I thought I'd follow and post something small over here for a change. I would love to know what others think, if it's interesting. Thanks for your time.
Cookie Cutter Neighbors
Kitty-corner neighbor, Mrs. Crystalmeth, owns a drug problem and two kids unwanted. She's married to Mr. Numbnutz, but accuses Mr. Bignutz of slipping her drugs the night she couldn't stand up, and putting something in her, she knows exactly what.
Mr. Bignutz, who lives just up the hill, claims she was the seductress, sneaking into bars unseen where he just happens to be. Strutting in with country swagger, her ass cheeks sagging in cut off jeans, and the gap between the middle seam was enticing.
She's no Cinderella, Mrs. Crystalmeth momma, a Honda Odyssey her carriage. But it won't turn into a gourd when the clock strikes its chord. She can stay out past dawn with insecurities to check off, a list miles long. Feeling validated by blurry shadows who are ignored by most girls.
It's interesting how Mr. Bignutz seems to find himself in predicaments such as these: available chauffeur to a damsel in need, while his missis sleeps with a pillow tucked between unshaven knees; his kids are snug in bed, sweet dreams. And his missis, Mrs. Prickleknees, brags to the ladies that his manhood is too big to please. But deep within, it's not a man she sees in her fantasies. It's the one she watches from a bay window in the living room.
The one being watched is Mrs. Chameleon, her home is across the pavement river. She's an alcoholic who vomits and adores her children, faked every orgasm with her husband since they met in college. But last year for the Halloween gathering, she purchased leather pants and a wife beater tank. Transformed hubby into Eric from True Blood, and when she plays Sookie, she's finally able to climax.
In the cul-de-sac lives Mrs. Trophywife, had a mommy makeover last summer; her husband's suggestion. Except surgery can't change a face she hates, but it did perk up those breastfeeding tits, flattened her c-section belly and rounded out that squishy tush. Girl’s night at her house is a tour of the bonus room converted to the master suite, where a sex swing hangs from the ceiling. She thinks nothing of telling her friends, the box of toys meant for pleasuring derrières is for him.
And I'm drowning in the suburbs with them. Someone throw me a lifeline.