Cock, The Roach

Chapter 1 – New Beginnings

"Good morning! Hey Randalf, where you dreaming about naked women again?"

"Wow, Sandra! Why are you walking around like that?"

"Like what? You're my big brother!"

"Whatever! I'm still a guy. Just put some clothes on already!"

"Get over it! All I'm trying to do is cheer up my sad, lonely, celibate big brother. Don't you feel lucky having such an awesome sister?"

Fresh out of the shower, Sandra's hair was matted, sticky, damp, stringy and packed. Her skin was youthful and luminous. Above her left breast was a tattoo with clean, fresh, pitch dark lines. Two koala bears hugged around a tree limb. Two floating banners said Melissa Stinger and Herbert Stinger each. A black bow was tied around the tree limb. The tiny branch above their heads had a small, round birdcage with the door wide open and two specks shaped like birds disappearing into the sky.

Randalf twisted in his twin sized bed onto his belly to hide his morning boner and reach for the wireframe glasses on the bed stand. In the process, he knocked the college admission slip for West Liberty College to the floor. Resting on his arm, he looked out of the window: Trees, grass, brownstone buildings, a few idle smokestacks, a bored stop sign at the intersection, and a drab, cloudy sky. Even the trees seemed to have grown with little aspiration, yet overly fattened by the rain.

Chapter 2 – Clique Nation

"This is Randalf. He's a-coming from up North," announced the white-browed journalism teacher of First Person Journalism 136. "There' good-uns here. You might can leave your forner habits behind. Have a seat next to Tricia."

Tricia was a black girl with a cheerleader outfit. In fact, her body was a little too narrow around the waist. Her thin body and perky cheeks would haven model perfect were it not for that waist that was sickeningly thin. Her three friends next to her in cheerleader uniforms had equally thin waists. It must have been a genetic mutation of people in the Appalachian Mountains. Tricia sneered her lips at Randalf and pulled her shoulders away.

The pudgy, mad-curly-haired Randalf shuffled his white Nike sneakers with white socks to the school desk and chair combination next to her and sat down. He sprawled out in the seat and slid his butt to the edge of the chair. Unable to help himself, he looked at Tricia's feet in the five inch red high heels with spaghetti straps. Her shins had a shine from lotion. He kept stealing glances at her every thirty seconds. Yet, the most distracting aspect of her was the scent. There was this sweet, honey like aroma in the air. Visions of colorful wildflowers invaded his concentration about a mother reporting about her childbearing experience.

Way in the back of the classroom was another clique: Four girls in baggy old clothing. Their hair hadn't been cut or combed. The hairstylist was probably scared away running. They kept eating throughout class. There was fur on their forearms. A general stink came from the back that made the waspy girls insist on opening a window.

Chapter 3 – Hallway Secrets

Randalf nearly ran into a spanking new brick wall. The mortar hadn't gotten worn to gray and greenish shimmer. Classroom 203 should have been only a corner away. Nobody was around anymore as the bell had rung five minutes ago. He stood on the outside staircase and looked at the wet lawn and the solitary elk cow who slowly chewed on a bite staring into nowhere. The quiet was so strong that he could hear a brown thrasher in the bushes across the lawn.

Retracing his steps to the first floor, he heard the sharp squeak of a running shoe on linoleum. Talking to someone outside would have been so much less embarrassing than interrupting a whole class with thirty eyes fastening at him following the motion of his lips up and down like eyes ping pong left and right at a tennis match. When he turned around the corner, he froze. He could feel that he wasn't supposed to see the scene. Five wasp-bodied cheerleaders with blond pony tails and pig tails in mini-skirt uniform circled around one of those chubby, black, tattoo totting grunge girls. Their skinny arms struggled with the much heavier and stronger grunge girl. It was like a pack of wolves circling, provoking, and blitz attacking a powerful bear in the middle.

The wasp girls struggled to pull the grunge girls arms overhead. Those hairy armpits were something – Rasta armpits! The tallest wasp girl got into a kick boxer stance. Bouncing on her feet with cocked fists, she jabbed at the armpits. After two punches, the demeanor of the grunge girl changed. Her body slackened. Her eyes looked like in trance. The wasp girls ordered the grunge girl to kiss their feet and praise them, "I'm not worthy." Without any hint of resistance or contempt, the grunge girl did it. The wasp girls got razors, scissors, and makeup out to groom the grunge girl and went to town. Randalf got a fire extinguisher and doused the wasp girls to pull away the grunge girl.

Chapter 4 – School Nurse

"You shouldn't have picked sides."

The nurse, white skirt and red cross on the cap, moved a white stick flashlight in and out of the grunge girl's eye. The pupil remained black and static. The iris lit up with a network of blood vessels. The grunge girl, eyes open, was unresponsive. The new haircut, even though it was only finished on one side and doused in white fire extinguisher foam, had a sharp peppy look. The makeup brought a beauty out that was surprising for such a chubby girl. There was energy in her cheeks. The sunspots had a friendly charm. The sharp edges of the eye liner gave her an air of urban sophistication. With her tattoos and dark clothing, she looked like a suicide girl. All in all, the wasp girls had done her a huge favor with the makeover.

"Did I really rescue her? She looks kind of hot now, and she stopped complaining."

The nurse lifted the grunge girl's right arm. There was a tennis ball sized swollen black and blue lump right beneath the freshly shaven armpit.

"Jenna has a genetic mutation that some Appalachian people have. There is an extra nerve plexus under her armpit. Strong pressure here can instantly trigger Stockholm Syndrome. She would have done anything up to jumping off the roof of a building. She'll have to sleep it off to be herself again. For her kind, looking clean is the equivalent of dumping trash on other people. Imagine having a two day old coffee and a rotten banana dumped on her you head. That's how she feels about a shaven armpit."

Chapter 5 – Fountain Tryst

A big splash of water sprayed Randalf's back. A fully clothed girl giggled and sat up in the fountain pool on which edge he was sitting. A big football player type ran in his jeans and sweater towards the fountain to jump, make a snow angel midair, and land next to the girl in the water. This was a West Liberty College tradition for freshmen. Randalf had been sitting here for the second day to appraise the ritual. He felt compelled to do it, yet having a friend to do it with would have made it that much easier.

Tricia and her gang were talking. He thought that they had looked over at him a few times. Yet, he didn't want to get his hopes up to have them crushed. That sure was a finger point at him, wasn't it? Tricia turned around to walk towards the fountain. Her gait had a pep that sent the cheerleader mini-skirt waving left and right. Her midriff was exposed with a pierced navel button. If you can't have them, there is no downside to them hating you for staring. With a stupid blissful grin, he took in the sight.

She hopped across his lap and put her arm around him. Her eyes were five inches from his. Reality was having a Matrix moment. Her brown eyes were even more beautiful this close. The intimate feeling of a kiss in the air was floating around. His brain gummed up. Her scent of honey and wildflowers, he never wanted to let go off and discover all the different wildflowers that made up the scent bouquet.

"I want you to feel my butt on your thigh. Feel how there is no mini-skirt between us, only two butt cheeks like juicy apples and a thong. I want you to remember to never fuck with us cheerleaders again!"

Randalf felt a sharp sting in his thigh and passed out.

Chapter 6 – Rescued Puppy

Something was choking in his throat. He tried to cough it out. He tried to force the fingers into his mouth. Firm hands pressed on his shoulder, "Don't fight it!" He opened his eyes. A male nurse was pushing down on him. A doctor in a white coat, Mr. Gumbersky on the name tag, was pulling a tracheal intubation tube out of his mouth. Randalf's throat felt very swollen. He could feel the flimsy fabric of a hospital gown that didn't reach around his butt.

"You've had an allergic reaction to a wasp sting."

"Dammit! I've had a chance at the hottest girl on my life. Randomly, she sits on my lap and squashes a wasp. Fuck my life!"

"No, she..."

"Stop! It's better if he thinks that's what happened."

Jenna was sitting on the hospital bed nearby. She was swinging her legs. Her rad hairstyle had been destroyed with matted tread locks. She looked happy and self-content.

"I'm on orphan as well. The school couldn't locate your parents. I've never met my parents. The other girls, we are living in a house together. You know, a mining town can wipe out an entire group of friends in a shaft collapse. Some people get super responsible when dealing with grief, and others get super irresponsible. Sometimes, I want to leave my friends to have a normal life. You know, go for a run in the morning, get a dog, and take a shower every day. Anyway, we are even now."

Chapter 7 – Chicken Dinner

"You are the worst sister!"

"Haha, you are all embarrassed. Look at your red cheeks. So adorable! Better brush your teeth! You never know!"

Sandra smirked at Randalf knowingly while he gnawed on his anger. The doorbell rang. Jenna stood there in baggy black pants, a black jacket two sizes too large, and some leaves stuck in her rasta hair. Sandra's eyes popped open as her gaze went from Jenna to Randalf. Randalf had a freshly shaven face, the smell of aftershave, slacks, a tie, and oiled hair.

"I told you she's into the grunge look."

They sat down at the dinner table with two sets of utensils for each plate and folded napkins. Jenna stopped Sandra from putting mashed potatoes on Jenna's plate. She said that she'd rather help herself. With that she got up, opened the cabinet door under the sink, and rummaged through the trashcan. She found the burned egg easy over from the morning and a molded lettuce leave.

"Oh, with coffee grounds, just how I like it!" she said with a big smile and started chomping down in front of the startled Sandra. "We are different. I get stomach pain from fresh food. It has to be a bit fermented. We have a sixth taste bud to which mold is delicious. And I'm going to fuck your brother after dessert, don't worry. Forners who don't know yet what we are offer the only chance we get to have sex with your kind."

Chapter 8 – Dragon Sleeper

Randalf poked the Saxony carpet in front of his bed with his toe. The bedroom door was closed. Jenna sat next to him still licking food from her fingers. The small room had instantly filled with her smell. There was the dozen times re-heated armpit stink, week old body odor, rotting hair aroma, and garbage breath. He was pretty sure that he could smell her pussy as well, something vile and deranged. His penis had crawled into his belly in terror. When she had taken off her sweater, the stink quotient had squared.

"I don't know how to tell you this. I'm just not feeling it. Raincheck?"

With a cautious smile, he dug to braise for the emotional impact of his missive. She reached her arm across his face, turned her palm to the back, and wrapped her arm around his neck. His nose slipped into her armpit. The nose rubbing the salt and dirt coating of her armpit reacted with a nuclear explosion in his head. In mad panic, he struggled with both hands against her. His feet flung around in mad rush panic. She cooly sat there because she had him in the dragon sleeper wrestling hold. All the exertion made him take a deep inhale of bitter, nasty armpit stink. There was something animalistic to it, something that pushed his reptile brain button, something arousing in being dirty, wild, and untamed. A throbbing boner sprang up. He tore off her clothes and ravaged her body. "At it, boy," she cooed to him.

When he fell back panting in deep exhaustion, she rolled out of bed to walk into the bathroom, "I'll freshen up." He leered after her hungrily. A cockroach crawled out under the door. That's embarrassing. A second cockroach followed it. Oops! A third ran across the floor. A flood of a hundred cockroaches ran amok!

Chapter 9 – Dirty Sweetheart

The plenty of sex helped Randalf acquire an appreciation of the human stink. Even making out after she had raided his dumpster had become a special treat he dangled in front of her. As every virgin is to his sweetheart, Randalf was hovering around Jenna. When Jenna received an F in the midterm of "Advanced Techniques of Photojournalism," he spotted the red F across the room and already got ready to console and nurture Jenna.

Jenna however talked with the professor and led him to his office. Randalf sat in front of the door waiting ready for his boyfriend duty. He heard something being knocked of a desk. A body was thrown against the wall. There was a beast like groan. There was Jenna's sex whimpering. Did she cry for sadness the same way she had sex? He had never seen her crying. There was hard pounding on the table. Jenna walked out with her t-shirt backwards and the paper in the hand. The F was crossed out and replaced with an A+.

"That's illegal use of pheromones! You broke the armistice! Arrest her!"

Tricia towered with her arms at the side and her left foot tapping the ground. One of Tricia's cheerleader girlfriends ran to Jenna jumped onto her with the legs wrapped around Jenna. Jenna succumbed to the ground. Tricia ran towards Randalf. Randalf's stricken look changed to happiness when he held Tricia in his arms with her legs wrapped around him. Tricia's body was so light. Why didn't he go for Tricia? Was he brainwashed to go for Jenna. Then, he remembered. He felt the sharp prick in his belly where Tricia's butt had felt so deliciously a moment again. He fell to the ground trying not to drop Tricia. Still dazed by Tricia's beauty, he tried to imprint the mental note to switch girlfriends when he'd come to.

Chapter 10 – Sewer Monster

The ground under Randalf's cheek was very cold and slimy. His body felt bruised from lying on the hard stone surface for a long time. The throat was familiarly swollen. He opened his eyes. There was a single, old 60 Watt light bulb in some kind of underground cavern. Ugh, the smell was that off Jenna. However whatever aroused him was missing in it. He looked around. He was on a concrete platform that was coated in slimy shit. Brown, foamy shit water hurried down a canal in front of him. His head was pounding from the noxious fumes. He was in a sewer. How far had he fallen to realize that an actual sewer smelled pretty much like his bedroom?

"Jenna! Wake up!"

He poked Jenna. She stirred. She had a happy face looking around, like a kid in a candy store.

"Jenna, the canal is trapped on both sides with metal gates. We are locked in!"

"No, there is an easy dive two hundred feet up that side canal that is completely filled with sewage."

"It's impossible!"

Jenna started crying. A river of tears poured down her cheeks. Her lungs sobbed in grief.

"I see what the punishment is," she sniffled. "It's easy for me. I'm a were-cockroach!"

Afterword

This isn't a story about slavery, global warming, the collision of two black holes, a passing reference about the Indochinese war, instructional manual for terrorism, thesis about the speed difference of an African and European swallow, prediction of the super bowl 2017, religious manifesto to start a new world religion, hidden commentary by god about the precise date for the end of the world, an attempt to get back together with my ex, a reference to my phys ed teacher's sneaker smell, evidence that Hillary Clinton is indeed a Cyborg, a puzzle riddle that will lead to a treasure, an attempt to launder money, a desperate cry to be adopted as an adult, a hint that the diapers need to be changed, willingness to have sex with anything as long as it's still breathing (CPR is an acceptable form of breathing), long-winded preamble to ask for donation to my charity of choice, proof that a shrewdness of apes could type something smarter if they were given a million typewriters, the inherent evilness of the color white, two chipmunks telling each other a bedtime story, a boomer listening in on the bed talk of two chipmunks, a fox eating a boomer who's listening in on the bed talk of two chipmunks, a society woman wearing a fur coat made from a fox who ate a boomer who listened to the bed talk of two chipmunks, Paris Hilton, George Clooney's butt, the debate of shaving cream vs. gel, a homage to Nirvana, post-pre-modern-contemporary-deconstructionist-folks-rebirth-spiritual-mega-realistic-cubism, New England supremacy, canned fish, rotten tomatoes, ingrown toenails, bad perms, wedgies, seventies neon colors, anthrophobia, blennophobia, cacophobia, demonophobia, entomophobia, felinophobia, fear of chins, red wine, Donald Duck, the theme park industry, or people overinterpreting things.