His penis led him like a divining rod. Down the hall he traipsed. Past the pictures of Ed McMahon. Past the powder room with shea and cocoa butter softsoap. Past the den with velvety nine-foot curtains. And straight - possibly – into the bedroom. His dicktip pointed undoubtedly in a slightly curved direction, towards the bureau.
”What kind of man has a bureau?” he thought to himself. “I’m so confused…”
”Or am I?” his murder boner replied in his head.
Jared glided to the bureau and gently slid open a drawer. The drawer was made of wood. Hard wood. Jared took notice. He tickled the knob with a flutter of his fingers as the draw moaned and creaked. He reached his fist inside, all the while the buttons on his pants popping. His murder boner now incredibly large, he withdrew his hand from the cavern of darkness, revealing…
A gun!
Oh, how shiny and stiff the barrel. Oh, how curved and comfortable the grip.
”This ends tonight,” Jared whispered, tracing the gun barrel along his upper lip.
”Or does it?”
Recognizing the voice from the phone, Jared flipped around. Standing in his bedroom doorway were two delivery men in tight, olive pants that nicely accentuated their firm buttocks. The packages they carried were well displayed.
”Whoa! Whoa!!” they said in unison as Jared faced them. “Put that thing down.”
Jared lowered the gun.
”No,” they spoke again. “That!” They pointed to Jared’s murder boner. Instinctively, Jared’s first thought was to run to the bathroom, powder his face, and make himself look presentable. His second thought was how nice it would be to gently rest his head upon either delivery man’s furry, padded chest. His third thought was that it was odd they spoke in unison.
Jared was distracted. As he examined the men, his gaze befell their lusciously plump lips – pouty and full of heat. His murder boner lept into attack mode.
The men smiled… reavealing glisteningly Crest-whitened FANGS!!!
This weeks post comes from… coincidentally….Jared. This Jared may or may not be gay. I don’t know it wasn’t included in the email and we here at TheMiddlestChild don’t discriminate. When you read that did you think hmmmm is he a vampire? Probably not. Though that would be an equally logical question. So there you have it The Middlest Child brining you social experiments of the finest degree.
ANYWAY, this is when you, the reader, takes over. Email dres@themiddlestchild.com with your continuation of the story. The only constraint = make it around 500 words, and make sure it blows minds. We will look at all of the submissions and choose one with which to continue with. A new segment will be posted once a week.
Ready, set, shame on you.
