COUNTRY GIRLS

COUNTRY   GIRLS COUNTRY GIRLS

Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction

Tags

Summary

A DRUNKEN ESCAPADE TO A FORBIDDEN LAND. INCLUDING LOTS OF SEX AND HARD DRINKING FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME!

Tags

Summary

A DRUNKEN ESCAPADE TO A FORBIDDEN LAND. INCLUDING LOTS OF SEX AND HARD DRINKING FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME!

Content

Submitted: October 21, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: October 21, 2012

A A A

A A A


Country girls

Out of the absolute air-conditioned cold blackness I heard the pounding and my name. I tried to ignore it but it kept coming like a diesel train into my ears and working it’s way through the mucus surrounding my pickled pig’s foot of a brain. “Michael Michael” Michael “You driver is here”. I tried to move but my body was made of lead with all the energy I had available I managed to speak. “One moment” and I paid heavily for those spoken words, my brain well there was probably now only a vestige of a brain left, just a stem at the top of my spine started to pound like a kettle drum being struck with an aluminum baseball bat by a silver back gorilla on steroids. I moaned and managed to sit up. The pain increased to level 11 and the wet wave of nausea forced me to knuckle scamper and crawl to the toilet. Luckily for me in Cuba there are no toilet seats or lids to raise and a gallon of last nights fun volcano'd out. A violent Lahar of red brown clear vomit showering the tank and the back of the bowl in a pyro plastic blast. My body was now on auto pilot going through spasms trying to undo the wrong I had done it. Again the lady at the fucking door “Michael you driver is here Michael”. “One Moment” I got the words out between regurgitating contractions. Soon there was nothing left in me but my body wanted to be sure and the automatic dry heaves kept going. I crawled like a horny dog in convulsions humping the air my empty stomach still trying to force something out that wasn’t there. I crawled into the shower and collapsed like a wounded solider that finally made it to his fox hole. I reached above my head and turned the water on and let it run down my shirt at first it was cold then hot then pee warm. My shirt looked like the shroud of Turin, blood and mustard and other mystery stains and some curious and gummy browns stains. I still had my socks on and part of a condom, the ring and a little flap dangled from my gummy little dick. It had a coating of white lint a used paper match and some multi colored threads stuck to it. Nice I thought it really doesn’t matter because I won’t live to see the next sunset. I was sure I was dieing and praying that it would be soon to end the torture in my head and gut...

“Michael its 12 o’clock you driver is here.” “One fucking moment por favor Banyo, BANYO. I stood up shaky as a new colt and washed myself quickly and poorly with my shampoo the match didn’t want to come off? Smoking is such a disgusting bad habit and that match is a perfect example, girls leaving their ashes and burnt matches everywhere not even thinking about the dangers of second hand smoke. Man did I stink my whole crotch and ass area was gummy and smelled like a cross between a fish you found in the trunk on Wednesday from your Sunday fishing trip and a third world men’s locker room. My breath would kill a large bird or a small child at arms length, my teeth felt like they had been roughed up with an Emory wheel, my spit was Elmer’s glue with cat hair mixed in. My poor head, Jesus, was it about to burst? Probably so from what I perceived as multiple hemorrhages’ behind my eyes. I drank some of the shower water and it came right back up. I tried a smaller swallow and focused, it tasted like shampoo a little but it stayed down. I stepped out of the shower and tried to dry off with a stiff towel that was standing on its own in the corner. I turned on the light in the room and reviewed the carnage of the Trojan War, beer cans every where blood on the pillow, red blood? No it was lip stick, condoms here and their, a wet stain that looked like Australia across the middle of the vintage sheet on the bed. I sat down around New Zealand. Resting and waiting at my feet were three open bottles of rum two half empty ones and one spilled in a big slippery puddle with more multi colored threads in it? What was this bitch doing sewing a quilt last night or a rainbow shroud for me? I had a funny thought maybe she was just a big rag doll and I fucked the cloth off of her? All the other mess I am used to but short pieces of multi-colored thread are new. My only lonely brain cells have no where to put that data or explain it. Most of my clothes were in the area of my suit case in a pile beside it. Near by on the floor was a raggedy pair of nasty under ware recently worn by me? Those under ware needed an oil change or a funeral. Now the real test of how bad I fucked up last night? My money I pulled the baseboard out from the closet carefully. Yes my money wad was still there and so was my passport. This called for a drink. Maybe I won’t die just yet.

I was on the third or fourth day of a two day drunk. I do mean drunk, a mean sweaty drunk way past Florida drunk. I bought 2 cases of 7 year rum Havana Club. Yes two cases, I bought it on the black market and a couple of cases of Hatuey beer, whores seemed to love beer. I bought all that on the first day I arrived. I also brought with me a bottle of Grand Marnier and a 1.75 of Absolute vodka I bought at duty free on the way out of Grand Cayman. I also picked up one bottle of white rum leaving the Jose Marti airport just for emergency rations and hide it somewhere that I can’t remember. Recovering alcoholics call this junkie pride telling or boasting about how much they drank or could drink or do, but accelerating drunks like me accelerating into the great darkness ahead flying fast and low and alone in our own drunken outer space don’t call it Junkie pride. We drunk’s call this party supplies I had been accelerating like Apollo 13 messed up but flying trying to get to high to the moon and then hoping to use that same moon to sling shot out of the drunken orbit and back to a soft landing on the bed. Yes I had some serious drinking stock. I was set up to get fucked up, the more rum the better. I have never had to pour any rum or whiskey out because it got old and went off or was stale or the use by date had come and gone. I have never seen old bottles of rum in dumpsters behind the liquor store or at food banks or yard sales hard liquor always seems to find a home.

On this trip to Cuba the days, the rum and the nights all melted together with the henetara girls, henetara means jockey and is slang for whores or part time chippers. I am on a sick sort of adult carnival ride here, at times crazy and fun, and at times dangerously sick and sad. A lot of people make up reasons why they go way over the line into the territory of “way to drunk way to often”. My wife left me; I was always an outsider or some other bullshit blah blah blah. A real drunk doesn’t need a reason. Be honest fucker you are the reason, the whole problem. We are just bad seeds; Santa’s broken toys wastrels destined to be the square root of a negative one. Sorry not every body see’s it like Nancy Reagan ask Keith Richards? You could ask Keith Moon but he’s already gone, yes sadly there are casualties in every war. Now if you’re divorced or separated, your good little wife probably left you because you drink too much or you’re a fat bad fuck, or a poor bread winner you could consider these good reasons to drink if you still need a reason? Drunks are bad in bed too whether your male female or a barnyard animal, we won’t get into that here but you’re a bad lay when your fucked up. Plus drunks are annoying as shit to sober people and have a weak earning potential.

Money makes the girl go round. If your flush with cash, Palm Beach flush you can drink in church and wipe your bloody dick off on the alter boys shirt, zip up your fly then put 10 grand in the collection plate and receive a standing ovation of applause and an invitation back next week. Plus your wife will stay with you and the money she will work with you. Alcohol is the second biggest reason for divorce the number one reason is marriage in the first place. If you’re a drunk your already married don’t be a bigamist your spouse is right there in the bottle. Your physical wife will stay and try and understand and help you as long as she can or till she can separate you from the money. Mrs. Wife might cry in bed and cry to her friends or her boyfriend that cares, you don’t know about him yet, he’s a personal trainer or maybe the pool boy and you don’t even have a fucking pool. You won’t find this out till way later though. Lets clear this up too you weren’t an outsider or a loner you were and are a loser just like me, Wear it, own it take a number and come in, join the club and stop crying have a drink enjoy life’s ride, it will be short enough regardless. We are all losers. We all will die, Life is 100% fatal, ok some before others but we will stop being at some point ahead we will just stop. Look around there are a whole lot more dead people than live ones the history books are full of them, and the living hell, half the living are cattle like zombies, sleep walking through their hum drum wall- marty," I mow the grass on the weekends life." So enjoy your surface time and mobility while you can and quit hoping to die of fucking natural causes. That is pathetic in its own way too. Dead is dead, any way you go is a natural cause. A hot spinning bullet naturally causes a big fucking hole in you natural head and lets all your natural blood feed the dandelions. 7 year Havana Club naturally makes egg sized balls of gristle in your hardening re-treaded truck tire of a liver so fuck it all and fuck them all. If you are striving to be the good all American, playing the global consumer game and voting and shit you are still going to drop one day. In this world you can be either a pimp or a whore or a gun shy Kennedy with a trust fund. I don’t envy the first two and there is no trust fund and hopefully no grassy knoll for me. For better or for much much worse I am a whoring debauching exploitative drunk at least for now as long as the money and my body hold out.

I chewed 3 aspirin and made a drink. In movies you see people pick up a warm bottle of booze and slug down 5 or 6 ounces in the morning after a binge and then keep talking carrying on like it was nothing, no it is not possible! That’s ice tea in the movies. Warm rum or whiskey in the morning is hard to keep down if you drank two quarts the night before. If you have been drinking hard for years and drinking insanely for days, totally abusing alcohol, making the guys at Jack Daniels and Bacardi consider putting on extra shifts just the smell of a drink can make you convulse. I had been breaking personal and Cuban national records for consumption in the last few spins of the earth. I was a hurting unit. I could barley swallow much less keep warm rum down. I had been rarely eating, at least food. Yesterday I had one mangy hot dog boiled in puppy-Mill-Milwaukee beer and a hand full of saltine crackers… Now that first drink, I needed that first drink of the morning and I needed to keep it down. I haven’t had anything to eat in the last 12 hours. OK let’s forget the unsanitary and woolly neither regions of an uncertain number of stray whores and soiled doves. I hate when I do that, go down on the random card carrying repeat offenders, the serial street whores that really need to be boiled before you could fuck them much less eat them. My shame based low self esteem theory is if a girl will fuck me she will fuck anybody. I do seriously regret that, but rum clouds your judgment... That has been my modus operanda for the last few days and nights and now it is was going to be so hard to get that first morning drink down and just as importantly to keep it down. I was on a marathon of a bender. A string of day and night long big drinking sprees quarts and liters of rum fell like soldiers in battle. I was running hard sure, you can throw in some black outs and cat naps but no real rest.

I am shaking there alone in the room. I’m trying to not let the remorse in, trying not to think of all I have had to drink. What I drank at bars, in the street and at gas stations and swilled down on the patio of club 21 my current hang out or the beers and shots of Grand Marnier and Absolute right here. Fuck that sounds like a lot even to me but it happened and Satan will vouch for me. It was 1996 and I was in Havana, Vedado in a casa particular and I was on a roll maybe a death roll but it was a roll for sure.

If you are in a dirty double down groove like me you do need a drink in the morning to function and I needed it badly. I needed now to get that first drink down and stay down, I had to focus. I have to put the right amount of cola or 7-up or water with it and take it down easy I handled it like nitro glycerin. I didn’t want even a whiff of it. My insides were red raw from drink. Alcohol, all alcohol is poison and an irritant to membranes and we are all membranes inside from our nose to our anus. Yes it’s a poison that is why you have to dilute it. I was shaking like a wet kitten in a deep freezer, in withdrawals and just that smell of warm rum can make me or any good drunk projectile vomit again with enough force to knock a clock radio that doesn’t work off a wobbly nightstand. I measured this one like a Beirut bomber and with all the wobblyness of an old Cuban taxi with an epileptic driver. I put the dirty jittering glass feebly to my dry cracked lips seriously trying not to smell it, slowly, slowly it burned on down past the back of my toungue. It wanted to come back up like a fur ball, it tried but I needed it! I fought it down I got it down and slowly and awkwardly got up to get dressed. The rum really wanted to come back up, it felt like it might come back up it tried hard too, I wasn't sure for a few seconds, as I stood a little did come up but I swallowed it back and took a sip of warm coke and a deep breath and held still. It was staying down. I was lucky some times it took three tries and each time you vomit it up is that much harder to try again, with that nasty taste in your mouth. I put my shoes on I had another rum eye opener a little stronger this one. My head hurt but no more shakes. I needed some food some fruit or something, sweat was rolling down my back like a water fall and I felt a little faint.

I used my foot to drag my underwear into and around the puddle of rum on the floor smearing it around trying to soak it up a little. I took 100 dollars from my stash roll and carefully re-hid it and opened the door and exited the stinking room that smelled like a bootlegger’s garage and a fishing pier. The light was way too bright and I felt very weak and feeble and my head hurt worse than ever as I walked.

The lady of the house tried to hide her disgust and contempt for me but it was clear I had violated her house in a felony fashion. I had no idea what offenses I had committed last night but the lady gets paid 25 dollars a night to rent me the room. My driver had longish hair as Cubans go I called him a hippy. He thought I had given him a nickname and thought I was saying Tippy witch he seemed to like. His job was to drive me around and at the end of the week he got 75 dollars he also found the car to hire witch was 100 dollars for the week. It was some body’s old Chevy not an official rent a car. Tippy in the mean time tried his best to steer me to places that he could get a kick back from and got to use the car when I was passed out or was busy with whores then he would cart them away and we would run the streets and look for more trouble to get into. He was valuable he new where the cops were and were not, where to buy everything on the black market from ham to gasoline. He wanted to take me to some friend’s restaurant an obvious scam. The Cuban market is where I wanted to go to get some fruit cheap, quick and simple after much protest we headed there after first stopping to get some stolen gas. We parked on the old narrow street. I sweated in the back seat waiting in shadeless Havana vieja as Cubans walked back and forth here and there doing their business. I could see into a small apartment from where the car was parked. In the house was an old pale green general motors refrigerator up on blocks and a house cat on a leash or cord? It was tied to the cat’s neck and looked like it had been all his life from the lack of hair in that area the cat had just enough cord to rest under the fridge. It looked like it was his job to guard it from mice and rat raids, tough life for the cat but i am sure he felt better than I did now I felt like his cord was around my neck too, damn It was so hot and sticky the city heat just kept me squirming in the sun of the old back seat, all my lies and recycled rum sweat was oozing from me at every pore.

I had to get something to eat soon. I was a lizard on a hot rock. Finally Tippy came and I paid the man 15 US dollars he gently closed his door and we were on the way with the gas. We parked the tired Chevy across the street from the real Cuban market. This was the biggest one, it was big filled with every kind of natural fruit and vegetable and full of pepole, along with all the people it was well attended by flies, there were a few people outside on the fringe of the market side walk hawking their produce on tables.

One old fold up table had three country girls standing behind it. Country girls that is what Tippy said they were, all the table had on it was a large stalk of bananas and a yellow pencil. They all looked about 17 to 20 in age one was as black as a dog’s nose and though she was female she looked a lot like Buckwheat from the old Spanky and our gang serial but she had a nice body. One girl was lighter skinned with a plain face and a very nice body, one was even lighter skinned and the youngest looking, and her face was very pretty but no tits at all. They saw me looking and hollered “buy our bananas.” I ignored them. Then one yelled “Gordo she likes you!” I looked over; the one that said that, the one with no tits got slapped by the black one and now they were all laughing. Cubans seem to be a happy race of people. I walked over my driver new where this might lead and he had not made any side money from me yet today. He yelled some insult to them and tried to convince me the bananas were better inside. I kept walking to them. “She likes you” the youngest one said again pointing to the darker one they all found this hilarious. I picked up a banana and ate it was hard to swallow my throat was soar dry and didn’t seem to work properly. I spoke as I choked down the banana I said “but I like you” to the young one with no tit’s and slapped my hand to my side twice the Cuban sign for lets fuck and they howled with laughter. My driver tried to intervene again. “Mike these are country girls, campasinas,guajerous right off the farm and they are ugly and coarse lets go to the restaurant and eat and then get some nice girls." The girls flew into him verbally and I ate another banana, I felt better already food, that is what I needed. I interrupted the argument that was going on. “Girls you want to go party?” The looked at each other for a moment. “Cervesa” I said? “Si, Si but we have to sell our bananas.” “How much for all of them? The huddled together for a moment the dark one said “5 dollars todo.” They were sure that they were robbing me sufficiently at 5 dollars. I pulled out a 5 and said “let’s go bamo”. My driver was pissed. I said “Tippy get the table” and I carried the stalk of bananas over my shoulder towards the car one girl ran back for the pencil. Bananas are good to eat on a drunk because if you have to through them up they come up easy and don’t taste to bad coming back out.

We all packed into the back of the car as soon as we got in the girls said "where are the cervesas?" I said "at my house" I took a slug of rum, they didn’t want any rum the prettiest young one immediately said “we are hungry!” I said “well eat all the bananas you want girls.” They didn’t like that, the darkest one said “we’re sick of bananas.” “Sorry that’s what we are eating” and they begrudgingly each had a banana. I had another and some bottled water, man the bananas are magic I feel my stalk hardening and my head ache is now down to a 5 from 11. I took three ibuprofen and felt better as soon as I swallowed them

We wallowed through traffic back to Vedado, I relented and stopped at a place they new, combo gas food and sundries, got sandwiches more beer, cigarettes, lighters and all the little junk things they wanted and repacked the cooler-mobile bar in the trunk with ice. The girls seemed happy as we weaved through the narrow busy streets with loud music playing from a CD I had brought with me, they seemed to love this reggae singer and his group, pinchers I think it was" hey gringos and passero's" he sang from the dash. I was feeling much fortified by the bananas and a beer with swigs of rum mixed in. we parked and the girls got out. My driver Tippy left the table in the trunk and grabbed the box that had my road party supplies in it, not before quickly stealing a couple of my beers.. The middle girl carried her yellow pencil I carried the yellow stalk of bananas over my shoulder and my parade headed up the steps to me rented room. When the door opened the poor Cuban lady white and in her early sixties turned even whiter. I am sure from the look on her face she was expecting me to be gone a lot longer. She was a little flush with the money I had been paying her had invited her old white lady friends over for tea and cookies. The Poor woman was in shock, she had her nice antique tea set out and the looked to be having a good time up until that moment me and my entourage appeared… everything stopped. I walked in with my circus. The looks went from astonishment to pure shock then utter contempt. The driver Tippy felt so awkward he didn’t come up with any story that required me to give him a few dollars. He quickly asked what time should he return I said “4:30 or 5 o’clock” We all stood for an awkward moment as I fumbled for my key. My rented room was right off the living room and it was if we were there for review in front of these poor old women. I opened the door finally and against her protest took the bananas into the room. She would tolerate a drunken American and three stray Cuban farm girls but a stalk of bananas in the bedroom was too much for her. Food I think she said belonged in the kitchen I compromised I pulled some bananas off and yielded the stalk.

I lay on the bed and turned the air conditioner on to “Russian winter” witch was its only working setting besides hot stale air. Russian made products like this air conditioner either worked incredibly good or not at all, this one was a freezer. The girls stood against the wall and giggled in tight formation I patted the bed to sit down and gestured to turn on the boom box they couldn’t get the buttons right so I struggled up and pushed play I handed them each a cool beer and laid back on the bed and they began to laugh. The youngest one pushed the blackest one towards me and said “she like you she like chupa chupa mucho” and the blackest one said “No No she” and they hit at each other playfully, I said to the young one "remember I like you." Howls of laughter erupted like a volcano from the girl as the middle one and the black one tried to push the young one on top of me While this was going on I tried my best to pull the shirt off the middle one and feel whatever I could witch got me slapped and pinched in return, this resulted in all of us wrestling on the bed for a while when one fell off the bed, it was the young one she picked up a shirt of mine and tried to pop the black one. Then the young one saw my suit case and I thought now is the time to close the deal. I brought trinkets, costume earrings from the dollar store and knock off perfume, lipstick and hair scrunchies just for the purpose of turning out various girls that didn’t yet know or plan on negotiating for their services. As I brought out the earrings there were squeals of delight and I had to guard my case and control the distribution. The perfume was the closer as they decide who would get witch I took a pee leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on them and let my pants drop and stay on the bathroom floor. I came back and lie on the bed in my underwear and again howl of laughter. I pointed to my dick and said ‘tu amigo” more laughter the whispered among themselves and I guess the young one drew the short stray she stood up and stripped to her underwear I nudged the other two. They said "No she." I said “no every.” More howls of laughter “three chicas? You to Gordo” the laughter was really loud. I said ok surprise me. More whispers the middle one turned out the lights I felt hands pulling at my underwear I arched my back so the could come off one girl put a pillow over my face and I felt hands on my balls and dick and the loudest laughter something soft it felt good the light came back on but the pillow was over my face still finally the young one pulled it off and said surprise. There was a big bow of ribbon tie tied around my penis and more howls of laughter with them all yelling surprise, as I grabbed for them they would wiggle away and push each other towards me.

The black one and the middle one said “more cervesas” I said “sure plenty” and there were still plenty more in the Styrofoam cooler. They sat back on the edge of the bed laughing and drinking me with my Christmas dick, this went on for a while I convinced the middle one to make me a proper drink and go get more ice cold beers from the fridge in the Lady’s kitchen and ask for ice which she did rapidly and then I motioned for them to take off their clothes, only mildly reluctant now. The other two girls stood up the middle one hesitated and then said "problem" she pulled down her pants to show me she was on her period made evident by the worlds largest feminine pad it looked like a dogs bed ,she then quickly pulled her shorts back up. I said “no problem no problem is natural no problemo” I motioned for her to get one of my shirts from the floor to sit on witch she did after going to the bathroom. I pointed to my Christmas dick as I lay on the bed the youngest one stripped completely naked and started to climb carefully on me like I was a rodeo bull. then stopped and said "condom" I had a years supply in my suitcase and the darker girl grabbed a string of them they all thought this was hilarious as the youngest one put it on me after taking off the ribbon they all stared at my dick like it was an Estes model rocket ready to take off and laughed as the condom didn’t want to stay on. I am Glad she said condom, an important side note here always try and offer any girl you pick up and pay more money not to use a condom.. really try... if she accepts do not fuck her! I repeat do not fuck her! Go ahead give her some money and send her on her way. It is the only true test to see if she knows what she is doing and always always uses a condom! It is as safe as you can be in an unsafe aragment like this. Ok when the condom was finally on the youngest one climbed back on top of me and as she was trying to insert my best friend into her money maker the other two pinched her in the ass and she had to slap them and as soon as I felt it slide in they pinched the side of my ass. These were clearly very pinchy girls they pinched the young one so hard she bucked off of me so I rolled over and pinned the black one and she wrapped her legs around me and inserted my happy dick but the games continued as the middle girl started pushing my ass saying “duro mas duro” and pinching me again and playing with my balls roughly witch resulted in a dismount and throwing her on the bed and with great luck and great aim mister happy went right in there as she said “sangre sangre” seemingly immensely worried about the lady’s bead spread the young one took my underwear and rubbed them in her face as I poked her and again more ass slaps and pinches with the other girls going “duro mas duro.”

This round robin went on for some time and I was getting tired of being pinched all though it was great fun catching and poking three girls. It reminded me of fishing one time at Sebastian inlet when the blues were running and for a short while, as soon as you could bait your hook and get it back out there you would feel another tug on your pole and feel it bend as you reeled it in.

I finally said "ok time for a contest I" opened three beers and handed each a fresh one and gestured about a race then I counted one two three Go! They all chugged and laughed beer was running down their cheeks and I think the middle girl one I might have given her something for winning then I tried to put them in doggy position finally one said “quatro?” I said “Si Si” only the younger lighter one moved to the position I lined her up in the middle and pulled her round ass back to the edge of the bed then the black one to the right and the girl on her period was reluctant to put her ass in the air but she did with some coaxing , there wasn’t much blood anyway and then a I scooted them closer and pushed down on their lower backs to get them at the height of my dick of course at this time there were loud burps and howls of laughter with the young one burying her face in a pillow as I poked her. Man she felt good this way. I moved to the black one she was tight and her but was as hard as a quarter horse's and after a few strokes I switched to the period girl who also had a the most play in her puss maybe she had had a baby? Now I was in control and doing the slapping and pinching and when I was in the middle playing with the other two's pussy's this was great, really fun half drunk again completely hard with three girls to poke while standing like a quarterback , laughing drinking, fucking. a strong drink of the best rum in the world in my hand, that ice cold air blowing on my chest just wonderful. And the veiw? What a veiw looking down on the round ass's of these three country girls young nameless and happy laughing to the point of hysteria, I was laughing too, I don’t think the girls could have laughed any harder really?. Of course you try not to cum, you try to make it last but the young one in the middle got my orgasm. In a sick life you try to make the sweet moments like this last you try to hold on. If I could stop time only once in my life this would be the time I think, this afternoon and run it over and over. But you can’t, they slip away the great moments , OK I am a pig but they are my pig moments and I want to savor them, all our time slips away especially dirty fun time. We played and drank a while longer I tried to cum gain switching to the black one and back to the period girl but I couldn’t I didn’t have another load in me. I had been running too hard and I was past the middle part of drunk by 4:30 the girls cleaned up a bit and I washed my slightly stained dick off in the sink and brushed my teeth, I heard my driver in the living room. They didn’t ask but I gave the girls a total of about 45 bucks they were thrilled along with their trinkets all kinds of stuff from my suitcase. I asked and they gave their numbers I said maybe we will go to disco that night. My driver entered the room and asked for a beer I gave him one and all the girl’s one for the road we hugged and he took them home.

How does this story end? It doesn’t really it goes on but looking back in my mind that was the zenith. I kept doing what I do till it was time to go home but that was the best day. I looked so bad at the airport they almost didn’t let me on the plane and was having trouble talking when we landed at Grand Cayman. I think one more day in Cuba would have killed me. By the time I got to my apartment all I could do was lay on my bed and shake. I eventually passed out woke sometime the next day missed two days of work and was shitting water for a week. My suitcase was almost empty I had a few shirts left and one bottle of rum and the girls’ yellow pencil a #2, lying beside my dirty clothes waiting to tally up more bananas. You know I loved those girls, it sounds like bullshit but I still do love them I will always love them. They live in my mind and come back to me from time to time when I am down, alone and pensive when I am lying in my bed or a gutter or the bushes alone at night in the twilight before I fall asleep they return laughing and pinching me. I never new at the time I would fall in love with that rum soaked memory. I love the memory the smell of country girls with dirt under their fingernails and banana breath. I can smell them. So happy so much laughter, those girls were a moment of joy in my demented world. OK go ahead judge me you’re probably right what you think. I am the corruption in a wound. I am the peanut shells on a bar room floor swept out towards my final destination in the rubbish heap. I am traveling on faster racing towards the end, and in the end my debts, all debts must be paid. Nobody wins the drunk game. You never get a call from a drinking buddy saying “hey I won I just got the award from the board , yea I get to drink for free forever now, no hangover’s and magic protection for my liver I won the alcoholic game!’ Yea you don’t win this game. You pay dearly for this kind of life and I accept it, it’s the price I am willing to pay, It's the real bar tab that I will have to pay. The interest builds and you are unforgiven in a life of willful sin you keep sliding down. Drink is the cure in the beginning and the problem in the end, the middle is pretty damn good but by the time you figure that out you are past the point of any return .You have missed the last exit. I know I must pay for my crimes, carnal knowledge of young girls is a vulgar sin, crimes against my health against myself against a good and fruitful natural life. It all escalates as your tolerance and apatites grow. The crimes at first Edgar Allen Poe like do progress, the sins that good folks and everyday citizens are repulsed by and see no pleasure in only seem weird the first time. Us drunks bend and offend and piss off landlords, and relatives spoiling thanksgiving dinners ruining friend ships isolating ourselves wrecking and spinning on, old before our time. Then I am sure at some point unemployable we go our way. You can see us standing in the shadows and the rain waiting for the liquor store to open. Our ultimate destination some where past the 5th ring of hell. I will surely spend my eternity there shaking and waiting sweaty for the hell liquor store to open, ugly, unshaven, hung over. I am sure by then I will be remorseful and sorry, full of regrets. I will live alone like I do know in a poor section of hell reminiscing and savoring my best drunken sexcapade so when you get there look me up. I will be on the front porch enjoying my favorite memory of those country girls in Havana with their big yellow stalk of bananas and the yellow pencil...


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