Eat Your Fuckin Cake!

Bruce came out and began babbling about forgiveness being most important in the eyes of God. I almost thought that he knew I was in the audience. I didn't once hear the seventh commandment mentioned though. We sang a few tunes about Jesus, and then the plates were passed around.

I knew that when the plates were gathered, they were delivered to Robert at the audio/video console. He would count the money during the sermon so that Anne, the church secretary, could deposit the money on her way home from services.

About ten minutes after the offering, we reached the part I had been waiting for. Bruce says a prayer welcoming all newcomers into the house of God. Then he asked that all of the guests attending please come forward and introduce themselves. My three "guests" all stood from their various positions around the congregation and went to the pulpit. The little fucker next to me started to tell me to go, but his mom stifled him instantly with a pop to the back of the head, I had to chuckle.

Bruce shook hands with each and asked them to introduce themselves. A young brunette spoke first. "I am here to see Cheryl Harris." Cheryl, looking puzzled came forward as the brunette handed the mike to a pimply faced red haired kid.

"I'm here to see Robin Ericson," he said. Robin came down and joined Cheryl in front of the three. Pimples handed the mike to their boss's son Neil Young.

"Bruce Harris, Cheryl Harris, and Robin Ericson, you have all three been served." With that the three simultaneously pushed documents into the astonished lovers' hands. At that point Bruce got his microphone back and asked "Why have you defiled my sanctuary this way?"

As if on cue, Robert streamed the video clip that I had carefully edited to protect my disgusting neighbors, on the bid projection screen behind the pulpit. The image of Bruce, Cheryl and Robin writhing naked around the patio was larger than life in front of the congregation. I saw four or five old biddies reaching for their Jitterbugs and I knew the cops would be here soon. One old lady approached Bruce and wracked his nuts with her cane.

At some point during the melee, Robin read her paper and let loose a blood curdling scream. I was headed for the door and turned to see who was murdering her ass. Unfortunately, both she and Bruce saw me and she came running. Bruce couldn't have run if the Nazis had been coming to toss his ass into an oven. I spun for the door to only be met by a pig who must have been at the donut shop across the street.

Days later after all of the dust had died down and the DA had refused to file charges against me, Bruce had the privacy fence installed that his restraining order against me required. Sure, I wasn't allowed anywhere near his church, except on city business, but he wasn't allowed to harass me either. Even better, Robin was included in the order and only allowed to contact me through Burt Young.

Sonny Bono, our assistant DA had even chuckled a bit when I told him how I had slipped the USB stick into the collection plate for Robert to find. Bruce had been screaming for me to be charged with trespassing, but since it was a public service he didn't get far with his squawking. Robert was relieved of his duties, but due to Bruce not wanting any more publicity, he didn't say a word when Robert took a job at the Presbyterian Church across town.

Burt Young called me two days later to inform me that we'd go before "The Honorable" Sonia Kagen in two weeks to begin proceedings. "She can be a real ball buster. She tends to give the wife more leeway than the husband, but since you already own the house there's not too many ways she can screw you. She always gives alimony to cheaters though, which makes me a bit nervous."

My immediate supervisor is a kid just out of college. I pretty much call the shots in my quad since he never over-rides me. He knows I know the shit and leaves it at that. The supervisor of two other quads are easy going but don't let their foremen have as much control, but they'll get out there and work with their crews. It's best if my supervisor stays in his office.

Marvin Taylor is the supervisor for the worst quad in town. He neither gives his leads any reign. Nor does he help his crews. Marvin is one of those guys you just walk the other way if you see him coming. Dick is probably the best term for him. Most guys say they'd rather pull their ball hair out with pliers than spend five minutes talking to Marvin. Most of us believe he caught some member of city council sexing up their dog, or he was the mayor's gay lover, and that's how he has managed to keep his job this long.

Luckily I rarely saw Marvin. Every great once in a while he'd actually see me in my office when he had nothing going on and stop in. Today he obviously had nothing pressing and graced me with his presence. I knew that if he managed to have a five minute conversation and not say anything racist and/or sexist, it would snow five feet tomorrow, even though the Fourth of July was only a week away.

"So Jackie boy, I hear tale that you are getting as divorce. What happened, she catch you with your schlong in the cat's poop chute?"

I wasn't about to tell this fuckstick the truth. "No, I just got tired of her shit."

"Do you have a judge yet?"

"Yeah, Judge Kagen is hearing the case."

"That horrifying cunt? She fucked my boy royally in his divorce. Gave that nigger lovin' whore he married the house and the kids, and Jeff get to pay for both. I hope you have a good attorney Jack. Jeff went in with some kike he found in the free ads."

I wondered if Marvin ever thought about the shit he spewed. He managed to defile two races in one fell swoop. I wondered if he ever talked this way in front of Jimmy Raines. Jimmy was Marvin's foreman, and was 6' 5", 240 pounds and African American. Jimmy had played linebacker for the New York Giants and on the surface appeared as if he would kill you for looking at him.

I learned however, that after a beer or two, Jimmy was a fucking riot! One evening we were at Mawby's and had been drinking for at least three hours. Each time one of a group of five frat boys would approach the bathroom, Jimmy would get up and haul ass in there; eye-balling the frat boy all the way. They finally left without ever going to the head. Jimmy thought it was fucking hilarious. Zeke the bar tender, who was 6 foot five and went 320, politely asked Jimmy to "stop fucking with the college queers" and told us that our next pitcher was on him.

Jimmy was a great guy, but I have my doubts he'd find humor in Marvin's rampant use of the "N" word. It was Jimmy that saved me from Marvin's further bullshit by appearing and telling him that they needed to get out to the site where his most inept crew, they were all inept because once guys realized what a jerk off Marvin was they transferred or quit, were replacing a storm sewer drain. As Marvin and Jimmy moved on down the hall I said a quiet prayer of thanks for Jimmy and his timely appearance.

In two weeks I'd be in front of "that horrifying cunt" and I doubted Jimmy could put in an appearance and get me out of that one. "But hey," I thought to myself, "Maybe it won't be all that bad."

"What the fuck hind of stupid commie pinko bullshit is this?"

On the bench in her black robe judge Sonya Kagen sat un-flinching as a torrent of filth erupted from me. This stupid bitch had actually ordered my stupid soon-to-be-ex-whore's request for couple's counseling to be undertaken. When I had stated I wouldn't go she threatened me with jail. I turned to Burt "Come on mother fucker! You gottta tell this bitch that the therapy shit ain't flyin.'" I looked at the judge and said "I just want to be rid of this skanky cunt and her preacher fuck pals there." Bruce hung his head as if he wanted to disappear. Cheryl was pissed off and if looks could kill I'd have been on my way to St. Peter long before that particular speech.

Burt had subpoenaed the Harris' as material witnesses. They had fought it only to be threatened with a "failure to appear" charge if they didn't show. Their congregation had already dwindled to the point that Bruce's two Sunday services for 150 or so parishioners had become one service for ten who either couldn't find another church or just went to see if an orgy might occur, and three representatives from the main church in Denver planning to get a new parson in to replace Bruce. The once proud choir of 20 was now Cheryl, Robin and old Charles Brown.

The organist had quit so they had canned hymnal music for the three stooges to caterwaul to. I laughed anytime I thought of Bruce's once proud church being taken from him and handed to a more capable rector. I turned to Bruce and pointed, "You, you pious cocksucker. You have got to be..."

BANG BANGBANGBANGBANG

The pounding gavel shook the room. I turned to see one furious bitch glaring at me from the bench.

"One more outburst from you Mr. Ericson and I will hold you in contempt of court!" The judge's face was a bright shade of red. I had to stifle a chuckle at her almost comic expression. She turned to Burt who shrank back as if about to be hit. "Mr. Young I strongly advise that you get a rein on your client."

Burt turned to me and said, "Come on Jack. You better get control of yourself or you'll end up in jail rather than moving on."

I let out a deep breath and spoke. As my mouth opened I could feel the tension in the room. No one knew what was going to fly out of my mouth next. "Your honor, I will attend the therapy sessions as you have ordered. But I'd rather you didn't waste anyone's money on this farce. Especially mine! I will attend as I stated before but there is no hope of reconciliation with that wh..I mean my ex-wife."

Robin burst into tears and the judge and Burt looked relieved. The stenographer however seemed to be disappointed. I heard a stifled giggle and looked back to see Brenda McBain in the gallery watching intently.

"I do order marriage counseling Mr. Ericson. You ARE ordered to attend and pay for no less than four sessions with a court appointed therapist."

I saw Burt wince as she said that. "Fuck." I said hopefully not loud enough to be heard by the bitch in the black robe.

"What was that Mr. Ericson?" I turned ready to let the bitch know just what I said and what I meant by it when Burt grabbed me and sat me down.

"My client," said Burt as he did, "Your honor, my client and I can't comprehend why counseling has been ordered when Mr. Ericson has made it so colorfully clear," this drew a chuckle from the gallery, "that he has no interest in saving his marriage or spending time with Mrs. Ericson. He is further exasperated by having to pay for his counseling when all he wants is for his marriage to be dissolved so that he can move on with his life"

That fucking Burt sure knew how to lay the shit on thick.

"Mr. Young, I will allow weekly sessions so your client may be better informed within a month. Will that suit you?"

He fixed me with a glance, "Yes your honor. It suits my client just fine, although I would like to have the therapist office be made aware of the no contact orders."

The judge looked at her secretary and whispered something and got a nod from the secretary. "Okay then, we'll set the next hearing for one month." Burt and Robin's attorney went to the secretary's desk and whipped out their diaries. After a few minutes of pointing and shrugging, Burt retuned to our table and wrote the date and times for therapy and our next court date.

"You don't have to participate Jack, just show up and don't get violent."

Three days later I was sitting in Dr. Abby Landers' reception area, hoping that Robin would not come bee-bopping in at any time. I had arrived at the precise minute I was told to and still had been waiting twenty minutes when a door popped open and the receptionist told me to go through.

It dawned on me to wonder just then how this appointment had been set up so quickly. I knew people usually waited at least a month for the first appointment. I went in and was greeted, well, I'm not sure greeted would be the proper term for the welcome I received to Dr. Landers' office, but she did say "Hello."

"Jonathan Jacob Ericson the 2^nd. Would you prefer I call you John, Jonathan, or Jacob?"

'I prefer Jack, if it's all the same."

"Mr. Ericson I see you are the 2^nd, but no son is listed. Might I ask how this came to be?"

"My grandfather was John Jacob Ericson. My father is Laars Wilhelm Ericson, named for his grandfather. Dad didn't want to hang Laars Jr. on me so he opted to name me for grandpa."

"Interesting. So I now think I can see a pattern of macho behavior stemming from generations back."

I tried to control my temper, but this bitch already had her blame face on. She started rambling on about how men in general still held on to archaic ideals about owning their women. My mind went to a better place as she prattled on. I was murdering this old bag in as many ways as my mind could conceive. I almost asked her if the last time she had sex were there cars, or did she suck cock on horseback.

After a while, she looked at her watch and buzzed her secretary. "Send her in Laura."

A buzz came from a door across from the one I came through, and it opened to reveal Robin. She was dressed in a blue mid length skirt I had bought her and a sheer white top. She wore six inch heels that accentuated her legs and made them not look so knobby. "Brenda would look fucking hot in that outfit."I thought to myself, and then screaming out of the other side of my brain, "Where the fuck did that come from?"

I had never had a truly sexual thought about Brenda McBain in the entire time I had known her. So where was thinking like that coming from? I suddenly realized that Hekyll and Jekyll were staring at me, so I shrugged of the thought and said, "Huh?"

Dr. Landers said, "I said, I think we'll let Mrs. Ericson go..."

"Her name is Robin Mayer. Do NOT refer to her as Mrs. Ericson again."

"Oh, touchy subject I see. OK, Robin will go first."

I had noticed a change in Dr. Landers'demeanor since Robin walked in; but not towards me. The whole thing had the feel of a rehearsed show for my benefit. Robin didn't have tear one in her eye and the good doctor was offering her a tissue. Then as if the tissue was a cue, Robin began crying.

"Just take your time dear and share your feelings. Nothing you say in here will be wrong." Dr. Landers told her.

Robin sniffled once, then took a deep breath and sighed, and then began. "I have always loved this man. Ever since I first saw...." The psychobabble in the room was thick. She hit on all the cheating cunt key points.

First and foremost, "It's only sex." I wondered if she'd buy that horseshit from me if I'd been caught with my pickle in Rebekah Sanders' pickle jar. Becky was Robin's best friend in college. The night that Robin dumped Jim Smith for me, Becky hooked up with him. From that point on Becky has been known as the whore of all whores.

"Jack works a lot of hours sometimes, and I feel..."

Cheaters excuse Numero dos. "Feeling neglected or un-romanced. I don't know what the bullshit about my hours was. I worked from 7am 'til 4pm Monday through Friday. I had only been called away at night four times in the past year and a half.

"My first time with Bruce was all about curiosity. I had heard that Bruce had a larger than normal....."

Ah, skank point number three. Curiosity! How many worthless cum-dumpsters over the ages have used the excuse of "Wanting to know what a bigger cock felt like" or "how sex with a different man was" as an excuse to go grab some non-husband schlong? As she went on about that I recalled exactly how I had hooked up with her.

Homecoming meant more to some at Southern Colorado State than it did to others. Others went and supported the team, no matter how bad they got creamed. Most of us just knew that the parties were going to be out-fuckin-rageous. Willy Barnes' bon fire and drunken fest on the eastern prairie was no different than any other bash around town.

Willy was forty five years old, but held the bash on his uncle's ranch every homecoming without fail. The old pervert got off on the possibility of college and high school girls shucking their clothes and him getting to roam about and watch. Willy got arrested five years later when six girls complained that he raped them and charges stuck for three of them.

Homecoming of Robin's junior year was truly special as the Fighting Farmers actually won their game. Now half of the opposing team had stomach flu, but SCS won, and that was all that mattered. I wasn't a student, I worked for a living and hoped one day to afford some classes. I worked part time for the city, and part time as campus maintenance.

Since the team won, we were told we didn't have to clean up until Sunday morning so we could party and only clean the place up once instead of twice. My friend Jerry Barnes, Willy's cousin, invited me to the big do on the ranch that evening since we were free to get our freak on, Jerry's words, not mine.

By eleven o'clock I was fairly buzzed. About half of the crowd had disappeared even though the parking lot wasn't much emptier. A few cars were rocking but most seemed to be un-occupied. I figured since the barn and other buildings were likely full of fornicators as were the pastures, I was safe to throw a piss in the parking lot.

I walked out and stopped in front of a car that seemed to be un-occupied. I proceeded to whip my wang out and hose down the grill and front bumper. As I was stuffing Mr. Happy back into my drawers, I stumbled and bumped into the car. I started falling and braced myself by placing my hands on the hood. As I did the headlights came on and my dick was in the spotlight.

I couldn't tell much about the guy, but the little brunette who'd been sucking him off, eye-locked on my meat. I hollered out "Oops! Sorry!" and stuffed my prick back into my jeans and wandered back to the bon fire.

I had just opened another beer when I saw the blow job brunette from the parking lot. I move toward the other side of the fire so that she wouldn't notice me and point me out to anyone as "the drunk fuck that pissed on her trick's car". I was passing a group of frat boys that knew me and all had to shake my hand and tell me how much they loved me. Funny thing is only one of them who really knew me was a guy I gave a jump start to the past winter. As the guys were doing the drunk brother love thing, I felt a hand brush my ass. I spun to see the brunette walking away and wonder what had happened.

The next morning as I was dressing for work, I got my wallet out of the jeans I had worn to the party and felt something in the other hip pocket. I pulled it out and saw that it was a note.

"If you like what you saw as much as I liked what I saw,

call me at your earliest convenience...Robin"

A phone number was written at the bottom. I spent most of the day cleaning up debris from the celebratory students and wondering if the note was genuine. During my final break I decided to give the number a call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, May I speak to Robin?"

"She's not here, can I take a message?"

"Tell her the guy from the party called and he liked what he saw." I left my number and went back to work. I then wondered if I had left my number for some chick that wasn't the brunette. I might have been baited into dating the skankiest whore on campus, or the ugliest transvestite around for all I knew.

That evening as I was settling in to watch the Bronco game I had taped earlier, my phone rang. I picked it up without even looking to see who was calling. "Yeah?"

"I don't know your name, but I've seen your package." said this moderately gruff but feminine voice. I was thinking my number had been given to a tranny for sure. "Should I just call you Big Dick?"