Judson Michael Agla

The Dogs Are Hungry

You’ve beaten me, ripped my flesh to the bone,
and you’ve burnt me in your holy fires

But what’s left of this mortal coil
still hangs precariously on the threads of vengeance,
and an insatiable blood lust

I’ll return one day
My tomahawk brighter, freshly sharpened,
casting long shadows as it darkens with crimson

Many more will follow

These hills echo with the news of the fallen and oppressed
Your antiquated fables of eternal damnation
are beginning to fall on educated, enlightened ears

Like a monstrous black storm that passes by
dropping only a few subtle tears of rain

Send your men; they will die
Barricade your institutions; they will be brought down
Run; and I’ll find you

The dogs are always hungry in the twilight 

Zoltergeist the Poltergeist, By Douglas Hackle

Jimmy Green is a middle-aged limousine driver and a devoted fan of the insane TV sitcom Zoltergeist the Poltergeist. Once when he was a boy, Jimmy had an impure thought about the lead singer of The Bangles.

After confessing his sin to a drunken priest thirty-five years later, Jimmy is sentenced to six months’ penance in an old, isolated house—dubbed Penance House—in the middle of nowhere in rural Ohio. There, sequestered from civilization, Jimmy must repent for his sinful nature or else endure the Everlasting Fires of Hell.

As if Penance House weren’t creepy, whack, and janked-up enough, Jimmy is forbidden to enter the room at the end of the upstairs hallway. Does something sinister lurk beyond its closed door? And what about that leprechaun he keeps seeing skulking around in the woods?

Lucky for Jimmy, he has all forty-nine seasons of Zoltergeist the Poltergeist saved to his laptop to distract himself from his unsettling surroundings. Toward that end, probably the only thing better than rewatching old Zoltergeist episodes would be a visit from the show’s enigmatic, titular star itself…

“The head honcho of the absurd, the governor of wackiness, the top dog of insanity is back! Intelligent and imbecilic, Douglas Hackle is one of the most unique voices in bizarro fiction. Watch out, ’cause Hackle’s brain tissue is coming to town in a sleigh carved out of mad puppets and pulled by alcoholic poltergeists. Dare to see what Douglasgeist Hacklegeist leaves in your socks!”
Zoltán Komor, author of Flamingos in the Ashtray

“Zoltergeist the Poltergeist had me laughing, tittering, chortling, and popping out guffaws like nobody’s business. It even had me dancing for some reason—like I was listening to the hottest new bizarro track out this summer. Your kids are going to love it and so are you.”
—Luke Kondor, author of The Run Fantastic

BUY A COPY HERE

James Diaz

Recovery In Pieces

“Addiction is a tunnel that wakes you up in the middle of the night.
Everything else happens out here in the light.” -Cheryl Strayed

The kid says he’s tired
of this way of life
and I’m hoping he means it

but we’ve been here before
knocking and then running 
back out the door

sleeping on motel floors 
while his mother-love 
cradles her johns 
in a bed wide enough 
for all of the pain in the world 

on this last run 
he lost all his clothes
returns home 
in a pair of women’s jeans
talkin about getting clean
it lasts a day

what can I say
I know well the way 
that wheel turns 
and turns
inside our damaged 
little heads

but this morning 
he asks for the number to rehab
and I give it and give it and give it
we’ve been here before 
and the spirit is poor
the body weary 

the kid says he’s tired
I’m tired too
but what can I do
except offer up what little I know
how you got to surrender to win
how you can’t go home again

feels like it’s written on the wall
the kid’s aiming for hope
but prepped for the fall

all I know is you gotta answer the call
give em that number again and again
just in case 
this is the bottom 
they’re calling you from.

Carrie Magness Radna 

Rich girls 

Rich girls are clueless. 
Rarely the working class 
see them in captivity— 
Nighttime actions are their elixirs. 

Hidden in their big, fancy cars, 
their next-to-nothing miniskirts 
have rode up again, but before 
another crystal-studded snatch  
is almost revealed, 
champagne corks pop in unison 

as the paparazzi gather outside  
the club, hoping to gain a side- 
boob shot on their reel.  

These girls won’t disappoint them,  
being dressed to the nines, 
& they party until 2 or 3  
with 2 or 3. 

What is that like? 

I work for my Uber & PB&J lunch, 
& the traffic is heavy today, 
so we crawl towards Queens 
while the rich girls 
are still sleeping. 

Joseph Farley

Blood and Passion

Shall I compare these to a smoking gun?
You are more loaded and twice as dangerous.

You should not drink and wave knives,
not while the children are home, even if asleep.

My death you desire at this moment,
and maybe your own,

But tomorrow, if we both survive,
you will beg me to never leave you.

It will be too late then.
I’ll already be packing my bags

in my mind if not the hallway.

HSTQ: Spring 2021

horror, adj. inspiring or creating loathing, aversion, etc.

sleaze, adj. contemptibly low, mean, or disreputable

trash, n. literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality

Welcome to HSTQ: Spring 2021, the curated collection from Horror, Sleaze and Trash!

Featuring poetry by Arthur Graham, John Tustin, Donna Dallas, Ben Newell, Paul Tanner, Daniel S. Irwin, James Reitter, William Taylor Jr., Leah Mueller, Alan Catlin, John Grochalski, John Sweet, David J. Thompson, John D Robinson, Noel Negele, Casey Renee Kiser, and Mather Schneider.

Get your FREE ebook here!

Cover Model: Vivid Vivka

Ve Wardh

Billy Chocolate Penis

No woman will ever be truly satisfied because no man will ever have a chocolate penis that ejaculates money.’

Billy snorted as he spotted the oh so familiar e-card clogging up his newsfeed again. It was almost as funny as the first hundred times he’d seen it – the first hundred times that it had delivered its brutal emotional gut punch. He scrolled up to see who had posted it.

Alas, just a generic girl from his schooldays.

Good going, he thought, eyes boring into those staring back from her profile picture, keep contributing to the misogynistic notion that women are nothing more than shallow, materialistic creatures. That will validate you.

Opening her profile he could see she hadn’t changed much from when they’d last met. Though she’d traded in her curls for a maroon bob, and her packed lunches for a bottle of wine (mommy juice) it appeared that, like most, she was yet another person whose emotional intelligence had peaked in childhood and had resigned themselves to a life of ignorance.

Billy slammed his laptop shut and knuckled his eyes. My differences are what make me unique, and I should embrace them. Strength lies in differences. I define myself. I am enough. There is more to me than my knob.

He took a gulp of tea as bile rose in his throat and focussed on his affirmations. His journey of self-acceptance had been a long, arduous one and he was proud of where he was today. A mortgage, decent salary, and enough leisure time to devote to both hobbies and friends, he was living beyond what he could have ever imagined possible for someone like himself.

Yet sometimes the ignorance of others was trigger enough to send him back into a spiral of shame and loathing. You see, Billy did have a chocolate penis which indeed, did ejaculate money. One may be forgiven for thinking that Billy would be a regular ladies’ man, swimming in cash – if the e-card were anything to go by at least.

But you’d be wrong.

***

It all started during the time most people can expect drastic, often embarrassing bodily changes – puberty. Billy had endured all the typical physical developments for a boy of his age and, being a somewhat sheltered only child, had no reason to believe any were out of the ordinary, including those of a penile nature.

As his penis grew from its initial light cream colour, deepening to a golden bronze before settling on a dark brown, his heart swelled with pride.

Finally, he’d thought, I’ve finally gone and grown my adult penis. Poundtown, here I come!

He paraded about with the cocky swagger of your typical teen who had just sprouted their first pube and thought they’d found water on Mars, that is, until a couple weeks later.

‘Dad?’ he asked, hovering in the doorway to his father’s study, ‘Why am I…it’s all weird down there. All hard, like.’

His father froze. A moment later he turned to face Billy and grinned knowingly. ‘Don’t worry Billy, m’boy. It’s all natural. You see, when a guy is really into a girl–‘

‘Dad, no, no! I don’t think it’s…sexual…’

His father raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s just been hard for a while,’ Billy sighed. ‘Say about a week or so.’

His father’s grin disappeared. He motioned for Billy to stay put as he ducked out of the room and thundered down the stairs. Billy could hear the panic in his father’s voice as he exchanged hushed whispers with his mother. After a few minutes he reappeared, looking somewhat paler.

‘Right-o, Billy, let’s get you to the hospital then. No need to panic.’

They journeyed to the hospital in silence.

After running numerous tests, the medical personnel were still at a loss as to what had brought on Billy’s prolonged erection and it’s rich cocoa tint.

Billy and his father had all but lost hope. They sat wordlessly in the waiting room awaiting the results of a penile scan. Billy thumbed through old magazines while his father simply stared at the wall opposite. They jumped as the doctor returned.

‘Well doc, what’s the news?’

The doctor paused. His eyes flickered to Billy’s before focusing on the floor in front of him.

‘I…,’ he swallowed ‘I think it’s best you look yourself.’

Billy watched his father snatched the scan and held it in trembling hands.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘If my only son has dick cancer–‘

‘Chocolate,’ the doctor said. ‘It’s all chocolate.’

Billy’s father slumped back into his seat, letting the scan flutter to the floor.

‘You mean…’

‘Yes. Nothing but pure milk chocolate.’ A frantic laugh escaped the doctor’s lips as his eyes finally settled on Billy’s. ‘It’s hollow even, like an Easter egg!’

***

The next few months weren’t easy. His mother had cried for weeks, then upon entering some sort of acceptance phase made it a point to drill home self-love and body positivity into Billy’s head. He’d ploughed through stacks of self-help books at her insistence, yet no matter how deeply he read there was nothing close to anyone suffering from a chocolate penis, nor thriving with one for that matter. He eventually sunk into a deep depression.

It wasn’t until a few years later when he’d come to accept his chocolate member, more or less. Sure, skinny dipping was still out of the question, but it wasn’t something he’d actively wallow about any longer. He’d even landed himself a girlfriend. All was good.

Until he finally lost his virginity.

It started out in a relatively normal fashion: her parents out, awkward small talk, a clumsy kiss that lead to even clumsier pawing, until they found themselves undressed and under the sheets.

Billy had come prepared. Given his condition, he knew he had to be extra careful, and you can’t go wrong with double bagging. The lights also had to be off – complete darkness. Couldn’t risk her seeing.

He suppressed a grin as she voiced her surprise at his hardness.

Forcing all thoughts of his chocolate Johnson from his mind, he focussed solely on the entry. After some fumbling, he made it in. He breathed a sigh of relief, then relaxed. This is it. This is finally it.

‘Fuck!’

A white-hot bolt of pain stabbed through his groin as he pulled back with a scream. His hands shot to his crotch and his breath caught in his throat as his fingers landed in a hot, sticky mass.

His penis had melted away.

‘What the fuck?‘

His girlfriend jumped up and switched on the lamp before Billy could protest. Her eyes landed on the melted chocolate smeared below Billy’s navel, his manhood reduced to a little wet nub. She screamed as she recoiled at the sight of it.

A loud squelch silenced her immediately. The condoms plopped to the floor from between her legs. Billy’s penis, still encased in its latex cocoon, was now nothing more than a twisted, misshapen brown lump.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was his last chocolatey inch dropping off onto the bedsheets beneath him.

The aftermath was the most humiliating thing Billy had ever experienced, including the time his penis had been chipped by a rogue football to the crotch. His girlfriend’s parents had returned home not long after the incident to find their daughter crying hysterically on the floor, with an unconscious Billy sprawled out on the bed wearing nothing but chocolate from the waist down.

The hospital visit wasn’t much better. Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, the medics had salvaged most of the chocolate and shaped Billy a new penis, albeit an inch or so shorter than the old one (‘We scraped all we could from your body, but there wasn’t much we could do about what was on the sheets, you see.’)

They’d even rescued the condoms. Billy looked on in horror as they shook out the contents onto a tray at his bedside. The average man ejaculates about 4ml of cum per ejaculation, whereas Billy approximated about £5.23.

‘Explains the pain,’ the nurse said.

They’d gone on to say that any chances of Billy reproducing were basically nil, given that the typical English coin rarely contained any traces of viable sperm cells, though they allowed him to at least keep the money. 

‘Enough to get that girl a card to say you’re sorry,’ his father said, before bursting into tears.

They sent Billy home a few days later with a newly reconstructed chocolate wang and a prescription for a Clone-a-Willy Ultra Realistic Penis Home Cloning Kit should anything else like this happen again.

He’d come a long way since then. Yes, he was now celibate, but he’d gotten himself an education, a home, a career, and just an all-round wonderful life. Dare he say, he loved it.

However, he thought, as he scrolled the comments on the cruel, sadistic e-card that had so often plagued him while innocently perusing his socials, some people are just sick in the head. What sort of person would wish such an existence on someone in the first place? What a horrific life – and for what? Just a bit of validation. The cruelty of some people never ceases to amaze me.

He sighed and sipped the last of his tea. He’d never understand how someone could be so insensitive. If the original creator of this tasteless joke could fathom for even a second what life was like for the poor bastards with chocolate penises that ejaculated money, they’d likely think twice before making light of such misfortune. Ruthless bastards.

Phoenix DeSimone

Firetrucks

Dr. Williams walked to the next patients room and pulled the clipboard off the wall. He read over the write up and shook his head. Why does this have to happen at least once a month? He tucked the clipboard under his arm and opened the door. The man was sitting on the operating table, winced over in pain. He was wearing camo pants and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt. Dr. Williams put the clipboard on the counter next to him and stretched out his hand.

“Hey there, Mr. Brown. What brings us in today?”

Of course Dr. Williams already knew the answer to this, but he always found it beneficial to let patients speak for themselves – you might learn something.

“I’m in pain, doc.”

“I bet you are.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Life is embarrassing.”

“Uggh,” Mr. Brown said squeezing tight at his stomach.

“I doubt there’s anything you could tell me that I haven’t heard before.”

“You sure?” “Positive.”

“Well I guess it all started yesterday when I started my vacation from work.”

“Right,” Dr. Williams said sitting in the exam chair and putting on some latex gloves.

“Billy came over with a 30-rack of Busch and we decided we were going to get drunk as hell before I left for the Carolinas this weekend.”

“Where were you going in the Carolinas?”

“Myrtle Beach.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yeah. Well anyway. Billy and I got drunk as hell, to the point that we weren’t quite sure if leaving for Myrtle today would be the best idea.”

“That sounds like a smart plan.”

Dr. Williams scooted closer to Mr. Brown in the exam chair.

“Right. We decided we’d spend today curing the hangover and leave for the beach in the morning.”

“Re-hydrating yourself is always a good idea.”

“That’s not how us country folk do it, Dr. Williams.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I sent Billy to the ABC store for a bottle of Jack. And he came back with Kassandra and Lora Anne.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“Oh it was, doc. We got so drunk that we weren’t even thinking of how messed up we were last night.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Williams said picking the clipboard back up.

“Well none of that explains how you ended up here, Mr. Brown.”

“I’m getting there.”

“Okay.”

“So it gets to around noon and I can tell that the hangover from last night is gonzo. It ain’t coming back.”

“I suppose that is one way to do it.”

“The only thing we had to make sure of now was not to get too drunk. I was itching to get to the beach tomorrow and I didn’t want to miss out. I haven’t had a vacation in three years, doc.”

“That’s horrible, Mr. Brown.”


Dr. Williams placed the clipboard down again and Mr. Brown let out a painful sigh.

“But none of that explains the situation you’re in currently.”

“I’m getting there, doc. So I told Billy that I was gonna lay off the booze for awhile. I didn’t want to wake up hungover. But by this point he and all the girls are really drunk. They wanted to do something fun. And at my house out in Partlow, there really ain’t all that much fun shit to do. The only thing I could think of was taking care of my raccoon problem in the back yard. I went and grabbed my slingshot and BB gun and the four of us headed out back. We started taking fire at the raccoons and throwing back shots of Jack Daniels.”

“Mr. Brown, I don’t want to sound like I’m not enjoying you’re story but–“

“Well the point is, that got boring after awhile to. The girls weren’t any good at hitting the raccoons and Billy was far too gone to be of any assistance to them. The girls decided we should go inside and play some drinking games, and the four of us headed in. We sat down at my couch and decided we’d play an old fashioned game of truth or dare.”

“That sounds like a good, sober, time.”

“Well the rules were that if you got dared to do something, and you didn’t want to do it you had to drink, and if you were asked a truth and didn’t want to answer you took a drink. So it was definitely a drinking game, doc.”

“Of course. But Mr. Brown, the point I’m getting at is how did you end up with–“

Mr. Brown let out an uncomfortable yell and squeezed tight at his stomach again.

“Well it was Lora Anne’s turn and she picked truth. Billy asked her if she ever took it up the rear before and–“

“Up the rear?”

“In the pooper, sir.”

Dr. Williams readjusted his glasses and shook his head.

“Well anyway, she didn’t want to answer so she took a drink. We all knew that meant she had, so we all bust laughin’. My turn was next and I picked dare. Billy thought about it for awhile. I guess his mind was still on the butt stuff. He dared me to shove something up my pooper. And now, I know that’s a stupid idea. I know that things aren’t supposed to go up there, but I didn’t want to drink. Like I said, I was itchin’ to get to Myrtle.”

“Mr. Brown, I –“

“And I remembered watching animal planet one time, and they said all animals have sexual receptors or whatever in their butt – including humans. And I remembered one time I was with this girl down in Tampa, and she tickled me down there, and it felt really good. So the way I looked at it – it was good, drunken fun. I thought about it for a minute and then walked off to the guest room. I found my nephew’s collection of hot wheels. Now the way I looked at it, something that little had to come back out. I went back to the living room, undid my belt, and let my trousers fall to the floor. I split both butt cheeks apart and then I started slid–“

“No lube?”

“I didn’t have any. But then I started forcing the fire–“

“Mr. Brown. I think I get the point,” Dr. Williams said putting the clipboard back on the counter and standing up.

“Believe it or not, I see this more often than you think. It’s actually… common. For lack of a better word. But your X-rays came back and I think it’s small enough that it’s gonna pass. You’re just going to be in some pain. I could prescribe you some pain killers and you can take some laxative and wait for it. Or we could operate. Remove it from the anal cavity.”

“That would be expensive wouldn’t it?”

“Yes it would.”

“I guess I’ll force the firetruck out.”

“Well I’ll write you a prescription and you’ll be out of here in a few minutes. Okay, Mr. Brown?”

“Okay.”

Dr. Williams stopped before pulling the door open.

“I have a question though, Mr. Brown. Why would you even think of doing anything like that?”

“You know, I don’t know, doc. I think life just gets boring sometimes. We all do the same things over and over again, consistently going nowhere and no one really knows why. It’s weird. Sometimes it’s nice to just mix it up, you know? Like when somebody gets their wife to pretend to be a nurse or something. Or when people just take off for the weekend not really knowing where they’re going. Life’s just plain shit, Doc.
You gotta mix it up.”

Mr. Brown winced and grabbed at his stomach again.

“I guess I learned I should make better decisions when I want to mix things up. Or something like that.”

“At least you learned something. But I guess you have a point. The nurse will be in with your discharge papers soon.”

“Thanks, Doc.”


Dr. Williams walked out of the exam room and shut the door. He wrote out a prescription for Vicodin and some over-the-counter laxative and handed it to the nurse.

“So what you think? Think he just came in for some pain pills?”

“I don’t know.”

“He sure looks like he would.”

“Maybe, maybe. But sometimes life just gets boring you know?”

“Huh?”

“So boring that you shove a firetruck up your ass.”

“He did what?”

“Give him this.”

Dr. Williams handed the nurse the prescription and headed off to the next exam room.

Daniel S. Irwin

Life Lesson

When I was little, I wanted a puppy.
Our dog had puppies, one was mine.
I kept him with me most of the time.
Out in the country, we didn’t have
Many people around.  On one occasion,
My cousins came for the day.  When
They left, I waved. “Bye, Uncle George.
Bye, bye, Aunt Mildred. Bye, bye, Eddie,
Charlie, Mary.  Bye, bye, puppy.”  Puppy?
They had given away my dog.  I was sad.
Sad, until the next batch of puppies.
And I had another dog all my own.
We did everything together.  My dog.
One morning, I awoke to a loud noise.
Mama said Daddy had shot my dog.
He shot my dog ‘cause he was chasin’
Chickens.  That had a deep affect on me.
From that day forward, I never chased
Another chicken.
Years later, I was known for chasin’
Women, but I was good at duckin’
Bullets by then.

Tristan Cook

If You’re Not Going to Suck My Dick, at Least Come Cuddle Me

I had the strangest sexual experience of my life on January 3rd, 2021. Almost two months after my boyfriend broke up with me and I began living in the basement of a house with a thirty-five-year-old man named Brandon.

The basement is cold. I often spend my nights huddled up to my shivering dog. His short, brown coat stabs into my chapped lips. Brandon is warm, warm, warm. Our energies combine on the living room couch over wine and 90’s anime. “Hey, Tristan, have you ever seen Akira?” he’s asked with a goofy grin. 

I spent the late evening eating a Country Chicken Hungry Man and drinking Blue Moons on our ripped-up couch. A single beer in and I was already perusing the gay sex app Grindr, just as I had done every night prior. My phone’s battery sat at a steady five percent. A flea bit at my elbow. A minute or so after opening the app, I got a message from an account with the username ‘2 DTF.’

This wasn’t their first time messaging me; we meant to meet up a week prior, but the plans never came to fruition. 

2 DTF: Yo

2 DTF: How u b

Me: I’m chillin B^)

2 DTF: Wanna fuck ? 3 sum

2 DTF: Smoke a fatty

Me: ha sounds fun

Me: rn?

2 DTF: Yes

Me: Okkie

Me: whats the addy?

He gave me the address for a suburban style house about fifteen minutes away. I pawned my dog off on Brandon and hopped in my car. Sweat dampened my shirt and my jaw clenched tight. I loved the thrill of Grindr. The mystery, the danger, the gay underbelly! The repressed homoerotic-feeling ‘straight’ boys, the hit-it-and-quit-it gay boys, the married men, the older men, the tranny chasers. The men who tell me I’m cute, the men who ask if I have a penis or vagina. The boy who came in less than a minute, the boy who couldn’t get it up, the boy who told me I was perfect cause he’s never been with a dude and I’m a great place to start. The boy that wants to date me, the man that wants to pay me six hundred dollars to let him fuck me. The boy that broke my heart.

I followed the twists and turns of the road, occasionally catching glimpses of the waning moon. Was she shielding me from her disapproving eye? Was she too disgusted to tell me I’m a no-good dirty whore who is desperately trying to fill the void of lost love? Is that true?

I pulled into their driveway with a sense of unease. What if this wasn’t their house? 

Me: Hey, I think I’m here!

Me: it’s a white house, right?

Minutes passed and I didn’t get a reply. I played out the possibility that I was at the wrong house. I would go up, knock on the unassuming stranger’s door at midnight, and say something along the lines of “gay sex?” at their bewildered expression. I decided that it was worth the risk. 

I approached the house with my hands in my jacket pockets. There was a white picket fence that enclosed the front yard to the left of the paved driveway. The entirety of the front porch was screened in. There were cushioned patio chairs, a small, round table, and potted plants. I thought it was odd how adult the house looked. I assumed that the couple who messaged me were both around my age.

My cold, bruised knuckles wrapped on the front door. A blonde boy with a stubbly face answered. He was an inch or two shorter than me and wearing a black hoodie and black jeans. His name was Brendon. We said hello and he invited me in as a small brown dog shaved like a lion waddled into the living room. 

“Holy shit! I love your dog,” I said. 

“Oh yeah, he’s great.” 

We cooed over him for a moment when a husky man who appeared to be in his early forties entered the room. He had reddish hair, a clean face, and broad shoulders over a soft, round body. Maybe I should’ve asked why they didn’t tell me one of them was significantly older. Maybe I should’ve walked out the door. I didn’t consider it.

“Hi,” I said with a little wave. We formally introduced ourselves; the older man’s name was Steve. I was curious what sex would be like with him, though I wasn’t attracted to him. He was weird, but in a way that intrigued me. He was like a friend’s dad who wasn’t entirely sure how to talk to his son’s friends. I thought he would ask me if I played sports at any moment.

They led me down a long hallway until we entered their bedroom. I never asked, but I assumed they lived together. There was a king-sized bed, dresser, three bongs, and a massive T.V. mounted to the wall. The T.V. was playing gay porn, which startled me into saying oop out loud. Steve offered me one of the bongs. 

“You smoke, right?” He seemed gentle, and I felt a bit ashamed of judging his physical appearance. 

“Every day of my life,” I said while grabbing the bong. The clear glass was tainted with resin. I didn’t look him in the eyes, instead I kept my focus on the floor. I was too sober for the bizarreness of my situation, so I  ripped the bong three times.

They both clambered into bed, leaving a space for me to climb in the middle. I did. Steve rested his hand on my right thigh while Brendon rubbed my left one. Brendon kissed me gently. He began to alternate between sweetness and passion. He would take a moment to look me in the eyes and brush his thumb across my cheek, then kiss me so fiercely I could barely keep up. I eased into it. Steve tightened his grip on my thigh and uttered “fuck yeah’s” between each breath. 

Brendon switched back to gentle kisses, and I took an opportunity to kiss him on the nose. “Do you like poppers?” he asked.

“I’ve never tried them. What’re they like?”

“Bro, they’re incredible.” He reached over to the bedside table and pulled an small bottle out of the drawer. “They’re strong, so just take small sniffs.” He placed the bottle under his right nostril and sniffed three times. When he was done, I took a deep, steady sniff through both of my nostrils. 

“How do you feel?”

“Oh, is it immediate?” As soon as I said that, I felt each beat of my racing heart. 

Babum!

Babum, babum!

Babum, babum, 

babum! 

My head fell limp against the headboard behind me. My arms became cement. Steve and Brendon started to undress. A man was getting pounded in the ass while sucking another dude’s dick on the T.V.

“You should take your clothes off.” Brendon said. I tumbled to the other side of the bed to face them while I took off my sweater. “Shit, cool tattoo,” he nodded at the twelve-faced monk on my stomach. “What does it mean?”

“It came to me in an acid trip. I was sitting on the living room floor of the first apartment I lived in when I moved to Asheville. It was spring. The sky was freckled with small, white clouds. I was the only one home. The balcony door was open, allowing a swift breeze to occasionally pass through. The neighbors that lived up and to the left of my unit were sitting on their balcony playing a cello, saxophone, and drum. Squirrels skittered about and birds chirped to the music. It came to me gradually. Inspired by angels and the guides of the afterlife. We are all different faces of the same universe.”

“That’s cool.” Brendon finished getting undressed next to a naked Steve. I took off my pants, catching a glimpse of Steve’s small, half-flaccid penis. It felt like a taboo to look.

Sweat, smoke, silky, lavender, lube. 

White walls and wooden furniture. 

Watering eyes, twitching dicks, and 

heart palpitations.

It ended with my legs trembling and head lying on Brendon’s chest while Steve blew him. I kept my eyes closed or focused on the T.V. There was a moment when my curiosity got the best of me and I looked. Steve locked his eyes onto mine and I darted them away. I felt as if he had held me by the ankles and shook an avalanche of stolen candy bars out of my pockets. In this split-second moment he had truly witnessed me. And I had witnessed him! His slow bobbing motions. His bold stare. There was nowhere to hide. Several minutes passed before Steve stopped to rest his head on Brendon’s thigh. 

“Alright Steve, if you’re not going to suck my dick, at least come cuddle me.”