[Summer Contest Entry 2015] Filth in the Ether
3
El Chacal
FAKKU Writer
Filth in the Ether
You’re lying awake in bed thinking about women.
It’s a Saturday night, but there’s nothing to do. You can’t fall asleep. There’s this mosquito buzzing around. You've been patiently waiting for it to land on your wall so you can put it out of its misery. Finally, your moment arrives. As you silently get out of bed to crush the cunty little fucker, a sudden storm of loud knocks makes you stop. You look out the window. There’s a denim-clad maniac bashing his fist against your front door. You reach for the first thing you can use to hit him in the face (which happens to be an empty beer bottle) and you answer the door.
As you look through the glass peephole, you realize this isn't your average denim-clad maniac. As a matter of fact, this particular lunatic has taken the shape and form of Barry Singer, the drug-dealing bass player from your old high school band. And he’s stoned out of his mind. You leave the chain on as you open the door. He tries to burst in. That’s when the smell hits you. The unmistakable stench of tequila that takes your breath hostage after a long night of drinking with a Mexican Mariachi band. He pleads with you to let him in. You tell him to fuck off. He threatens to barf in your mail box. You decide to let him in.
“You gotta see this girl, man” he declares as he rushes past you and proceeds to scour your kitchen for booze “she’s waiting in the car. Her name’s Alexia. She’s from Oviedo!”
“That a country?” you ask, wondering if he’s been hallucinating.
“It’s in Spain, I think. Or Argentina. Some place where they speak Spanish. A-HA!”
He unearths a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey that your ex-girlfriend’s dad gave you last Christmas. He pops the bottle open and takes a long gulp. He passes you the remains.
“You seriously gotta catch up. We got ourselves a party to attend.”
You put the bottle down.
“Sure thing, Barry. Let me just grab one of my tuxedos and I'm ready to go.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Jack. I'm high not drunk” he tells you before grabbing the bottle again and chugging it down “besides, you gotta check out her tits. They’re perfectly symmetrical.”
This statement intrigues you.
“You do realize that it’s three in the morning?”
“So?”
“It’s late as fuck.”
“I got some coke in the car if you need to wake up.”
“I'm in my fucking Looney Toons boxers.”
“Get dressed then.”
“I was kind of in the middle of something.”
“Greasing your pipe, you mean.” He starts masturbating an invisible dick.
“Every sword needs sharpening.”
“True, but we've got shit to do.”
“Such as?”
“Getting wrecked.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“She has a tattoo on her right tit.”
“I’ll go get my jacket.”
You rush to your room and put on the only clean shirt you have. You search for the expensive leather jacket you bought last weekend, but can’t find it. You decide it’s too hot outside, anyway. You spray a dash of cologne around your neck. You make sure your friend hasn't barfed in the premises. You lock your front door and join him in the car.
You’re sitting shotgun.
“Don’t be shy now, kids. Say hi, you two.”
You take a gander at the back seat through the rear-view mirror. That’s when you see them. Two piercing emeralds in the dark. Eyes like green fire. The same fire that could burn a hole in your soul if you weren't careful.
She tells you her name is Alexia.
“Charmed. I'm Jack.” This isn't your real name.
“Jack, huh? I've always wanted to meet a Jack.” You like the way she says your fake name.
Five minutes into the conversation, you decide you like this girl. Her accent and raspy voice are starting to turn you on. You don’t even care that the man who’s driving is high as a kite. For a few fleeting moments, you forget that you might die at any second. You ask her what she does for a living. She tells you she’s an actress.
“Anything I might’ve seen?”
Barry chortles.
“Show him the one on your phone, Lexi.”
She hands you her phone and you press play. You’re watching an audition. Your new Latina friend is sitting on a beige couch dressed in a mini skirt and a white tank top. You get a strange sense of déjà vu. Not two minutes in, the interviewer asks her to take her top off. She does it. That’s when you realize what you’re actually watching. Holy shit. She’s a porn star. And her tits are perfect.
“I think I've seen enough.” You hand her back her phone.
“You didn't like it?” She asks, a hint of disappointment lingering in her voice.
“On the contrary. It’s just kind of uncomfortable to have a boner in this position.”
She laughs.
“Your friend is funny, Barry.”
A stupid smirk seizes your face. You think you have a shot with this girl. You might just be right. Or just plain dumb.
Before you know it, you arrive at your destination.
“The fuck are we doing at the docks?”
“You’ll see.”
Barry stops the car and gets out. You do the same. Alexia is the last one to move. You can’t help yourself but stare as she leaves the car. She looks stunning in an all-black ensemble. Typical hot girl clothes. She signals you to get closer.
“In Spain we give two kisses on the cheek when we meet someone.”
You lean in. She leans closer. Her lips softly touch your cheeks. Fuck. This girl is trouble. Sex with two legs. A devil in black leather. You have to have her. Even if it’s just for one night.
You start hearing music. Something big is getting closer.
“Ah, there it is.”
A beast of a yacht breaks through the fog. It’s got rave music on blast. The closer it gets, the harder it is to hear your own thoughts.
“So, the party’s on a boat. That’s new.”
“Stick your tongue out.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it, man. Lexi’s got a gift for you.”
You turn to the Spanish bombshell and you do as instructed.
“Close your eyes, now. It’s no fun with your eyes open.”
You’re half expecting to get some tongue action, but that doesn't happen. She places
something on the tip. You swallow it. It’s acid.
“Now you’re ready.”
She coils her arm around yours and leads you to the yacht. You’re greeted by hundreds of half-naked, coke-snorting ravers.
This shit is unreal. Just a couple of hours ago, you were trying to kill a mosquito. Now, you’re in a goddamn yacht in the middle of the ocean with a drug-dealer, a porn star and a sea of ravers. You wonder if it’s all a dream.
That’s when the acid kicks in. Holy shit. How much did she give you? Fuck. It doesn't matter. It’s too late now. Soon you’ll transcend all existence and be one with the Gods.
Within minutes, you’re having the best trip of your life. Everything makes sense now. You were chosen for this ride. Chosen by the Universe.
You look around you and you can actually see Egyptian writing engraved on the deck. Primordial designs glowing in the night, carved by inter-dimensional beings. As you gaze in awe, someone takes you by the hand.
You enter a room somewhere within the yacht. Your first reaction is to hug the ground. Alexia is with you. She’s taking her clothes off. You look her in the eye and pull your cock out. She rides you on the floor.
She takes you to the stratosphere in an ecstasy of colours and adrenaline. Your dick has never been harder. You fuck for hours. You feel like a legend. You wonder how you've managed to keep going for so long. Must be the acid. This is insanity.
When you finally do come, you come hard. You come for all the days and nights you didn't come. You come like a motherfucker.
Lethargy takes in. You’re exhausted. Her cute round ass is the last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness.
Days later, you wake up naked in a hotel suite in Tijuana. You have no idea how you got there. The place is unbearably fetid. It reeks of sex. You need to open a window. There’s too much filth in the ether.
You find a couple of used condoms on the floor, but no trace of the girl. You go to the bathroom hoping to find a message written in red lipstick. You find jack shit.
That’s when you remember to check your phone. No new contacts added. But someone changed your wallpaper. It’s a picture of a perfect pair of tits with a tattoo that you couldn't possibly forget.
Her name was Alexia.
You’re lying awake in bed thinking about women.
It’s a Saturday night, but there’s nothing to do. You can’t fall asleep. There’s this mosquito buzzing around. You've been patiently waiting for it to land on your wall so you can put it out of its misery. Finally, your moment arrives. As you silently get out of bed to crush the cunty little fucker, a sudden storm of loud knocks makes you stop. You look out the window. There’s a denim-clad maniac bashing his fist against your front door. You reach for the first thing you can use to hit him in the face (which happens to be an empty beer bottle) and you answer the door.
As you look through the glass peephole, you realize this isn't your average denim-clad maniac. As a matter of fact, this particular lunatic has taken the shape and form of Barry Singer, the drug-dealing bass player from your old high school band. And he’s stoned out of his mind. You leave the chain on as you open the door. He tries to burst in. That’s when the smell hits you. The unmistakable stench of tequila that takes your breath hostage after a long night of drinking with a Mexican Mariachi band. He pleads with you to let him in. You tell him to fuck off. He threatens to barf in your mail box. You decide to let him in.
“You gotta see this girl, man” he declares as he rushes past you and proceeds to scour your kitchen for booze “she’s waiting in the car. Her name’s Alexia. She’s from Oviedo!”
“That a country?” you ask, wondering if he’s been hallucinating.
“It’s in Spain, I think. Or Argentina. Some place where they speak Spanish. A-HA!”
He unearths a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey that your ex-girlfriend’s dad gave you last Christmas. He pops the bottle open and takes a long gulp. He passes you the remains.
“You seriously gotta catch up. We got ourselves a party to attend.”
You put the bottle down.
“Sure thing, Barry. Let me just grab one of my tuxedos and I'm ready to go.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Jack. I'm high not drunk” he tells you before grabbing the bottle again and chugging it down “besides, you gotta check out her tits. They’re perfectly symmetrical.”
This statement intrigues you.
“You do realize that it’s three in the morning?”
“So?”
“It’s late as fuck.”
“I got some coke in the car if you need to wake up.”
“I'm in my fucking Looney Toons boxers.”
“Get dressed then.”
“I was kind of in the middle of something.”
“Greasing your pipe, you mean.” He starts masturbating an invisible dick.
“Every sword needs sharpening.”
“True, but we've got shit to do.”
“Such as?”
“Getting wrecked.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“She has a tattoo on her right tit.”
“I’ll go get my jacket.”
You rush to your room and put on the only clean shirt you have. You search for the expensive leather jacket you bought last weekend, but can’t find it. You decide it’s too hot outside, anyway. You spray a dash of cologne around your neck. You make sure your friend hasn't barfed in the premises. You lock your front door and join him in the car.
You’re sitting shotgun.
“Don’t be shy now, kids. Say hi, you two.”
You take a gander at the back seat through the rear-view mirror. That’s when you see them. Two piercing emeralds in the dark. Eyes like green fire. The same fire that could burn a hole in your soul if you weren't careful.
She tells you her name is Alexia.
“Charmed. I'm Jack.” This isn't your real name.
“Jack, huh? I've always wanted to meet a Jack.” You like the way she says your fake name.
Five minutes into the conversation, you decide you like this girl. Her accent and raspy voice are starting to turn you on. You don’t even care that the man who’s driving is high as a kite. For a few fleeting moments, you forget that you might die at any second. You ask her what she does for a living. She tells you she’s an actress.
“Anything I might’ve seen?”
Barry chortles.
“Show him the one on your phone, Lexi.”
She hands you her phone and you press play. You’re watching an audition. Your new Latina friend is sitting on a beige couch dressed in a mini skirt and a white tank top. You get a strange sense of déjà vu. Not two minutes in, the interviewer asks her to take her top off. She does it. That’s when you realize what you’re actually watching. Holy shit. She’s a porn star. And her tits are perfect.
“I think I've seen enough.” You hand her back her phone.
“You didn't like it?” She asks, a hint of disappointment lingering in her voice.
“On the contrary. It’s just kind of uncomfortable to have a boner in this position.”
She laughs.
“Your friend is funny, Barry.”
A stupid smirk seizes your face. You think you have a shot with this girl. You might just be right. Or just plain dumb.
Before you know it, you arrive at your destination.
“The fuck are we doing at the docks?”
“You’ll see.”
Barry stops the car and gets out. You do the same. Alexia is the last one to move. You can’t help yourself but stare as she leaves the car. She looks stunning in an all-black ensemble. Typical hot girl clothes. She signals you to get closer.
“In Spain we give two kisses on the cheek when we meet someone.”
You lean in. She leans closer. Her lips softly touch your cheeks. Fuck. This girl is trouble. Sex with two legs. A devil in black leather. You have to have her. Even if it’s just for one night.
You start hearing music. Something big is getting closer.
“Ah, there it is.”
A beast of a yacht breaks through the fog. It’s got rave music on blast. The closer it gets, the harder it is to hear your own thoughts.
“So, the party’s on a boat. That’s new.”
“Stick your tongue out.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it, man. Lexi’s got a gift for you.”
You turn to the Spanish bombshell and you do as instructed.
“Close your eyes, now. It’s no fun with your eyes open.”
You’re half expecting to get some tongue action, but that doesn't happen. She places
something on the tip. You swallow it. It’s acid.
“Now you’re ready.”
She coils her arm around yours and leads you to the yacht. You’re greeted by hundreds of half-naked, coke-snorting ravers.
This shit is unreal. Just a couple of hours ago, you were trying to kill a mosquito. Now, you’re in a goddamn yacht in the middle of the ocean with a drug-dealer, a porn star and a sea of ravers. You wonder if it’s all a dream.
That’s when the acid kicks in. Holy shit. How much did she give you? Fuck. It doesn't matter. It’s too late now. Soon you’ll transcend all existence and be one with the Gods.
Within minutes, you’re having the best trip of your life. Everything makes sense now. You were chosen for this ride. Chosen by the Universe.
You look around you and you can actually see Egyptian writing engraved on the deck. Primordial designs glowing in the night, carved by inter-dimensional beings. As you gaze in awe, someone takes you by the hand.
You enter a room somewhere within the yacht. Your first reaction is to hug the ground. Alexia is with you. She’s taking her clothes off. You look her in the eye and pull your cock out. She rides you on the floor.
She takes you to the stratosphere in an ecstasy of colours and adrenaline. Your dick has never been harder. You fuck for hours. You feel like a legend. You wonder how you've managed to keep going for so long. Must be the acid. This is insanity.
When you finally do come, you come hard. You come for all the days and nights you didn't come. You come like a motherfucker.
Lethargy takes in. You’re exhausted. Her cute round ass is the last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness.
Days later, you wake up naked in a hotel suite in Tijuana. You have no idea how you got there. The place is unbearably fetid. It reeks of sex. You need to open a window. There’s too much filth in the ether.
You find a couple of used condoms on the floor, but no trace of the girl. You go to the bathroom hoping to find a message written in red lipstick. You find jack shit.
That’s when you remember to check your phone. No new contacts added. But someone changed your wallpaper. It’s a picture of a perfect pair of tits with a tattoo that you couldn't possibly forget.
Her name was Alexia.
1
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
Classic Chacal.
This gave me a big feeling of nostalgia from several years ago. It reminded me of A Night to Remember, but if someone had turned the metaphorical bass all the way up.
This gave me a big feeling of nostalgia from several years ago. It reminded me of A Night to Remember, but if someone had turned the metaphorical bass all the way up.
0
I usually don't like 2nd person because I have a problem with people telling me what to do (yes, I'm mature like that), but I didn't mind it too much here. Not sure why. It just didn't feel as intrusive as it usually does. However, I wonder why you chose to use it. You could have used 1st person, and I don't think it would have changed much.
I really like the title although I'm not entirely sure what it means. I kinda feel like you had a cool line in the story and decided to use that, or you wanted to drop the title somewhere in the story for effect.
Aside from that though, I think it's well-written and engaging.
I really like the title although I'm not entirely sure what it means. I kinda feel like you had a cool line in the story and decided to use that, or you wanted to drop the title somewhere in the story for effect.
Aside from that though, I think it's well-written and engaging.
1
My guess is that you intentionally used the second person to make this story a lot more different than your previous one. Xenon is right, this is a classic El Chacal, with a twist. Like most stories written in second person, this one gave me an illusion that I am the main character doing all those... stuff. And it's for the best. For the first time we experience being El Chacal, rather than reading El Chacal.