Teetering Bluffs: A Story Of Note: Chapter 2 (Two) - Jeffy Coitus Is Quiet

Chapter 2 (TWO) - Jeffy Coitus Is Quiet

People aren't afraid to lie, they're afraid to eat food from foreign countries. This is the simple truth behind most people's actions. While the foolish reader will fail to understand this, I know that you (astute reader) understand me perfectly. The idea of a real Chinese dish drives most American people mad. They can't stand the thought of something not being done their way.

This is why ethnicity is ignored for the sake of not-so-fast food, such as China Dragon restaurants. Cultural insults are not a heavy price to pay for comfort. Besides, we can lie and say we never knew it was an insult, and that we never knew the food was fake Chinese anyhow.

People aren't afraid to lie. That's noteworthy. Like this story.

Janine Pottery was not afraid of foreigners. Only she hated the food they ate. Daily she would grunt disapprovingly as her culturally different workmates ate food that smelled as though it were killed with a harpoon of sharpened stone tied to an oak stick.

She pondered gravely whether they even had oak sticks in China.

Janine is noteworthy.

Sixteen miles away, Jeffy Coitus was fast asleep in a car seat heading towards a new home. I know, that's not very interesting. I just thought I should tell you. I wish you wouldn't get so angry about these things. Your temper is just off the wall lately...

So anyways. Taylor Tungsten was a Mormon. That really plays no part in the story. The year 2005 hadn't been very good to him, and he was feeling a bit like a man suffering from chronic indigestion. The problem was his wife. Lately they'd taken to fueding about everything, including their daughter.

Notable.

Lydia Tungsten was a Victorian in every sense of the word. By that I mean her maiden name was Victoria. Not anymore, though, as she had been married nearly 26 years. She, like most women, was not attractive. Her jaw was quite square, her ass chunk-tastic, yet her ribs showed through a fitted top much like unattractive anorexics.

Someone please tell anorexic girls that we don't even think they're remotely attractive. As a matter of fact, they're quite hideous. Girls, listen, a man wants a girl of average weight. The only kind of man who wants a remarkably thin person isn't actually interested in women. That, or they haven't admitted their homosexuality yet. You are heading towards a slippery slope of rejection that you will never recover from. I promise.

Just thought you might find it noteworthy.

Anyways, the Ex-Victorian Lydia Tungsten was known around her neighborhood for delicious Hot Clam Bread. It should be noted that the bread didn't actually have any clam in it. Rather, she shaped them as close to a shell as is possible with bread and fed them to her easily impressed middle class housewife friends. They weren't very bright. To get to the reason that the bread was called Clam Bread was due to the fact that at every party each woman got two "Clams." Within one of the "Clams" was a large, solid white shooter marble that had been baked into it. Predictably, they called this "The Pearl."

Whoever got "The Pearl" was obligated to host the next Home Exteriors party.

Espantosoville, it's worth noting, was ranked fourth in the nation in terms of Home Exteriors product sales and in-home parties. This, of course, is a measure of the stupidity of any neighborhood (for the interested: a Cleveland suburb was ranked first- I'm certain there is no surprise in the audience).

Another mark of their stupidity might've been that none of them ever realized that Ex-Victorian's Clam Bread was actually from a box bought in their local Wal-Mort. They could've been producing their own Powerful Bread the entire time.

But, they were, of course, idiots.

Taylor had grown irritated with Lydia when he found that she'd been stealing his credit card and using it to purchase copious amounts of Home Exteriors trash. Most women don't realize how much of a waste of money this cheap garbage is, but that's not really notable. Taylor, never one to abide a woman acting outside of his imperial will, confronted her.

Of course, like most men raised before the Millennial Generation, he was pointlessly violent whenever the opportunity arose. His idea of a peaceful resolution to the whole issue was unsavory at best.

Naturally, I will relate that moment in time here.

"Bitch!" he yelled across the house, tossing his credit card bill to the floor where his dog, Toenail, slobbered on it. Toenail was stupid.

"What now honey?" Lydia asked, unsure of whether her husband was yelling at her or not. It isn't to be assumed that her stupidity was the cause of this confusion. Truly, Taylor Tungsten was in the habit of shouting expletives purely for the joy of his own voice. He really, really enjoyed his own voice in the most pure way possible.

"Bitch why did you spend all my money on this shit? Huh?!" he grabbed her by her jaw and pushed her against the nearest wall, knocking over some Home Exteriors candle holder.

It's worth noting that it broke after a fall of only around six feet. Seriously, that shit is cheap, why do you buy it? You're the worst reader ever.

"Honey, I just thought it might make our house look better!" she said frantically, cringing. She feared.

"Bitch, didn't I tell you no more of this shit?! It looks like ass on the walls! Ass!" he shouted into her face, his putrid breath hurting her nose and his spit getting on her wrinkly tan cheeks. She really was a homely woman.

"I'm sorry! I won't buy any more!"

Bending over, Taylor Tungsten picked up the broken pieces of cheap plasti-metal Home Exteriors that had fallen to its breaking death from the wall moments before. "Bitch, look how cheap this shit is!" losing control, as always, Taylor somehow thought it just to sink the sharpened edge of the Candle Holder into the Ex-Victorian's arm.

Blood dripped onto the floor. Toenail licked it up.

"You fuck! You fuck!" she screamed, angrily, pulling the plasti-metal from her arm.

"Bitch, whatever! Quit wasting my money on your worthless housewife fantasies! When our ugly daughter is done with college, I'm divorcing your ass!" Taylor shouted back. But he wasn't really paying much attention to the world around him. Rather his head was elsewhere on baseball, or perhaps professional wrestling.

It should be noted, obviously, that this family was about as close to scum as possible. Honestly.

Thanks to his lack of attention, Taylor Tungsten fell over Toenail the Golden Retriever as he turned to leave the situation. Unfortunately, in his left hand was the other half of the cheap Candle Holder, which pierced his right shoulder upon impact.

Pain washed over him, and he could not even shout for the pain.

Meanwhile, Lydia had been weeping on the floor where she had sank after the stabbing.

The doorbell rang. Toenail drooled on Mr. Tungsten's open wound as he moaned in agony. He was not a doctor, so he diagnosed himself. In this diagnosis he had decided that the Plasti-Metal piece had pierced a tendon. Contemplating excuses, he decided that he would tell his stock market investor Poker buddies that he'd gotten in a knife fight with a home intruder. Maybe a Bible Salesman. Ah yes, that would work.

Lydia walked to the front door and opened it slightly. A remarkably ugly UPS boy was carrying boxes from his truck. Four already lay on the porch, and he had Four more in his hands. The smell of the summer afternoon was incredible, and the lawn was a lush green.

It oughta be. The Tungsten Household paid over $6,000 dollars in the last Four years to have professional lawn care on their lovingly tended 1/4 achre of land.

That's notable.

So anyways, it was about this time that the Ex-Victorian Lydia Tungsten noticed the packing labels. With Eight boxes on her porch and the UPS boy who appeared to be the victim of a half-hearted third trimester abortion about to bring more, she panicked.

And for good reason. Taylor Tungsten had just arrived at the door, Plasti-Metal still in his shoulder (he diagnosed himself and determined that removing it would only cause more bleeding. It should be noted that the piece was thinner than a pencil). His shirt was not the only thing growing more red by the minute.

Rushing over to his desk in the next room, Taylor retrieved his handgun. Like most bored Americans he'd purchased it in anticipation of the next big knife fight. Most men with ego issues dream of bringing a gun to a knife fight.

The delivery boy's teeth were crooked. Very crooked. More crooked than any teeth on anyone in Extropicoville. Lydia was sad to know that the last person she would ever talk to in the world would be the ugliest person she'd ever seen.

But then, life and everything in it is so unspeakably ugly, that it's a wonder God claims it. Though after Family Guy was brought back to the airwaves, I suppose just about anything is beautiful.

Chimmy's crooked teeth were in a shocked frown as the brain matter of Lydia Tungsten, Ex-Victorian, stained his new UPS uniform. The crack of the handgun had surprised him into dropping the last Eight small boxes of Home Exteriors to the sidewalk.

"Fuck," he thought, "I'm gonna die before I even get a paycheck? Before I fuck that gorgeous bitch Jenny Bixler down At The Drive-In? Fuck this!" And with that, Chimmy Rizzy ran towards the road as quickly as he could.

Realizing he was now committed to more murder (to be committed), Taylor gave chase. Shooting Chimmy wouldn't be necessary as he'd dashed out in front of a car that hit him.

Landing on the hood, Chimmy tried to scramble to the road. But before he could, a bullet entered his head from just below his right ear. And that was the end of him.

Seeing the shocked woman in the driver's seat, Taylor grew more furious. Flexing his Plasti-Metaled Shoulder with something as close to a roar of anger that he could muster (Roar!), Taylor Tungsten blasted the woman in the face with his Pistol. Her blood watered the face of a baby no longer sleeping in the back seat.

This shocked Taylor truly. For a moment, he couldn't think very clearly. Then he realized what a mistake he'd made in his rage. A poor child with Black hair now stained with skull material and blood would forever be traumatized.

He lay the fault squarely at the feet of the Home Exteriors corporation. As it should be.

Walking back into his home and closing the door, he picked up his wife's body and carried it softly to the living room. For the first time in years, he attempted to cry. It didn't work, so he thought to light a match and see if the smoke could do the trick. That worked pretty well.

Thoughtlessly, he tossed the match aside onto the couch. Still lit, it now made his home part of the flame.

"Ah... maybe just as well..." he thought in his best attempt at somber-ness.

So, cuddling his freshly murdered, homely wife (Lydia Tungsten Ex-Victorian), Taylor Tungsten felt his body warm to a new kind of fire. Namely the one on his couch.

By the time "The Frizz" got home to discover her father's afternoon of crime, the house had already burnt a great deal. No one had dared approach the house after the apparent string of shootings. The Firemen said it was a safety issue.

Looking into the car, Jori saw Jeffy. He was squirming in the blood, but was not crying.

She felt a strange tingling in her breast as the smoke from the housefire made her eyes begin to itch.

That last bit? It was notable.

END CHAPTER 2 (TWO)