Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Meet Blithe Barrington. A bit from chapter 4

Ashman and I run over to pick up Barrington, God damn it, his nose is broken. Bleeding from both nostrils. We shove a Marlboro into his mouth and hope he comes too. Ashman lights it, but Barrington is not taking drags. I order Ashman to wrap his lips around the cherry and blow, force the nicotine deep into his lungs... As predicted, Ashman gives me that, really man, look on his face. Then does it. It worked. Barrington opens his eyes and says in a southern Mississippi black man's accent.  "What up mother fuckers... "

Wow, his refined British accent gone,  the perfect gentlemen now a Jack Daniels, salt stoned monster of some sorts.

Ashman and I are holding him up,  as we carry him toward the Flamingo, he starts shouting out profanities to random people, they uncomfortably laugh at how far off the reserve he's wondered. They walk around us in big arks, that's Vegas I think.

We finally get to the elevator.  The elevator ding-er dings once for up. The door opens and and a very attractive young  woman decked out in  spectacular nightclub gear gets off.

She has glitter on her face, bright red lipstick, and eye makeup that was applied by a professional. Her mini skirt so high it's probably illegal in most states. Booze breath, with whats left of lines of coke on her nostrils. 

Then Barrington out of nowhere develops raging strength, he shoves me and Ashman a side, sending us flying at least six feet away from him.

"Baby, talk to me. My name is Barrington, I must say you have the most spectacular tits I ever scene,   you want to come to my room?" He said while wobbling and trying to remain standing.

"Get the Fuck out of my way right now creep." She said.

"Come on toot's, I have chocolates, whiskey, and left over Chinese food, did you know I have the biggest cock in this Galaxy." Barrington slurs.

She stops dead in her tracks, she's wearing these deadly pointy red Stilettos, her face expressionless, her eyes as cold as her pointy shoes. Ashman and I read  her mind,  we really should intervene, but hell, anything that wakes up this drunk will be a big help with the next phase of our mission. Even if we wanted to help we are too far away to stop what's coming next, or maybe, we just want it to happen. We see her caulk her leg back, ready to deliver a two hundred yard  field goal, We just shut our eyes. 

All we hear is a thud, then a gut wrenching Howell, then a big thud as Barrington crashes to the ground in the fetal position for the second time today.

"How are those tits now you old fucking creep. Wana see my pussy lover?  her it is " She said.

She's  stands directly over Barringtons head, pulls her G string off to the side. Barrington, widens his eyes and a smiles like a depraved animal.

"Isn't my pussy sweet old man." She said.

Barrington making weird slurp sounds,  eyes opened to the max trying to focus,  he tries to lift his head to get closer, but can't.

She just starts pissing on Barringtons face.  Puts a whole new twist on water boarding I'm thinking. Then starts kicking him.

It's quite arousing watching her in action, not much skirt, her G string clearly visible, perfectly round ass with  those bouncing twins with every kick. It's hypnotic, we couldn't move, for a minute or two. But we better intervene before Barrington comes too and  explodes her head.

Just as we approach she calmly walks away,  snickering and laughing. As we lift him,  she turns and says. "Hey creeps, Smile." as she takes a photo.

Barrington has no idea a 110 pound woman just kicked the crap out of him. Looks good on him, being a tenured  university professor,  people always kiss his ass,  he's  developed a God complex,  thinks he can say and do whatever the hell he wants,  he preaches consequence,  but none for him until now. To bad the teacher will never remember this lesson.

He shoves us away, tries to gain his balance then falls again.

We give him a few minutes, then picked him up again, we get him into the elevator quickly.

We get back to room without anymore elevator stories. I make some coffee. Barrington is curled up on the sofa in the fetal position, still moaning, and says, "I fucked up didn't I guys, was I hit by car?"

"No man, it was Double Decker Duce bus, good thing you had your force field activated, could have been worce.  But we have a big problem on our hands,  I tried to kill Hugo tonight,  the death ray was infective, I tried exploding his head, nothing worked,  ideas anyone,  what plant do you think he's from? "I asked.


  1. You've been reading Hustler again - haven't you...

  2. I don't read man, hence the typos, I'll figure it out one day.

  3. Imagine what your tax farm coworkers would think of you now if you'd acted this out, but as the ass-kicking hottie and not Blithe. Four million YouTube hits, I'm thinking!

    - Happy Renting

  4. George Carlin has it figured out:


  5. http://checkinitout.com/2014/11/06/interview-24-jon-rappoport/


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