Lifestyles and Tribulations of a Caterpillar

The words were an inaudible drone in a supposedly understandable language. Each word devoid of emotion, each word degenerated to a cold collection of letters. The middle aged man, paunch with a gut that was ill-hidden by a dull green sweater, spoke with little care, so much so his words slurred. He moved with a languor that even a sloth would be repulsed by, and with shoulders hunched he wrote numbers and drew crooked shapes on the black board. The fat man then opened his mouth revealing yellow teeth and a tongue covered in a thick yellow paste, he then let loose more of his foreign babble.

“sedoma astrogabam teleisonaf….”

The boy stared at the man blankly. He had the side of his head resting on his arm, and the rest of his body firmly slouched on a desk. He stared at the fat man’s peculiar features, particularly at the old man’s red nose and how it contrasted with the pale face, also how it neatly sat on a bushy caterpillar like moustache. The more he stared the more the moustache seemed to come alive, as if it was alive.

The boy noticed that the bushy beast started to shake ever so slightly, as if it was awakening from a slumber. Then suddenly it wriggled its self to wake up. The boy was shocked but his face didn't show it. He continued to watch intently as the insect let of a yawn and then a few expletives, in a voice that was squeaky to a human’s ear but deep and Barry White like to a caterpillar’s. The caterpillar was suddenly alive with energy crawling around the fat man’s face with an enviable freedom. It crawled to one ear and entered it to then come out of the other. It then crawled up to the top of the fat man’s thinning head, and then rolled down to the chin giggling in its Barry White caterpillar voice. The furry beast then crawled up to the fat man’s face, past the fat man’s nose, which he gave a middle finger to, and then to the eyebrows.

The eyebrows were just as bushy and even somehow contained crumb remnants of the fat man’s breakfast. The caterpillar then suddenly jumped on top of an eye brow and began to ferociously mate with it. With each thrust it let of a wild squeak. This went on for 10 seconds, which is 30 seconds in caterpillar years. Disappointed with the services provided by the eyebrow the caterpillar slapped the eyebrow on what seemed to be the arse and then did a running jump off the fat man’s nose. The horny bug landed next to the fat man’s worn out brown loafers, which had an ominous smell of egg, dog poo and a hint of vinegar. It acrobatically landed in a ball and rolled a few feet and then uncurled onto its back.

The boy’s eyes followed the critter with bemusement, he watched closely as the little insect tried to roll and get onto its back, and each time it failed. The boy was enthralled, so much so he failed to notice the blood supply to his arm being cut off by his rested head. A mild sense of pins and needles was going to be the order of the day. Finally with one last push the caterpillar was able to roll itself back on to its front. It followed with a few seconds of wheezing and coughing out phlegm. After the whole ordeal was over it adjusted its crotch region and headed over towards a desk populated by a girl who looked equally as bored as the boy. This girl was a thing of beauty, the Holy Grail of teenage wet dreams. With legs that defied physics because they never-ended, an arse so plump and juicy that Sir Mix-alot would cower in awe, and two breasts that were so perfect that they attainted sentient consciousness and occasional conversed about abstract poetry.

As the multi-legged fiend waddled towards the damsel he whistled the Great Escape. The boy was forced to move his head a centimetre to see, an action that almost required too much effort. The furry critter then jumped onto the girl’s sandaled foot and pulled its self up the manicured toes. There was no horrendous odour belonging to this foot, for this foot was the foot of a Goddess who created many a tent in young boy’s pants, so it had to of smelt nice. The horny creature then slowly climbed the leg that was so smooth it would make baby’s bottoms cry in envy. The lustful insectoid carried on up and up and up, till it reached the edge of the girl’s denim mini skirt. It then slowly turned and looked at the boy and gave a menacing laugh, kissed the girl’s thigh and then made a gesture that conveyed an all too true message that the boy was a wanker. The boy just carried on staring without showing any emotion but on the inside he was hurt, because he knew the caterpillar was about to embark on an adventure that he’d kill for.

“CAYDSIAL! GOSSDAVAB! YATSFAB!”

The boy quickly sat up and looked at the fat man who was frothing at the mouth and staring at him. He looked around at all the other bored young faces that were at looking at the scene. He then turned to look at the fat man with the look of a terrified deer that was stuck in front of a moving car’s head lights.

“Toghat! Igias what is the answer to gobaligook!” The teacher became more livid, and one with a keen perception could see he was perking up with sadistic excitement, some might even say it was sexual.He then raised his voice into a patronising tone that only a teacher could master.

“Louis. What would the radius be for question two? Are you even listening? Pay some bloody attention! Now please tell me what the radius is?!”The boy just looked dumbfounded and swore under his breath. As he gawked at the teacher he could have sworn he saw the caterpillar on the teacher’s face wink at him.

This is How I Roll

An old story of mine.

“I fought in Nam so fuck you!” a tall lanky ginger haired boy muttered.
“And I fought the gay black communist Jews in 92. Gaynus!” a short oriental boy replied. Then the oriental lad went and quickly grabbed the other boy’s nipple and squeezed. The victim yelped in pain from the nipple genocide. A quick kick to the shins was the swift response.
“Damn it. That fucking hurt you ass hole! Anyway Sir Charlie Dimmock what’s on the menu for tonight?” the oriental boy laughed out.
“Fuck you is on the menu. I am going to make tuna and pasta. Anyway I need to ask you...” Before Charlie could finish the sentence his friend began to childishly imitate him. He jutted out his jaw and spoke with the maturity and mannerisms of an autistic five year old.
“I am Charlie, I like tuna. I have a small penis”
“God! You’re such a dick! So can you...” Again he was interrupted but this time his friend started to jump up and down whilst doing the imitations. “I am Charlie I have a big nose. Look at my big nose!” A solid punch to the spine was the just retribution. The oriental boy clutched his back in pain and manically laughed.
“Okay, okay dude. What do you want to say?” Mr Dimmock just stared at the other boy for a few seconds , thinking whether his friend would interrupt again. “We need to sort the bills out before I leave young Mr Done.” Both boys were silent, only the humming of a fridge, and the hyena like laughter of teenagers from outside were the only noise to be made. Mr Done just looked down for a brief second then fixed his gaze to an adjacent wall and muttered “Yeah. We can do that some other time.”

Then he quickly lashed out and pinched Charlie’s nipple again, only this time it was the type of nipple twist that would make a S&M fanatic wince in pain. “You fucking chimponaught!...Anyway lets watch telly, I think Southpark is on.” Both boys headed to the living room. It was Spartan and tidy in appearance but the odd eccentricity dotted it, adding life to such a dull abode. A blown up inflatable sheep stood in one corner, whilst a signed picture of Jesus was pinned up on the wall along with a drawing of 3 old men in an orgy, and scattered magazines like The Economist were left about almost bringing such a den a tiny bit of credibility. Charles Dimmocky Dimmock went to one of the ripped leather chairs and sprawled his lanky arms and legs all over and moaned in pleasure whilst Mr Done went over to the TV to switch on the infernal device. He stood next to it balancing on one foot trying to switch the power on with his toe, unable to bend over due to his severe case of apathy. The channels were flicked through, and through, each channel delivering a different response.

“Fucking hell she’s one fat bitch. Stop eating fatty fat fat!”
“How can anyone like music like that? It has no meaning! Kerrang is full of fucking commericialised emos now.”
“Man I would so rag the shit out of her. And then jizz in her hair just to piss her off.”
“Oi dick head I was watching that, I like Jonathan Ross!”
“Fuck Jonathan Ross and fuck everything you love and fuck you for liking him. Finally some Southpark!”
Mr Done went back to the sofa and jumped on to it and stretched out. The living room was filled with sporadic laughs for the next thirty minutes. As the show finished Mr Done slowly got up and let loose a belch and fart, each with their own distinctive pitch and sulphury smell.
“Well I am off to bed. I am so fucking tired. So fucking can’t be arsed with work tomorrow man. Fuck’s sake. Anyway night man,” Mr Done moaned whilst excreting even more bodily gasses. “Okay. I am going to go cook. Night” the Charlie Charles replied. The dark haired boy lethargically dragged himself up the stairs to his room whilst his big nosed friend headed to the kitchen.
Now all was quiet in the household, with the only noise being the occasional creek of door hinges and deep sighs from the young men. Suddenly a loud piercing sharp beeping from the smoke alarm was heard throughout the house and roars of cheers immediately followed after. Cheers that were akin to when yobs spotted someone dropping a pint glass in a bar. As the smoke alarm eventually switched off the shouts subsided and the house returned to its lonesome silence.