By
Harlowe
Pilgrim,
for The Shit Creek Times (All the News that’s Fit
to Shit)
Sex workers and the pimps who slap them were out in force today, protesting job losses due to the economy, sex toys, and as one of the protesters put it, “The march of fucking technology.”
It seems the purveyors of ‘The World’s Oldest Profession’ are suffering, right along with the rest of us.
“It’s all about job security for me,” said Harry Reamer, one of the protesting pimps. “That’s the reason I got into this racket in the first place. It sure wasn’t for the benefits. I mean, I got me some benefits …”
He gestured toward the girls standing around him, and flashed a gold-toothed smile. “… if you know what I mean. But I sure don’t got no health plan—I’ll tell you that right now.”
“The economy fucking sucks!” hollered one of Mr. Reamer’s girls. “Nobody’s got any fucking money to spend! I don’t mind being a cheap whore … but I shouldn’t have to give my ass away, should I?”
“No,” another hooker said, “you shouldn’t. And I’ll have you know, I haven’t finished one single blowjob in weeks.”
Asked to elaborate, she elaborated.
“I never charge to start a blowjob; only to finish them. And whenever I’m getting to that part of the show… the blokes are opting to go home and finish the job themselves! Can you imagine? That trick always used to be a slam dunk.”
“It’s technology,” Reamer informed us. “A dude can just put on some porn—usually for free—and stick his pickle into some rubber-lipped electric cocksucking time machine … and―”
“Harry,” one of the girls interrupted him, “they’re sex toys, not time machines.”
“They are too,” he said, raising his hand to slap her. “Mine, at home, has a fucking clock in it. And a goddamn radio.”
The girls looked aghast.
He put his hand back down.
“That’s right, I got a little toy collection of my own. What? You know pimpin’ ain’t easy. Come on, how am I supposed to afford your asses if you’re not making me any cash?”
“What I want to know,” a prostitute said, “is where is my BAILOUT? Everyone else is getting fucking bailed out … you know, our industry is just as green as any.”
“That’s right. Her pussy is completely green—it should totally qualify.”
“Are you talking about the trick I do with the sour apple lollipop?”
“No—I mean, it’s completely organic.”
“That’s true … I come very easy. Always have, since the first time I slide down a banister.”
“Not orgasmic … organic. Like, it’s all natural, not filling up landfills or polluting the air―”
“You noticed? Thank you … it’s so good to know all that douching hasn’t been for nothing.”
“Huh?” Mr. Reamer shook his head. “I’m always telling these bitches, men don’t give a shit about cleanliness. They’re pigs. I should know.”
When
the group was asked their thoughts about the future of their
industry, Reamer offered his thoughts.
“I think, my girls and me … we’re being phased out of society, you know? Pimps and prostitutes are going to have to find another line of work, if this shit keeps up. We can’t all go into politics, can we?”
###
Copyright
2014 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC
This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2014.
Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.
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