I cannot, for the love of gawd, fathom why this country is reeking of flagrant bitches and stupid assholes to the point that you’d rather they die moaning heart attack while doing the meat shindig. Coming in close second would be wishing they get afflicted with a severe case of vaginismus or penile shrinkage. That will shut their cum-filled senseless, pathetic orifices.
So, yes, I am ranting yet again because these patheity-personified creatures give me more than enough reason to vent out R18 invectives. Allow me to roll out the rundown:
A few days ago, I took the PVP Bus Liner bus to go home after yet another SSDD at my call whoring job. I was alone because, Essie and Binchee, my teammates who take the same route and the same PUV, had another hour to slave away and wait for some clusterfuck call overseas before they get to logout of their AVAYA phones; I, on the other hand, was one hour early as my shift started at 7AM whereas theirs began at 8AM. Sweet!
I had one of the entire three-person-accommodating seats to myself and yes, Essie and Binchee, I will not lie in telling you that I was half-delighted to own the seat alone. No standing up to get some coins out of the pocket because the seat can hardly give us comfort, no unnecessary elbowing to squish ourselves in, no sigh of relief and/or aghast pfft for miraculously fitting three fine specimens of human in the bus couch. Kidding.
On second thought, I think I missed the mundane what’s ups and what nots we share to while away the traffic time. All those schlong talks and wondering over whether Jessica, indeed, owns that Zafra Motor Works we always pass by, all the Coffee Bun-flavored dialogues I covet a bit. A bit. Let not the slight showing of liking for human interaction be stretched. I am an introvert after all. Haha!
So I spread my legs apart like I am about to whip out my above-average dick to do some wanking and read one of Neil Gaiman’s incredible hort stories while relishing the bacteria-smooching bus airconditioning. Gawd, this guy really knows his stuff; every time I read one of his works I can’t help but be dumbfounded over the engaging quirkiness of his narratives, thereby posing helplessly like a drooling retard waiting for a shit-dipped fly rest in his wide-open mouth. Someday, I’m going to be a Gaiman myself, oh yes, read my fuck-me-Freddy lips!
It is in this Gaiman-adulating stance that I find myself getting fucked up yet again by a tortuous episode borne out of the Reality TV douchebag blurs for just at my back are three descendants of the Blairbitch clan happily munching over sex and penis measurement diatribes. You would think that the bus being a public form of transportation, people inside it would find the decorum and shame to keep their pathetic I-am-the-apple-of-the-fuckin’-universe’s-eyes talks well within themselves, careful not to disturb their nearby seatmates. I, for one, do not care whether you screwed your neighbor’s wife last night and felt manly over her confession that your schlong was far more superior than her husband’s pototoy. To each his own and trifling things like this do not excite me at all.
But, then again, it would be a different story when, in a voice that sounds like you eat megaphones for breakfast, someone blares forth how many dicks she has nonchalantly permitted to log in and log out (my apologies for incorporating call center terms..lol!) of her stinking orifice to half of the bus passengers aboard. Here was this promiscuous woman (I suspect she was in her early twenties judging by her voice and her use of “ampotah” and “tangina” repeatedly) who found there’s nothing wrong with broadcasting her sex life escapades to the general public, by the by laughing like a mad hyena along with her two equally-pathetic bozo friends – one laughing the loudest among the three without any trace of disapproval or shame, like she can never have side stitch because she has all the love handles this Belo-conscious society could offer; and the other giggling hard like Betty Boop just the same, to think that he is a man with that masculine bass voice (or is really a he?).
I would not have minded them had they kept their stupid fits to themselves alone but no, whether I liked it or not, I had to be dragged to the entire sexcapade hysteria because of their reverberating dialogues, thereby making me a reluctant eavesdropper of sorts. Here’s the transcribed Sex 101 of the perverted retards of the Blairbitch clan:
Girl Number 1: Ang sakit ng keps ko. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahaha! Baka nasobrahan mo.
Pa-girl Number 3: Oo nga. Baka di ka na makalakad niyan pauwi. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Tangina! Uulitin pa namin ni Rey mamaya. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha! Akala ko ba meron ka ngayon?
Girl Number 1: Gaga! Oo naman no. Yun nga ang mas masarap. Yung mamasa-masa. Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahaha! Di ba kayo nagsasawa?
Girl Number 1: Tangina kasi. Ang liit ng kaniya. Bitin. Hindi katulad nung kay Carl. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Maliit lang yung kaniya? Ano ba yan! Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Sabi ko nga nung isang araw “O ayan, ayaw naman. Wag na.” Tas yun na pala yun. “Ay, yan na ba yun?” Kakapiranggot. Ampotah! Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Tas sabi pa niya, gusto niya raw magka-baby sakin. Panong magkaka-baby ako, eh hindi nga umaabot sa loob. Tangina. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahaha! Ano ba yan. Di ba ang laki ng katawan nun?
Girl Number 1: Oo nga. Nag-gi-gym kasi kaya ganun. Maliit. Ahahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahahaha! Eh bat gusto mo pa rin siya?
Girl Number 1: Kasi ano siya, iba siya eh. Pag niyayakap niya ko, alam mo yung may something. Basta.
Girl Number 2: Eh si James?
Girl Number 1: Ah si James, ano naman yun. Yung kaniya mataba. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha! Talaga? Gano kataba?
Girl Number 1: Oo. Ano siya, mataba na di naman kalakihan. Normal lang. Yun. Matabang normal lang. Ahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Eh yung kay Rey, maliit na payat? Ahahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Tangina! Kung pwede nga lang hilain ko eh. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha!
Girl Number 1: Uy, ano ba yan. Ang ingay-ingay naman natin. Panay titi pa pinag-uusapan natin. Ahahaha!
Girl Number 2: Ahahahaha!
Pa-girl Number 3: Ahahahaha!
So now, tell me, how in the fuckin’ world can you engrossingly peruse over a story of a young man doing a boring clerical job who for some unknown reason, wakes up one morning vomiting a puke consisting of an unchewed dog paw and little fingers presumably of a small child among others? I couldn’t. And while I was contemplating over transferring to another fuckarow-free zone, I happened to finally have arrived at my destination. I stood up, tuck Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors in my black Girbaud shoe bag, and alighted from the bus without looking at the three A-holes from Third world hell.
On second thought, I’m curious about the bitch’s puzzled reaction if I instead looked back before alighting from the vehicle, unzipped my fly, whipped out my above-average schlong and slapped it on her face saying, “Miss, stop whining over your boyfriend’s short dick. You could have this instead.” LOL!
Postscript:
Speaking of dicks and R18 taboos, you might find this Jessica Zafra post amusing. Haha!
