Mr.
Lee Harvey Oswald probably felt the same sense of pride over a goal
accomplished as I do right now, Pierce thought as he put his hands over
the face of his breathing canvas. “Rosy cheeks need god’s
designed glitter,” Pierce said as his fingertips slid his ejac
juice all over Beth’s cheeks. She smiled, as he played by
swirling the mass of his sperm around her eyebrows. His smile was wide
but still innocent like an eight year-old home alone for the first
time. Pierce’s hands continued to graze and hunt all over her
face, but his mind couldn’t break free from the thoughts of Lee
Harvey Oswald and the idea of accomplishments.
He couldn’t quite get past the feeling that it had to have felt
like a dream with a burnt crust of disappointment on the end of it for
Harvey Oswald to have to run away rather than bask in a job well
done. Pierce had pictured that Oswald had probably past the
stairs and made his way around the corner by the time the newly single
ex-wife of the Catholic President was holding her ex- husbands head.
Now that’s a grey area to contend with that makes you just want
to lie around all day. There no point in changing the world if you
can’t even enjoy your creation was Pierce’s final thought
on the matter.
Pierce had never had to deal with such a grey area. He always made sure
to give himself the chance to bask in his successes. His moment though
was almost done; his liquid center was almost fully rubbed into
Beth’s skin. Now he was just standing there enjoying the new feel
of her face while she knelt on the hotels drab carpet with her hands
kept to her side, as she had been told to do when he paid for her
services.
As the writer of this story I must confess my trouble with hookers. I
rarely know what to have them do besides the fuck and groans they are
paid to do. Now don’t misunderstand this interjection of myself
here; I’ve met hookers in my life, but due to my lack of a
developed hooker character Beth is going to just shut the fuck up.
Despite her lack of voice in this story Beth’s own name is
something to think about though. Beth’s name is not short for
Elizabeth; her mother hated the long form. She always thought the whole
name Elizabeth felt very rigged and plain like a white wall, but the
end part, Beth, was so beautiful and to the point, which was how Beth
ended up in regards to her personality and domineer. You couldn’t
miss Beth when you walked by her. Her eyes alone demanded to be
obsessed over for being so striking in a world of grey. And of course
when it came to business Beth was right to the point, just as Janice,
her mother, had intended her name to sound when said.
Pierce probably would have yelled out her name when he had painted her
face but he never caught her name during their transaction of business.
Pierce just yelled out, “I will defeat my machine,” when he
exploded with the shot heard round the $65 dollar hotel room. Beth took
it to her face and smiled, just as she was told to do. She didn’t
hear what Pierce yelled out during climax, because Beth was thinking
about how much she missed her mom.
Like a mathematical equation everything has its order, its been tested
by those who knew more despite being born into a barbaric time. This
was how Pierce saw his life, and mainly why he followed the routine of
his day. Pierce had become convinced that his life had been lived once
before, but by someone else and the one that lived it was successful by
keeping to a strict routine that could only result in success.
The barista at the coffee shop, next to Pierce’s office, had
strict instructions that were given to her typed and signed by Pierce
on his first visit to the Java Shop. The certified letter simply read,
“If I ever order a different drink and do not have correct change
for the drink and a thirty percent tip stab me in my heart. It will not
be the me you know. It will be a doppelganger from another
universe.” It’s finite routines like this that moved
Pierce to write his first best selling book: Success is a process perfected.
When the barista who coincidently ran the store read the letter she
just smiled and thought of something else as she put the extra foam on
Pierce’s drink as he had ordered.
Pierce’s first book was a collection of essays he had published
in business magazines, economic journals, coffee shop cup jackets and
political party papers from college. The book was called Giants Do Live Among Us;
everyone thought the title was a reference to giants being people who
are successful at working the corporate machine, but Pierce really did
believe true giants still do live among us, there not just in the bible
he would always think to himself as he would use a high powered
telescope to peer into his neighbor’s loft window. The thought
was simple. Giants are much older than us and use a magic older than
them, which enables them to be seen at regular height, but in truth
they are nine feet tall. One time Pierce told a hooker that giants are
just pacifist who know if we saw them in their true form a government
would make them fight in their wars for money and more footnotes in
history books. The hooker he told this to just smiled and said it made
sense, but the whole time she was just thinking about how she could get
the smell of Pierce’s juice off her skin. He dedicated the book
to her and in print thanked her for believing in him.
After leaving the $65 dollar a room hotel Pierce went back to the
office. He wanted to stop at the coffee shop, but he refrained as he
stopped in earlier at his pre-decided time. That coffee break was the
only one allowed in his daily routine. Upon sitting at his desk his
writing agent was on the phone line, he had called three times earlier
but Pierce had been busy at the hotel paying a woman to smile. Once
Pierce picked up the line his agent screamed into the phone from across
the country, “ It’s time for another book, and this one we
have to get the churches behind you as well.” The very expensive
agent kept talking and placing his book order. Pierce just smiled and
typed: I’m bored with this machine on his computer screen while thinking about a hooker he was in love with.