The night was young, as was I.
Billy’s birthday party was a raving success; layered cake with rich frosting, pin the tail on the donkey, party favor bags with M&M’s, and Billy’s mother’s voluptuous breasts.
“Go ahead and squeeze them, big boy”
I did, only because I was instructed to do so. I was petrified of them. They were like two globes of electricity and I feared my hair would stand on end if I cupped them.
Life is hard for a 9 year old. One day you’re riding your bike on the dirt trails of central park, and the next you’re being seduced into playing spin the bottle with your best friends slutty mother at his own 10th birthday party.
Billy would know by the time he turned 18 that he will have no business ever trying to be my friend again.
My mouth was an airplane hangar and rather than peas, I was being feed the finger of Billy’s mom. My eyes were open like barn doors, and they were fixed on the bottle being inserted into her vagina.
“Are we still going to play spin the bottle?”
Her index finger was swirling about my tongue as she stared into my curious eyes. Meanwhile, I could here Billy playing his new Nintendo for the first time.
That poor son of a bitch had no idea that I was trumping him, eternally…..forever.
In my mental depositories, I stored her sick moanings and rubber tree smell emanating from that interesting hole of which I had never seen before.
I can almost still taste the bottle after being instructed to lick it profusely, and I’ll never forget how it felt to have my whole fist balled up inside of a woman. But the most memorable? I’ll cherish the look on Billy’s ripe face when I ruined his life.
‘Your momma is so dumb that she makes BLIND kids cry!! HAHAHAHHAAHA’
Said the ever clever Billy in the first round of insult bantering, between P.E. and 1st period math. He was upset about something that Donna Bixby said that she thought that she heard from Emily Mestlein a while ago. Emily Mestlein had four moles the size of dimes on her face and nobody usually believed her. The rumor was a shock to mine own ears. Nevertheless, Billy would undoubtedly take this to fisticuffs if he had to. It was obvious in his tone of voice.
So he attacked me with a collage of two of the lesser effective momma jokes, with the poorest of deliveries. This foul-up immediately classified him as ‘deserving’. I had been waiting for this:
‘Billy, it’s nice to finally talk to you again. It’s been a while; 8 years actually. Since your 10th birthday. Your flagship present was a Nintendo, which might have seemed pretty cool, but you were actually the last one in the world to get one. I had Mario Brothers beat 4 times over by the time you had even unwrapped the box. That’s how broke YOUR momma is.’
He and his friends broke out in uncontrollable laughter as I finished my ‘jabbing’ monologue. They belted out whistling ‘idiot’ and ‘dumbass’ comments, clutching their sides, having a fine time, but I hadn’t finished yet.
‘I hear that your brother is almost 7 and a half years old. Good for him, and your family. I’m sure he’s a really good kid and rarely gets in trouble. Want to know how I’d guess that? Well, It’s because I was the same way. I heard that he’s a really cute kid, with tightly placed freckles and tender cheeks. Would you like to know why I am not surprised? It’s because I too, am a really cute kid with freckles. Don’t be surprised if at some point in your life your brother creates opportunities that allow you to live a more desirable lifestyle. He’s a really smart kid, just like me. My point is; Billy, do you remember, in Mario Brothers, making it past level one for the first time? I certainly do, because it was about the same time that I was downstairs gawking at your mothers bare tits. She has a birthmark that looks like a goldfish cracker on her left one. Once you had reached level three I had begun playing spin the bottle. Your mother was doing most of the spinning. You might want to ask her about it. You must’ve been excited to turtle tip on level 6; I thought it just as exciting to be fucking your moms shaved pussy on your family’s couch…