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The Hot Mess Finally Arrives

I arrived back at Theo’s at exactly 11:30 pm.

He hadn’t showered or changed out of his pajamas. The red mark on his forehead wasn’t throbbing as much.

Theo was wearing a headset and microphone.

“Aren’t you suppose to leave the headset at McDonald’s at the end of your shift?”

“What?!? No, man, this is for gaming.”

While waiting for Jessie to get home I had a lot of Theo time.

Here’s what I learned about the guy:

His grandfather invited the fish finder, made a bunch of money and then married a trophy wife. Theo’s dad is the product of the trophy wife union. Theo’s dad, he also married based mainly on looks and a willingness to screw. She, Theo’s mom, was more like a 3rd place trophy than the 1st place trophy grandpa married. Theo will be lucky to get a participation ribbon.

The house is his father’s house. His name is Mike and this explains the M Turner listing in the phone book. Dear old dad is still married and living in Costa Rica where, according to Theo, he’s “fucking bitches non-stop.” He told me several times during the night that in Costa Rica “hot bitches will suck your dick for $5.”

When grandpa died he left Theo some money. Not “I’m rich as hell” money. More like, “I should get a job, but well, this will last if I eat mostly canned food, never go anywhere and die young” money.

Theo is a busy man. He divides his time mostly between World of Warcraft and writing Star Trek based fan fiction. This isn’t the usual fan fiction, however. He leans heavily towards sending Star Trek characters that I’ve never heard of into historical situations with badly written erotic outcomes.

He showed me one tale that featured a Klingon who’s expertise at sodomy helped Joan of Arc formulate a winning battle plan. The women in his stories tend to orgasm while performing fellatio or having their heaving bossoms fondled (they all have enormous racks in Theo-land). From what I’ve read, Theo learned more about sex from the porn industry than actual women. If he’s having sex with Jessie (I just threw up in mouth) she is probably his first experience.

Writing the fan fiction and playing World of Warcraft is done between numerous bong hits and masturbation breaks. Hey, Theo is a multi-tasker!

Jessie showed up around 3 am. Theo had fallen asleep on the couch but flew into action when he heard a car door slam. I think he was in a mild state of panic.

A  woman voice yelled “Fuck this shit” followed by the 2 minute jangle of key trying to find a keyhole (I bet Theo has the same problem with the ladies).

Finally, stumbling through the door is Jessie Byrd.

“Who the fuck is here?” Jessie says.

She’s positively stunning.

She has long brunnette hair and is dressed in a ribbed white tank top and tan riding pants. The low heeled black knee high boots match a wide belt circling her hips. She’s extremely tall, probably just a couple of inches under 6 feet, and athletic looking. Encompassing her forearm is what looks like silver snake with green eyes.

She’s also a total mess.

Her eye’s are blood shot and her nostrils are red and flaring. The end of her narrow nose has a light dusting of white powder. Her mascara has run from the corner of her eyes. The back of hair is fuzzed up off the rest of coiffe, a look that can only be attribute to sex. And she smells. It’s a sickening mix of stale cigarette smoke with under tones of spilled rum. She also has this sweaty but flowery odor she’s giving off that soils the back of your mouth.

“He’s a friend,” Theo sheepishly says.

“I’m going to bed, you sleep on the couch,” Jessie barks and then walks a zig zag pattern from the hall into the bedroom.

“You want a bong hit?” Lazlo asks after the house is quiet again.

“Why not? The day is shot anyway,” I said.

Theo then did something very strange. He used his brain and thought ahead.

“You should sleep here,” he said. “I mean, that way you can talk to her in the morning.”

“On the other couch?” I asked.

“No, in the guest room. She just said I’m suppose to sleep on the couch.”

And we are back to stupid Theo. That was it, one good idea followed by something idiotic.

“All right, I’ll sleep here. Got any bourbon?”

About Suburban War Lord

Suburban War Lord

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