When a Friend Came to Visit

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Brief notice of my friend/critic's visit.
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erectus123
erectus123
462 Followers

Perhaps some of you may recall that I had extended an invitation for a friend to come and visit so we might bury the hatchet. Little did I know the learned man's time was short!

I sent him a round trip ticket from his mountain retreat to Los Angeles. He called to say he would meet me at the airport. I prepared myself with a signboard cut from the side of a Kotex box with his name written in large letters.

A cantankerous grey haired man was the first off the plane, followed by an attractive stewardess who was pushing him ahead. He wore a Sherlock Holmes's hat and a large Nixon button, a cross between Elmer Fudd and Mister Magoo with a little Andy Rooney thrown in for cantankery. Arguing furiously with the stewardess, he threw up his hands, resigned to his fate.

The waiting police escort was called off just in time. Seems he had been muttering about a literary bomb and was misunderstood. Needless to say his return ticket on that airline was canceled.

I met him as he entered the terminal, waving the sign.

"I guess a Trojan box would have been too small," he snarked."

He had only one bag, an old style suitcase.

Heavy as hell, packed with various masterpieces he carried for inspiration and a ten lb. Roget Theosaurous.Too heavy to carry, I rented a wheeled luggage carrier and we proceeded to the parking area.

I helped him up the running board of the yellow Hummer.

"Gas guzzler," he commented under his breath.

"You'll stay with us," I said, "unless you have other plans."

"First we'll see the accommodations," he muttered.

"Can you put on the air conditioning? God damit's hot."

"I thought you lived in the desert."

"You don't know shit about me," he smirked.

For the next half hour we drove in silence.

He had taken control of the radio and was switching rapidly between stations.

"What music do you like?"

"I haven't decided yet," he barked.

Finally the traffic broke and we drove with ease, right up to the driveway of my home.

"Don't you have a garage for this monster?"

"I keep my Ferrari in the garage."

"The Hummer does fine out here, hardly ever rains."

"What do you pay for water?"

"$250 every other month, a little more if I fill the pool."

"Swimming," he smirked. "fuck'en waste of time," he grunted. "Didn't you ever notice, they ain't got fins, humans ain't fish!"

Of course it took us a while to get home, stopping for him to bathroom hop. He claimed the food on the plane was a lethal diuretic. It turned out he had drunk the nonpotable water from the bathroom sink. Several hours later we arrived. The trip is usually an hour.

"This is your house?" he said when I helped him disembark." "Yes." "Couldn't you find something newer?" he asked.

"It's a 1936 Spanish style, we like it."

"Aw, trade it in on a new one, I hope it has plumbing?"

"Don't worry, you will be comfortable."

Once inside, he introduced himself to my wife, "You must be the maid, take my bag".

"Rest up, I suggested, "I have seats for the opera tonight."

Evidently the accommodations were adequate, he snored for the rest of the day, exiting at 4 pm in a sleepwalking daze, completely nude. I must admit for an old man his phallus was enormous. I woke him gently and suggested he dress.

"What's for chow?"

"Thought I'd take you to a famous Chinese restaurant."

"Nixon open the door to China, you know that? Damn ping-pong diplomacy. Never made no sense. Ok let's go."

My wife, a tall blond former model and my long time Ethiopian mistress, a statuesque woman dressed with a sarong that showed off her gorgeous large breasts welcomed him, kissing him on both cheeks.

My dear friend greeted them with, "You folks ever get hungry, and can we get going?" and to my mistress, "Maybe you want to get dressed first?"

We piled in the Hummer and off to San Gabriel, a great diner of fresh crabs and assorted seafood. He was relaxing at last, downed three bottles of Tsingtao. Complained that the beer was not as fresh as in he'd had in Shanghai, "can't take the un-refrigerated boat trip to the states," but at least he liked the crabs. Made some joke about better to eat them than have them... No one laughed.

In a better mood he started patting my wife's thigh, she moved her chair twice but he moved his.

"Your husband thought I was gay," he said in a loud voice. Half the Chinese turned around. The rest spoke no English. "But I ain't gay," he shouted back at them. He turned to my mistress, grabbed her left breast, "Nice tits." She giggled nervously.

We drove to the opera hall, La Traviata was playing. He made some joke that in Hollywood it was called "La Travolta." My mistress had complained that he kept rubbing her knee on the way so she squeezed into the front seat with my wife. Once inside he busied himself with the libretto. He seemed to know the opera by heart, decided to sing along in the last act. Needless to say this caused a commotion and we were asked to leave before the curtain call. "Amateurs, can't compete," he shouted as he was dragged outside.

The next day I awoke to find him sitting in a yellow rubber dinghy in my swimming pool. The dog was in there with him and he was lecturing her on his poetic theories. She seemed content with the attention as he paddled in circles reciting snatches of Dante. Once again he was nude as a grape. Fortunately only my neighbor, whose bedroom has a view of my pool, is a confirmed lesbian and couldn't have cared less had she lifted her head.

That evening, after I prepared a baby back rib barbecue, smoking them slowly for three hours. He dug in finishing two large servings and then rated my efforts one notch above McRib week. He seemed to enjoy the wine from my small vineyard. "It's ok, could have used a better fermentation, still a bit too sweet." Still, he finished a bottle. Was there anything this genius did not know?

We caught the early show at the new Catalina Jazz restaurant. He frowned, said he preferred the old Miles Davis sets, improve left him cold. At last he calmed down a bit. "Them coloreds have a way with music." he boomed. "It's in their blood!" He turned to my mistress, "Can you dance or sing?"

I swallowed hoping no one heard. I was proven wrong when a beer bottle was thrown in our direction. We made a quick retreat.

As the evening was still young, I suggested we go to a cabaret in West Hollywood, famous for satire and gay impersonators. He seemed to take it all in stride, even getting up to volunteer to sing with the Judy Garland impersonator while waving a large rainbow in shiny glitz.

"What do you mean that wasn't the real Garland? He kept muttering on the way back.

"I'm leaving in the morning" he announced suddenly.

"What's your rush?"

"Got stuff to do, they're termite-ing the neighbor and I've got to watch that none of those buggers march into my place".

"Well, would you like to have a date before you leave?"

"What-da-ya mean, a date, a fig, or a cashew?" This was his attempt at humor.

"No, I know a famous escort who will come over and rock your world.

"What's wrong with my world you smug bastard? He quickly added, "Well ok!" I didn't mention she was a transsexual.

The escort visited his room sometime between 2am and 5am. I showed her to his room. Later we heard some screams but it didn't sound like it was the $300 hooker's voice.

When I woke him at 10 am, for his flight back, he had warmed up.

"Boy that was some night! Don't remember much but the first time in years my prostate is not backed up, as he fidgeted rubbing his butt. "Are you OK?" "Just an old scar where they clipped off the tail, heh, heh." he explained. "I might even try my, err, hand at some erotic poetry after that experience."

When we got to the airport, we checked his suitcase at the curb. Then he doffed his cap, embraced me, kissing me on the mouth, and grabbing my crotch at the same time.

"You're not so bad, erectus, small letters, as he squeezed, ha ha, just remember, I'm the big dog—and no more poems or stories about me.

"Yes sir, I replied."

His grip was like steel. I knew I had met my match. What an experience! I missed him already. Such brilliance and acidity. Then I realized, ran awkwardly after him, my testicles still smarting, but it was too late...

"Take the panties off your head," I shouted!"...as he entered the x-ray box.

erectus123
erectus123
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erectus123erectus12310 months agoAuthor

Very funny! (if I must say) The story roasts a Literotica critic we knew little about. I believe he claimed to be a college professor who had critical comments about any poem we (our group) wrote. He wasn't too pleased with the satire and stopped taking part afterward. We missed his acerbic comments. and still do.

fanfarefanfareover 8 years ago
Impressive doggerel

e1, a really fun satire of the "Great Man' archetype. Old and cranky is the way to go...never pass up the opportunity to piss on your enemies graves.

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