Young Axl Rose and Cake Cream in 2022! :D

[Tasha]

Unbeknownst to Tasha Kentry, another bus rider had filmed the entire episode from "fart" to finish. When he arrived at his stop, Mike sprinted to the luxurious penthouse suite to show his bandmates the incredible video he had just captured. Axl watched the footage intently, taking notes. Billy and Andy gave each other reciprocal hand jobs while watching it. James and Jimmy declined to watch it, deciding instead to watch an episode of Bluey on their tablets while drinking Capri Sun. When the video finished, Axl declared it the most thought provoking film he had ever seen and encouraged Mike to submit it to the Cannes Film Festival. Mike blushed shyly, not sure if Axl really meant it. Billy and Andy agreed with Axl and agreed with each other's agreement. Mike thanked them all and was welcomed. Axl, Billy, and Andy thanked Mike for the thanks and shook hands. Jimmy and James laughed in their corner, but they were not laughing at Mike. They were laughing at something happening in Bluey.

Billy and ANDY wouldn't be giving each other handjobs, Billy and ANDY are Best Friends, not Boyfriends. Are you sure you weren't mixing up AXL with Andy? AXL is Billy's Boyfriend, not Andy.

[pinchingyourballs]

In my Fictional Chone Wilson story anyone who is gay is free to give or receive a handjob from anyone else who is gay.

[MisterV]

Pinch, the final chapter in Karen's tale, while not posted yet, can be easily predicted: by that time ALL the members of Cake Cream have turned gay and engage in non-stop fuck-a-thons and suck-a-thons, thanking and shaking each other's hand all the while.

Karen lacks the education and insight to see how she is projecting this due to her asexual life style; she has unrequited horniness and uses her keyboard as a vibrator.

Heck, in the Real World the closest thing she finds to sexual release / orgasm is dropping trou and letting fly at Church's Chicken.

Sad.

[pinchingyourballs]

Pinch, the final chapter in Karen's tale, while not posted yet, can be easily predicted: by that time ALL the members of Cake Cream have turned gay and engage in non-stop fuck-a-thons and suck-a-thons, thanking and shaking each other's hand all the while.

Karen lacks the education and insight to see how she is projecting this due to her asexual life style; she has unrequited horniness and uses her keyboard as a vibrator.

Heck, in the Real World the closest thing she finds to sexual release / orgasm is dropping trou and letting fly at Church's Chicken.

Sad.

Erotica authors probably have dysfunctional romantic lives, but given how much Tasha lies and omits about everything else, I'm not sold on the official 'Karen is an asexual virgin' narrative. I think it's more like she gets booty calls but isn't able to land a steady partner who respects her and wants something long term.

I've heard it's easier for women to become lesbians than for men to become gay. So I think Tasha should explore the possibility of a butch lesbian relationship.

BTW, whatever happened to Garnabby? I thought of a Cake Cream math problem for him.

[MisterV]

Tasha-Kentry stepped off the city bus, wiped her tears away and walked into Church's Chicken.

"Oh Christ" said a pimply stooge behind the counter, "it's HER again. Go get the manager."

Before she could say "Extra crispy" the manager appeared and said "Get out, Tasha-kentry: we trespassed you after your last incident."

"But I want chicken. I need chicken. I WILL HAVE chicken!"

"Leave or I'll call the cops."

"Have it your way, but I'll leave a little something for y'all to remember me by."

And before he could say "Fuck me, not again" Tasha-Kentry dropped her sweats and unfurled a deuce for the ages: over a foot long and weighing at least three pounds and stinky...Ewwwww.

One of the many homeless men in the chicken shack clapped ecstatically then nodded out.

Upon leaving, Tasha-Kentry pulled out a can of spray paint from her hideous hand bag and bedecked the siding of Church's Chicken with artwork.

Later, at closing, the manager noted the graffiti-image of a fat ass letting fly a blast of gas and a loaf, and wondered "Why did I bother to go to community college?"

[pinchingyourballs]

Chone Wilson's phone was set to alert him any time there was a chicken joint pooping incident in the greater Miami area. He, along with a covert group of pooping enthusiasts had been tracking the chicken joint pooper for quite sometime now. Dutifully the phone vibrated and Chone's heart rate sped up as he leapt from the toilet, no time to wipe. He knew everyone in his crew was stopping whatever they were doing at the moment and racing to their cars: Kentry, Donathan, Nathan, Karice, and Dean. Chone was the lone exception, for he had only a Schwinn bike, a shitty one at that. No matter. Brakes were for losers.

Cruising past the Hialeah Park Casino he caught a whiff of something chickeny and poopy. He checked the group chat and reported his findings. Chone suspected the other members of the group had another separate group chat that excluded him because they would often post weird inside jokes that only he didn't get. He often wondered if the others took their mission as seriously as he did, because whenever there was an incident it was always Chone who managed to find Tasha first. The group chat lit up with everyone else saying they were stuck in traffic and that it was up to Chone to find Tasha.

Suddenly it dawned on Chone that the other five were not in traffic nor even in their cars at all. They were all hanging out together right now without him. They were having a hearty laugh at his expense.

[pinchingyourballs]

Karice Donathan was excited because tonight was the night she would be deflowered, she was sure of it. Her date was some dude she met on Tinder, a Dean Kentry. What a funny name, she mused, almost sounds like a fake name someone would use online. Dean picked her up from the apartment she shared with her mom, grandma, and two half brothers. They drove to the James L Knight Center to catch a Cock Cream concert. Cock Cream was Karice's favorite band, and Dean just so happened to be a cousin of Axl Fartner, the lead singer. Axl had a lot of cousins and was always giving them free tickets to help fill seats.

After the concert Karice and Dean headed to Popeyes for a romantic dinner. As they were enjoying thheeir 40 piece mega bucket, a hobo sauntered over to their table. He was hideous looking and smelling, and asked them for change. Karice was about to give the guy a few bucks when Dean stopped her. He said he knew a special trick to deter hobos. Dean then pulled his pants down and dropped a loaf by the hobo's feet. The stench made Karice and the hobo gag, but only one of them was smart enough to leave.

Karice suggested to Dean that they go to his place for a drink because she saw that on one of the TV shows her grandma watched. Dean then drove them to a part of Miami Karice had never seen before in person. Karice was in awe of all the mansions and well manicured lawns. She expreessed her admiration to Dean, who just laughed and said he didn't live here. They were going to burglarize one of them. You see, Dean had cased the neighborhood earlier that week and then used Tinder to find an accomplice.

[MisterV]

Unbeknownst to the wannabe burglars the estate was the home of none other than the infamous Judge V.

You know Judge V: always packs at least one pistol and loves to use it; never met an man he wouldn't want to kill: yeah, that guy.

"Karice, I want you to take this brick and flashlight and go into the back yard; shine the flashlight on to yourself and throw the brick through the glass patio door while screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs. While the owner is distracted I'll pick the front door lock and sneak inside."

Karice blushed at the thought of being Bonnie with her sort-of Clyde; "Sounds more exciting than Bingo. Let's do it."

Upon hurling the brick and yelling in the back yard she noticed a window opened and a man appeared holding something when all of a sudden everything went dark.

Two weeks later Lashonda and Pippy, two Walgreens co-workers, were doing fentanyl in the ladies room when Pippy asked "Did you hear what happened to Karice? The stupid bitch got her dumb ass shot by that motherfucking Judge V. She's in a coma at the Charity hospital; I started a gofundme and got $1.67 so far."

"Yeah? Here's a dime."

"Thanks!"

They shook hands, bowed, farted tunefully and returned to work.

[pinchingyourballs]

Just realized that Chone is an anagram of both Enoch and Cohen. Hey Tasha, what's the origin of the name "Chone?"

[MisterV]

You mean other than being a city in Ecquador?

It also has something to do with sponges.

Whoa...Karen is beginning to show impressive breadth; hell, she just posted she made her very first sports bet and instead of betting on a garden variety event like baseball or the Olympics she bet on a Polish ping-pong player to win.

There may be more in her belfry than just bats...

Oh, speaking of ping-pong, check out Bruce Lee:



Now THAT is IMPRESSIVE.

[pinchingyourballs]

I wouldn't bet Chone is based on third world geography or obscure flora or fauna. I'd put money on it being a typo when she was registering a sock puppet and she thought, hey, Chone is actually a pretty cool and unique name, let's roll with it. Only Tasha knows, and she ain't telling.

[pinchingyourballs]

Karice Donathan awoke from her coma disoriented and discombobulated. She espied her grandma snoozing in a chair and a tiny vase of wilted dandelions on the night stand. The note on the card read, in nearly illegible handwriting: git wel sune karees. dis flouerz cost $2 but ur gofundme only razed $1.72 u o me 29 cents.

Karice was as bad at math as the scribe and she figured 3 pennies and a nickel would suffice for payment. But where to get such a sum on such short notice? Maybe grandma's purse? Karice leaned over the side of the bed and espied the old crone's extraordinarily hideous handbag -- far more hideous than her own -- and was about to reach into it when the old woman woke up.

"Karice! bout time you woke up. I gots a bingo game I need to get to. See ya!"

And with that the old woman let loose a rancid cabbage toot that only old ladies are capable of producing. As Karice was gagging on the fart smell, a memory was triggered: Popeyes, poop smell, gagging, a hot date, DEAN KENTRY.

"Wait grandma! How long was I out? What happened? Did Dean Kentry stop by?"

"Girl, you can read all about it in the news." Grandma hustled outta there.

Karice grabbed her phone and scrolled through the news feed until she found it. The headline read "Would-be Burglars Shot by Transgender Judge Vongvanichulalangkorn." The piece went on the praise Judge V as a trailblazer as the first Thai ladyboy to overcome his/her humble origins and get a law degree. It mentioned Dean Kentry and Karice. She skimmed further until she came upon the word "deceased." Dean did not make it.

Karice sighed. It seems she would not be deflowered by Dean after all.

[MisterV]

Karice was clear-headed enough to send a text asking her internet lawyer friend, Bloodhound, to call her to discuss her situation.

As she waited she remembered how the smelly bum made her private parts feel so warm and tingly: she stuck her hand down below and went at it feverishly.

Nurse Betty walked in and seeing what the patient was doing she cleared her voice and said "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Not used to the usual social constricts, Karice kept gouging her gash but responded "No, I'm just trying something a bum taught me at Church's Chicken. You should try it."

The nurse said "OK:" she too started flapping her flounder, and that is how Dr. Judy discovered the two of them.

"Really, ladies, this is a hospital: have you no respect?"

"Doctor, you really need to try it" said Karice: "a smelly bum showed me this trick recently and I really like it."

Overcome with depression about her unpaid med school loans long in default, Dr. Judy thought "Fuck me, why not?" as she too went at it.

The three women happened to time their orgasms simultaneously, but unbeknownst to them the hospital wide PA picked up their moans, shrieks and screams, causing the Director to ask a minion "What the fuck is that noise? I thought we closed down the insane asylum years ago.?"

[pinchingyourballs]

Tasha was fuming. She had just received a book in the mail, sent in a non-descript envelope with no return address. The title was "Hot Summer Love Triangle: The Nathan and Kentry Chronicles." The cover showed a scantily clad woman in the arms of a generic romance novel hunk, but her head was turned away looking at another generic romance novel hunk. Tasha couldn't get over the blurb on the back:

Kentry is a black cowboy fighting to keep his ancestral home. His cousin Nathan is a city boy and professor of African Science fighting for tenure. Both men are entangled in an erotic triangle with the mysterious Karice, a traveling carnival psychic with a voracious appetite for funnel cake and one night stands. As summer heats up, Karice realizes she wants more than one night stands and nasty hookups under the kiddie carousel. But which man will she choose? Kentry, the muscular cowboy with a heart of gold but chronic flatulence? Nathan the nerdy professor who is the laughingstock of the university? Or will it be a third man, the equally mysterious Chone Wilson, a magician who makes Karice queef and fart uncontrollably just by looking at her?

"They stole my story!" Tasha screamed to her pet axolotl, Axl. Just exactly who "they" were was still a mystery. Even though the author byline on the cover said Julia Kewl in fancy raised lettering, even Tasha knew it was just a pen name. Deep down Tasha knew the story was good, and that hurt even more. The author blurb on the inside cover was even more ridiculous:

Julia Kewl is a former professional blackjack player turned romance novelist who lives in Nantucket with her three-legged teacup poodles Mdawg and Singer. When she's not knitting scarves for homeless people, she can be found metal detecting.

Metal detecting? God damn, why didn't I think of that, Tasha mused. All this time Tasha had been trying to scrounge up free money by getting people to play on her casino rewards card and looking for lost wallets. With a metal detector she could find rings and silver dollars, which she could then pawn for a money that would cover the Uber charge from her home to the casino, where she would then resume her low-level scamming.

[MisterV]

Tasha passed through the gaping maw of the casino intent on scamming them.

"Oh go on, girl" she thought; "You has de mind of what's his name, the cotton gin guy and you are REAL gonna kick some motherfuckin' ass wit diis one."

The fecund female had prepped herself by consuming vast quantities of pepperoni pizza, baked beans and red cabbage: "Show time."

No dummy, Tasha knew that the casinos had cameras in all locations: The Eye in the Sky: but NOT in the site of her upcoming performance: the ladies room.

Her plan required that there be no witnesses at the time the ploy went down, so the nubile negress wandered to the furthest, empty one.

Stomach growling, she pulled down her faux designer sweats and dropped a plate-load of stinking poo.

"OK girl, you knows what you gots to do..." and with that she rubbed her foot in the poo then sat down on it and rolled a bit in it, sort of like a hog in slop...but I digress.

The black bunko artist then stayed down and waited for someone to come in.

Wouldn't ya know it?

In walks good old Judge V, wearing YSL and made up to the nines.

"Oh my, what happened to you...can you hear me?"

This was her "cue" to "regain consciousness:" "Where am i?"

"You're in the casino, dearie. Oh wait a minute, don't I know you? Sure I do! You're the bitch that stole my Rolex that time, remember? You stuck it up your cooch."

Uh-oh, busted.

She took the Rolex off her arm and handed it to Judge V who glowered menacingly at her; a frightening smile filling his visage while his nine and a half inch trouser snake came to life: might this be an opportunity?

[pinchingyourballs]

As Tasha and Judge V were negotiating the payment and terms of a disgusting casino bathroom fuck, the ground shook and the walls of the stalls clanged and banged something fierce. Was it an earthquake? Had a hurricane appeared out of nowhere on that sunny Florida day? Suddenly the jurist jerk and the germy sojourner were propelled every so slightly upward as if they were in an elevator.

"Oh shit, I know what this is," Judge V said with resignation.

As the casino fell deeper and deeper into one of those famed Florida sinkholes, Tasha got an idea.

"Judge V, instead of spending my last moments on earth being deflowered by you, I want to go back to the floor and steal every last wallet I can grab out of the back pockets of all these goners! Let's see security backroom me this time!"

Judge V reluctantly agreed to help Tasha on her final quest. Though it was difficult running around a casino as it fell into the chasm, the did manage to collect six wallets, for a total of eleven players club cards and a cool $4356. Tasha tried to play a slot machine one last time, but there was no electricity.

[MisterV]

It wasn't JUST a sink hole, it was an ALIEN INVASION!

Yes, it was the long-forecast inundation of undesirables from south of the border

Thousands of future landscapers, sheetrockers, maids and fast food workers had arrived by bus, paid for by the governor of Texas, and were all let out simultaneously at the casino's main entrance; thirsting for free beverages and hungry for free sugar packets they all stormed through the maw of the charnal-house intent on replenishment.

Their sudden combined weight caused the crust on top of the sink hole the casino was inadvertantly built over to crumble, leading to the casino sinking ever further into the limestone rich ground, picking up speed as quickly as Tasha picks up free play.

All thoughts of scamming the casino with the "I slipped in someone's shit and hurt myself, pay me" were cast into the discard bin.

"Judge V, this place is sinking as fast as WoV, what should we do?"

"Do what we always do: flame and insult one another and thus keep reality from the door."

"Wow, what an idea!"

She thanked him, they shook hands, farted a few bars from "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" and began keying in vicious attacks upon strangers while the casino descended faster and faster toward the fires of Hell.

[pinchingyourballs]

MisterV, could you be so kind as to fill in a gap in my knowledge of VCT lore? Which poster was it who actually met Tasha in person in Miami? I'd like to work this into a chapter of my Fictional Chone Wilson Story.

[MisterV]

I think it was Wziard of Nothing, but let's wait for Tasha to chime in with the facts...

Tasha?

[pinchingyourballs]

Tasha ripped the page from her typewriter in frustration. Julia Kewl from Nantucket, her arch nemesis, was probably finishing up half a dozen cheap romance novels right now, meanwhile Tasha couldn't get the first chapter right. To calm herself down she logged on to VCT to browse various flame wars. She was stunned to see she had a PM for the first time in years. She clicked on it. It was from ***:

Dear Tasha, I will be in Miami for 3 days starting tomorrow. During that time I would like to deflower you and have you fart on my face for a minimum of two hours. I will pay you a sum of $2000 for your time. If these terms are agreeable to you, we can arrange to meet at the Barking Flamingo Casino.

Your admirer,
***

Tasha was stunned. As an asexual autistic virgin, she had no idea *** felt that way about her. *** was often dismissive of her, taking part in the ragging and dragging on many occasions. She quickly replied in the affirmative, and as a show of good faith, also included a pic of her gash. *** said thanks for the pic of her gash and Tasha welcomed him. Oh how she wished they could shake hands.

The next day she took an Uber to the Hialeah Park Casino and waited at the agreed upon meeting spot. She waited for hours, playing slots very slowly to bide her time while not blowing all her money at once. Finally, at 4 pm she gave up and left. Her Uber driver was a chatty fellow who asked her how much money she won. "Nothing." Tasha replied dejectedly. The driver told her to cheer up because everyone at the Barking Flamingo Casino had a much worse day: active shooter.

Suddenly it hit Tasha, she had waited at the wrong casino. "D'oh!" she exclaimed, just like Homer Simpson. The driver gave her a quizzical look but continued with his news summary. Apparently some out-of-towner had shot up the place before being killed by police. Tasha said nothing, but her heart raced. Could *** have been shot? Wait, could *** have been the gunman???

She logged on to VCT and sent *** a PM. She checked ***'s recent posting history, and nothing. The next day, there was still nothing. Months passed and it was as if *** had vanished. On VCT some posters mentioned how strange ***'s absence was, others mentioned the Barking Flamingo shooting, but nobody mentioned both things together. It took all of Tasha's will power to not join in these conversations.

All in all, Tasha was very grateful that her forgetfulness had saved her life on that fateful day. She vowed to be more forgetful and always get the details wrong.