tagHumor & SatireMistaken Identity Ch. 1

Mistaken Identity Ch. 1


Every so often, grown men and women dress up in costumes and masks and gather to drink and dance and be someone else. You should meet some of them.

Sara the Slut wants to do the business with Dracula. Dick the Detective has been threatening to body search everyone, except the Nun, whose behaviour is slowly becoming less and less....um, holy. This has not gone unnoticed by the very patient Patient, abandoned since the Nurse decided to escape with Houdini.

These observations, and the rumoured presence of Bree C, have Pete the Paparazzi beside himself. Before this year's Combined Charities Costume Party with Masks is over, he will expose the pride of this town's business folk, and its improbable world famous peddler of C Rap music, for what they really are.


No, not them. Him!

Behind the perfect cover, Pete has been able to snap away with the fake, 'fake' camera, if you know what I mean. And while nothing worthy of the Internet has happened yet, he knows it will. Just as it has every other year, but gone unreported.

Not this time.

The 2001 Combined Charities Costume Party with Masks will catapult his name into paparazzi fame.

Out on the dance floor, Pete can see that Mandingo the Slave is the master. The World's Ugliest Woman is also there, having way too much fun as the giant Negro bumps and grinds her from behind. Deemed too ugly to be seen, she wears a white hooded robe that looks more like the KKK. It's anyone's guess who she really is; anyone that is, except her husband Pete. And he's not impressed when the giant black hands slide upwards, taming her bouncing tits with a force that almost squashes them flat. Immediately, she throws her head back in approval, before taking his hands and returning them to her waist.

Hey, you! That's my missus.

To Pete's relief, the song ends, and Mandingo and The World's Ugliest Woman break apart.

Shit! Now, they're heading this way.

Pete does his best to slip into the darkness of the corridor leading to the toilets. Thankfully, she stops short of him, and enters the ladies room. Mandingo loiters outside, clearly hatching a plan.

Bugger off, will you!

He doesn't.

Quite the contrary. Pete the Paparazzi watches Mandingo take The World's Ugliest Woman by the arm and lead her further into the darkness. Here, he pushes her roughly against the wall. The onslaught catches her by surprise and she drops her purse. As she bends to pick it up, Mandingo shamelessly lifts her robe, exposing a bare arse.

"Hey!" she calls, tugging her robe down again. "Take it easy."

Yeah, ya' big log. Leave her be. And you go and get some knickers on!

Next, her assailant wedges his leg between hers, forcing them apart. His hand disappears under the robe, and is allowed to remain there. It's no wonder Mandingo starts unzipping his fly..

Too far! Now he's going too far.

The giant slave takes her hand and places it inside his pants.

Pete hears him whisper something that sounds like he wants to fuck her.

"Not here!"

"But you're busting my balls. At least jerk me off."

Mandingo the Slave leans over and places his hands either side of her against the wall. Pete sees their lips lock, and her two-handed motion, almost hidden from view. A couple wander by, chatting amicably, and her hands stop as they pass.

Now! Get out of there now!

When the corridor is clear, Pete looks back, and can't see her.

Good girl.

Suddenly, a fierce flash of light reveals she is on her knees, her face hard against his thrusting hips.

"Got ya!" yells the figure fleeing in the other direction.

Who the fuck was that?

In the one moment, Mandingo, The World's Ugliest Woman and Pete the Paparazzi have all been caught with their pants down. So to speak.


The word that Mandingo the Slave was looking for a prick with a camera is spreading quicker than a new wife's arse. Pete the Paparazzi knows because of the chat he has been hearing while hiding in the fire hose cabinet. What he doesn't know is if it's safe to leave.

It's not like he hasn't used the time to hatch his usual brilliant plan. Of course he has. But it relies on a clear passage to the car, so he can return with the real 'fake' camera. At least until the heat is off. As for is wife, well-----

Brrnnn! Brrnnn!


The ring of his mobile phone in the confined steel cabinet almost splits his head in two.

Brrnnn! Brrnnn!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

In the desperate game of twister with the fire hose, Pete somehow manages to retrieve the camera bag containing his phone. He clambers to open it. The phone's green light promises quiet, and he presses it.

"Hello?" he whispers.

"Where are you?" screams his annoyed wife. "You're not home for dinner yet."

A confused Pete needs a moment to answer. "Work. I stayed at work 'cause you were going to the costume party."

"What did you say? I can't hear you."

"Work. I said I'm at work 'cause you were going to the costume party."

"Oh! Well, I didn't go. The costume I wanted was already hired. And you said you wouldn't be seen dead at it."

A loud thump on the cabinet door startles them both.

"What was that, Pete? Where are you?"

Again the thump. And another.

"Gotta go!" explains Pete, stowing the camera bag amongst the coils of the hose just as the door is wrenched open.

"Couldn't hear a bloody thing outside!" he says, waving the phone at the bemused crowd.

Before he hears...

"I've been looking for you, man!"

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