Hyena

by Jude Angelini

  I come to. I hear Billy Corgan singing, “Weeee don’t even care, as restless as we are. . . .”

  I’m facedown on my JCPenney shag carpet and it hits me. I bet them Jewish motherfuckers aren’t facedown in the carpet, naked from the waist down, dick covered with olive oil, passed out from nitrous on a school night. My mouth tastes like metal, my stomach’s rotten. I get up, go to the bathroom, and puke.

  squeaky clean

  I WAS DRIVING WITH MY dad in his Chevette when he decided to have the sex talk with me. On the way to my mom’s, we just drove past Old Perch Road when he turns down the radio, looks over at me, and says all solemn, “Jude.”

  I’m thinking I’m in trouble for something. I look at him back, I say, “Yeah?”

  “Do you know what cunnilingus is?”

  I didn’t want to have a sex talk. I already knew about sex from health class and from stealing dirty magazines from Merle, our downstairs neighbor. He was on welfare; he’d lie in his bed all day smoking weed and reading sci-fi novels. He had a long stick he used to change the channels from his bed. He’d poke at the TV with it when he wanted to see something different.

  When he’d run up to the gas station for smokes, I’d walk into his apartment and steal the Playboys and Hustlers and take ’em back upstairs to beat off.

  I knew where the dick went, how babies were made. I was fourteen. This wasn’t the fifties when motherfuckers believed in storks.

  My dad’s doing this shit he does with his face when he tries to look sincere, this half frown with puppy-dog eyes.

  “Jude. Do you know what cunnilingus is?”

  “Naw, what’s cunnilingus?”

  He says, “When a man loves a woman very much, he takes her into the bedroom and puts his mouth on her vagina, and he licks it with his tongue.”

  I look at him disgusted. “Eating pussy? Hell naw! I’m not putting my face where some fucking bitch bleeds out of once a month! That’s fucking gross.”

  At the time I really felt like this. I had never even touched a pussy, so the idea of eating one seemed daunting. Plus, I grew up with black kids and eating pussy was some bitch shit.

  My dad keeps pressing, “No, Jude, listen to me. The ladies love when you go down on them. You lick their clitoris till they go fucking crazy and cum.” And he sticks out his tongue and he touches his nose. “See?” He used to do that a lot.

  I tell him, “I don’t care what the fuck they do, I ain’t eating no pussy.”

  He says, “You will.”

  I say, “I won’t.”

  He says, “Oh you’re gonna eat pussy. You’re gonna lick it clean.”

  “Look, Pop, I’m not eatin’ no motherfuckin’ pussy—chill out with that shit!”

  And he stares at me and I’m glaring back and he turns his head. We drive in silence for a while and I’m grateful.

  It was tight quarters in the Chevette. My shoulder touched his shoulder and both our shoulders touched the window. My pop’s a big-ass Italian from Leominster, Massachusetts. He says “cah” instead of “car” and “bah” instead of “bar” and he claims he knows people in the Mob. He was always telling stories about Porky Valeri getting his hand smashed to bits with a ball-peen hammer and how his buddies took some Puerto Rican into the mountains, shoved a funnel in his ass, poured battery acid in it, and then threw him down the hill.

  He was always talking about how he coulda been in the Mob but he decided to go straight. So that’s why we’re having this sex talk wedged into his rusted-out, piece-of-shit Chevette. Taking me from his shitty one-bedroom apartment where we lived to another piece-of-shit apartment, where I lived with my mom, because he decided to go straight.

  “Jude.”

  “What, man?”

  “Do you know what anilingus is?”

  “Don’t even tell me.”

  “That’s when if you love a woman very, very much, like how I loved ya motha, you take her in the bathroom, wash her up real good, and get her squeaky clean. Then you lay her down on the bed on her stomach and you lick her asshole. You spread her cheeks and you tongue her asshole. I used to do it to your motha all the time, she couldn’t get enough of it, it’d drive her nuts. Make sure you get her nice and squeaky clean, though; you don’t wanna get shit in your mouth because the fecal matter’ll make you sick. That’s what the Vietcong did in ’Nam: they dipped spikes in shit and buried them in pits and set up booby traps to kill soldiers. They’d get these puncture wounds with shit in ’em and it’d fester. . . .”

  I sat there in silence staring at the trees out the window while he went on about ’Nam and eating my mom’s ass. He was always talking about fucking my mom. Poor guy, never did get over losing her.

  my morning

  I’VE HIT A NEW LOW. I got my phone in one hand, my dick in the other. I’m in bed jerking off to chicks drinking urine. Regular porn doesn’t cut it anymore. It’ll only get worse. It might be an elephant dick tomorrow. Let me just take care of this fucking thing, beat it to submission, then I can face the day.

  It’s better than jerking off to old sex with my ex-girlfriend. That’s no way to start the morning, with some brokenhearted shame nut.

  Then I’m thinking about her all day, thinking it’s Julie every time I see a brunette from a distance with full hips. Waiting for her to turn around, walking faster to see her face, follow her for a block or two, just to talk to her, what are you gonna say? Nothing. Wrong person. Never mind.

  I wonder if she sees ghosts, too.

  I rub the cum on my belly and wait for it to dry before I throw the covers back on. The phone’s on my side with the movie still playing, this chick lapping up piss out of the bowl.

  used and abused

  I WAS LOOKING TO MEET a chick who played backgammon in my area, so I posted an ad for it on Craigslist. I kept it straightforward yet vague. That way if she was cute, I could try and fuck her, and if she was ugly, we’d just play the game and I could try and fuck her friends.

  It read something like this:

  Backgammon Anyone?

  do you love playing backgammon? me too! Looking for new people to play backgammon with. i hope to start a club. please contact me if you’re interested. i’m located in the Hollywood area.

  I might as well have written, “Hi I’m Jude, I’m on suicide watch, sometimes I wake up crying.”

  I genuinely love the game; it’s poetic, it mirrors life. You can do everything right, but you get one wrong roll and lose in the end. But over time the better player will come out on top if you just keep playing. When I put out the ad, I thought that women might find this hobby quirky and charming. They don’t. It’s about as quirky and charming to chicks as a captain’s hat and a corncob pipe.

  One person answered. She was from Alaska with an extremely high voice. She called and said, “Hi, I’m from Alaska. My voice is high.”

  We set up something for later that week. I show up at Starbucks to play backgammon with her. She rolls up riding a Rascal scooter. Turned out she was retarded. I beat her twice and left.

  I went back on Craigslist. I thought maybe I should check out the Casual Encounters page, since the backgammon didn’t work out. I came across an ad from a woman looking to have rough casual sex on a biweekly basis. This might be fun. I’ve choked out chicks and smacked women around in the sack before, so I figured I could hack it.

  I hit her up. She hit me back. We send pictures. In her photo she had on a camouflage army hat and rave gear circa 1999. Her face was average; she had large tits. I’ve fucked uglier chicks.

  We arranged to meet at some dive bar in Pasadena.

  I was at the bar drinking pineapple juice when she walked in. The picture she sent was from 1999. What entered was a 2010 plain-faced, overweight, matronly woman, in business slacks and a blouse. She looked like she managed an office somewhere. She pulled up to the bar. The dude next to me looked at her, then looked at me, and laughed. I pretended like I didn’t see him.

  We talked awhile; she told
me she managed an office somewhere. She lived in the same apartment with her husband and boyfriend and that both men knew she was here meeting me and that we were supposed to fuck. She told me she had rape fantasies and a high IQ. She struck me as a woman who played Magic: The Gathering.

  The conversation was cool but I wasn’t really attracted to her. I stayed for two drinks and excused myself to leave. She followed me to my car. I went to hug her goodbye; she rubbed my dick through my jeans and said, “So, you wanna take this to the next level?”

  “What level is that?”

  “We go back to your place and fuck.”

  I’m hesitant. I say, “I don’t know. It’s late, I’m tired. I’m not really up for raping you tonight. Maybe another time, like next week or something.”

  She squeezes my dick. “You don’t have to rape me, we can just have regular sex.”

  My shit’s getting hard. I look at her. “No rape, just a quickie?”

  She says, “Just a quickie.”

  She sure is persistent. What if this is a setup? What if her boyfriend and husband are in another car and they’re gonna follow me to the crib and they’re gonna rob me? Rob my house while I’m fucking this broad. Knock me out and steal my kidney. But I do like the way she’s rubbing my dick through the jeans and she does have some big-ass titties and she ain’t that ugly out here where it’s dark.

  “What the hell, follow me.”

  I take her the roundabout way, zigzagging through neighborhoods just in case we’re being followed, checking the rearview for extra headlights.

  We get back to the crib, I got her on the couch. I got the lights turned down. I start kissing on her and she starts whimpering, “No no . . . don’t. No.”

  I’m moving too fast, so I stop. She grabs me and starts kissing me again. A minute into it she starts with her “No, no, nos.” So I stop.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “You keep like, crying and shit.”

  “I’m just nervous.”

  We start up again and she’s whimpering. This stop-go shit goes on for like five minutes and I’m kind of freaking out. I’m not really into teary orgasms, unless that’s what we’re going for.

  But this is reminding me of when I was a teenager and I thought I was gonna catch a rape case. I pulled this black chick. She was fucking with some lame, born-again Christian but I got her to stay the night with me anyway. We’re messing around, making out, I ended up eating her out, cuz I’m white and that’s what we do. She’s gripping my head, she gets off. I’m at the edge of the bed wiping up and she’s like, “What just happened?!”

  I say, “What do you mean what just happened?”

  She says, “I woke up and I’m all wet on my legs—what did you do? Why are my panties off?!”

  Woke up? We was just making out. When’d she fall asleep?

  I look at this evil bitch; she’s fucking crazy. She knows damn well what we did and why her panties are off. She’s trying to act like I mouth-raped her.

  That’s how you wanna play it? Fine.

  I say, “You must’ve kicked your panties off in your sleep, because we didn’t do nothing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I’m sitting there with all types of pussy on my face—my shit’s glistening like a glazed doughnut.

  “I swear to God we didn’t do nothing. I pinky promise.”

  And I spooned her ass to sleep.

  This bitch felt bad about cheating on her man, so she was threatening some sexual assault shit to keep me quiet. After that, I made sure I got verbal consent from any chick I ever messed with before we did anything.

  The Christian college girl hit me up on MySpace a couple years back. She’s in Vegas, a dancer now. She was wearing a bikini holding a broadsword in her profile pic. She wanted to link up again. I never hit her back.

  So now I’m a little weirded out by the Craigslist lady telling me to stop every two seconds, fake crying and shit. I’m not really trying to deal with rape unless we agree on it and last time I checked, I told this chick I wasn’t raping her.

  She’s sitting there whimpering on the couch. I say, “What are you doing? I thought we were sposed to just fuck. Am I hurting you? Why are you crying? Maybe you should just go.”

  I put my hand on her stomach, trying to be sweet, and it’s real hard and it’s poking out. I say, “What’s that?”

  She lifts up her shirt; she’s wearing a girdle, but her stomach’s still protruding. She says, “I’m pregnant.”

  I say, “How pregnant?”

  “Six months.”

  And I thought she was just fat. There goes my dick, getting hard again.

  Sick bastard.

  Pregnant pussy’s good pussy, cuz it’s all swollen like a baboon’s ass and extra wet and you can’t get her pregnant again. I whisper, “Go to my room.”

  She does.

  We strip, and start fucking. I’m fuckin’ her slow and easy like I’m in a Colt 45 commercial; she’s not into it at all. I try nice and slow doggie-style, nothing. Get on top. She rides me a minute, maybe. She hops off. We’re standing there next to the bed.

  She’s like, “This isn’t working for me. I’m going to need you to rape me.”

  “What about the baby? I don’t wanna hurt the baby.”

  She says, “You’d have to kick me in the stomach to hurt the baby; don’t worry about the baby.”

  I’m standing there in my bedroom buck naked, condom on my dick, staring at some naked pregnant stranger who wants me to rape her.

  I grab her by her neck and slam her onto the bed, hop on top of her, and force myself inside her.

  She’s screaming, “NoNoNo!!”

  One hand’s on her throat, choking her; I’m smacking her with the right. “Shut up, bitch!!! Take this fuckin’ dick, you dumb whore!”

  She makes a feeble attempt to bat at me. I pin her down, put my forearm in her throat, and lean all my weight into her.

  She’s crying real tears. “No, no please!”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  I jam my hand into her mouth to gag her. She’s gasping and gargling on my fist. She’s getting spit all over my hand. I take it out, wipe it on her face, then stuff it back in her mouth.

  I tell her I’m gonna rape the shit out of her and send her home to her punk-ass boyfriend and bitch-ass husband when I’m through. This goes on for a while. At one point, I’m palming her face like a basketball, jerking her head all over the bed while she’s weakly swatting at me. The whole time I’m trying not to laugh. This shit is ridiculous.

  I gotta cum but I don’t really know rape-sex etiquette. Do you just fuck real hard till you cum or do you hold off till she cums? I think as a rule, rapists are selfish lovers, but this isn’t like official rape.

  I go for another five minutes and finally bust, hop up, and say, “Now get up, get dressed, and get the fuck out of my house.”

  I’m sitting there on the couch, naked, drinking water out of a jelly jar, feeling awesome: like I just raped the shit out of this pregnant bitch. It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it. I don’t care if you’re a janitor; just make sure you got the cleanest floors in town.

  She comes out. I ask, “How was that?” already knowing the answer: great.

  She says, “It was fine.”

  I say, “What do you mean fine?”

  “A little light, but I had fun anyway.”

  And with that, she walks out the door, gets in her car, and drives back to her men.

  collateral damage

  WHEN I WAS IN THE shower washing my butt, I felt a lump on my ass. I thought it was a tumor. I thought I was gonna die from ass cancer.

  I’m picturing people falling out at my funeral. Wondering how many people’ll show. I remind myself to throw out the porn DVDs in the dresser and to clear the hard drive before I die, so my mom won’t have to see the shit I jerk off to. I’ll go back to Detroit to spend my last days there, maybe smoke some crack. My
job’ll probably try to hold a memorial for me and fuck it up. By the time I’m out of the shower, I’ve come to terms with my death.

  Went to the doctor that Thursday; turns out it’s hemorrhoids. Superbad hemorrhoids. My hemorrhoids got hemorrhoids. And now he’s got to cut me.

  He explained to me exactly what was going on with my anus, but I really couldn’t follow cuz right before his explanation, he raped my asshole with his fingers and cameras and metal rods.

  The whole experience made me rethink throwing my finger up a chick’s asshole without warning mid-coitus. I probably won’t do that anymore.

  I used to be reckless with that butt-hole shit. I tried to sodomize every single girl I smashed. Not because it felt great, mind you; it just feels okay. Pussy feels better and there’s some downsides to sodomy, like sometimes you end up with shit on your dick.

  It’s just that if I was gonna fuck, I wanted my dick to hit every hole. So when I saw her months later at the mall with her new man and we were all smiling and nodding and making niceties, I’d be looking at her thinking, “I was up in your butt hole, fuckin’. Great to see you.” And then I’d be off to Marshalls to buy Hilfiger shirts on clearance.

  I stopped trying to sodomize chicks when I stopped going to the mall for my clothes and chilled out with my anger issues. I mean, if she wants me to fuck her there, sure I will, that’s hot, whatever you want, I’m game. Even then, not all the time, cuz if I’m always putting it in her butt, what are we sposed to do on Valentine’s Day?

  Speaking of sodomy, the doctor shoved all those things up my butt hole and then cut my ass and left me there in a diaper on the gurney. The irony is, these last few weeks, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on some Vicodin. Well, now I got it. Be careful what you wish for.