The Break Up

            He did it again. Somehow he managed to fuck up something perfectly average.

“What the fuck are these pictures doing on your Facebook?” The tone of her voice said it all; she could be speaking Japanese and he would still understand her. Kevin was outstretched on her too small twin bed, smoking a cigarette and reliving the majestic load of man-goo he had sprayed across her chest not five minutes before.

“Pictures?” he said, sheepishly.

“The pictures I sent you when you were in Tokyo, you know, the ones you asked for. What the fuck is this?”

He wanted to say that this is all she really meant to him.

That this is all she would ever be.

That this is who she is.

Of course, he didn’t say any of these things. He forgot about the mischievous act he committed the night before in his drunken stupor. He just lay there smoking and imagining his seed shoot out of his dick and onto her chest—her winces as each stream triumphantly squirted out. It really was a glorious load. He looked at the smooth, buxom woman in the computer chair. He could see the redness travel down her naked body until it reached her white, knee high socks. He looked at the computer screen.

What this really was, was a photo album that Kevin had put on his Facebook, an album that included four pictures that his soon to be ex-girlfriend, Sophie, sent him while he was studying abroad in Tokyo. He somehow managed to convince her to send him naked pictures of herself, so that he could jerk off to them. It would be “like we were always together, no matter what we are doing,” as he so eloquently put it. He didn’t even need the pictures; he would rather jerk off to some good amateur porn. He just wanted to see if she’d do it. And she didn’t disappoint.

Earlier that week, one of Kevin’s friends told him about an interesting conversation he had with Wes Snyder. Wes said that Sophie sucked his dick while Kevin was away in Tokyo.

“That fat fuck?” Kevin said.

“Yeah dude. He said he was at a party and she was drunk and basically took him in the bathroom and started sucking his dick. Sorry, bro.”

Kevin was no saint either. He found temptation too strong in Tokyo.  He always did have a thing for Asian girls, and they seemed to have a thing for grungy looking Americans. Still, when he heard of this injustice, he had to do something.

What this really was, was this poor, naked girl—spread eagle on a social networking website with smiley faces painted on over her big, perky tits and hairless vag with Microsoft Paint.

This was funny as hell.

“Say something you asshole!” She was standing over him now, her eyes burning like the tip of his cigarette.

“At least I censored them?” he puts out his cigarette on an ashtray of Bob Marley’s head. “I didn’t think you would mind, they are really quite beautiful,” a grin began to creep across his stupid face.

She tried to hit him, “You are such a fucking dick, get the fuck out!” He covered his head while she wailed away.

“Come on babe, it was just a little joke.”

“You think this is funny? Everyone can see this shit, this was supposed to be for you and you just threw it back in my face. This isn’t a joke. What’s a joke is that little thing you call a penis.” Kevin scoffed at this remark, although there may have been more truth in it than he would like to admit. It wasn’t a joke.

This was self-destruction.

“Why is it that when a girl has a problem with a guy the first thing they do is say he has a small dick, you think that your opinion of my penis size really matters that much to me? And it’s not small, its average.” It did matter to Kevin. “It’s not my fault you’re a freak who can’t have an orgasm!”

“You can’t please a pussy with what you got,” she said, pointing to her vagina and somehow looking scary. “I’ve had my share of leg shaking, breath taking sex and you didn’t come close with that baby dick.” Kevin hoped she was lying. He stood up and began to dress himself.

Kevin thought about the day he met Sophie. It was at a party the summer before he went to college. He wore combat boots and basketball shorts—he looked like he couldn’t decide if he was punk or he just didn’t give a fuck. He thinks that’s what caught her eye. She always did have terrible taste. Across the smoke and the sea of red cups, he spotted her splendid pair of tits. His eyes scanned over her curvy body. She wore leggings, tight jean shorts, and a low cut shirt. Kevin drank up some courage and walked over to her.

She sucked his dick in the bathroom.

“I heard what you did with Wes. There must be something with you and bathrooms, huh? I want you to know I just went out with you so I could tell people I fucked Timmy Harris’ sister—I fucking hate that kid.” Timmy Harris was a local loser. He sold weed and Kevin always thought he skimped him.

She let out a shrill laugh, “What are you? Like twelve? And yeah, I sucked his dick. I wanted to see what a real cock looked like,” She was really going after his manhood. “Why don’t you write a story about it?” But her face betrayed her words; he could see the slightest tremble in her bottom lip. He knew she was about to cry.

This was revenge.

“Yeah, whatever. Peace, bitch. Don’t call me and tell me how bad you want me or my baby dick again.” Kevin put his shoes on and did a quick inventory of his pockets. He made his way for the door, “Tell Wes I said hi.”

“You fucking asshole, I’ll get you back for this!”

Kevin heard something slam against the back of the door as he closed it behind him. He walked through the living room cluttered with “chairs that you can’t sit in”—decorative little chairs that Sophie’s mom collected out of what Kevin could only assume was insanity. He imagined trying to sit in each one he passed, even the little tiny ones that look like they were made for little elves. He guessed which ones would be comfortable. The tiny recliner looked most appealing—furnished with leather and all. He imagined that the chair was made in little chair factories by little factory workers, and Sophie’s mom was an evil tyrant who took all of their chairs for her own selfish decorations—the next bestseller!

Kevin found himself staring at the front door. He wondered if she was just being spiteful, or his performance really was that terrible. It wasn’t until he heard noises coming from Sophie’s room and her door opening that he was snapped from his trance and quickly left the house. He passed by the giant pet tortoises and realized this was probably the last time he’d see them. It was all very sentimental. He wondered if she’d ever forgive him. He wondered why he cared. He wondered how she planned to get him back. He got into his old Ford and drove away.



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