’m putting her files away and I’d said hello to her and everything, she’s cool, and she was doing her thing. It was just her and me there. The other secretary pods in that area were empty. Then William comes up with a couple electrician guys in their blue cover-alls and says:
“Hi Abbey. These guys are here to fix the computer. Could you let them take a look under your desk?”
I guess it was the way he phrased it. It even kind of rhymes with:
Could you let them take a look under your dress?
He didn’t mean it that way, I don’t think, but maybe he did because he’s super smart and he’s dry like that. All four of us guys kind of chuckle and then check it toot quick.
Me especially, ‘cause I’d GUFFAWED all stupid and loud. It is already pretty bad. Then Abbey is cool about it. She doesn’t get mad or say anything. She just kind of ignores it and moves away from the desk.
But she’s sexy and young and she’s the only woman there. If there were other women around it wouldn’t be this gang bang feeling like we all just bullied her and shit. Like the end of Saturday Night Fever when they gang banged the girl who wanted Tony. I once masturbated to that scene and then felt like shit for a week.
You already feel guilty masturbating and then you put the rape feeling on top of that and it really feels horrible. That was when I was relatively new to masturbating, though. I know better now.
Anyway Abbey is being all, she’s all fucking cool about it even though we were shits, so it is way fucking worse.
If she was one of these PC women I would have been kind of glad, like a little kid. I still would have felt guilty, but I wouldn’t have felt like shit. I’m serious. I felt like shit. There’s nothing you can do about it either, but feel like shit. You can’t make it go away or talk yourself out of it.
You just have to wait for it to go away itself. The fact that you know you just have to wait, and that you don’t know how long you’re going to feel this bad, makes you feel almost as bad as what you originally felt bad about.
It only last like ten minutes, though. Those guys got on their knees and fiddled for a minute and then quickly left. Neither of them said a word, and I don’t blame them.
William said: “Bye, Abbey. Hey, thanks.”
Which could have been just polite whatever, or could have been a reference to what he said. I finished her files and left without saying anything.
I should have said good bye to her. The whole thing might have been blown over if I’d said goodbye. Instead now we’ll have that awkwardness between us, just sitting there. I see like Siamese twins who are connected at the hip by about a basketball sized piece of flesh that bridges them. Then some doctor puts one clamp as near to the body of each twin as possible. So the flesh basketball dies because it doesn’t get any blood. Then the doctor dies, so no one can cut the flesh away from them.
That’s what’s between Abbey and I now, this basketball size piece of dead flesh. And it will be there until I see her again and apologize. But now I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.
If I’d just fucking relaxed and been cool and said goodbye there wouldn’t have been a basketball. But that’s one of my faults. I get down on myself and then I sweat the small stuff. They have a book at that firm called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff at Work.” I never read it.
Click here to read Clown Excert 1- The One About The Racist On The Bus and Such
Unless you’re a woman. If you are I’m sorry for the offense, but you probably know how men are about these types of things. I mean even gentlemen.
Anyway I’m putting her files away and I’d said hello to her and everything, she’s cool, and she was doing her thing. It was just her and me there. The other secretary pods in that area were empty. Then William comes up with a couple electrician guys in their blue cover-alls and says:
“Hi Abbey. These guys are here to fix the computer. Could you let them take a look under your desk?”
I guess it was the way he phrased it. It even kind of rhymes with:
Could you let them take a look under your dress?
He didn’t mean it that way, I don’t think, but maybe he did because he’s super smart and he’s dry like that. All four of us guys kind of chuckle and then check it toot quick.
Me especially, ‘cause I’d GUFFAWED all stupid and loud. It is already pretty bad. Then Abbey is cool about it. She doesn’t get mad or say anything. She just kind of ignores it and moves away from the desk.
But she’s sexy and young and she’s the only woman there. If there were other women around it wouldn’t be this gang bang feeling like we all just bullied her and shit. Like the end of Saturday Night Fever when they gang banged the girl who wanted Tony. I once masturbated to that scene and then felt like shit for a week.
You already feel guilty masturbating and then you put the rape feeling on top of that and it really feels horrible. That was when I was relatively new to masturbating, though. I know better now.
Anyway Abbey is being all, she’s all fucking cool about it even though we were shits, so it is way fucking worse.
If she was one of these PC women I would have been kind of glad, like a little kid. I still would have felt guilty, but I wouldn’t have felt like shit. I’m serious. I felt like shit. There’s nothing you can do about it either, but feel like shit. You can’t make it go away or talk yourself out of it.
You just have to wait for it to go away itself. The fact that you know you just have to wait, and that you don’t know how long you’re going to feel this bad, makes you feel almost as bad as what you originally felt bad about.
It only last like ten minutes, though. Those guys got on their knees and fiddled for a minute and then quickly left. Neither of them said a word, and I don’t blame them.
William said: “Bye, Abbey. Hey, thanks.”
Which could have been just polite whatever, or could have been a reference to what he said. I finished her files and left without saying anything.
I should have said good bye to her. The whole thing might have been blown over if I’d said goodbye. Instead now we’ll have that awkwardness between us, just sitting there. I see like Siamese twins who are connected at the hip by about a basketball sized piece of flesh that bridges them. Then some doctor puts one clamp as near to the body of each twin as possible. So the flesh basketball dies because it doesn’t get any blood. Then the doctor dies, so no one can cut the flesh away from them.
That’s what’s between Abbey and I now, this basketball size piece of dead flesh. And it will be there until I see her again and apologize. But now I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.
If I’d just fucking relaxed and been cool and said goodbye there wouldn’t have been a basketball. But that’s one of my faults. I get down on myself and then I sweat the small stuff. They have a book at that firm called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff at Work.” I never read it.
Click here to read Clown Excert 1- The One About The Racist On The Bus and Such
posted by Harkonnendog @ 2:29 PM
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