Retch inducing stench

Slam it down. Into nothing. Into nothingness. Because we’re all… the… same.

I don’t remember much from Johnny Tremain except his maimed hand. I wonder why that is? Also, Ephraim is a dumb name. I’m glad I don’t know anyone named Ephraim. If your name is Ephraim, can I punch you in the stomach? And jizz in your navel? Ephraim Ephraim Ephraim Ephraim Ephraim Ephraim Ephraim. Ephraim = jizzy navel.

God money’s not concerned about the sick among the pure.
God money, let’s go dancing on the backs of the bruised.

It’s time.

We were bet that we couldn’t get the top score in physics in Nuke power school. By the physics instructor. He was former enlisted, I think, but now he was a DILDO (Direct Input Limited Duty Officer). He had semi-afro hair. Which is okay. But he had bad acne scars. Really bad. I think he was made fun of a lot. I don’t remember his name. It’s not important.

I think my roommate’s name was Eric Holden. I was in a room with Adam and Faust. Adam was okay, a bit too much Beastie Boys for me back in the day (but I’m a big fan today), but Faust, oh, man, Faust…

Have you ever smelled the stench of a thousand cornholes in August? Because that’s what Faust smelled like. Holy fucking virginal cunts, that guy stank to high holy hell. He didn’t shower. He was overweight and it was Orlando in August.

Or was it a methylene dream? I think. His addiction was driven by an awful fear. There’s a fine line between me and them.

I complained to our section leader about Faust. Faust subsequently got in trouble. But all he did, really, was to turn on the shower in the morning and wet his towel. He still came out stinky as all hell.

Then that fateful day came when Faust left his locker open.

Now you need to unnerstan somefin.

Back in Power School, we mechanics stayed in the “old” berthing. The stuff out by the lake and by the back entrance. The one where I used to go out to get porno mags at the Circle K a coupla miles down the road. The road where, one time at about 1am, some dick threw an apple core at me from a car as I was walking down the road.

Yet, some people call me the gangster of love. Maurice? I speak.

Later, in San Diego, there was always this place down the way from the base on Coronado Island where I’d always get porn. I always found a place to get porn. I’m a horny motherfucker. Yeah, I’m not ashamed. Fuck your ass if you don’t like it. Or, maybe, show me your twat if you like it. But you don’t. Women don’t think like that. Only men. ‘Cause we’re awesome.

I really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree.

So, anyway, this Faust fellow done fucked up one time. He was out playing D&D with his bitch boys or some shit, I dunno. Maybe he was down in the laundry room jizzin’ in his own mouth. What I DO know is that he done fucked up and left his locker open. We each had a locker. Built-in. Supposed to keep your padlock on it.

Faust was a stank-ass motherfucker. Goddamn, that boy was ripe. Hoo boy, I ain’t never done smelled anythin like it since.

Anyway, so what he did was he left his locker open.

Ever smelled Renuzit? These things: Holy fuck, they don’t smell that good, but they certainly smell better than body odor. BO with a capital B and a capital O. And a capital “inside of a fat boy’s stinkhole.”

Faust had a cheesy, dorky moustache. He STANK. Did I mention it was fucking Orlando in August? Holy Christ, if that wasn’t enough to cure you of your foolish gods, the stink of this freak could regrow fucking limbs, it stank so bad. He stank so bad I think I grew fingernails on my sphincter.

So he left his locker open. With about 5 or 6 Renuzit air fresheners. I took ALL OF THEM AND SMASHED THE FUCKING THINGS IN THE CENTER OF THE QUAD. I’m a dick, yes. But I was driven. I was mad. I was driven by STINK. Oh my fucking doggy dick suckin’ God, that dude stank. Did I mention that he was plump, too? And his lips looked like a hairy sphincter with that really horrible moustache? FUCK he was rank.

I smashed them all in the central area of the quad. I smashed them. I took ALL of them. I can have them all. My empire of STINK. I fucking smashed them. Plastic splinters radiated in slow-mo reality like that fat chick hitting on me. The waxy green exploding into splinters in the quad. I was a man possessed. I was a man on a mission. I was Steve, Destroyer of Satan’s Stink.

I could have it all. My empire of dirt.

So my complaining, after a few nights where I had my head propped up on the windowsill because the stink was so ripe, only caused him to fake showering.

ORLANDO IN AUGUST. And we had to wear uniforms, not shorts. The dude must have had open sores on his cock, he smelled so bad. I’m feeling a little vomitous as I write this…

So, anyway, I ended up getting my room changed so Adam (sorry, dude) had to be stuck with Stinky “12 sided die” Faust. I ended up in the room with Eric Holden. And Kron.

The physics instructor. You thought I forgot? Well fuck your tits, asswipe, I ain’t done forgot, I just got me a little sidetracked. It WAS the year of the boomerang, after all. Sheesh.

So Eric had a new Tercel. Which he let me drive. I don’t remember why. But our class, Section 12, actually got #1 on the final Reactor Physics test. After trailing at #12 the whole time. So the DILDO had to throw a party for us.


He had the party at his place in town. Or I think it was. I don’t remember much from that night except this:
Eric kept going down on this chick in the hot tub, using the air nozzles for air and staying under for long periods of time. To this day, I’m wowed by his prowess.

The chick was a hot little blonde number and I have no idea where the girls came from at this party. We were just a bunch of squids. I don’t even remember why I was driving Eric’s car to the party. But I did. Alone.

I left early, a little too dorky in my younger days to partake of the free fucking and drinking that was going on. Eric and Kron came back to our room and tried to kick me out.

“Dude, you gotta sleep in the quad or something. We’re gonna fuck these chicks.”

“Okay, whatever, you fuck ’em but I’m staying in my rack in the room.”


So they fucked their chicks (Kron had a regular girlfriend and he fucked her in the ass that night up in his top rack – she was homely but moderately attractive) and Holden never met that chick before (and, I believe, never saw her again), but she rode his dick for like an hour or so. I watched her A cup titties bounce up and down for a few minutes, but got bored and tried to go to sleep. I wasn’t interested in pussy that I couldn’t have.

It was an interesting night. Somehow this fat chick kept coming on to me and I wondered why that was. Was I a fat chick magnet? I’m glad I left early. I would have rather been at the seedy titty bar, House of Babes, with my boys, my round glasses, and the dancer with ghetto booty that was hot for me and was prone to sticking her box in my face more than my fair share. But I wasn’t complaining. Those round glasses broke a few months later. Damned cheap shit from the Fashion Squid Mall.