Linc Ch. 01

Linc 01

Well, I'm Linc (Lincoln), I'm 20 and I might be a busy body, you don't know, but it keeps me in the loop as the unofficial editor in chief of neighborhood newsletter here in Middleton on Dysfunctional Lane.

And if you know me, then you probably know that I love my PJ bottoms as my street wear while out on the sidewalk and that's because they are very versatile, thin and who can resist all of the colorful and crazy designs that they are printed with, right? I mean, have you ever saw jeans with yellow stars and white quarter moons from the waistline to feet, hmm? I haven't. And if you have, drop me that link. Or tee he, add it to our street newsletter press release.

And a nice comment, a clean and flattering comment about how the thin PJ bottoms drape off of my booty wouldn't make me mad. Not that I'm asking for validation or anything because that is frowned upon within the community. But just skip over how I might be your favorite PB&J bottom sandwich comments since I've heard that one several times. And that includes how your loaf of bread is what I've been looking for, especially since I'm not really looking.

And by saying that I'm not looking, I mean, I'm as open as anyone else, so, I may or may not have an ad in personals in the neighborhood newsletter, you don't know. Unless you subscribe.

Anyways, I rent the upper floor of a two-story house, which is on the smaller size, but I fit in it, even if it seems to get smaller with each month that I live, but if you know anything about upper-level lofts, then you know what I saying. And I fit into my upper loft by "belongings & stuff" control and that's enough about the crib.

So, my neighbors, surprisingly enough, are split over my lifestyle choice in my favor and they pretty much leave me alone to live my life and that's very cool of them. And since I live in Middleton, tee he, my landlord loves me even more because several of the men on the street come around to cut the grass and since I'm the upper floor renter, I have absolutely no lawn care responsibility at all, but they still come around to chip in. And (giggles), even more (giggles) because some of the housewives pay me a babysitter's fee to sit on the front porch stoop while a hubby is caring for the front lawn while day dreaming about what will never be. And of course, I switch over to my small balcony in the rear of the house where my entry steps are when the hubby's start to care for the backyard.

And when I say small balcony at the top of my entry stairs, I mean small. Sheesh, one lawn chair is all that fits up there. But at least I have a balcony, I guess.

"(Huff, puff) I'm cutting the grass, Linc (huff, puff)."

"Yes, you are, Mr. Parks and I'm personally giving you two extra brownie points for wearing the perfect shorts for your 36 years of age and I sincerely mean that, so?"

"(Huff, puff) well thanks for that, Linc, and by the way, the wife and I married too soon (huff, puff) before I knew what I wanted in life, so?"

"And if I hadn't already signed an NDA with your wife, I would say that nobody knows that better than your wife does, Mr. Parks, because she feels the same way, but in another way, so?"

"Well, that doesn't make any sense because the wife is never home enough to draft up a NDA, but let's talk about if you cut your own personal grass, shall we, Linc, huh?"

"Well, that's none of your business, Mr. Parks, but your first guess is probably true, so, shut it and get with the whacking the weeds, pervert."

"Hah! I whack my weeds every time I leave your rental property and I have plenty of privacy because my wife is always gone!"

Well, that tracks. But Mrs. Parks may always be gone, but she's never that far away.

"At least give me something to work with, Linc and start with how you light the cigars out in the backyard of the guys living below you on the lower floor of the main house, so, give me something, Linc."

Well, it's just one "guy" who lives below me, but his game night buddies are regulars. And due to another NDA, I cannot speak of how Mrs. Parks has twice lit the cigars of the guys while in the backyard. But if I could speak of it, holy cigar twirling smokes! I know nothing about foreplay teasing! Well, I do now, but I haven't flicked a lighter yet.

Anyways, things like that are why I would make a great editor in chief if we had a neighborhood watch newsletter release e-mail, which we don't, but I'm in the loop enough to know it all. And who cares if sometimes I know more than I should, right? And trust me, I know it all.

So, what do I like, right? I like my hair. Mildred at the Hair Salon calls it a chic and trendy Singapore Bob cut and I think it's just a normal bob cut to under my jaw bone level, but Mildred works with sharp tools, so I pay the extra cash for the Singapore title and inhale the scent that oozes from her cleavage and that's that.

So, about the other part about me then, since I've admitted that I haven't lit a guy's cigar yet, um, I live on the upper floor and not under a rock, so, if you dare kiss me, you'll get a very experienced kiss back. The problem is the straight8 guys who expect their kisses back to keep going, you know, much further south of their lips, right there and then, or they don't come back. And it's not that I won't and it's not that I haven't come close, but like my upper loft, for now, I have an upper limit.

Anyways, back to a recent Wednesday night on the street as I was gathering info for the next street newsletter e-mail release.

[Crash, bang, screaming, shouting, flings a can, crash, bang, screaming, yelling half way up the street]

Oops, sorry, my bad, folks. With that kind of banging and clanging, it must have been Thursday night!

[An almost surprise approach and a somewhat of a snuggle up from behind]

"What's all the commotion half way down the street at the Baxter's place, huh, Linc?"

[A snuggle back because James' man brain won't let him snuggle up too much further]

"Oh, you know, James, the usual, Scott and Maria Baxter broke up."

"Oh, so, just another Thursday night on the street then, Linc, huh?"

"But with an extra twist this time, James because with Maria and Scott on the absolute outs, again, then Mrs. Baxter isn't getting her side sex in the wee hours of the night, so?"

"Whoa, do tell, what did I miss this time, so, tell it, Linc."

"I mean, Maria and Scott were good together, but Mrs. Baxter had this habit of suddenly appearing in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, exactly when Scott would get up for a glass of water and from what I know, Mrs. Baxter had this unique way of reaching for a glass in the upper cabinet, which caused her robe to fall open because she wouldn't tie it properly in the first place, um, like three or four times, so."

"Damn, will you hold it against me if I say I wouldn't mind seeing Mrs. Baxter naked, Lonnie?"

[Presses forward]

"Oh, not at all, James, since Mrs. Baxter's has managed to maintain her figure through the years and even more especially since you're a regular guy because normal guys like you turn to mush over a naked woman and that's okay too. But the real question is why are you holding "it" against me so tightly all of a sudden, hmm, James?"

[Straight8 James does not retreat]

"Well, maybe I'm just trying to nudge you to stroll down the sidewalk with me so we can put our noses where they don't belong because that's what good neighbors do, so?"

[Hmm, a slight push back?]

"Oh, no, James because the hells fury is only in half swing because we haven't yet begun to talk about Mrs. Mrs. Baxter yet and the red fire of hell hasn't kicked in yet, so?"

[Screaming, spray bottles fly out of the front door, yelling, screaming, duck]

"Whoa, Mrs. Mrs. Baxter as in the grandma Baxter, that Mrs. Mrs. Baxter?"

"Oh, yeah, James, that Mrs. Mrs. Baxter because she made it a point that Scott makes his way through all of the Baxter women and from what I know, whew, she looks pretty good naked and she knows what she's doing as long as Scott laid flat on the bed because Mrs. Mrs. Baxter can't get down on her knees these days, but Mrs. Mrs. Baxter has all of her teeth, so (giggles), Scott got a real hum job and not just a gum job (giggles)."

"SOB! We need a real neighborhood e-mail news alert system! With photos! Oh, wait, um, um..."

"LOL, no James, the untouchable Baxter female is safe. For now, but Lilly turns 18 in a few months, so hold the presses on the neighborhood watch e-mail. And is tonight a cigar puffing night because I bought a flicky butane lighter, so?"

"Oh, that might happen, Linc, if screwball, Fruit Juice, remembers to stop by the Cigar Shop on the Strip, but just to finish up with the family feud, I mean, what about Mrs. Baxter's sister, huh, Maria's auntie?"

"Preggo! By Scott. He owns all of the touchable Baxter women!"

"Mother fucker! I'm starting the neighborhood alert e-mail system myself!"

[Tap, tap, tap, a reminder text to screwball Fruit Juice for cigars]

"FJ, U can't puff without something to puff on!"

[Oh, Fruit Juice had an answer for that response text]

"Linc, I could say the same about U!"

Meh, I expected a bigger clap back than that from Fruit Juice. But it was true, I suppose. Well, half true because trust me, there are plenty around here who wouldn't be mad if I puffed on their cigar, so, the cigars are everywhere.

"James, your friends will be here soon and these are the thinnest jammies bottoms and just like how I know everything, I can feel everything too and we already said "nudging" wasn't our thing, so, what's happening here, hmm?"

[Push, saw, push, saw, push, saw, saw, saw, saw, ooh]

Well, he started it. I'm just innocent little ole Linc, neighborhood newsletter editor in chief. With the really good hair.

"[Vroom, pulls up and parks] hey, cat got your tongue, James? Um, hey, Linc, um, maybe make us a bowl of popcorn tonight, maybe?"

"Oh, Billy, um, Bill, um, Billy, the homeowner would have to approve of that and since the cat has his tongue and all, I mean, that's not up to me, [clamp], so?"

"[Zoom, pulls up and parks] game night! Or duck and cover for all that screaming and shouting just up the street. Hey Jimmy, hey, Linc, um, who isn't mad at me at all?????"

"Not in the least, not at all, Fruit Juice, it could have been worse and what's important anyways is how I think there is a head of lettuce stuck to the edge corner of your rear bumper from the war zone, so?"

"Well, SOB, I thought I heard a thump when I cruised past the Baxter's place."

[Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp]

"Have any of you people saw a head of lettuce, hmm? I'm trying to feed my family and I don't care if it's dirty or has poison in it because my daughter, Maria, doesn't know how to hold onto a man or keep him busy in the wee hours of the night and my mother, the other Mrs. Baxter, refuses to realize that she's 72!"

[Scrunch, pull, scrunch, twist, pull and the head of lettuce is free]

"Now, now, Mrs. Baxter, Maria and Scott broke up normally [hands off the dirty, but non-poisonous head of lettuce] and Mrs. Mrs. Baxter is, is, um, still frisky for her age and even though like 13 other people from this street alone want to see you naked, the guys behind me wouldn't be mad if your Thursday night fighting robe flung open because you still have, Mrs. Baxter, you still have it and it might be cigar night, so?"

[Tan, a tan terrycloth house robe, folks. Oh, and Mrs. Baxter complied with the request]

"Well, only because my belly will be growing soon, thanks to Scott and what you see now might be the last of me having it, but thanks for saying that, Linc. Also, ahem, are you three men and one prissy missy complaining?"

[LOL, four heads shake "no" in disbelief because 44 is the new 39]

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mrs. Baxter because the neighborhood newsletter is about to be released, I mean, are saying here that because of Scott, you and your sister are true and actual sister wives, hmm?"

[Boom! Mrs. Baxter's head explodes, which flings the tan terrycloth robe back open]

"But Mrs. Baxter, I mean, Maria, I mean, she's not..."

"Preggo! By Scott! OMG, we're that family!"

"But, but, but, at 70 something, I mean, Mrs. Mrs. Baxter, she's not..."

"Oh, you mean the only Baxter woman who could actually breast feed a child into a Linebacker, hmm? Gawd no, since that ship sailed on Mrs. Mrs. Baxter years ago! And OMG, now you have me calling her Mrs. Mrs. Baxter! You're impossible, Linc! Also, who are these other ten people on this street who want to see me, um, never mind that because I have to feed my totally dysfunctional family now!"

"Well, hold up for one more question, Mrs. Baxter and hold your robe open for the guys again since you're here because you still rock it naked and since that's coming to an end soon as you said, so, I'm just guessing here, but um, so, you're each going to name your babies Scott, if it's a boy, tee he, right?"

[A wind up, a pitch and a throw! And a Duck! And the dirty head of lettuce whops James in the head]

LOL, and James never flinched since Mrs. Baxter's robe flew open even more from her fastball.

"[Roar, pulls up and parks it] hey everyone, what did I miss because a seasoned rack of ribs just landed in the bed of my truck as I was coming up the street, which is cool, but I'll pass on the salad that is filling the collar of Jim's shirt, so [weep, weep, locks truck doors], are we having a game night cookout or what?"

[Whoop, an incoming text from the freshly preggo Maria Baxter]

"Linc, I lost my ribs! U C them?"

[Ding, an honest response text]

"Maria, I saw U in bikini this morning! Ur ribs are fine!"

[Whoop, a LOL response text from Maria Baxter]

"Tee he, thx! U have all the men, again???"

Well, Maria couldn't get more pregnant, right?

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nate, but that rack of seasoned ribs needs to be returned to the Baxter's this instant. But since it's a war zone, maybe it's best if James, William and Fruit Juice personally return the rack of ribs and the remaining salad and if you want, Nate, you could join me upstairs and help me pop a bowl of popcorn, so?"

Well, if the Baxter women want to line up side by side, that's their business and it's not illegal. It's weird as hell, but since the Baxter's have already headlined the neighborhood newsletter as "that family" three times already, whatever. And guy's need their bow jobs or they have serious medical conditions.

According to the man manual book anyways.

And here's another thing about living in an upper flat. LOL, Nate wasn't wheezing from sex yet, but for the umpteen steps that have a turn built into them, LOL.

"So, Nate, futuristically speaking, what's the plan here, hmm? And the plan can start from after you catch your breath, so, futuristically speaking, what's the popcorn popping plan, hmm? And I keep saying futuristically because I think I'm reading between the lines correctly of the man manual, but sometimes my vision gets a little blurry, so?"

"Oh [wheeze], I mean, just spontaneously speaking, Linc, I'm thinking we have just enough time to implement the man plan, just spontaneously speaking [wheeze], so?"

Yikes! The man plan, there is a man plan then? Other than yikes!

"Hmm, does the man plan have it such that more than the popcorn pops, Nate, hmm?"

"Oh, legally speaking, you gave up the right to own, read or leave [wheeze] footnotes in the man plan book, Linc, but I would tell anyone if you don't, so?"

"Well, I already said that my vision is a little blurry sometimes, but I'm starting it and I've settled that a few things are going go pop, pop, pop, so, um, since I'm short on furniture, I guess, you know, as the man with a plan, you'll just sit there in the easy while I, um, well, screw it, I'm in charge!"

LOL, I was so not in charge! But I did it, with his thrusting help and all, but I did it and, and, and, even though it probably wasn't all that good, at least then he was wheezing from sex, LOL. And I guess even a man with a plan doesn't need it to be all that good anyways.

"Ick, ick, ewe, ick, ewe!"

"Oh, [wheeze] come on, Linc, the taste can't be that bad [wheeze], right?"

"Oh, no, Nate, you tasted boyfriend good and even though that was a lot, it wasn't all that bad. My ick, ick, ewe, ick, ewe was for the smell of burnt popcorn bags in my little loft, so?"

"Tee he, yeah, that's right, that [wheeze] was a three-bag popping before my popcorn popped off! Put that in the newsletter, Linc!"

"Well, the teenagers on the street could get a hold of the newsletter, so, we'll hold off with the details, especially since I wondering if you want to take the next step with me too, you know, this time in the real future, future, future, future, so?"

"[Wheeze] oh, keep talking, Linc, keep talking [wheeze]."

"Well, I don't mean tonight because what we just did was more than I was expecting, however, for another day, um, well, I man, Nate, I don't have any condoms and I've never bought any condoms before and I really don't think I can point to this spot on my throat [pokes self in throat] to explain what size I'm looking for at the store, so?"

"[Wheeze] well, first of all, Linc, I think your finger needs to move down just a tad [Linc moves finger down], ahem, just a tad more down [Linc plays along], there, that's the spot! And for second of all, where is or what happened to your Adam's Apple, huh?"

"Oh, I had that shaved down over a year ago. It was actually quite a fairly simple procedure, however, I just talked about condoms and you're not saying all that much more about that then, hmm? I'm looking for some help here, so? At least a little push anyways, so?"

"Oh, I heard you, Linc and I'm [wheeze] waiting for you to implement phase 2 of the man plan! I'm also still recovering [wheeze], so."

Duh, I mean, of course the "man plan" has continuing chapters, right folks?

"Oh, Linc, the remainder of the man plan says that I sit here and recover quietly while you flick my truck's key fob to unlock the doors [weep, weep] and then you prance downstairs, in your wedged jammies bottoms, open the door and open the glove box, where you will find a box of properly sized condoms, which you will pull out of the box in thread string fashion, relock the doors and prance back up here to your place, while letting the zig zagging thread of condoms clearly swing in the breeze and if your neighbors see that, oh well, because that's phase 2 of the man plan, so?"

Well, who in the hell came up with phase 2 of the man plan? A man? Duh! Also, yikes!

"And then, after we have sex, you're going to put the remaining condoms in your nightstand and we're going use them, one per Thursday night, until the zig zag thread is gone and used up!"

Yep, a man made that man plan. But I did it. But only because I think "yikes" is a cool word.

[Weep, weep, relock the truck doors and starts to prance in wedged jammies]

And by the way, it's not my fault that ultra-thin PJ jammies bottoms slip up into the booty crack so easily and some people like it, so what?

"Mm-mm, you see girly child, lighting a man's cigar always leads to prancing around while showing off a thread of condoms, mm-mm!"

"Oh, Mrs. Carter, this isn't what it looks like, not at all because it's not what it looks like, so?"

"Mm-mm, it looks like you "accidently" walked away from that truck and "accidently" crossed the street to flaunt your flappy string of condoms in front of my face, Linc, so, mm-mm!"

"Fine, Mrs. Carter, who puts the condom on because my boyfriend has a plan!"

"Mm-mm, a man always has a plan, Linc and the only counter plan to a man's plan is for you to roll the condom on and take your sweet time about it because even a man with a plan can only take so much dick fondling, mm-mm!"