Melony Louise's Natural Habitat

So I definitely have to do some bragging right now.

I entered a contest on Pointless Drivel about a week or so ago. Concept was simple enough: here's the start of a short story, now finish it. My entry won me second place. Soon enough, my utter crap absolutely freaking fabulous prize will be at my mailbox and I'll be back to brag all about it.

In the meantime though, here is the story I created with a split between where his ends and mine begins.

It was a dark and stormy night. John and Marsha stared glumly at the fuel gauge in their Ford Taurus, which read empty.

“I guess we get out and walk from here,” sighed John, “Maybe we can find someone still up at this hour.”

Wordlessly they bundled up as best they could, got out of the car, and began to walk down the road. The rain had let up some, but they were still going to get soaked. After about thirty minutes of walking down the dark road, they rounded a bend and came upon what looked to be a farmhouse. Every light was on in the house, and as they got closer they could hear music coming from inside.

“Well, we may be in luck, ” exclaimed John.

The couple walked up onto the porch and after a moment’s hesitation, John knocked on the door. They waited, but no one came to and answered. John knocked harder. The music stopped. Silence. Then after another minute, they heard the lock turning and the door swung wide open.

“Well hello!” said the woman that opened the door. Or, was it a man? Women for the sake of the feminine facial features and not particularly tall stature. Man for the amount of body hair even on its face. Women for the breasts. Man for the possibility that they’re man breasts. Women for the hot pants and tight tee, and camel toe with it. Man for the abnormal proportions of the said camel toe.

“My name is Loren Jones, and I take it you would be the actors Mr. Fantabulous sent! But there’s only two of you, where are the others?”

John and Marsha looked at each other, quite disturbed by this “Loren” creature.

“Well no,” began John, “but our car did run out of gas and we could use some help finding a station, seeing as how we are in no way from around here…”

“No can do I’m afraid,” Loren replied oddly cheerful, “I’d usually be the first to help a set of strangers but I’m in the middle of filming some gang bang bukkake. Unless you can fill in for some of my missing folks for the next scene, I’m afraid I can’t help…”

“And that,” said John several months later to his wife Shirley, “is why I’m in that porno with your sister.”

It's a masterpiece, no?

---

In other news, the boy needs to stop having responsibility in his life and thus stop disappearing. As far as I know his ass is still at work, even though he's technically supposed to be out about six or six thirty. And it's ten thirty now. Or, and this is so all paranoia talking, he's hiding from me.

Then again, I said he was hiding from me the last time I couldn't find him, the time before that, and probably the time before that too. And he wasn't, he just had other shit to do.

Either it's paranoia, or I have a false ego trying to convince me that I'm in fact scary. Maybe both.