Post by King Incredible on Jul 10, 2021 20:25:04 GMT -5
Or:
How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Pandemic
“That’s right, just like that… yes… fuck… YES… faster - faste--”
“We interrupt your regular scheduled programming with this emergency bulletin…”
The news had changed over from whatever bullshit was on the television to a bulletin. I couldn’t make out all of it because I was too busy getting off from a prostitute blowing my dick. I wouldn’t say it was the best head I’d ever gotten but it was good enough to warrant how much I was paying her. She grabbed my ass and pushed me closer to her, as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“...and because of the dangers due to community spread, effective tomorrow at eight in the morning, we are restricting…”
“What’s the news about?” the prostitute choked, trying to move her head in the direction of the television.
“Nothing,” I moaned, grabbing her and throwing her onto the bed of the hotel room I also bought, “now spread those legs.”
She bit her lip as I placed myself between her and we continued to get it on. I took one of her legs and had it vertical to my body, her ankle adjacent to my neck and thrusted, hard. She placed her hand on my stomach, digging her nails into my abdomen but she also glanced back at the television and noticed the bulletin with the words “COVID-19” and “borders closing”.
“Wait!” She pulled herself away from me and rolled out of bed, fetching the remote and turning up the volume.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, “this has got to be the most unprofessional fuck I’ve ever paid for, ever.”
“I have to go,” she insisted, grabbing her things.
“Really?” I scoffed, holding my hands to my hips, still fully erect, “I’m not going to pay you shit.”
“They're closing the border you fuckwad,” she said, as she kicked me between the legs.
I moaned, grabbing myself as I collapsed back onto the bed, squirming. The prostitute grabbed my wallet and took a wad of cash before quickly getting dressed and out the room. I bit the pillow, trying to withstand a bit of the pain, waiting for it to pass. I brought myself to a sitting position as I looked at the television and this time paid attention to what was being said.
“Until further notice,” the governor of Florida explained at his press conference, “all non essential services will be closed, and effective immediately there will be a stay-at-home order beyond going out for essentials. To stop the spread of COVID-19 we must…”
I looked out the window, seeing cars beginning to clog the streets, to get out of Key West, as I turned off the television and massaged my temples.
“Fuck...”
The wind was howling today outside the Atlantic Grocery on Flagler Avenue in Key West. The palm trees were swaying back and forth with purpose as I stood outside my Hummer, in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette. I eyed the store intently, waiting for someone to leave, disappointed. It was one of the slower days, and those days were more common because everyone did not want to chance leaving and getting the virus. I, however, with a mask on my face, stood in the parking lot and defied both public health orders and common sense to make sure of one thing: I made some money.
A poor, desperate man walked out the store, with his hands in his pocket as I flicked my cigarette away. He looked upset and was mumbling under his breath as he walked past my vehicle to get to his.
“Pardon me,” I said with a staged look of concern, “I noticed you are coming out of the store empty handed. Why would you go to the store in the middle of a pandemic just to browse?”
“I wasn’t browsing,” the man sighed, “I was trying to buy something but the store was out. This is the second time this week and they’ve been sold out.”
“That sucks,” I nodded, looking at the trunk of my Hummer and then back to the man, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Frank.”
“Frank,” I smiled, “I’d shake your hand but you can’t be too careful these days… I’m Larry.”
‘
“Nice to meet you,” Frank said, “I should really get going back to my family.”
“Of course,” I said understandingly, “didn’t you say you couldn’t buy something though? What was it you couldn’t get?”
“It’s crazy,” Frank laughed madly, “this place hasn’t had any cleaning wipes, hand sanitizer or even toilet paper for ages! We’re almost out!”
“I think I can help you out, Frank.”
With a press of my key fob, the trunk to my Hummer opened up, revealing what looked like a stocked shelf from a store: packages of toilet paper, bottles of hand sanitizer, cleaning supplies and more!
“I’ll admit,” I began, “I panicked and bought a lot of these items, worried that we were in the end times. I realised I overreacted and tried to return these products but because of these new policies in the era of COVID, they won’t let me return them. So I’m stuck with all this stuff I don’t need! Maybe you can help me get it off my hands?”
“Absolutely!” Frank beamed, “you’re amazing, thank you.”
Frank grabbed a cart from a nearby cart corral and swiftly came back to my vehicle. He looked for a moment, before going for the toilet paper.
“Frank…” I laughed slightly, “I’m sorry if you misunderstood me, but this isn’t a charity, I was hoping to make money.”
“Oh, of course,” Frank nodded, “I understand, you said you wanted to return them. Show me the receipt and I’ll pay you what you paid.”
“Listen, Frank,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “have you heard of a little thing called supply and demand? The demand for these products are through the damn roof, and honestly, I know you need them. So, you tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you what they’re worth.”
“Okay,” Frank said, hesitantly, “I wanted to get two packages of toilet paper, two bottles of hand sanitizer and two of the containers of cleaning wipes.”
“Hmmm, I see,” I acknowledged, looking at the products and doing the sum in my head, “that’ll be two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars?!” Frank cried, “you’re crazy. That would only cost me twenty dollars in the store---”
“But the store doesn’t have any,” I explained, “and I do. I’m not the store, Frank. And I know the worth of these products right now. Trust me, if you don’t buy them, someone else will.”
“I don’t have two hundred on me though,” Frank explained.
“How much do you have on you?” I asked, bluntly.
“I have a hundred and thirty,” Frank said, pulling out his wallet and showing me the bills.
I thought for a moment, and then noticed his religious cross necklace, made of silver, on his neck.
“I’ll tell you what,” I started, “I’m a nice guy, so I’ll be willing to give you what you want for a hundred and thirty… and your necklace.”
“My necklace?” Frank said, clutching it, “it’s a family heirloom, it’s priceless. My grandfather gave it to me.”
“That’s nice,” I said, rolling my eyes, “but your papa wouldn’t want you to wipe the crap from your ass with a leaf or something. He’d want you to be clean. What do you say?”
Frank, conflicted, thought for several moments until another person walked by and noticed the commotion.
“What’s going on?” the second guy asked.
“I’m selling stuff the stores are sold out on,” I explained.
“Oh okay,” He said, noticing the toilet paper, “how much for the ass wipe?”
“Fifty a package,” I said, picking it up.
“Deal!”
The second guy grabbed some money out of his pocket and we exchanged the package. There were only two packages of toilet paper left and Frank looked worried.
“Okay, fine,” Frank said, taking off his necklace and giving me his money, “I hope you’re happy, gouging people of their hard earned money, especially during a worldwide pandemic.”
“You’re welcome,” I thanked him enthusiastically, “come back another time!”
Upset, Frank grabbed the products he bought and headed to his car. After he drove away the second man came back and threw the toilet paper back into the trunk of my vehicle.
“Where’s my cut?” He demanded.
“Calm down,” I hissed, grabbing thirty bucks and giving it to him, “now scram.”
“Can I have the necklace too?” He asked.
“Fuck no,” I shook my head, “I could easily sell this to some religious wacko for some good cash. Now get out of here.”
The guy stuffed the money in his pocket and walked away. I laughed, counting the money as another individual in a leather jacket approached me.
“Excuse me,” the guy in the jacket asked, “are you selling these products?”
“Yes I am,” I smiled, “you need something?”
“No,” He started, “but I should let you know, I am a cop, and you’re under arrest.”
“What--”
I didn’t even have time to react as the officer flashed his cuffs and had me arrested faster than you could say ‘coronavirus’. I sighed, as he read me my miranda rights before taking me to his unmarked cop car and stuffing me in the back.
“Fuck.”
For the next year, this is how it went. I’d buy something like hand sanitizer, or the coveted Playstation 5, and upmark the price to make some money. Was it ethical? Hell no. Did I need to do it because I needed the money? No, I’ve always been comfortable. I did it because I could do it. Buying toilet paper for a bit more I understood - but suckers buying a video game console at two hundred percent over its market value? That was hilarious.
I pulled into the driveway and into the garage attached to my home in Key West, and closed the garage door behind me. I got out of the Hummer and grabbed a stack of PS5’s from the back and placed it on a bench in the garage. I turned on an old fashioned radio I had bought from a thrift store, and tuned to the rock station. The end to a Greta Van Fleet song could be heard as the song faded out and the station transitioned to an advertisement.
“Are you ready for live events to come back?” the voice on the radio asked, “are you ready to see men in tights kick each other's asses?! Then tune in every Wednesday as OCW Studios proudly presents OCW Piledriver with Cheasy M, as they bring you shows that will ultimately culminate in the pay-per-view: Quarantined! Featuring the likes of Dylan Thomas, Ed Houston, Mike Zybala…”
I made a sound of getting sick and shuddered at the sound of Zybala’s name but also was confused. I grabbed my phone and went to the OCW website, and indeed, they had already had two Piledriver shows. I turned down the volume of the radio, and quickly called my lawyer.
“Ah, yes, my favorite client,” my lawyer said with a dash of sarcasm, “what do I owe you for the pleasure of this phone call?”
“How about a discount on your ridiculous prices?” I suggested.
“How can I help you? He asked, avoiding the question.
“When were you going to tell me?” I wondered.
“Tell you what,” my lawyer said confused.
“OCW is back!” I exclaimed, “finally this fucking pandemic seems like it is nearing an end.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of OCW being back,” my lawyer replied back.
“Huh? I said, confused, “normally when this happens, I’m offered a contract, and then I toy with either accepting it or not.”
“Sorry,” my lawyer explained, “but I do not have any contracts for you for OCW.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Without finishing the conversation, I hung up the phone and placed it grudgingly in my pocket. I thought about the fact that OCW was two shows into a comeback and here I am, living in Key West for fucks sake, and not a call, not an offer, nothing. I flinched and then grabbed a crowbar leaning up against the garage walls and smashed the many boxes of Playstation 5’s on my bench. I whacked them for several minutes before using the crowbar to fling the remains off the bench and allow the many pieces of the console to fall to the ground. I sighed, heavily, from that exchange as I threw the crowbar to the ground and punched the wall.
“FUCK!”
How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Pandemic
“That’s right, just like that… yes… fuck… YES… faster - faste--”
“We interrupt your regular scheduled programming with this emergency bulletin…”
The news had changed over from whatever bullshit was on the television to a bulletin. I couldn’t make out all of it because I was too busy getting off from a prostitute blowing my dick. I wouldn’t say it was the best head I’d ever gotten but it was good enough to warrant how much I was paying her. She grabbed my ass and pushed me closer to her, as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“...and because of the dangers due to community spread, effective tomorrow at eight in the morning, we are restricting…”
“What’s the news about?” the prostitute choked, trying to move her head in the direction of the television.
“Nothing,” I moaned, grabbing her and throwing her onto the bed of the hotel room I also bought, “now spread those legs.”
She bit her lip as I placed myself between her and we continued to get it on. I took one of her legs and had it vertical to my body, her ankle adjacent to my neck and thrusted, hard. She placed her hand on my stomach, digging her nails into my abdomen but she also glanced back at the television and noticed the bulletin with the words “COVID-19” and “borders closing”.
“Wait!” She pulled herself away from me and rolled out of bed, fetching the remote and turning up the volume.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, “this has got to be the most unprofessional fuck I’ve ever paid for, ever.”
“I have to go,” she insisted, grabbing her things.
“Really?” I scoffed, holding my hands to my hips, still fully erect, “I’m not going to pay you shit.”
“They're closing the border you fuckwad,” she said, as she kicked me between the legs.
I moaned, grabbing myself as I collapsed back onto the bed, squirming. The prostitute grabbed my wallet and took a wad of cash before quickly getting dressed and out the room. I bit the pillow, trying to withstand a bit of the pain, waiting for it to pass. I brought myself to a sitting position as I looked at the television and this time paid attention to what was being said.
“Until further notice,” the governor of Florida explained at his press conference, “all non essential services will be closed, and effective immediately there will be a stay-at-home order beyond going out for essentials. To stop the spread of COVID-19 we must…”
I looked out the window, seeing cars beginning to clog the streets, to get out of Key West, as I turned off the television and massaged my temples.
“Fuck...”
***
The wind was howling today outside the Atlantic Grocery on Flagler Avenue in Key West. The palm trees were swaying back and forth with purpose as I stood outside my Hummer, in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette. I eyed the store intently, waiting for someone to leave, disappointed. It was one of the slower days, and those days were more common because everyone did not want to chance leaving and getting the virus. I, however, with a mask on my face, stood in the parking lot and defied both public health orders and common sense to make sure of one thing: I made some money.
A poor, desperate man walked out the store, with his hands in his pocket as I flicked my cigarette away. He looked upset and was mumbling under his breath as he walked past my vehicle to get to his.
“Pardon me,” I said with a staged look of concern, “I noticed you are coming out of the store empty handed. Why would you go to the store in the middle of a pandemic just to browse?”
“I wasn’t browsing,” the man sighed, “I was trying to buy something but the store was out. This is the second time this week and they’ve been sold out.”
“That sucks,” I nodded, looking at the trunk of my Hummer and then back to the man, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Frank.”
“Frank,” I smiled, “I’d shake your hand but you can’t be too careful these days… I’m Larry.”
‘
“Nice to meet you,” Frank said, “I should really get going back to my family.”
“Of course,” I said understandingly, “didn’t you say you couldn’t buy something though? What was it you couldn’t get?”
“It’s crazy,” Frank laughed madly, “this place hasn’t had any cleaning wipes, hand sanitizer or even toilet paper for ages! We’re almost out!”
“I think I can help you out, Frank.”
With a press of my key fob, the trunk to my Hummer opened up, revealing what looked like a stocked shelf from a store: packages of toilet paper, bottles of hand sanitizer, cleaning supplies and more!
“I’ll admit,” I began, “I panicked and bought a lot of these items, worried that we were in the end times. I realised I overreacted and tried to return these products but because of these new policies in the era of COVID, they won’t let me return them. So I’m stuck with all this stuff I don’t need! Maybe you can help me get it off my hands?”
“Absolutely!” Frank beamed, “you’re amazing, thank you.”
Frank grabbed a cart from a nearby cart corral and swiftly came back to my vehicle. He looked for a moment, before going for the toilet paper.
“Frank…” I laughed slightly, “I’m sorry if you misunderstood me, but this isn’t a charity, I was hoping to make money.”
“Oh, of course,” Frank nodded, “I understand, you said you wanted to return them. Show me the receipt and I’ll pay you what you paid.”
“Listen, Frank,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “have you heard of a little thing called supply and demand? The demand for these products are through the damn roof, and honestly, I know you need them. So, you tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you what they’re worth.”
“Okay,” Frank said, hesitantly, “I wanted to get two packages of toilet paper, two bottles of hand sanitizer and two of the containers of cleaning wipes.”
“Hmmm, I see,” I acknowledged, looking at the products and doing the sum in my head, “that’ll be two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars?!” Frank cried, “you’re crazy. That would only cost me twenty dollars in the store---”
“But the store doesn’t have any,” I explained, “and I do. I’m not the store, Frank. And I know the worth of these products right now. Trust me, if you don’t buy them, someone else will.”
“I don’t have two hundred on me though,” Frank explained.
“How much do you have on you?” I asked, bluntly.
“I have a hundred and thirty,” Frank said, pulling out his wallet and showing me the bills.
I thought for a moment, and then noticed his religious cross necklace, made of silver, on his neck.
“I’ll tell you what,” I started, “I’m a nice guy, so I’ll be willing to give you what you want for a hundred and thirty… and your necklace.”
“My necklace?” Frank said, clutching it, “it’s a family heirloom, it’s priceless. My grandfather gave it to me.”
“That’s nice,” I said, rolling my eyes, “but your papa wouldn’t want you to wipe the crap from your ass with a leaf or something. He’d want you to be clean. What do you say?”
Frank, conflicted, thought for several moments until another person walked by and noticed the commotion.
“What’s going on?” the second guy asked.
“I’m selling stuff the stores are sold out on,” I explained.
“Oh okay,” He said, noticing the toilet paper, “how much for the ass wipe?”
“Fifty a package,” I said, picking it up.
“Deal!”
The second guy grabbed some money out of his pocket and we exchanged the package. There were only two packages of toilet paper left and Frank looked worried.
“Okay, fine,” Frank said, taking off his necklace and giving me his money, “I hope you’re happy, gouging people of their hard earned money, especially during a worldwide pandemic.”
“You’re welcome,” I thanked him enthusiastically, “come back another time!”
Upset, Frank grabbed the products he bought and headed to his car. After he drove away the second man came back and threw the toilet paper back into the trunk of my vehicle.
“Where’s my cut?” He demanded.
“Calm down,” I hissed, grabbing thirty bucks and giving it to him, “now scram.”
“Can I have the necklace too?” He asked.
“Fuck no,” I shook my head, “I could easily sell this to some religious wacko for some good cash. Now get out of here.”
The guy stuffed the money in his pocket and walked away. I laughed, counting the money as another individual in a leather jacket approached me.
“Excuse me,” the guy in the jacket asked, “are you selling these products?”
“Yes I am,” I smiled, “you need something?”
“No,” He started, “but I should let you know, I am a cop, and you’re under arrest.”
“What--”
I didn’t even have time to react as the officer flashed his cuffs and had me arrested faster than you could say ‘coronavirus’. I sighed, as he read me my miranda rights before taking me to his unmarked cop car and stuffing me in the back.
“Fuck.”
***
For the next year, this is how it went. I’d buy something like hand sanitizer, or the coveted Playstation 5, and upmark the price to make some money. Was it ethical? Hell no. Did I need to do it because I needed the money? No, I’ve always been comfortable. I did it because I could do it. Buying toilet paper for a bit more I understood - but suckers buying a video game console at two hundred percent over its market value? That was hilarious.
I pulled into the driveway and into the garage attached to my home in Key West, and closed the garage door behind me. I got out of the Hummer and grabbed a stack of PS5’s from the back and placed it on a bench in the garage. I turned on an old fashioned radio I had bought from a thrift store, and tuned to the rock station. The end to a Greta Van Fleet song could be heard as the song faded out and the station transitioned to an advertisement.
“Are you ready for live events to come back?” the voice on the radio asked, “are you ready to see men in tights kick each other's asses?! Then tune in every Wednesday as OCW Studios proudly presents OCW Piledriver with Cheasy M, as they bring you shows that will ultimately culminate in the pay-per-view: Quarantined! Featuring the likes of Dylan Thomas, Ed Houston, Mike Zybala…”
I made a sound of getting sick and shuddered at the sound of Zybala’s name but also was confused. I grabbed my phone and went to the OCW website, and indeed, they had already had two Piledriver shows. I turned down the volume of the radio, and quickly called my lawyer.
“Ah, yes, my favorite client,” my lawyer said with a dash of sarcasm, “what do I owe you for the pleasure of this phone call?”
“How about a discount on your ridiculous prices?” I suggested.
“How can I help you? He asked, avoiding the question.
“When were you going to tell me?” I wondered.
“Tell you what,” my lawyer said confused.
“OCW is back!” I exclaimed, “finally this fucking pandemic seems like it is nearing an end.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of OCW being back,” my lawyer replied back.
“Huh? I said, confused, “normally when this happens, I’m offered a contract, and then I toy with either accepting it or not.”
“Sorry,” my lawyer explained, “but I do not have any contracts for you for OCW.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Without finishing the conversation, I hung up the phone and placed it grudgingly in my pocket. I thought about the fact that OCW was two shows into a comeback and here I am, living in Key West for fucks sake, and not a call, not an offer, nothing. I flinched and then grabbed a crowbar leaning up against the garage walls and smashed the many boxes of Playstation 5’s on my bench. I whacked them for several minutes before using the crowbar to fling the remains off the bench and allow the many pieces of the console to fall to the ground. I sighed, heavily, from that exchange as I threw the crowbar to the ground and punched the wall.
“FUCK!”
