While this site has served me very well, all good things must come in your end. That is why for my vast legion of followers, I am leaving you instructions to go to my new site MARCJOHNSONBOOKS.COM and revel in the glory that is me. All of my existing posts have been moved, and there is also tunes and vids that were not released here in a glorious new format. Check it, and leave this dead bitch behind.
“Dad?” David recognized the voice.
“Hey boy. How are you doing?” It was his father.
David was accustomed to talking to his parents when he was high, but, at the moment, he was sober, which was going to make things difficult. “Fine. What’s up?”
“Oh I just wanted to check up on you and see how you were.” The bedroom door swung open, momentarily filling the room with the din of about a thousand girls screaming at the top of their lungs. It closed just as quickly as it had opened, and Kari waved giddily at David. David was doing his best to push out the image of the last time he had seen her, where she had a wad of cum pooled up in her hand after blowing some guy in the parking lot. She held his wad in her palm as she came up the stairs, knocked on the door, and threatened the entire party with it before finally washing it off in the kitchen sink. David always wanted to ask her why she didn’t just spit it out or wipe it off in the parking lot, but it’s a difficult question topic to transition to. “How’s the weather? Oh, by the way, why didn’t you leave the baby batter in the bushes?” David tried to imagine what would’ve prompted her to carry a palm full of man goo from the parking lot into the apartment. He couldn’t imagine it, though. He never found himself in that situation. At least not with someone else’s spunk.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
“Son, where are you?” David almost forgot his dad was on the phone.
“I’m at Mike’s house.” This was his common excuse for everything. Mike was possibly the trustworthiest person in the world. He was universally trusted by everyone from drug dealers to overprotective parents. Not that David’s parents were overprotective; they were rather laid back. If they were overprotective, he couldn’t have gotten away with half of the shit that he did.
“Oh, I thought I heard some girls.”
“Just the TV.”
“I just wanted to remind you that your grandma’s birthday is coming up and I thought…” David lost track of what he was saying because of what Kari was all of a sudden doing on the bed. She had completely removed her jeans and her panties and left them on the floor. She was sitting near the edge of the bed, bottomless, with her legs spread wide like she was posing for Hustler. Squinting at him through excess skin and wrinkles was Kari’s carefully shaven pussy. With no hair to hide behind, David was almost blinded by her hairless lips. Shining snatch. Gleaming gape. Vivid vulva. Cocking her head to side while she shared her pussy’s gaze, Kari smiled at David as she rolled something metallic between her thumb and forefinger. David’s curiosity of what she was playing with was only amplified by how erect he was. Although he didn’t know why, he resisted the urge to rip off his pants and wildly jump on top of her.
Her attention moved to what she was playing with in her hands. David hoped for some exotic sexual device, the egg, or a mini-dildo. Her hand opened up and revealed a shiny metal thingy. Shiny metal thingy? She pulled it apart in the middle and brought it down to her lips between her legs. Pinching her clit, she inserted one end of this shiny metal thingy in one side and capped it off on the other. Where did she get her clit pierced?
“…I hope you bought her something nice.” My dad’s voice suddenly came back into my head.
“Huh?” was all David could muster in response while he was still slack jawed, watching as Kari pulled her panties up, buttoned her jeans, and cheerfully waved goodbye as she left the room.
“Who? Oh, yeah. Never mind. I gotta go.” David’s father mumbled something inaudible before David hung up the phone.
For hours after the clitoris incident, David’s brain was pushing the words clit-ring around his head along with the image of Kari, spread eagle, bedazzeling her crotch in front of him. His brain was occupied with trying to disassociate the words and images with the circumstances that they had recently been experienced. It was busy finding a nice place to nest the image of Kari’s bare vagina that had nothing to do with David’s father. While his brain was working it through, David fell into a conversation with someone that he didn’t recognize at the moment.
“So, who were you talking to?” David knew it was a girl that asked him the question.
“Dunno. Three years maybe?” David shrugged confused.
“What are you talking about? I asked you who you were talking to on the phone.” She sounded slightly agitated.
David’s brain caught “who” and “talking” out of the air and pieced the rest of it together. “My dad. He wanted to make sure I remembered my Grandma’s birthday.”
“Really what did you get her?”
The stars swelled and bloated as if they were going to burst and take with them the entirety of the universe that surrounded them, a moment of luminous destruction to eat every rock and atom and bring it all back to the black that the stars had once liberated themselves from. A horizon of several streams of light was left behind by the scattering stars. A gentle melancholy was quickly followed by a new hope of things left behind. The sinewy lights wove around each other creating a blanket of light with little bits of darkness spilling through. As she looked up at the canopy, she said, “This is life.” Blake had no idea what she meant by that, but it didn’t seem to matter. They still had a long way to go, it wouldn’t be long before he caught up them.
It was a pleasure to burn
That old book said
before its pages curled a black coal curl
brittle, and scattered with embers dancing like fireflies in an otherwise empty world
It speaks now more than it ever did
It was a pleasure to burn
It didn’t take long for James to come along and nudge him with his fat stump of an arm. As large as a mountain and twice as silent, James didn’t say anything when David staggered up and glared at him sharply. Indifferent to his glare of protest, James turned his attention to the rest of the cafeteria, scanning for any more stragglers.
Although James was barely 5’8” and exceeded 375 pounds, he was possibly the fastest thing on two legs. The gazelle can reach speeds of 50 mph, and, as anybody knows, the Cheetah beats this by at least 20 mph. In times of conflict, James could easily double this. There were many times when David witnessed a fight break out halfway across the ground floor of the school, and, in a breath, James was there strangling one guy with his left while holding another to the ground with his right. Watching James mediate conflicts was like watching a large beast overcome its prey on the Discovery Channel. It had the same magnificence and the same gore ridden climax that satisfied the savage bloodlust that all of men share.
One morning, David was unfortunate enough to feel his wrath. Walking past and courteously waving to James, which was returned with a smile, David passed him at a leisurely pace with a grin on his face from a more than satisfactory wake and bake session with true kine buds. Suddenly, he had something that could only be described as a giant orangutan on steroids on his back breathing hot breath into his ear molesting his ass. All the breath was pushed out of David and the substantial weight that was on his body wouldn’t allow any to come back in. Two hands scrambled around David’s ass, and his eyes went wide with the realization that the orangutan was trying to ass rape him. Afraid that if he screamed, it would only excite the beast more and entice it to donkey punch him in the back of the head while it vigorously pounded his ass. David tried to scream anyway, but all that came out was a whining whimper that sounded like it came out of twelve year old girl that had scraped her knee on the playground. The orangutan pulled something out of his pocket, and, before his cherry was popped, the weight lifted. At that moment, he knew how sailors who had been drowning must’ve felt when they finally found which way was up and found the surface. Taking in that first breath of cool air almost tears the lungs, but you’re not able to restrain yourself and you do so as if you may never be able to breath again. It was the breath of freedom without an ass rape.
James observed the black comb that was torn out of the young man’s back pocket with only a glimmer of regret. “Sorry, I thought it was a gun.” He held out the comb, handing it back to David in an unspoken gesture of peace, which David found unusual considering that James’ gesture was returning stolen property that had been obtained through fear and brute force.
David reached for the comb and took it without a word, gently nodding as he put it back into his pocket. There were no words for him to utter anyway. Some may say that he should’ve raised some voice of protest, stand on a soapbox and proclaim his tactics as abuses and demand reconciliation. David would submit that he was just happy to walk away with his cherry intact. Besides, David couldn’t help but respect such an animal in his natural environment, and when the animal nudges, you move.
Posted in Excerpt from Drugs and Pancakes, Fiction and Poetry, Things of a more lighthearted nature | Tagged angst, Drugs, Drugs and Pancakes, fantasy fiction, fiction, funny, high school, humor, Marc Johnson, novel, Pancakes, teenager | 3 Comments »
Minor thirds bring the head to sway, while a sixth swells the throat. Mere measurements, as the dying guitarist understands. Time is something that he will not know for long, and he relishes in his tones. A pulse driven by low resonance that pushes at the gut every time it’s plucked. And he dances with them. In spite of his willowed legs and arms, he still dances with those dancing notes. The sway of a knobby hip and a knotted shoulder. A dance of a dead thing that hasn’t left its time behind to finally get some rest. Still that dying thing plays. And he smiles.
…shadow on shallow…
She felt the push and pull of the currents against her.
Weightless, her body shifted with the pull from the undertow. Serene, she flowed with its movement, twisting and turning. The currents caressed her young flesh, its sensual touch cradling every part. Not just her flesh, it went deeper. Inside of her, where nature could never penetrate, she felt a pulse in perfect harmony with the one that moved in her chest. As it pushed against her, her pulse pulled, and as her pulse pushed back, those currents lifted. She longed for nothing. She felt nothing. She knew nothing of…
Floating, senseless with nothing of suffering, some things still lingered, questions of things past, she struggled to find…
Was there life before this. Doesn’t really matter anyway. She had forgotten. There was something that she almost remembered, but she lost it again. She struggled for any thought, hazed and darkened, numbed and neglected. As quick as something came to her, it left. The only thing she could remember was that she yearned for whatever memory it was. She knew that she needed pain. She needed scars and the memory it would bring. The currents had carried her too far, and now she needed to try and find the lost pain that they had kept from her. Something else was kept from her, another sensation that had been long forgotten. Floating with those currents, she almost lost her thoughts again. Pleasure, she needed pain and pleasure. The currents had kept her from them both, suspended in their sway, pulsing with the current. They never left her.
She moved with them. As the currents moved, she ran her hand slowly across her body, feeling her firm flesh. As her palm grazed the peaks of her breasts, her blood warmed, and her muscles tensed slightly. The numb comfort of the pulsing currents held in contrast with the warmth of new blood moving through her flesh. Her fingers rose to her lips, caressing from one corner to the other. Her lips felt the slight heat from the tips. They gently parted, leaving way for one of her fingers to drop into the warmth of her mouth. Touching her tongue, she rolled it from side to side. The warmth swelled, spreading into her arms. She knew the currents felt it too and tried to keep their hold on her, trying to keep her numb. Pushing again against her body, the currents rolled her over.
She didn’t fight against them. She let them move her. Once again, the thoughts of her sensual touch were leaving her, and she struggled to bring them back. She kissed her fingertips, and, slowly, pulled them from her mouth and moved them down to her breasts. The heat from her fingertips had lost its subtlety and almost burned when touched her breasts. She moved the heat around her soft peaks, letting the warmth flow into her. She moved her hand farther down past her belly where she felt her greatest warmth.
Her other hand moved to her breasts, feeling more heat than had come with the former touch. The heat from her breasts moved down and met the heat that rose from between her thighs. Once they met, they flowed around each other and danced in her belly, flowing upward and outward, spreading through her entire body. She still moved with the current as she rolled over, head over foot and shoulder over shoulder, floating in the dark current and pulsing with it.
The hand between her thighs moved with the rhythm of the current, rubbing with its flowing movements. She caressed herself, breasts and belly, with one hand while she pushed the other harder and deeper inside. She pushed so hard that a sharp pain shook her from inside. She fell into herself as the pain shook her and took hold. More heat came with it. Her fingers warmed in her soft hot flesh that was swelling with blood. She threw her head back as the waves of heat moved up her body. She clutched tightly to her breast with one hand while the other moved deeper, feeling the pulse pushing strongly from inside. Still keeping with what was around her, she moved her hand in and out in a rhythm between the pulses of the currents. Somewhere between force and pulse, the heat came on strong again. Her fingers ground hard against the soft flesh inside of her, tearing it. Blood flowed from her and surrounded her with the warmth of life. It floated with her, bouncing from her skin and trying to return to the common body it once knew. As she moved, heat and pain flowed into each other in complement. She bit her lip until it bled, joining the rest of the blood in a dance of memory, sharing what was known and what was left behind. She pulled her legs together, still keeping the rhythm with her hand. In and out, soft flesh pulsated harder around her fingers. She pushed farther and harder, deeper and faster. She knew it was coming. It was almost there.
The heat reached its threshold and held her every. Push, feel the heat. Touch the warmth. Allow yourself to be engulfed by it, the pain, the catalyst, the heat, the means. It grew as her body turned and toppled out of control. The build was too much, and she couldn’t stop it.
Her hand clenched tightly around her breast as her fingers inside went rigid. Her legs pressed tightly against each other as her body erupted in a war of heat and power. She threw her head back and opened her green eyes. The…
…returned to her in a sudden burst of thought, a pulse strong enough to allow the rivers of thought to flow through. With the pulse, the fear for her brother came to her.
She saw him. She saw him falling away from her, falling into the darkest pits of the earth, to be left there until the earth turn to stone.
She looked on his face as he fell away from her into the depths, his eyes glowing green.
His mouth moved as if to speak, but she couldn’t hear anything, nothing at all.
Her hand reached out but touched nothing, finding nothing kind. His body was disappearing into dark, and being consumed by it. His eyes were crying, crying for her. Those eyes that were a reflection of hers battled the same forces that sought to swallow all.
He fell too fast, too far
She pushed to him
To save him
To save her
He pushed to her
She fell too fast, too far
Wretched and scarred, he saw the sway of the water carry her deeper and deeper into oblivion. He could not stop her from falling away from him, her body going dark and deep as he reached for her, her flowing hair swimming around her lovely pale face, moving in long waves, brushing her gentle cheek.
Her mouth moved as if to speak, but he couldn’t hear anything, nothing at all.
Her pale skin faded too and all that was left were her glowing green eyes, and they too were fading. Her eyes faded gently into the dark depths, glowing darker and darker still with every passing moment. No. Not her. Leave her alone. He wanted it to be him instead. He would let his fate be the one of the fall and let hers be left to her. He would take it, one to take for the other. His end would be her deliverance.
The cold sway of the endless dark held him hard, holding him close to stone.
Posted in Excerpts from my novel Becoming, Fiction and Poetry, Music | Tagged allegory, audio, audiobook, Becoming, Book, Dark, epic fantasy, fanstasy, fantasy fiction, fiction, horror, Marc Johnson, philosophy, poetry, Shadow, speculative fiction |