Teetering Bluffs: A Story Of Passion: Chapter 4 (Four) - Jeffy Coitus Has Nothing To Say

CHAPTER 4 (FOUR) - Jeffy Coitus Has Nothing To Say

Would you believe I finally found a comfortable place for us to talk about this, irreverent reader? I don't care.

Passion is something many couples can't attain. Mostly because 9/10 of America is hideous. Let's be honest with ourselves for a moment.

Only a moment.

If half of America was as fit as they wanted, then fit people would become as normal as the fat hag in front of you at MacDoormold's. You know the kind. With her unbrushed hair that she hasn't attempted to keep looking nice in years since she gained 60 (SIXTY) pounds after college. Her face still has acne even though she's

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And she's in line at MacDoormold's bitching that her child got the same Happy Meal toy yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that. She fails to realize that the fault lies in her bad parenting for taking her kid to MacDoormold's every single day and...

Well, where was I.

Children of these kinds of mothers always turn out to be self-entitled and worthless. There's no two ways about it.

Joy Frontero was not one of these children.

Yes, I know you're tired of me telling you about people who are not the things I've been describing. Today, you get your wish. Oh, sure, you're happy now, aren't you. Asshat.

Della "The Corn" Tonnik was one of these children. The Corn would do only one thing of note in her life regarding this story I'm telling you. If you want to hear more stories about self-entitled wastes of life, I suggest you head down to your local buffet, or TMZ.

"Permanently?!" The Corn shouted angrily into the speaker of the Steak & Smack drive-thru.

"No ma'am, not permanently. Just for tonight!" flustered, the young woman inside the store was beginning to hyperventilate in anger.

It's true, my gender is prone to overreaction. We're just passionate about everything.

So anyways.

"What the hell?! I wanted a damn milkshake!" And she wasn't lying. She was in desperate need of a milkshake, as she only had A Cups.

Pity.

"Miss I'm sorry, there's a Wandy's down the street, I'm sure a nice Frusty would work just as well..." Monica "Swamp Ass" Moreni was beginning to lose her patience, and silently put a Wiccan hex on her boss Chester for breaking the ice cream machine.

Don't worry, Chester was fine. Wiccans don't really have any power to curse.

Now, if she'd have been a Christian, they've got some real curse power. That, or a distinct lack of guilt for burning innocent people alive. Either way I think you still win.

The Corn was not in a good mood. "You do know that a Frusty is made with lard don't you? You want me to add fat to my figure, is that it?"

Swamp Ass sighed, then replied, "Ma'am, I don't think Frustys have lard in them. That's just an internet rumor."

"Oh!" a shitstorm of overreaction ensued. "So, so, so now you're calling me a liar! A liar! All the people behind me in line heard this! I'm gonna come in there and report you to your manager!"

This threat rang somehow hollow, as Chester was under Swamp Ass's sweaty thumb unless he wanted her to press sexual harassment charges.

Then an idea hit her. No, she didn't literally get hit by anything. Sorry to get your hopes up like that.

"Talking to the manager sounds like a great idea! Here he is!" she shouted into the mic headset before smacking it into Chester's... chest.

"What the hell is this, Moreni?" he asked, looking down her shirt.

"I'm going on break. Take care of this bitchy customer. She's only bitchy because you broke it," she said, pointing to the ice cream machine that had what appeared to be a large amount of shotgun damage to its front.

"Hey!..." Chester couldn't think of anything clever to say. To be honest, he wasn't a very good boss. And in his own, cowardly sort of way, he felt bad for breaking the ice cream machine.

The conversation between Chester and The Corn went as you would expect it to, culminating in Della leaving Steak & Smack permanently. Unlike the milkshakes, which would return the next day.

More interestingly, if I can inject my own opinion here, is what happened with Monica "Swamp Ass" Moreni.

Walking up to the restaurant's bar and taking a seat (squishy, sweaty, cotton) Monica lowered her head.

Below her, the floor was terribly dusty and dirty. The tiny white and black tiles were grouted with fries, burger remnants, ketchup, dried semen, and what appeared to be a smashed crayon. It was red, and confused her. Sunlight dripping in from the window to her left lit up her sweaty arms and made her feel even worse.

"It's almost as hot out here as it is in front of that damn grill..." she muttered to herself, quite grumpy.

"It's kind of warm, isn't it?" replied a man with a high, slightly obnoxious voice.

Surprised only marginally, because like most people Monica always behaved as if there was someone listening whenever she spoke, she looked over at the man who had taken the bar stool next to her. It was not in her, however, to tell him that he had sat in what appeared to be a wad of grisly, half-chewed beef.

"It's been a long day," she stated flatly, glad of someone to complain to. She had two passions in life. One was complaining. The other was sweating. Just kidding, she found that unpleasant, and it aided the strange forces of misfortunate that made her panties ride up her various southern orifices whenever she sat down.

"Oh I understand. I think everybody's having a tough one today. One of my tenants' sisters got murdered, and her mother's making her adopt the baby. Isn't that awful?" Mindy Mashtatoor grinned as a Lurch-like young man with a Green Day shirt on sat down a glass of sweaty ice water.

I'm glad you too think Green Day sucks ass.

Reaching for the water with a palm that was quite dry, the condensation felt somewhat good, if not a little obnoxious, on Mindy's hands.

"Wait, is what awful? The murder or that she's being forced to adopt the kid?"

"Huh?" Mindy replied, setting down the glass. "Oh, I forget what we're talking about..."

"Oh."

"Say, where's Chester, fella?" Mindy asked the young, braindead waiter.

"Who?" he replied.

"Chester."

"I don't know any fuckin' Chesters man. Are you fuckin' hittin' on me?" the waiter glared at Mindy, taking what appeared to be a defensive stance.

Looking over at Swampers, Mindy said, "Is everybody in Espantosoville insane? Or is it just Cousin Eddy here?"

Monica giggled, shaking her thin, sweaty frame. "I'm not sure he's cool enough to be Cousin Eddy."

"I'm not sure he's old enough to know who he is, either. Judging by the shirt, nope." Mindy's high voice trailed off as he watched a young biker in leather walk across the S&S dining room.

That was kind of cliche, but it seriously happened. At least, that's what I was told. Look, you've been really good about interruptions this time around (asshat reader) so could you please take it easy?

After his moment of passion had passed, Mindy looked back to the waiter, who will be known henceforth as "Frankenstein's Monster" for brevity's sake. I know that sort of moniker is slightly unnecessary since I told you he was wearing a Green Day shirt, but just bear with me.

"So, Franky, you don't know your own boss's name?" Mindy asked, slightly amused.

"Huh? I thought his name was Chet..." the slow-witted monster's mind seemed to be turning the gears in overdrive today. Secretly, Monica was ashamed to have sucked his dick.

"What the hell kind of a name is Chet?" Mashtatoor asked, calmly, as he picked up his glass to drink again.

In a fury, the monster shouted, "My dad's name is Chet!"

Giggling slightly with Moreni, he replied "That explains a thing or two then doesn't it. Go get your boss before I shitcan you."

"You can't fire me! I'm an employee, you're a customer!"

"That might've been an astute observation," Mindy said, his voice nearly cracking from the excitement of getting to put someone down, "unfortunately I'm not just a customer. I'm the owner of this place. Now go get your boss or else I will shitcan you." Mindy made a vague attempt to look gruff, and stern. It wasn't quite as good as he'd hoped, however, and he ended up looking as though he had some slight gas.

While the beast lumbered away, Monica rose to her sweaty feet.

If I haven't emphasized this enough, Monica was a really, really sweaty person. "I gotta get back to the drive-thru if you wanna talk to Chester. Thanks for the laugh, I needed one today."

"You mean you laughed at the kid getting adopted, or the murder?" Mindy replied in a rather simple attempt at a joke that left them both feeling a bit awkward.

"Uhh, my name's Monica by the way. Monica Moreni," she said, trying to seem relatable, or sweet. She was neither.

"Right then, Monica. I'm Mindy Mashtatoor."

Before she realized what she was doing, Monica let out a squeaky giggle. The person who had just sat down on the end of the bar farthest from where they had been sitting was frightened by it, and considered leaving.

"Something funny?" Mindy asked, not at all un-used to people reacting to his first name (or existence) like this.

Scrambling for something to say, Monica's hands especially sweaty (and the rest of her too- she could feel sweat running down the inside of her thighs as she stood up, and it was still rolling down her legs, into her sweaty socks) she finally found something after about 4 (FOUR) seconds of thought. "I just realized, Franky isn't wearing a uniform and he's been clocked in almost 4 (FOUR) hours."

This seemed almost genius to Monica. In this way she could kill two birds with one greasy gay man. Ever since the fellatio behind the stainless steel fridge, Swamp Ass had slowly been realizing how disgusting Franky was.

"Well how about that, he's not," Mindy said with a slight chuckle. "I'll let Chester know to fire him."

"Thats great!" Monica said, sweat dripping down her hairy arms. Then they both felt awkard again.

Quickly thereafter, she walked away and found Chester for Mindy (Franky, of course, could not remember what his boss looked like, so he'd wandered into the freezer and stood there to collect his thoughts).

"Mindy's here? Shit," Chester pushed the mic headset back into Swamp Ass's... chest. He was so distracted by his worry, that he did not even notice the pleasant bounce he'd caused.

It wouldn't be until much later that Chester would realize what a passion he'd had for Monica Moreni, sweat and all.

But she would be long gone by then, and it would be only a few days before he would be killed defending Jeffy Coitus.

END CHAPTER 4 (FOUR)