Chapter 4

Scrotie McBoogerballs showed up to his job at the porn store and like always he had to jerk off into a cup and give it to his boss before he clocked in. His boss poured the semen in his mouth, swished it around to savor its salty sour taste carefully taking in every accent, every intricacy of its flavor before gulping it down his inflamed lesion laden throat hole. After his boss farted in his face Scrotie counted the cash in the register and then went off to clean the peep show booths. He licked up all the day old cum stains on the walls and floors of the booths until they were entirely spotless. He then polished the inner lip and under the toilet seats of every moldy rusted out discolored yellowing toilet in every single bathroom stall. Using his tongue and lips he cleaned the men's room, the ladies' room and the super spiffy cissy room, all three were sufficiently soiled to reek like a dead bloated raccoon that rolled around in rotten shit for months before dying. There was even a moist, corn chunked mound of fuming fecal matter in the center of one of the stalls that Scrotie snarfed down. After he was done he went out onto the sales floor and burned every last copy of any film which had Sarah Jessica Parker or anyone that looked like that fabulously freakish mutant on it. Even the smuttiest smut peddler had standards and Sarah Jessica Parker's dog face did not belong on the cover of any porno flick. Scrotie gave a free rim job and scat session to every customer that walked in the store and as a result he had completely sold every single copy of "Cream Pie for the Straight Guy" that his store carried along with several documentaries about the life and times of creatures within Mr. Slaves ass. Scrotie was aroused with the thoughts of bestiality and making love to a lamb so when he had the chance he sampled the store's secret stash of sheep fucker videos all while eating a stale goat placenta with a side of unrolled human testicles that he found in a bag of medical waste behind the store. Another work day came and went. He needed a vacation, thought Scrotie as he laid down on his urine drenched mattress after a long day's lustful labor. He knew just the place he would go; Amsterdam was lovely this time of year and with such a permissive society to boot Scrotie could indulge all of his pleasures without the stares of startled stiff twats. Perhaps he should go, Scrotie told himself before dribbling fresh piss through his soiled mighty tighty whiteys to add to the growing moisture on his moldy bed beneath him.