F**k Yeah! by Al Calm (e novels to read online .txt) 📕

Sometimes I fucking hate food, I really do. I'll eat, but I'm not mad about food. Processed food can kill you over time, just like anything else, though it's more dangerous than some illegal drugs. I think about the Chicken thing. I don't know, the mayo reminds me of cum. I don't know if I can handle it. Best stick with a burger. At least I'll shit it out and not puke it, I fucking hate puking. I puke way too much.

You know how things go. I got a quid for any burger now, I'm ready. I find fifty pence on the floor. It can go towards some more Rizla. Anyway, I take the nuts down, I'm really hungry now, so fucking hungry I'll go cannibal, I got to eat something or I'm going to pass out. Fucking bags, always a struggle to open. That's like getting into anything in the 21st century but everything what should be simple gets all complicated! Then stuff what's proper complicated gets even more fucked up and tough to suss. Fuck all still works. I can't even open a bag of fucking nuts. I must be fucked.

I'm getting that blurry feeling, the feeling where your body goes into auto shutdown mode. I should've stuck with the original plan, innit. A Pot Noodle, big bag of Doritos and scam a banana off the stall thing going out of the little shop. Some random waster has stuck on an old skool Funky Flirt set with Shabba D, fucking banging. I don't know, maybe I'm getting me dates mixed up. Maybe I am just hearing it. I'm sure it got to be Sunday. Yeah, time must have really zipped. I don't know where it's gone.

I decide to go out, fuck how I look, I know I'm a state but fuck it, I can take it if I'mtold I look a fucking state! I need to fucking eat. My stomach is going on a mad one, fucking proper stomach Acid rave with Tony the Tiger fucking Bree Olson in there. Think Alien will burst out any moment too. I can't handle it, I got to eat something. Anything will do.

As long as it ain't shit! I'm chewing at the bag, me mouth slobbering all over it, me teeth get well sore, like they're about to fall out just chewing this shitty bag. All to get it open, fucking crazy! It's just like the old saying they don't want you to get into it. Finally, I make a little hole and eat one nut. Shit, tastes strange.

Don't taste nutty. I walk down the street some more, I've walked down this road thousands of times but I've forgot everything, fucking nut mind-wiped me to shit. I eat some more and I'm a drooling mess, coughing out bits of nut caught in my teeth. I'm hearing a Slipmatt set from when I was just getting into raving like real proper getting into it all, I thank fuck time's just tripping me out.

I'll be fine after a Pot Noodle and a few beers. I stagger away thinking, where the fuck am I going?

That's it, where the fuck am I? I look around, don't recognise it. Are they Bungle Bob's trainers? He only wears Reeboks. I must have seen him last night. What the fuck went on? I try to chill a bit, get me head all clear. I get distracted as Uncle Dugs blasting through the online radio-player thing, feel a bit gutted I missed Gerald, too. Anyway, I must be doing all cool if I remember random things like that. Uncle Dugs pumping out some old skool, a bit of Strings of Life, fucking wicked. Makes me feel a bit more like me! Time just flies, always lightspeed when you're having fun!

I got some random tune mix in me head again. I don't know, got to be from a mixtape, probably Nicky Blackmarket at Helter Skelter. Fucking look around in some sort of bedroom, I'm wearing a fucking onesie that I slip out of. I got jeans under, it cool, I don't wear furry fucking onesies!

Fucking battered HDTV in the corner with Playing it Straight on mute. That show is fucked up, but we do anything for cash, don't we? Fucking mental! I can't help laughing at it. I would love it if one contestant, man or woman, just fucks them all. Make much better TV. I wouldn't mind fucking the bird who presents it. She's like a real porn star presenter!

I just clock I'm in me boxers. I look down on the floor and there's a skagged up looking bird passed out down there with a butt-plug jammed up her arse. She's caked in lube and chocolate sauce. I rub my eyes. I want me meth. I find me clothes, the tattered Danger Mouse T shirt and some old Levis and get dressed very quietly. Find me soggy socks and me old Converse, too many holes in them these days. What the fuck happened? I don't even remember getting into that poser club Fabric. Last thing I remember was fucking Bungle's Bird, then thinking about trying to look for her kid, eating some nuts then going out sparko. I'm out for the count, right?

Proper K.O. What a fucker! I'm pissed off. It's happening more as I get older. Fuck it. I find some MDMA in me pocket and a crushed zoot. Where all the rest of that MD gone? Must be doing it quicker than I can remember taking it. Sure I had some more weed somewhere, that ain'ta problem. I got to try putting me sock on without waking this young Pat Butcher. Fucking crazy dyke. How the fuck it all happen? Who the fuck is she anyway? I look around the place. Just like any other flat. Maybe this was the place the kid went? I don'tfucking know, do I? I got to wake her up to ask her. She might get angry. I hate waking people up.

In me panic, I find those old nuts. Fucking things. Those nuts really REALLY fucked me up. There's only a couple left, I must have munched most of them. I find me mobile in my pocket but the fucker has run out of battery. Fucking shitty smartphones, need to carry batteries round with you all the fucking time. Fucking battery, they're all so fucking shit.

Weirdly enough, I'm still hungry. I take a leak in the cramped dirty bog, clumps of pubes and lube everywhere. The toilet handle's all greasy. I wash me hands, but the water seems to be trickling out. It makes me dick tingle. I look down and me dick seems to be smiling at me. Not this again, I got to get out of here. I hear snoring. I got out the bog and see the pat butcher kid stirring. Fuck she might want to go again. Just then I clock a Carl Cox mix of a jungle track I forgotten the name of. Ain't heard since I was real young. I got to stop going back into the past. I need to find Bungle Bob. I think he's around here.

Where am I? I ask Terrorhawk girl. Got Voyager's tune stuck in me head, too. I dig him and Dexcell, I don't mind them all really, even a bit of Annix. They're only fucking kids, too. Weirdly I'm mixing it all up with some old skool Pooch.

Trust, Pooch a fucking don!

Ugh, what the fuck! she says to me.

She then pukes weird purple blackish puke. Wow. If I'd ate anything more, I would've puked with her. But I don't. Don't ask why, I really don't know how I didn't barf a lung up. She's now caked in this slimy puke.

You want a tissue? I go to her, reaching for the last bit of bog roll on the floor.

No, it's fine. I'll shower now.

Rather you than me, babe, that bathroom might have something in lurking in there, I think.

I slowly figure that I might be smelling real bad. I think about joining her in the shower.

Me cock smiles, a real euphoric song called M starts to play - love it, love it. I'm getting harder than rock. I probably do stink, that'sfor sure, but I can'tremember me last bath or shower. That'snormal, right?

Go on fucker, get in there, says me drooling cock.

Why not?

I strip off and get in the shower with the rough dyke. She smiles, she's taken the butt-plug out of her arse. She's got a shiny cunt, she ain't got a hair on her. She's sniffing the butt-plug, it's caked in spots of shit. She then rubs up to me, there's chemistry between us. She takes some lubey shower gel stuff and starts rubbing it on us. It's like some cheapo shit and stinks bad, but I don't mind. I'm waiting for her to suck me cock.

I'll lick her out once she gets that gooey pussy sorted. Sure ain'tthe only cock going to be poking it recently, she'swell up for it. She moves out the shower and reaches into a bath bag on the window sill. She dries her hands and takes out a black little cocktail straw off the side and then a greasy wrap of bashed bugle.

She smiles and puts some of the bugle on the end of the straw and tells me to blow it up her arse. I smile, thinking sure, and I put the straw up her butt and blow the bugle up her sore arsehole. I think she digs that a lot, wriggling her butt, making weird groaning sounds.

We had some weird freaky-deeky wriggly wiggle-sex freakout in the shower. She seemed well-prepared with the cocktail straw. Must be a real cool party trick, it's probably the only time she gets any weird arse play - I don't know how often she does this! Hoping she ain't got herpes. I might have though, I not too sure.

She shat some dark runny shit over me balls too. Lucky for me, the shower was still on and it washed all away. She smiles at me, still getting all jigglywiggly with me. I pull me cock out of her shiny fanny, don't want to cum in this bitch, think I'm going to shoot me load over her rack and stick me sore cock in her gob.

Then the door gets kicked opened. Some huge lady just standing there with a shaved head, dressed in a blokes suit, looking well horrified. I'm hoping we didn't get up to anything with her last night as well. If only I could remember. She screams at the Pat Butcher kid.

Kirsty, says Pat Butcher Kid, it's cool, he's fine. I'm cowering in the corner as Kirsty starts whacking the Pat Butcher Kid in the face. Kirsty must be Bungle's Bird's neighbour from upstairs. What a mental night! I told you I'm a slow fucker. My cock laughs at me, leaking pre-cum all over the dirty shower screen. It wants to shoot.

Oh shit, here we go I think.

Sharon, that must be Pat Butcher Kid's name, as this dykey Kirsty hisses, picking up the shit covered butt-plug, proper ramming it in her face, and saying to Pat Butcher Kid, whispering real menacingly: this is fucking mine. THIS IS FUCKING MINE!

FUCKING MINE! she screams again for some kind of dramatic dykey effect. A bit pointless. Totally lost on me. Sends me ears ringing! It don't need to be like it. She watches too much TV, too many soaps and all that fucking reality shit, proper dull. Ain’t even porn.

Might as well make porn, might think about paying the TV licence then. I got nothing against lesbos and poofs though, I love them they know how to have it right out, and they always buy up shitloads of gear. No I ain't got a bad word to say about anyone, just ain't me thing.

And some