Matt’s Tale
His name is Matt. He is short, got brown eyes, darkish skin, a skinny body, and also ugly, dark fingernails (don’t ask me what happened to them. I too don’t fucking know).
Matt is good at making rap music. So, we can agree that he is a rapper, right? But the most shocking part is that he often doesn’t see himself as just a rapper, but also a demon. I heard the word "demon" in most of his songs and he also dropped a song called Demon as well, which I find enjoyable to listen to. But, in my own opinion, it lacks some depth in it and has no clear message. Sorry.
Matt is an underground rapper, you know, an unknown local artist, as they say. I used to like his stuff very much in the past couple of years when he didn’t take his ass too seriously until he saw himself as a demon, that’s when his level of creativity began to get pretty much fucked.
Matt is damn creative (can’t ignore that), stubborn, and oftentimes daydream about the outcomes of his desires. I once risked my questions for his answers by asking him about his desires and I found them to be dull. That’s when I concluded on my own that this dude Matt watches too many music videos and/or television shows. Why? Well, asshole, I knew you would ask. Okay, Matt told me that his desires are to smoke crack with his future buddies overseas, probably in the UK, living a rich life, surrounded by too many gorgeous bitches of different races and different shapes, and continue with his music career until we put his ass and ugly, dark fingernails in the god damn coffin. I feel like my analysis of this dude is extremely cynical and mean.
But he did say one thing I liked tho, he told me that he wants to own multiple rooms for rental purposes. And that made me see that Matt isn’t absolutely dead yet, it’s just that some part of his fucking brain resists operating in a mature way. Again, sorry.
Okay, enough about Matt’s dreams. Or fantasies, I should say.
Matt’s life is some kind of crazy and obscure one. And he doesn’t understand it either, I think. But, luckily, for Christ’s balls, I spotted his goddamn weakness. His weakness was Effie. I told him about it. He also knew it as well but didn’t want to acknowledge that shit. What I find to be damn absurd is that he also released a nice, listenable song about her (a listenable one for an average human specie), raping about how much he loves her and how much he gives a fuck about her ass etcetera etcetera.
Effie was a pleasant, gorgeous girl with fresh, brownish skin, vaselike legs, bright eyes (oh my God!), and got some very nice-nice shaped lips as if they’d been sculptured by some ancient dude with a 5 inches beard and bald-headed in the villages of Rome. She also got holy soft hands. Oops! I’m a lying asshole, I never ever, even in my century’s dreams, touched her holy soft hands. Even her dress or anything. Ugh! Christ, where are you, huh? I thought you were with me, bro. But I’m positive that her hands were so damn holy soft.
To add, it was fun to be around her. Nope! I mean it was kinda fun for her to be around because I remember when I would crack a special joke and every fucker would instantly laugh at my special joke until their weedy stomach aches in the room. Including Effie, baby. The last time I saw Effie it was four years ago or so. She was Matt’s girlfriend and they were deeply in love together. And they both were smoking weed together. She put a comfortable smile on her face, very often.
A comfortable smile? Well, fuck it! But you get me, huh? Good, let’s proceed.
When I heard that Effie and Matt were fucking one another so viciously. I got jealous and down in the mouth because I was a little bit attracted to her and I had no girl on my side to bonk. Man, I felt like my fantasies were being haunted by a tough nanny devil who got nasty razor-sharp teeth. And on top of that shit, we were just stupid teens and the pressure of getting laid was always a fuckfaced burden on my shoulders when hanging out with the boys. What hurt my ass more is that of a super clean sheep-faced virgin pitisome boy I was. Don’t get me wrong, Matt and you reader, I said I was a LITTLE BIT attracted to Effie. A LITTLE BIT! And that LITTLE BIT fucking thing shit of attraction lasted for less than 2 weeks.
‘Till this day, to me, or to my fucking distorted vision, Matt’s life is some kind of crazy and obscure. After all that shit, my eyeballs never spotted those vaselike legs and nice-nice shaped lips of Effie in my living years. My eyeballs never saw Effie’s body ever since. But Matt informed me the other dull day that Effie visited another home of hers in the village and the so-called Boys got rid of her well-shaped body so quickly by impregnating her and also told me that despite all the horrible shit that happened to their relationship with Effie, they are still fucking one another just like before. This proved to me that sex will never lose its taste, only the desire to have it with a certain body of a human being. In my own view, let’s say, this was crystal clear that this dude Matt is deeply in...(you name it) with his weakness, Effie.
As far as I know the story of these two fuckers… um, gentlemen (as well as you sexy ladies if you’re there), as far as I’m LESS concerned about their shitty story and fuckeries, this is what I can tell you about them for now. Don’t laugh, my sexalicious reader (except the BOYS! Except the BOYS with snausages guys, I repeat. No offence. Offence? Whatever), look at you, you look so damn CUTE with those glittering eyes behind the screen! Never mind, just practising my flirting skills, you know. Eh, Practising? Ah! However you spell it. I’m out.
But my somewhat tiny, long-widen eyeballs eyeballed another Matt’s bait. It’s just the same human but in different clothes, bodies, and heights. Or cunt. I recently saw this bait at Matt’s cabin. She’s cool tho and can easily get along with anyone whom she finds as cool as her. She got a piece of jewelry on her nose; a sliver nosering. She got a flattop on her round head that is shaped like a golf ball or a doughnut and she was always lying on Matt’s bed, covering her entire body and thin shoulders with some whitish quilt.
I recall the other day when my ass was feeling bored (I don’t fucking know what caused that boredom because I rarely get bored), you know. I told myself that at least I should visit the boys at Matt’s cabin to see if my decent human spirit can still get along well with other human beings. At that moment, I was frigging sure that I needed to socialize a trifle because if I don’t, this immoral boredom won’t stop troubling me. Then I did.
When my ass arrived, it was afternoon around 6 pm and was very cold as fuck outside (even Christ wouldn’t stand that coldness. He would probably give up and get his back to where he was chillin' with other Biblical tycoons). I saluted the boys first and then said "hello!" to Matt’s bait that was lying in his bed covering her microscopic ass with that whitish quilt. Matt’s bait responded with an unexpected cold response that disturbed my friendly composure.
"Sure!" Matt’s bait responded. Her name was Andy.
My somewhat tiny, long-widen eyeballs popped out and my vigorous heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. I sat my ass down on a bench and tried to process Andy’s response in my brain.
