Fearless – a serial web novel[spacer size=20]
Read from the beginning in Fearless – Chapter 1 – The Low down
Where Amy unloads and Marcy fails to understand the subtle goings about in dark alleys.
Chapter 6 Human needs
“Hand me the Doritos will you?” I said around a mouthful of ruffles as I held my hand out as far as it would go. I grabbed the bag when it was handed up to me and I filled my mouth again. I was deliciously stuffing my face.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the rustling of junk food bags alerted my stomach. Then when the smell of barbeque ruffles reached me my stomach started making noise. A second whiff, this one clearly identifiable as white cheddar popcorn hit me straight in the face and when I heard the metallic scrape, pop and sizzle from a can of carbonated nectar from heaven I was salivating heavily and near trembling with malnutrition. . I didn’t know I was hungry until I realized I must be starving. Then when Dinky fed me a handful of Smart-food I nearly climaxed as I choked on them. Consider that a Dinky handful was equivalent to three or more of my own handfuls. When finally I could breathe through my nose, still chewing frantically, tears of joy running down my face, little cheesy pieces of popped corn dribbling down my body, Dinky looked at me very seriously. He was pulling at his beard, frowning as he wiped off my messy face with a damp paper towel. How the paper had become damp I didn’t want to think about as I knew there was no access to water in the cell. Dinky hummed and rumbled.
“This is a bit…” He pulled at his beard again, smoothing it best he could. “Uncivilized actually.”
“You don’t say?” I wheezed. “I thought you might be into the food thing? I mean, licking chocolate off selected female parts, like whipped cream on other parts and all that.” I swallowed the last little piece and licked my lips. I opened my mouth wide, staring at the bag in Dinky’s hand. “…poorer” I uttered without the benefit of closing my lips first. Dinky was, swear to God, blushing. His eyes widened and for the first time he let his eyes glide over me from top to bottom, reddening more for each inch of my five foot three, ninety pound body. My repeated plea for more fell on deaf and very hot ears.
That is why I was presently hoisted six feet in the air with an enormous mass of black hair between my naked thighs, a can of cranberry cocktail balancing on a big hairy skull, happily crunching away on cool ranch Doritos in blissful ignorance of the world, listening with half an ear to Dinky’s life story.
Dinky was really a sweetie huge and ugly as he was. I learned, while sitting on his wide and quite comfortable shoulders, about his very first run in with female evil and his subsequent recurring nightmares about involuntary hardening of specific parts at inopportune moments. What pre-teen monsters of the female persuasion can say to an awkward thing as an equally pre-teen fast growing Dinky can not be described in words. They needed no fangs, no claws and no hard steel to bring a hormone confused pimple sprayed teenage giant to his knees in mortification and shameful weeping.
Trembling he let me hear of his first love, a third grade teacher named Mrs. Murray and her cleavage as well as about his fathers relentless lecturing about breeding horses, more specifically his fathers fascination with the process of animals of any type, as he called it, “crumbling cookies.” As I understand it Dinky’s Mother never did get her cookie crumbled after Dinky was made and at the divorce hearing her words were; “No, the bastard didn’t come to my bed again after I gave him his son.” The grape vine had it though that to her lawyer she added; “He couldn’t get it up even once after that. But I should not feel so bad I suppose as he slaughtered Bertha after her lambs popped and dear Martha never did get a second go at it after she calved.”
Dinky was an only child, despised by his mother, ignored by his father and adored by the gym teacher. That was the final straw that made Dinky leave home to never look back at the age of fifteen and a bit. Now, at the ripe old age of nearly thirty his pursuit of purpose in life and true love, or in any case a female that would be nice and not scream in terror at the sight of him, and a job that didn’t include so many numbers and letters continues.
Stuffed up to my armpits with junk food, leaning against the cool stone, I was quite content listening to Dinky’s rumbling voice and nearly dozed off a couple of times. But I had to take care of business very soon and the back of Dinky’s neck was in my way. I squirmed a bit and interrupted a tale of Tom, the stray cat he had saved and couldn’t get rid of, with a solid knuckle crack on the top of his head.
“What?” I squeezed my thighs to emphasize the importance of my need before I curled up as far as my bladder could tolerate and whispered in Dinky’s ear. I know I shouldn’t have done that. Dinky needs a bit of adjustment time when expected to assimilate a new, or sudden, or female related, thought into his life view.
In an instant dinky had both ducked down and at the same time jumped away from me. As he was turning around to stare at the accident he was sure had already happened at the back of his neck, I had just swung backwards, been straightened by gravity and banged both heels against the floor and had made a good start of a puddle beneath me. Before even trying to assess the damage to my feet, elbows and shoulders I decided to first and foremost finish my business even though it had not gone quite as I had hoped it would, and secondly although no less important that Dinky would pay for that one. I frowned down at the impromptu toilet I had just made and once I found stability under my feet I carefully stepped back against the wall, managing to avoid the mess. Dinky stood frozen a safe distance away, gaping. I sighed.
“You are such an idiot.” I grumbled.
“Sorry.” I sidestepped to avoid a tiny river of pee coming towards me. Of course the floor had to tilt the wrong way. Focusing on keeping my feet from anything that looked damp I didn’t hear Dinky break out of his trance until I caught a glimpse of boots suddenly appearing at the edge of the smelly puddle. Some mercy allowed the dirt to soak up the urine. I heard a choking cough and I looked up.
Dinky was holding a flimsy teeny weenie tissue between two fingers, offering it to me while trying to look somewhere other than on me and my accident. I thought for a moment, straightened up somewhat, finally feeling the pain in my abused joints and looked at the pathetic thing he was holding for me for a long moment. Finally I sighed and fixed him with what I hoped was a truly intimidating glare, totally wasted as he was watching what looked like a trashed cobweb in a corner, and tried to sound less aggravated. I don’t suppose I was very successful as he winced and backed away a step when I started talking.
“Dinky….” Here I had to pause and bite my tongue for a second or two. “We really need to talk.”