The Work Bench

 He opens his mouth and words come out. I don't even listen, I just watch his lips move. He always thought he knew what the fuck he was talking about, always thought he was so smart. Well, he can't be so smart anymore. It's not his fault though! Oh no, he never deserved to have his ears cut off, nor his ear canals to be dug out of his head with a barbed butterfly knife. He was a perfect angel, of a perfect God. He never made mistakes. Everyone else made the mistakes.

Until I made the mistake of nailing his head to a desk we were building together. More like he had gone behind my back to get the materials to build with me. Spending more than a hundred dollars on wood, and then not listening to my input on how he should put the desk together, and it came out lopsided. It wasn't lopsided enough for a non-carpenter to recognize. But I could tell, having watched my father perfectly make things from wood for about 20 years. It wasn't the fact that it came out lopsided that pissed me off, but that I told him exactly how to build it, and to fucking spite me, he did the exact opposite I told him. You shouldn't screw a screw into a 2x4 through plywood with a 8 volt drill. But he did. I told him that he should make the frame for the working surface of the desk, and then fit in the support. But he didn't. He did some stupid shit that made no sense. And when I went to stain underneath the wood, to make sure it was completely covered, I saw how fucking lopsided it was. And he was proud of it. He showed off to his friends how cool he was that he made a fucking work bench with a fucking built in computer. A work bench with the illusion of surround sound when you were working at it. A work bench that he made by hand. No matter how many times, he talked about how technologically advance his fucking computer desk was, I saw it, lopsided. It was not distributing weight completely evenly over the surface as it was intended to do. It was ugly, it was a representation of his every imperfection he showed off as quintessential.

One drunk night after we entertained his friends, with his stupid lopsided desk as the central point (how could it not be?! It could play video and sound!), I had somehow convinced him that I wanted him to fuck me. Gave him a seductive look while his friend was telling a joke, or making some generally funny joke about big dick. Because every single time any person in the whole world says the word dick or cock, they want it immediately, right where they exist.

Well, I fucking told him that not every time I say something about a penis, do I fucking want it, and he said “Shut up, You know you want my big cock.”

“No, no I don't,” I replied shamelessly.

He grabbed my hand, and brought it to his already throbbing cock. I rolled my eyes. He was playing that stupid fucking game that I hate because he did it all the fucking time. He was an only child and not used to being told no.

“You're the last one to touch it,” he said playfully.

“I do not want to touch it,” I say plainly, almost as if I were bored.

“Of course you do, you've been talking about it all night,” he said.

I knew he wouldn't leave me alone, even in my sleep so I pulled my pants down laid on the couch all matter-of-factly, like I was a whore he was paying... marriage, haha. So he grabbed my waist and flipped me over to fuck me doggy style. He always “had a thing” about me cumming first. I knew nothing would make me cum, I was drunk and totally dry. As he somehow managed to get my unwilling vagina to create some wetness for him to somehow get in me... I saw my bow and arrow, on the floor, next to the couch. He would love it if I shoved my ass higher into the air. So I slowly lowered my hand, and grabbed an arrow.

He had no idea why I was doing what I was doing, and before he really had time to think about why, I grabbed an arrow, turned around with him still inside me, and stabbed him in the fucking eye. Blood was pouring out everywhere, and I knew he was in pain. He was howling like a wolf, but I soon realized, that if I kept moving the arrow, he wouldn't move, and would just cry about his eye. The more he cried, tears and blood, the more I was enjoying what I saw, and I began to fuck him, my pussy getting wet, so fucking wet. I kept moving the stick, and my cunt, and finally I came. Screaming the loudest I've screamed in our relationship. I pull off, turn my lower body around, and push him onto his back, and I stabbed the life from him, all the while screaming:

“IT'S ALL LOPSIDED, YOU FUCK. I GAVE YOU THE ANSWER AND YOU MADE IT ALL FUCKING LOPSIDED.”


-Kiz