Fill ‘er up!

“Hey!” The man came running out of the convenience store.

“Take your hands off my wife!”

“Huh?” the gas attendant said. “This is your wife?”

“YES she’s my wife! And … honey? Are you fuck―”

“Sorry, man. I thought she was your daughter. Not bad.”

“HEY! I TOLD YOU ...”

“Mmmm ...” The attendant took a deep breath, and sighed. “Okay, there you go.”

“There I go? What do you mean …”

“You said to fill ‘er up. Well, she’s all filled up now.”

“Why you … YOU …”

“There you go.” The attendant slapped her on the ass. “Hey … while you’re here, mister … do you guys need any gas?”

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,   Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Dyslexic Love

“Hey!” she said. “Get that thing out of my ass!”

“Oh, sorry.” He quickly slipped out her back door, and into her front.

“That’s better. What’s the matter with you? I told you I don’t do ...”

“I know, I know. It’s my dyslexia.”

“Your what?”

“My dyslexia … you know, how I see numbers and letters switched around?”

“Yeah? That puts your dick in my ass?”

“Well, when you lay on your side like this … I guess I got your A-hole mixed up with your F-hole.”

She started laughing.

“What’s so funny? I’m trying to—”

“I just can’t believe you got mixed up. You’re my A-hole, honey.”

“Oh oh,” he said, picking up the pace. “Them’ s fucking words. And you know, I think I feel my dyslexia coming back on ...”

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,   Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Wise Ass Crackers

Thank you, history, for the orgy of wise words you’ve kept for us, stowed deep and wide in your voluminous anals.

Wisdom (like knowing how to spell ‘annals’) is always a precious commodity … especially these days, when we’re bereft of common sense.

If you can’t have common sense, you might as well at least have some wisdom.

It’s like wearing a mini skirt without panties, on a windy day.

You’re essentially exposed and vulnerable ... but even a just a little rustling fabric might still be enough to keep your ass from getting sunburned.

Something’s better than nothing.

Now, wise as these wise old words, bestowed upon us by wise old Crackers, are …

(these guys are so old they’re dead, folks—and ‘Crackers’ because they’re whiter than Moby Dick—with the exception of Jesus Christ and whoever else probably wasn’t white)

… they’re always ripe for a fresh look, and a little spit and polish. Looking under all those old rocks gives us the opportunity to search for the deeper (read that ‘salacious’) meanings in what may appear, at first glance, to be a relatively sanitary selection of sayings.

Let’s show them the disrespect you’ve come to expect, and have our way with yesterday.

I see their asses are in the air—let’s jump right in.

There’s an old Latin Proverb that informs, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” Now, to this I may take exception: I’m much more interested in getting my bird into that bush, than I am standing around here holding it in my hand.

And an old English Proverb tells us, “A good example is the best semen.” Yeah? A good example of what? Something that dries like crazy glue? Oh, the proverb actually says, “A good example is the best sermon.” Sorry—that was my bad Freudian slip.

A Greek Proverb tells us, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Well, with good luck, you’ll get up close enough to get a little shot of beauty in your eye.

And while we’re on beauty, I should note Sir Thomas Overbury’s contribution, “Beauty is only skin deep.” Fortunately, from what I’ve found, the skin actually goes quite deep, and it’s very moist, and beautiful all the way in.

Jesus Christ is said to have said, “It is better to give than to receive.” Clearly, what Jesus had in mind when dispensing this wisdom, was a prison-style forced-entry shafting. And to that, truer words have never been said.

But if you do end up on the wrong side of such a rough rump wrangling, just remember, as John Heywood wrote, “A hard beginning maketh a good ending”. Hey, you never know.

Also attributed to Mr. Haywood is the gem, “Many hands make light work.” - which happens to make complete sense to me. Ladies, take note – and take hold. Light work and light jerk. Stroke away, stroke away.

According to Abraham Maslow, “If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.” I’m not sure about that, but I do know that when you come across something to nail, you better hit it, while you can. And in this case, it’s perfectly acceptable if you bend the nail over.

Thomas Chandler Haliburton wrote that "Life isn't all beer and skittles.” I’m just blown away that he had the prescience to write it more than 100 years before anyone had ever heard of the fruity chewy candy. The man was cavities before his time.

William Shakespeare penned the line, “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.” - but an older Roman Proverb instructed us, “Better late than never.” Apparently, Mr. Proverb was not the premature ejaculator that Shakespeare was.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” This little pearl of wisdom comes to us by way of St. Jerome, about 400 AD. And it occurs to me that the truth of the statement has much broader application that just looking into gift horse mouths. How about, “Don’t punch a gift horse in the mouth”? That is, unless the son-of-a-bitch really asks for it. And “Never fuck a gift horse in the mouth.” If you need an explanation why ... then you don’t deserve an explanation, Sugarcube.

Longfellow informed us that, “If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it.” Personally, I’ve always found that the best way to hit the mark is to slide right into it. Repeatedly. You’d think a guy they called Longfellow would have had the wherewithal to probe a little deeper.

Although he also wrote, “Into every life a little rain must fall.” So, the big guy must have been doing something right.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote that, “The reward of a thing well done, is to have done it.” Unless you’re not careful in the bedroom; then the reward might be parenthood, or some other sexually transmitted disease. In that case, the words of Samuel Lover ring true. “Better to be safe than sorry.” Indeed.

And according to Ben Franklin, “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Wise as that is, I would expand on that to say, “Early to bed and then sleeping late, gives you more time, to copulate.” Or “... more time to violate your mate”? “... something, something, masturbate”? You get the idea. I’m sure Mister Franklin would be on board.

Speaking of (or rather, writing of) being ‘on board’, our expedition here has reached its conclusion.

Come now, it’s time to get off.

Like that mini skirt without panties on a windy day, it’s been hard for me to look away—and I hope it has been for you too.

And thank you, wise old Crackers, for the word-orgy.

I’m ready for a drink and a smoke.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

PS. If you have an interesting take on some wise old words, I’m willing to entertain your contribution.

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

The Small Ball Steroid League

Been propositioned lately?

Well, do I have an indecent proposal for you. It has to do with balls and sweat … and drugs … and cheating.

Asses getting whipped … and people getting screwed.

In other words, we’re discussing a few of your favorite things.

And not only that, but my idea solves a problem.

Just what the hell kind of problem would that be?

The use of performance improving substances, in sports.

And just how the hell is that a problem?

It’s no problem at all … if you’re on the juice, and winning. But if you’re squeaky-clean and losing, then you’re probably thinking the performance improving stuff is pretty un-fucking-fair.

It’s the same way those of us with natural hard-ons feel about the fake boner bozos popping pills to stiffen-up their otherwise limp noodles. Just leave the girls to us, guys … they want the real thing.

Which is exactly what we want in sports. But, in sports, the ‘real thing’ is the big show – a major spectacle. We tune in to see something we’ve never seen before.

That means more home runs … more baskets … more touchdowns … more speed. We want harder hits and harder competition than the last time, every time.

And it’s not fair to tie the athletes’ hands when they’re trying to bring us that.

I say, performance improving substances should take their rightful place in sport, right next to training hard, taking your vitamins, saying your prayers … fat contracts … and illegitimate children.

Because at the professional level, all sports are extreme sports. They don’t relate at all to what we weekend warrior amateurs do, except maybe the rules, and the balls.

That’s why I’m proposing a new league … a winners’ league … The Small Ball Steroid League.

We will eschew no drugs, and encourage anything that works. (We’re down with the Cold War era East Germans on this. No guts, no glory … comrades.)

All the other stuff, we’ll leave to the clean-weenies and purists. They can piss in cups all day long, for all we care.

Try not to spill any on you, okay guys?

If we do any drug testing at all, it will be to ensure that the athletes are taking them. This is the premier league, after all … we can’t have anyone slacking off.

Like mom always says, “You can’t push the envelope … on an empty syringe”. Words to live by.

And judging by mom’s squared-off, whiskered jaw – and weightlifting titles – she knows whereof she speaks.

Records are made to be broken, and we’re out to smash the shit out of them.

Allow me to clarify one thing, though: I’m not talking about drug abuse, here. Taking drugs is what drugs are for. Letting them collect dust on a shelf is drug abuse.

There will be none of that in The Small Ball Steroid League.

Besides the unabashed use of anything and everything that increases athletic performance, the League will have some other interesting features, beginning with the selection of sport the League will be sanctioning.

And which sport will that be?

All of them.

Well, there I may have exaggerated a bit. I meant to say ... most of them.

The Small Ball Steroid League will be multi-sport. That is, it will include any sport where a juice-head athlete is at an advantage.

Obviously, such high profile sports as baseball, football, track and field, and cycling have been dominated by drug-improved athletes for decades, their locker rooms long populated with raisin-like deflated testicles, and skin you’d need a moon rover to cross. Not to mention, men who are sopranos, and manly women who sound like Barry White.

They’re all included.

But the League is not stopping there; we’re going to reach out to some other sports that could use some toughening up, too.

Like chess. Yes, chess. That nerd on the other side of the board is really going to think twice about beating your stupid ass if he thinks your ‘roid rage is going to pop him in the nose if he does. What do you think of that, genius?

And then there’s fishing. Sport fisherman are just biting for performance improving substances. You can never have too much muscle when you’re trying to wrestle Jaws into the fucking boat. I know that fishing already has its traditional performance enhancements – usually alcohol based – but there’s also the Popeye tradition. You see, on camera, he ate spinach, and then laid the smackdown. But unseen, off-camera, was a stage hand, jabbing the hot needle into Popeye’s bony butt. And while it must be acknowledged that Popeye was a sailor-man, and not a fisher-man, kicking ass on a boat is kicking ass on a boat. Just ask the Navy.

How about golf? Those golfers could sure use some help – they can’t even carry their own shit! Most of them look like they’re going to drop dead before they even hit the caddy shack. Our Small Ball Steroid League golfers will be able to hit the greens pulling a train of golf carts with a rope, à la World’s Strongest Man competition, and fire their balls off the tee with the oomph of a freakin’ Howitzer. (Their ‘golf’ balls, that is.)

Horse racing would be a good candidate for inclusion. I know … I know … they’ve been injecting horses with shit for years. I’m talking about the riders. I understand that conventional wisdom dictates jockeys should be small and light, so bigger, stronger riders would be counterproductive. But my unconventional wisdom says that if a jacked jockey could jump off his racing horse and give him a big turbo-push … well, that would be productive as a fuck.

And then, there’s motorsports. I can definitely see a place for ‘roid rage in sports where you drive stuff. Those guys (and girls) are already aggressive, as it is. But with a little extra chemical shot in the ass? We’ll be looking at Deathrace 2000, all season long. Now that’s putting on a show!

As an aside, I always thought it would be fun if the NASCAR drivers were required to drink a six pack and smoke a joint at each pit stop. Wait - this is NASCAR – better make it moonshine and crystal meth.

Which brings me to my my final point. We all know, a good many of these warriors party just as hard off the field, as they play on the field. And when you add performance improving substances, to the recreation improving substances … the resulting crazy shit is going to be tabloid gold.

Which happens to be as good as gold for promotional purposes – which in turn, happens to fit very nicely into the League’s business model.

So, when you’re looking for unlimited sports performance, look to the The Small Ball Steroid League. We will, we will, rock you.

Wait – I almost forgot to mention … a special branch of our operation … for those without any balls. Ladies, this means you.

Because sometimes it’s not appropriate for female athletes to play with the men. Play sports with the men, I mean.

For those situations, the juiced-up jezebels need a division of their own.

We’ll call theirs The Enlarged Clitoris and Adam’s Apple League - where their square, stubbly jaws and manly muscles will be celebrated, and they’ll no longer need to endure embarrassing medical examinations of their horse-hung ticklebuttons, to confirm they don’t end at a peehole.

Sexual verification is such a degrading hoop to have to jump through … and we’ll be jumping through it no more.

Unless they want to be examined; I’m sure we’ll be able to scrape up some curious volunteers somewhere.

And that’s it, folks. Big numbers … big contracts … malformed genitalia … it’s The Small Ball Steroid League!

Join the movement – check your local listings for schedule and availability.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

PS. Is that a pickle in your panties, or are you just happy to see me?

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,  Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Santa and Mrs. Claus Interview, with Harlowe Pilgrim

Hello, this is Harlowe Pilgrim.

When my novel Jesus Vs. Santa wrapped, I conducted a series of interviews with some of its biggest players. The following is my interview with Santa and Mrs. Claus (also known as Kris and Jessica Kringle).

Pilgrim: Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus!  Welcome, it’s good to see you. Ho Ho Ho!

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! I think you stole my line there, Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Well, I’ve written it so many times ...

Mrs. Claus: I’ll say! Jesus Vs. Santa is full of Ho Ho Ho’s!

Santa: Full of Ho’s? Ho Ho Ho!

Pilgrim: (laughs) I think you mean …

Mrs. Claus: Yeah, the laughing kind of Ho Ho Ho’s—not the skanky streetwalking kind.

Pilgrim: I’m glad we got that straightened out.

Santa: Yeah, I thought I missed something there, for a minute. I was just about to re-read the book!

Pilgrim: Maybe you should—Jesus told me he edited a few things.

Mrs. Claus: He did?

Santa: Then I’m probably not reading it again. If he’s been fucking around with it, I probably don’t want to know how.

Mrs. Claus: Agreed. He probably doesn’t.

Pilgrim: So … now that you’re book stars, is life treating you any differently?

Santa: Don’t forget kid, we’ve appeared in lots of books over the years. But I have to say, ever since we appeared in Jesus Vs. Santa, my wife is sure getting a lot more interview requests. And requests for photo shoots. And video shoots. The adults only media seems particularly interested, for some reason.

Mrs. Claus: He says you made me a sex symbol, Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Whoa, that’s giving me a whole lot of credit I don’t deserve. At most, I helped expose you as a sex symbol.

Santa: That’s fair enough.

Pilgrim: I’d like to know how the world ever got the impression she was the old, grandmotherly type anyhow.

Mrs. Claus: I think it was all those other books, and the TV specials and things. I have tended to keep kind of a low profile over the years, so I bet they just went ahead and gave me an appearance that was age appropriate for Santa.

Santa: Age appropriate for Santa? Ho Ho Ho! That’s …

Mrs. Claus: Ridiculous, we know.

Pilgrim: That is not how Santa rolls.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Not so long as I can help it! I think I’ll stick with hot blondes.

Mrs. Claus: Ahem.

Santa: Hot blonde. That’s what I meant to say, Jessica Kringle.

Pilgrim: (laughs) So how about you, Santa? Has the book made you a sex symbol?

Santa: I’ve always been a sex symbol, Ho Ho Ho!

Mrs. Claus: Yeah, to himself. I doubt his sex symbol-ness has occurred to anyone else, though.

Santa: What do you mean? What woman wouldn’t want a piece of this?

Mrs. Claus: Um … most of them, besides me?

Pilgrim: (laughs) What a thing to say.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Yeah, ouch—that kind of hurt.

Mrs. Claus: Now, wouldn’t it be more cruel of me to foster your delusions?

Santa: Damn … now I’m delusional, too. Maybe fostering my delusions would be a little nicer.

Pilgrim: I find you sexy, Santa. If that makes you feel any better …

Santa: I hope you understand, it really doesn’t.

Mrs. Claus: I’m mostly kidding anyways, you nut.

Pilgrim: (laughs) I thought we all were.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Of course … I … was just kidding … the whole fucking time.

Pilgrim: We knew that.

Santa: Wait—so don’t really find me sexy, Harlowe?

Mrs. Claus: Ahem …

Pilgrim: Yes, well, moving right along …

Santa: Hey—are you two just trying to change the …?

Mrs. Claus: Subject? Who, us?

Pilgrim: Santa, we’re trying nothing of the sort. Frankly, I’m a little insulted. So, how about them elves?

Santa: The elves? What about them?

Pilgrim: They seem kind of … well, short, for starters.

Mrs. Claus: Yes. They’re elves.

Santa: Yup. That’s the stereotype—tiny little elves. That’s why they appear so small in the book.

Pilgrim: Aren’t they always that small?

Santa: Nope. Jesus Vs. Santa is chocked full of special effects, and those little buggers are one of ‘em.

Mrs. Claus: Kris …

Pilgrim: You mean to tell me and our audience that the elves were only small for the book?

Santa: Yup. It was all just book movie magic.

Mrs. Claus: Really, Kris …

Santa: It’s true. In real life, we’ve got some elves as tall as pro basketball players. And they can dunk with the best of them.

Pilgrim: Really? I had no …

Santa: Nah, not really, Ho Ho Ho! I was just fucking with you.

Pilgrim: Aw, you were?

Mrs. Claus: You took the bait, Harlowe.

Santa: You sure did, Ho Ho Ho! Sink, line, and hooker.

Pilgrim: Isn’t the phrase, ‘hook, line, and sinker’?

Santa: Well, maybe it is, but good luck getting a sinker to turn tricks for cash!

Mrs. Claus: Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming.

Santa: Which one coming? The hooker? Ho Ho Ho! Then she shouldn’t get money too, should she?

Pilgrim: Not really sure how that works, Santa.

Santa: You know who I ask all my whore questions, don’t you?

Mrs. Claus: Oh no …

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! That’s right—our little friend, Mary Magdalene.

Pilgrim: Mrs. Jesus Christ.

Mrs. Claus: I feel so bad when you guys rag on Mary for all the prostitute bullshit.

Santa: Come on, honey. We tease because we love.

Pilgrim: She seems to take it okay. And she gives as good as she gets, from what I’ve seen.

Santa: Not only that, but Jesus thinks it’s funny. How bad could it be, if the Prince of Peace is okay with it?

Mrs. Claus: You of all people should know the answer to that, Kris.

Pilgrim: That’s a hell of a point, actually. Don’t you remember the shit that happened in Jesus Vs. Santa? Maybe you should re-read the book.

Santa: Yeah, well some of that was kind of troubling … and unpleasant, but … Ho Ho Ho! A joke’s still a joke, right?

Pilgrim: (laughs) Yeah, I guess it is.

Mrs. Claus: (sighs) You guys are something else.

Santa: You are too, sweetie pie.

Pilgrim: Aw, shucks.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! I did not call you ‘sweetie pie’, kid. But I could go for some.

Mrs. Claus: Always.

Pilgrim: Well, on that note, I guess I’ll let you guys go. Thank you so much for coming in.

Santa: You’re welcome. Coming in was our pleasure.

Mrs. Claus: You’re such a pig, Kris. Bye Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Goodbye, guys.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2012

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,  Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

The Twins’ Panties

I used to date these twin sisters, and there was no way I could tell them apart with their panties on.

Actually, it didn’t matter whose underwear I was wearing - I still couldn’t tell them apart!

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,   Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim