moral dilemma

[TheLameSauce]

I was at the strip club late into the night exactly one month ago. It may seem like a strange night to go to the strip club, Tuesday, but I am unemployed and thus every night holds the freedom of the weekend. And like many of my unemployment checked brethren, I was far too willing to harness this freedom into an evening of debauchery, breasts and booze. What with the shaking surgical creations and inexorably apocryphal attentions, a man down on his luck, much like myself, finds his rectitude stretched past breaking trying to keep himself away. So at the gentleman's lounge I found myself, alongside the hirsute social peons, leaving mother's strangle grip to throw away their hard earned bagger's dollars at the resident sirens. Alongside, the corpulent middling business fuck ups trying to see how much woman forty dollars can buy. Alongside my people. My home.
But where the real story starts is after the strip club. After all my money disappeared into some whore's soiled g-string and I was forced to walk myself home, no fare for a cab. Slowly. Cold. It was five in the morning when I made it back. I would have gone to sleep. Even those with a day of nothing to do ahead of them feel the need to rest up first, but my stomach churned for attention. It twisted a knot of revolt against my sins. So I ran. My fleet strides taking me upstairs to the porcelain altar where I purged my contrition. Heaves. Acidic. Warm. Wiping my mouth I banished the child of my emesis to its septic room. Out of the corner of my eye, movement. Subtle. Just beyond my window and through my neighbor's. Parallel to the facilities I had claimed throne to for so many years, lay my neighbor's counterpart. Fully exposed to me like a gossip's secret. And within that portal to another life, stood my neighbor. Her chassis flatteringly exhibited, sheathed in a slender fluff of towel.
Was she taking a shower? The view was clear, absolutely no steam obstruction of any kind. Her hair was dry and cascaded down to the small of her back. What an enigma. What a peculiar thing. My mind was blank of explanation and so I stared further hoping for answers. At that point the enigma became more perplexing and, dare I say, more enthralling. In one graceful motion of arm, she threw her towel into a crumpled heap along the wall. Her hands slid down her legs with the ease of water down a melting icicle. Her womanly gift exposed to me with the aggression of an attacking viper. A pink tipped digit flew into the picture and penetrated the serpent's jaw, a friendly needle. A spear of good intentions. Sliding along its moist lips, tickling its just visible tonsils. This show went on for twenty minutes. Was it for me? She never acknowledged her humbled audience. And before i could finish, she did, vanishing through the bathroom doors. Leaving me vulnerable. Longing. Ten minutes later I heard her car leave and knew she was gone. Off to work like a normal person.
I went to sleep immediately after. And I went to sleep the day immediately following. And the day immediately following that? I slept that day too. And so on, and so forth for six more days. Each slumbering night my mind was tortured with the carrot of her erotic antics. But sleep doesn't last forever, and soon I was awake and sweating. It was Tuesday. It was five in the morning. Some may call it wishful thinking. I call it positive reinforcement. And as I pulled my head towards her bathroom with the anticipation of a child's Christmas, there she was; the perfect gift. The canyon that led inside her echoing my eyeballs' call, hello hello. I was ready this time. This time we finished together. Lustful little synchronized swimmers. But as I slept later that day, rewarded with a deeply physical satisfaction, I wondered. Why Tuesday? Needless to say, Wednesday morning I was awake early, five to be exact, and I was not disappointed. Together we danced this tango. She with her masturbatory lead, I matching her moves with my gender specific equivalent. For four days. Four whole days. I was getting tired. I was still unemployed and depressed, I needed to sleep. Surely, I could not wake up at this ungodly hour relentlessly? A brilliant idea sneaking in as I ate my pop tart. I would film it. And I did. Each ecdysial movement brazenly branded into my Sony's memory. A tape. Ambrosia. The drink of the God's.
I watched the tape daily. I watched the tape hourly. I watched the tape as I ate, shit, and smoked cigarettes. When I was asleep, I awoke to the image of my neighbor shamelessly abusing herself in my direction. It was heaven. It was mana. I edited in soundtracks to fit my mood. Fingering to Brit pop when I was happy. Molesting one's self to Nordic death metal when angry. Even a couple labia slaps to Nick Drake when the world seemed too gray. Everything was perfect, then last Thursday, a note. WHERE"S RENT?!?! signed "fuck you".
There is no mercy for those between jobs. Fiscal adversity warrants no mercy. My happiness was sick and dying. I couldn't bare to lose all I had accomplished, but what could I do? I had nothing. Well...I had almost nothing. Another brilliant idea seeping into my consciousness as I lay mesmerized by the rhythmic sway of flesh, the "River Man" was being sought. I could sell the movies. DVD's from my computer. Twenty dollars. My brother was a janitor at a local middle school. My brother known to the Polish thugs as "Snow White". Dear, sweet, bloody nosed Evan, your prince calls you. Blackmail buys such perfect silence.
I worked as inconspicuously as one adult male could while selling contraband to minor's in a school parking lot. At first, almost nothing. Then, a couple happy customers. Three days, the whole campus. I had my rent. I burned more. Those innocent virgin eyes, so avid. So pleading. I burned DVD's until my computer whined. Until the plastic burned and smoked. Until I could burn no longer. I sold all the discs, it wasn't hard. Word spreads quickly, flood waters through the city. The finger dance man has what you need. I sold them all, but one. Gonna see that river man, gonna tell him all I can. And the only words my mouth could articulate, "all is well".
Which brings me to this morning. Early this morning. Not ritual early. This was later. Unpleasant. A knock on the door sounds through my home, beckoning me from the computer screen. I have no friends, no one visits me. Not when the rent is paid. I open the door, unwrap this mystery. There's a child, thirteen perhaps? His face twisted in antipathy. It's revolting, although he may be just as hideous appeased. The air in front of him sparkles as a silver discus leaves his hand and cuts across my forehead. The rage is boiling violently in my blood before I hear the clatter of plastic meets floor. Holding his neck I pin the despicable urchin to the door frame, eye level. I can feel the hot run of my own sanguine fluid trace the bridge of my nose. "What the fuck?" I scream at his dolt's ears. An infernal inquisition. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shake him above the ground for emphasis. "I want a refund." He weakly replies. Mice have expel gas louder. I don't need this. I have five hundred and seventy dollars sitting in my kitchen. This kid can fuck himself. "You can fuck yourself. That movie's the only pussy you're gonna see until you can afford a maserati, you little shit." I grin, a beacon of pride for my wit. "It's my mother." Tears are surging from him. He's even more repulsive than before. I toss him into the yard, an affront to my vision. An eyesore. Yet, I watch intently as he scampers away like a scorned cockroach, scrambling towards the adjacent yard. So pathetic. Who raises such an unsufferable cretin? But...just maybe, there's logic to his pandering. Maybe there is a wrong that needs righting. Maybe...he's not so different from me. And so I ask you newgrounds, should I refund this juvenile pauper? Should I bend to his cry?

[arcansi]

GIANT FUCKING WALL OF TEXT PULL UP PULL UP!!!

No TL;DR summary, no paragraphs and no short version. Expect newgrounds to read this?

[Eclipse]

Yes I actually read it. It would be kinda hurtful to me too, so I would yes apologize and not make any more. After all, its his mom, and even though he's over-reacting, hoe would u like it if ur neighbor burned and sold dvds of ur mom "doin her thing"?

exactly

[TheLameSauce]

At 10/21/08 11:22 PM, arcansi wrote: GIANT FUCKING WALL OF TEXT PULL UP PULL UP!!!

No TL;DR summary, no paragraphs and no short version. Expect newgrounds to read this?

you were never meant to read it.

[Fleshlight]

At 10/21/08 11:32 PM, Eclipse914 wrote: Yes I actually read it.

you freak