The wife and kids are gone, and I have a week with the clown. I bought him at the auction for twenty dollars. The losers there thought I paid fifty. Life couldn’t be better. I asked Binky to take off his damn clothes and wear only face paint and a green nose while he cooks for me. I’m Mr Green, and I like green. He’s just going to learn to deal with it.
In my life, I’ve played with Thai fuckboys, midgets and leather-wearing Japanese men, but nothing compares to Binky. Hell, the bastard even goes “Ha ha ha ha,” when I bugger him. It’s brilliant to have a clown you can slap around all day and then bugger all night. Fuck! I’m on fire! I’m fifty, but I feel like I’m twenty.
I asked Binky to talk about his dead wife in bed last night. He started sighing. “Molly was…Molly was…everything,” he whined, and there was something about him heaving that aroused me more. I yanked his hair, and he started sobbing. “Molly’s dead, you fucking joker! She’s dead!” I screamed, and waves and waves of ecstasy gripped my loins. I grabbed some coke and drew a small line on his nose, and then I snorted. Fuck yeah! Aaaargh! Just one week before the missus gets back! I need more time with Binky! I have to make a way!
So, I’m an artist in my free time, you see. I take these sepia photographs of caves and eerie places, but I’ve always felt that they lacked something. I get it now. It’s the damn clown! I need him for my art. It’ll be fantastic to get him to grip his bollocks, while he pukes on a broken table in a ramshackle house.
That’ll give my art the distressing effect it’s missing. I need to get him hammered, and then take him to that empty Baker’s house and bugger him over the table, before smashing it and kicking him in the balls and guts. Fuck yeah! Fuck! I’m twenty!
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2019)