Joey Cloudy online

TRAMP: Pages Stolen from the Diary of Dolores on the dotted line

“Missed me, missed, me now you’ve got to kiss me

If you kiss me, mister, you must think I’m pretty

If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me

If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me”

-The Dresden Dolls

They called her Crazy Chrissie, but she wasn’t crazy in the medical sense she didn’t have a chemical imbalance in her brain or any sort of neurological defect in that respect she was just as sane as you or I. You see a lot of kids like her out here in the wastelands lost boys and girls listlessly drifting through the streets ignored as if they were debris.

She was completely unremarkable as far as her facial features were concerned. Her hair was flat straight and burnt umber an un-inspired hue. While the Mormons that reared her certainly had manufactured a file detailing the exotic ethnic blend that made up her ancestry. On her it was all just a muddled mess of blurry features a slight girl in ivory sundress. Her hazel eyes were small, and too far apart O suggest. We bend our knees and pray the children suffer less.

Her skin always ruddy flush from drink with huge pores sloping eyes and bucking teeth. Her face was saddled with puffiest of cheeks which looked cute but not sexy least not to me. Her nose was slightly turned up and squarish neath her brow. Her body, while small and tight, was adequate but for how Long would last the looking glass the mirror betrays your youth looking fifteen, but you could see that there was no truth. physically she had peaked this was as good for her as it gets. looking as she was ever going to get. She had nothing going for her, but her velvet purse and it was fleeing, and she could not find reverse.

Not much of a skill set when you stop to think it through the you’re only sucking cock and getting screwed good at is being young. Silly twat, she was fucked for life she knows the truth. You see wouldn’t last there’s nothing she can do. To stop the clock that soon what was passing for baby fat would soon be just plain fat and the waist wasn’t really slim it was just that her tits rode high and wide.

Chrissie was there so much Aaron assumed she lived there and all the girls that did live there treated her like a baby sister and tried to look out for her as best as they could. They kept her fed most of the time and off the streets when she wanted to be off the streets.

Everybody knew what was really wrong with her although we never talked about it, we never had to. There was nothing wrong with Chrissie that couldn’t have been cured by keeping her daddy’s cock out of her mouth. Her old man had been fucking her regular since she was a kid and her mom pretended that she didn’t know what was wrong with her.

Chrissie kept running away and they kept finding her holed up with different men by having the police check their phone records of who she called. At first, they just kept her medicated and when that didn’t stop her from running away, they sent her to an asylum. She had slashed both of her wrist long ways which is of course the right way to do it you mean business and she wasn’t fucking around.

Now the scars had healed, and she had a few new boyfriends, but Aaron only met one of them once. A twenty-seven-year-old goat roper from Oklahoma named Jackson. He knew how old she was, but he didn’t give a damned as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t doin’ no damage and he wasn’t from what he had seen of him at their roll parties he couldn’t. He thought he was cool because he had a few facial piercings and some tired tribal tattoos on his arms. Aaron really didn’t think he was of much use and he did at least have a legitimate excuse. But, you wouldn’t understand if you’ve never been to Oklahoma.

Chrissie was a nymphomaniac. You hear people say that sort of shit to try to put down a girl who just has a healthy sexual appetite and it usually is coming out of the mouth of an ex-boyfriend or a jealous rival. But what I’m talking about isn’t anything like that, Chrissie fucked indiscriminately, compulsively and joylessly. It was an impulse within her over which she had no control.

If she liked you she wanted to show that she was your friend by fucking you and in her mind this was a way of controlling you even if it was only the illusionary control of an orgasm. I’ve seen this type of thing often enough to recognize it as a common behavior in people who were sexually molested as children. In the few months that I knew her Chrissie had more sex with more partners than I have had in my entire life.

I used to stay up late, typing up poems on their computer in the dining room which was just a wall less area opposite the living room where she slept on one of the futons. She would sneak out of bed naked in the middle of the night while her lover for the night slept and tiptoe into to the bathroom to fuck one of her roommate’s boyfriends. She had hooked up with everybody in the house male or female.

Some nights she drifted from room to room joining the different couples in their beds, before she came back into the living room in the morning looking for her clothes so she could get ready for school. She didn’t sneak around, she was proud of herself in some perverse way and the only thing that she liked to do when she wasn’t fucking, was talk about fucking. She imagined she was good at it, and she wasn’t ashamed at all.

The first time Aaron ever went to their apartment the place was full of drunk high school and college aged chicks laughing and teasing each other while watching midget porn. Everyone ignored Chrissie who was sitting there in the middle of two girls on the sofa sleeper with the heel of her foot jammed against her crotch rocking back and forth getting herself off like a schoolgirl, which she was.

Chrissie tried to hook up with Aaron tonight while they were sitting on the couch after watching ‘Dazed and Confused’ and ‘Empire Records’. The living room was strangely empty of girlfriends and roommates. This time he was the one sitting up while Chrissie laid her head in his lap and tried to give him a blow job. Confused, she asked Aaron.

Why won’t you let me suck your dick?

Aaron lit a camel Turkish jade cigarette as he explained himself to Chrissie. Laurel is my girlfriend.

Dude, that doesn’t mean anything, she hooks up with other people all the time. Allow me to explain the rules Chrissie and she began to laugh. Then she proceeded to tell Aaron all of his girlfriends secrets.

You don’t even know Laurel.

I admit that much is true we’ve only been going out for a few months.

Chrissie grinned up at him as she spoke, regaling him with ribald tales of the sordid details of Laurel’s extracurricular sex life while he was at home or at work.

He quickly did the math in his head and extrapolated that Laurel wasn’t very far behind Chrissie in the number of divergent sexual encounters she’d had. Laurel was of that generation of young women that considered herself chaste as long as no man’s penis entered her vagina, she still considered herself vestal and a good Mormon.

Over the years Chrissie explained I have eaten Laurel’s pussy more times than I can count, at one time another I have fingered her and inserted a wide assortment of phallic shaped objects into your girlfriend’s pussy. Seriously, I’ve shoved everything from the fat end of a sizeable carrot, to most of the skinny end of a longneck beer bottle and every dildo and vibrator in the place.

Once she even went down on my brother on a dare in the garage at my parents’ house. Since junior high Laurels given countless blowjobs and been titty fucked by half the guys she’d ever dated in school. She even let a few guys take her up the ass. At this point her vagina is the only orifice on her body that had never had a cock in it until the day before you slept with her.

Aaron sipped his beer and puffed on the shrinking cigarette as Chrissie spoke. But other than being a titillating morsel of gossip he didn’t care. Chrissie continued talking Aaron listened as she spoke in a rapid-fire staccato delivery as if she had to hurry to get all of the words out. As she talked about all the other guys Laurel had over when he wasn’t there.

You know she still has sex with her drunk ex-boyfriend that chubby Mexican boy, Last week she had a three way and was double penetrated by two businessmen from Trinidad who were staying at the hotel where she works part-time at the desk. The day before yesterday she picked up some guy driving down I-75 freeway who blew his horn and waved her over the other night. They pulled off the freeway parked in the lot at Denny’s where she snorted what he claimed was cocaine she fucked him in the backseat then she brought you the sloppy seconds.

He listened to Chrissie roll over her friend, his girlfriend Laurel, who lay not ten feet away from the futon they were sitting on passed out drunk in the next room.

What cha doin’. Chrissie croaked in a strangely shaky whisper as if her throat were sore. As if she hadn’t seen Aaron doing the same thing every night for months now.

Typing some poems up you know me I normally sleep five hours a night but lately I had been waking up after as little as two hours refreshed so I used the computer to print them out at work although I occasionally print out a few here if we were on our way to the strip and I hadn’t had time to print out a copy at work yet. But normally then I still just read the first drafts directly out of my notebooks.

I’m not bothering you am I?

Naw, I’m just copying the poems out of my notebook. It’s not like I’m writing anything new. So, unless you’ve come over here to try and start some shit then no, you’re not bothering me.

No I couldn’t sleep I had a bad dream I woke up and wondered if you wouldn’t mind if I just sat here and watched. I promise I’ll be good. Aaron turned around from the monitor and looked at her in the light of its glow. Her skin looked pale and clammy, she was covered in sweat, her eyes seemed far away and unfocused and there was an almost bluish tint to her lips. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face.

Jesus’ girl are you all right, did you get some bad dope or something!? You don’t look well at all.

I’m ok, it was just a bad dream. Aaron instinctively touched her cheeks then placed his palm over her forehead. She was ice cold.

Here, drink some of this. He commanded, handing Chrissie the remainder of the coffee in his mug. Their hands touched as he passed her the mug. Her skin was damp and clammy. She took the warm cup between both of her cold hands uttering a barely audible thanks before she took a few small sips.

You gonna be alright kid? Aaron asked genuinely worried she was overdosing on some bad dope.

Yeah, I just don’t wanna go back to sleep. I keep having the same fucking nightmare. Aaron lit a camel Turkish jade took a quick drag and passed it to Chrissie. The pale gaunt waif took a drag on his square while Aaron fished around in the ashtray by the monitor for a roach. He found the weed then fired up the half blunt. In the glow of the cigarette’s cherry, it looked like the color was returning to her face, but it was hard to tell with only the desk light.

Are you sure I don’t need to get you to the hospital?

I’ll be fine, this happens all the time.

What’s wrong do you have low blood pressure or something? Aaron had no idea what he was talking about, but he remembered one summer in high school his cousin blacking out while they were riding their bikes. He was cold and sweaty just like her and it was the middle of summer.

I have panic attacks in my sleep and when I have the bad dream She rasped. sometimes stop breathing.

The bad dream?

She spoke of it as if Aaron knew her secret language, but he listened in that patient way that one must listen to the shattered, the broken and the demented. He found himself very much aware that he was listening intently to the voice of one of the damned. He didn’t really want to hear about her dreams. All he wanted to do right now was get back to work typing up his poems without the taste of her pain in his mind. But he knew that it was too late, that he had to sit here and just listen mercilessly for a while.

She was wrapped in her blanket, he lit another cigarette and waited for her to finish, it was the only decent thing to do. Her hair had fallen back down throwing shadows across her sunken face. Her voice seemed to float up like smoke out of the shroud like shadows.

I can never remember seeing anything in the dream, Chrissies voice seemed alien almost robotic, everything is darkness. My mouth feels like it’s stuffed with sponges, I can’t breathe, it feels like I’m drowning, like I’m choking on something slimy, like I have raw eggs in my throat. I wake up then and throw up most times.

I thought that you threw up because you were bulimic?

I am but I got lots of reasons to throw up. She had been having the same dream for as long as she could remember and none of the Mormon psychiatrist her parents sent her to wanted to see what the dream meant. It wasn’t a dream; it was a memory. She wasn’t crazy. Her father xxx for the last 15 years, Chrissie was only 15. sick son of a bitch. Daddy’s little girl had no idea what it all meant, no one wanted to, it was safer to lock her up or keep her sedated. It was easier to continue to pretend that she was insane instead of the world.

Aaron listened numb silent seething, He’d heard it all before too many times. The Mormons were as twisted with pedophilia as the Catholics. Aaron despised the church for shielding such men for giving them faiths false power even more now. He didn’t realize he was crying…. he ached for vengeance impotently raged at an imaginary god. So, what do you girls talk about when I’m not here? Aaron asked changing the subject.

Boys mostly. Chrissie giggled the word boys.

Really a house full of girls’ ages of 18 to 22 they mostly talk about men Hmmm. Fascinating. Aaron continued, doing his best Mr. Spock voice. His theatrics wasted. She didn’t watch Star Trek.

Yeah, Chrissie replied giving him a quizzical eye. we even had a house meeting after you and Laurel started dating. She made us all promise not to touch you no matter what. That’s why Laurel always halls ass to her room.

No shit.

Yeah, she drawled unconsciously twirling and chewing on a strand of her own hair, she’s totally possessive about you fucking hypocritical since she’s never had a problem with sharing a guy at a party before.

Is that what everybody else thinks?

Sure, but they wouldn’t tell you, it’s supposed to be a big secret. You know, just between us girls. But I can tell you one thing for sure, Kelley thinks she’s just being a greedy bitch by hogging you all to herself all the time. Especially since she made her boyfriend eat Laurel out before.

So why did they do it?

If you’re pretty, you can make a guy do almost anything if he’s drunk enough. ‘Side’s We were all on X.

His thoughts turned to Mona. He wondered how she was doing tonight?

-about the author JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals; Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Tx.