The Average American Male

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The Average American Male Page 12

by Chad Kultgen


  He laughs at his joke, then picks up a Wizard of Oz DVD and says, “This is it. She fucking loves this stupid movie. So many fags love it, too, but I fucking hate it. All those little midgets and that fucking song that every guy I’ve ever fucked knows by heart and actually starts fucking singing when we’re watching it. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to sit through this piece of shit just so I could get some cock up my ass. I almost don’t want to buy it on principle alone, but . . I’m getting it. My mom will like it. You getting anything?”

  “No.”

  At the register, the girl ringing us up is hot as fuck in that indie-rock-slightly-Emo just-out-of-high-school kind of way. Nice little tits, dyed black hair, nose ring, tattoo peeking out of her shirt and probably weighs a hundred pounds. I immediately imagine myself fucking her doggie style in some back room of the record store. A few seconds in, I start thinking about Alyna in the back room of the record store and end up continuing to think about her all the way back to my house, where I jerk off to the memory of her sucking my cock.

  chapter thirty

  Casey’s Shit

  Casey hasn’t tried to call me for almost a week, which is why it kind of surprises me when I pick up the phone and hear her say with forced confidence, “When’s a good time for me to come get the things I have at your apartment?”

  “Uh, I don’t know.”

  “Well, I have some stuff that I need to get back. You can’t keep it.”

  I don’t think she does have anything at my apartment, but after a year and a half of dating it makes sense that she would, so I don’t argue.

  “When do you want to come get it?”

  “Today if I can.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  “I’ll be over in an hour.”

  She hangs up. I think about finding whatever shit she’s talking about and putting it all in a box on the curb so she can just take it and go instead of hanging around my apartment longer than necessary, but I don’t really know which shit is hers and I’d probably end up giving her something of mine by mistake, which she’d take to mean something it didn’t. I’m also fully aware that this is, more than likely, just a ploy for her to see me again, maybe in hopes of luring me back to her fat ass. I hope that playing along will give her some sort of closure so I never have to see her again. I decide I should play an old Xbox game. I decide to play Mech Assault 2 until she shows up, which turns out to be an hour later.

  When she comes in she says, “I’m sorry about that night I showed up here. How have you been?”

  “Okay.”

  “So have I. I started my next Groundlings class.”

  “Great. I didn’t know which stuff you were talking about.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  She rummages through a pile of papers and Playboys on my coffee table. Her mom’s letter falls out onto the ground and she picks it up.

  “Is this from my mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it?”

  “A letter.”

  “Obviously it’s a letter, but like why would she write you a letter?”

  I shrug my shoulders, knowing she wants to read it more than anything. She puts it back in the Playboy, closes the magazine, and tosses it down on the coffee table a little too nonchalantly.

  “My Groundlings teacher said I have the most potential of anyone in the class.”

  “Great. Do you know exactly what you have over here?”

  “Just some things.”

  She goes in the closet and pulls out an umbrella that I think my mom gave me when I moved to L.A.

  She says, “Like my umbrella.”

  She opens a cupboard in the kitchen area, pulls out a box of tea, and says, “And my tea.”

  She walks back into the bedroom and comes out still holding just the tea and the umbrella. She says, “Are you doing anything right now?”

  Fuck. I should have just thrown some of my shit in a box and left it on the curb.

  “No.”

  “Do you want to go get a cup of coffee with me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Just like to talk.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t want to.”

  “It’s because I came over to your house and yelled at you and now you think I’m a psycho.”

  “No, I just don’t want to.”

  “Well, then, let’s have dinner this week.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why can’t you just have dinner with me and talk to me about this whole thing?”

  “It’s better like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just over.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Sorry.”

  She starts to tear up. She starts crying. She says through sobs, “Aren’t you even going to hug me?”

  I wish I was anywhere else. I think about Alyna. I think about telling Casey that I ate Alyna’s pussy and she sucked my cock.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Her sobs become convulsive. She sits down on my couch and cries into her hands.

  “Why? I just like don’t understand why.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “Can you just tell me why you’re doing this?”

  “I already did.”

  “Because you want something I’m not?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That doesn’t even like make sense. I was something you wanted for a year and a half and now I’m just not? What happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to know. If you broke up with me you have to know.”

  I don’t say anything again. I know that anything I say will only prolong this already annoying situation.

  “I mean there has to be something that changed.”

  I stand as still as I can and try not to breathe. For a split second I think I might be able to coax her into sucking my cock or fucking me, but it’s probably not worth the effort.

  She says, “It was the engagement, wasn’t it?”

  Please something happen. A car wreck right outside my door. A gunshot through my window. A fucking phone call for fuck’s sake. As I think this my cell phone actually rings. Casey sits on the couch, still crying as I answer it. It’s Alyna, who I’ve only talked to once in the two days since she sucked my cock.

  She says, “What’re you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m done with work. Can I come over?”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “I haven’t taken a shower or anything.”

  “That’s fine. Neither have I. We can take one together. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

  She hangs up. The slightly less than comfortable familiarity she’s approaching in whatever kind of relationship we might be on the verge of having makes me a little uneasy, but the thought of soaping up her ass and tits in my shower generates a spark of excitement that alleviates it; and the crying-ex-girlfriend-sitting-on-my-couch situation seems slightly more pressing.

  I say, “Okay, you have to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m tired of arguing about this.” Even as I say the words it hits me that I owe Casey nothing, but something makes me think telling her about Alyna would make the entire situation worse. I wonder if Alyna has any interaction with her ex-boyfriend and if it’s similar to mine with Casey.

  She says, “Well, I’m not leaving until I get an answer or until you at least promise to get coffee with me.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what? The answer or the coffee?”

  “Coffee.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, but I’m holding you to it.”

  She gets off my couch, wipes the tears
off her face, and leaves.

  I sit on the couch where she was sitting for about two or three minutes thinking about the last time Casey and I fucked. I wish I had blown a load on her stomach or put my dick in her ass or done something to signify it as the final time I would put my cock in her. Alyna rings my doorbell, shifting my thoughts back to her soapy cunt in my shower.

  She walks in and says, “Hi,” then kisses me, sees the tea that I now realize Casey left sitting on the coffee table along with what I am now sure is my umbrella, and says, “I would have never guessed you for a tea drinker.”

  The shower we take five minutes later yields a pretty good and immediate soapy hand job that leaves me no opportunity to even attempt fucking her. Instead I repay the favor by making her cum as I finger-fuck her up against my shower door. The dinner we eat afterward at Jerry’s Famous Deli is filled with conversation about trivial things that ignore the nature of what seems to be a burgeoning relationship, but nonetheless is the only conversation either of us wants to have.

  some chapter

  The 98 Percent Rule

  Todd and I are eating lunch at a Quiznos in North Hollywood. Sitting across from us at two different tables are an unrealistically hot bitch who we decide must be a porno actress and an old lady who looks like she died two weeks ago.

  Todd says, “If you had to fuck the old ugly one, but then you get to fuck the hot one, would you do it?”

  “What’s the rest of the scenario?”

  “There is no rest. That’s it.”

  “What about disease, and pregnancy, and subsequent chances to fuck the hot bitch?”

  “No. You don’t get any of that.”

  “See? So there’s more to the situation here. You have to lay it out completely.”

  “Okay, here’s your scenario. You’re lying in bed at one A.M. and the old bitch materializes in your bed completely naked and starts sucking your cock.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, while she sucks, she says, ‘If you fuck me, not just let me suck your cock, but actually stick your dick in me, then right after you blow your load, the hot porno bitch will show up and fuck you, too.’ And you get no diseases, there’re no pregnancies, no one knows about it, and both bitches vaporize as soon as you blow your load.”

  “And I’ll be magically ready to fuck immediately after I’ve just fucked the old bitch?”

  “Yeah.”

  I think it over. I look at the old bitch, at her gunt, at her wrinkly, jerky lips as she eats a cup of Quiznos clam chowder. I realize that given Todd’s theoretical situation I think I would fuck her even if the hot bitch wasn’t a follow-up.

  I say, “In your theoretical situation I’d fuck the old bitch even if there was no hot bitch.”

  “Dude, that is fucking vile.”

  “You would, too.”

  “What? No fucking way.”

  “Yeah, you would. If no one will know and there’s no risk involved, what do you care if she’s old. She’s still got a pussy, right?”

  He realizes I’m right. “Yeah, I guess I would fuck her. Would you fuck any bitch on this planet given that same situation?”

  My gut reaction is to say yes, but logically that can’t be true. I hedge my bet.

  I say, “Maybe not all of them. In the age range of seventeen or so to dead, I’d probably fuck like ninety-eight percent.”

  A decent-looking mom walks in with two little kids. She’s kind of fat.

  Todd indicates her with a head nod and says, “Is she ninety-eight percent?”

  “Yeah.”

  There’s an old, insane-looking homeless bitch on the street corner.

  Todd points to her and says, “Dude, is she ninety-eight percent?”

  “Uhhh…yeah, sure.”

  “Holy shit. You’d fuck her?”

  “Yeah, if she vaporizes right after I do it, what do I care?”

  “If she’s ninety-eight percent, then what’s a two-percenter look like?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I see one.”

  We finish our sandwiches and on the entire ride back to work we don’t pass a single two-percenter. I wonder if the fact that I live in Los Angeles has anything to do with it or if I should just change my range to ninety-nine percent. It’s probably L.A. I decide to leave it at ninety-eight percent.

  chapter thirty-one

  Introducing Alyna

  Over the course of the last week Alyna’s sucked my cock once and given me one hand job in the shower. I’ve eaten her out once and fingered her once, also in my shower. These statistics are enough to make Todd want to meet her.

  I pick Alyna up at nine and we go to a bar called Daddy’s, where we meet Todd and two girls sitting in a booth with him who I assume did not come with him. One of the girls is short and fat with a pretty cute face and small sloppy tits that are poorly concealed in a shirt that no girl that chubby should be wearing. The other girl is surprisingly attractive for having such a fat pig as a friend. As we sit down Todd says, “What’s up guys, this is Sandra and Debra.”

  Debra, the short fat one, says, “It’s Devra, with a v, like vagina.”

  In addition to being short and fat, Devra is drunk.

  I introduce Alyna to everyone around the table.

  Todd says, “So, Alyna, what do you do?”

  She says, “I’m a student. This is my last year, though.”

  Todd says, “Cool.”

  Sandra, the hot girl, says, “Where do you go?”

  Alyna says, “UCLA.”

  Devra the fat pig says to me, “And are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend or are you fair game?” Then she laughs a weird laugh that almost sounds like an eight-year-old kid and I imagine the cellulite that must be on her ass and thighs rippling as I fuck her.

  Alyna looks at me. I refuse to say anything.

  She says, “No, we actually both got out of relationships not too long ago and I’ve sucked his dick once and he’s eaten me out…oh, and we’ve given each other hand jobs in his shower, but it’s not that whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing yet, so I guess he’s fair game.”

  I want to fuck Alyna right there.

  Devra the fat pig looks at me with an open mouth. Judging by their similar slack-jawed expressions, Sandra and Todd also seem to be a little surprised by the bluntness of what Alyna just said. I smile and kiss Alyna on the cheek. She smiles back.

  Todd says, “Uh…I’m going up to the bar to get some drinks. You guys want anything?”

  We put in our order with Todd and he leaves us with Sandra and Devra, whose mouth is still hanging open, making her look even more like an actual pig to me.

  Alyna says, “So what do you guys do?”

  Devra the fat pig says, “I work at an ad agency as a project coordinator.”

  Sandra the hot one says, “I’m a graphic designer at the same place.”

  Devra says to me, “And what do you do?”

  I say, “Nothing important.”

  That ends whatever conversation might have been about to happen. We sit in silence for another minute until Todd comes back with drinks for the whole table, which seems to erase the uneasiness everyone was feeling after Alyna told them she sucked my cock.

  As we all drink and talk about nothing important, Sandra the hot girl explains that since moving to Los Angeles she’s only dated jerks and can’t seem to find a guy that takes her seriously. Devra the fat pig explains that all the guys she goes out with just want to have sex and then never call her again. Sandra further explains that her problem isn’t in the guys calling her back. They call her all the time, it’s just that they only call her to have sex. I can see Todd mentally constructing the best possible strategy to result in fucking at least one of them tonight, preferably the hot one.

  He says, “I hate the dating scene. I’ve had my heart broken enough to know that it’s rough out there, especially for a guy who just wants to meet a nice girl and doesn’t want the whole fast-paced L.A. thing.”

&nb
sp; It’s a strong strategy.

  Alyna leans over and whispers in my ear, “Does your friend really think that’s going to work?”

  Sandra the hot one and Devra the fat pig say almost in unison, “I know what you mean.”

  I lean over and whisper in Alyna’s ear, “Yes.”

  Alyna drinks the last of her cosmopolitan and says, “I’m getting another drink, anybody want anything?” I ask her to get me another Dewar’s and then watch her perfect ass leave the table in a tight black skirt. When I turn my head back to the conversation at hand, I notice Todd was also watching Alyna’s ass. He notices me noticing him and then gives me the thumbs-up. The two girls he’s trying to fuck tonight are oblivious as they talk about a new lip gloss that Sandra bought at the Grove.

  I look at the bar to see if Alyna’s close to getting our drinks and see that some guy is talking to her. He’s sloppily holding a drink and standing as close as he possibly can to her. I wonder if he’s thinking about fucking her or getting his dick sucked as he tries to pick her up. My gut reaction is to go to the bar under the guise of seeing if Alyna needs help so I can tell this asshole to go fuck himself, but I don’t know if that’s something I have the clearance to do at this point in whatever relationship it is that we have. So I watch the following:

  The guy says something to her.

  She gives no reaction.

  The guy says something to her again and motions his drink toward her, possibly asking if he can buy her one.

  She shakes her head.

  The guy says something else and Alyna looks over at me, rolls her eyes, and mouths, “I fucking hate this,” as she indicates the guy with a thumb point.

  It’s in that one second that I have an overwhelming urge to hug her, to fall asleep with her, to wake up with her, to smell her hair, to do everything with her except fuck. Then she turns around to pick up our drinks from the bar and I get a perfect shot of her ass again, which replaces my previous impulses with the more familiar set of urges to fuck her in every way imaginable.

  She comes back to the table with a fresh round of drinks. We all talk about movies, TV shows, and records we think are good and bad and other completely boring bullshit. Todd and the hot girl seem to be doing most of the talking as the fat pig tries to interject here and there but must know she has no chance of scoring any guy once her hot friend shows even the most remote amount of interest.

 

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