To Be A Tart once More
Introduction:
A true fan gave me the idea for this fine true story..
Other than the fact that Linda was a dark haired twenty two year old female with long legs, a generous bust line and a sexy Mediterranean look, she bore a striking resemblance to Joseph Stalin. She had been told this many times and actually mistaken for him twice.
“I know it sounds retarded, but if only I could be tart again. If only I could be somehow retarted, I would be so gosh golly happy.”
Linda decided to call her friend Pricilla on her cellular phone. Pricilla was totally tarty She was a California girl blond with long sexy legs, a squeezable cute tush, and breasts as ample as the parking at the Wal-mart super center where she worked. Pricilla bore a striking resemblance to a fat black Jackie Chan. She had been told this many times and actually mistaken for him four times.
“Pricilla” said Linda, “How’s it going? I was just sitting here in the corner caf?y my apartment having a cappuccino. I was bemoaning the fact that I have lost my tart. I’m so down! You’re really tarty all the time. I do you do it? I know it probably sounds retarded, but if only I could be somehow retarted, I would be so gosh golly happy. I wish Jesus would help…”
“Linda, you know that many people find the word “retarded” offensive.” offered Pricilla, “Perhaps you should take that into consideration before you use that term again.”
“Oh my gosh golly goodness” replied Linda “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Suddenly Linda didn’t feel so good. She had a severe headache, indigestion and nausea. This was further complicated by abdominal discomfort, anxiety, constipation, a decreased sex drive, bloating, dry mouth, fatigue, gas, dry eyes and mouth, decreased appetite, chills, and hives. Linda forcefully expulsed the contents of her stomach through her mouth and nose; vomiting gelatinous chunks of bile onto the caf?loor.
“Linda?” said a startled and worried Pricilla, “Are you ok”?
“Oh my,” replied a somewhat dazed Linda” Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good. I had a severe headache, indigestion and nausea. It was further complicated by abdominal discomfort, anxiety, constipation, a decreased sex drive, bloating, dry mouth, fatigue, gas, dry eyes and mouth, decreased appetite, chills, and hives. I forcefully expulsed the contents of my stomach through my mouth and nose; vomiting gelatinous chunks of bile onto the caf?loor. Please pray for me.”
“Oh Jesus,” Prayed Pricilla, “Please help Linda feel better by making her severe headache, indigestion, abdominal discomfort, anxiety, constipation, bloating, dry mouth, fatigue, gas, dry eyes and mouth, decreased appetite, chills, hives and nausea go away, and please make her tarty again too.”
Linda looked at the retch she ralphed on the caf?loor. “No wonder I threw up” she said, “My stomach was full of puke!”
“How do you feel now?” asked Pricilla
“I feel great, praise Jesus!” replied Linda. “I even feel a little tarty, like I’ve been retarted!”
“Oh that’s grooving’ sweet momma!” replied Pricilla.
A couple of tables away from Linda sat a handsome young man named Rob deep in thought drinking his coffee. He had short dark hair, sideburns and a fu manchu moustache. Rob bore a striking resemblance to a Julia Child. He had been told this many times and was actually asked for the recipe for braised goose with cabbage once.
Rob was thinking about the used small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece with a 24.62mm rim diameter and a .979 inches throat he had purchased recently. It’s a medium size Jazz mouthpiece with a shallow cup. It produces a warmer fuller sound than
most mouthpieces. The problem was it tasted like rank ass. Since it was used, it was cheap and when Rob bought it from the street corner dealer, he didn’t have the gumption or the fortitude to try it out before purchasing it. He had done everything he could think of from boiling to freezing and even soaking it in various liquid mixtures, but the small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece still tasted like rank ass
Little did Rob know, the used small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece had belonged to a performance artist named Frederic Fletcher Felcher. He had been playing his trombone with the small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece in his performances during a segment where he did a one man band routine. He was experimenting with the trombone one evening after a dinner of cottage cheese, an old tuna salad sandwich, sweet pickle relish, a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and 7 cheap chocolate beers (cheap beer with chocolate syrup mixed in). Frederic Fletcher Felcher decided to try sticking the trombone up his ass hole bunger, and farting out “Seventy Six Trombones“. Frederic Fletcher Felcher actually got out the first five notes before a torrent of brownish green yellow anal spray gushed out of his ass and into the small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece with a 24.62mm rim diameter and a .979 inches throat and into the trombone producing a gurgly sassy jazz tone.
Frederic Fletcher Felcher decided to sell the small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece with a 24.62mm rim diameter and a .979 inches throat because it tasted like rank ass.
Suddenly, Rob looked up and was awakened from his reverie by the sight of the woman at the table across from his. He had noticed her before, but only because she was rude enough to be making a cellular phone call and puke in the caf?She had looked mousy, impish, and Stalin like. Now she looked absolutely alluring. She had a sassy tartness that made Rob want to somehow meet her and engage her in small talk and meaningless banter in an attempt to gain her interest. Then he could perhaps get her cellular phone number so he could casually call her in a few days and talk with her a little more hoping to impress upon her just how trustworthy, interesting, humorous, and considerate he was. Eventually, he hoped to gain enough of her trust and admiration to convince her to evacuate her bowels into a glass bowl whilst he lay beneath it reveling in her stretched sphincter pinching the loaf of dung daintily into the glass bowl; warming the glass and causing a slightly foggy condensation on the glass were the turd touches it.
Rob thought about the County Corn Fest next weekend and knew if he could get this tarty saucy wench drunk and get her to eat a lot of corn, she would probably dump a big corny stool the next day.
Rob watched as the tarty lady hung up her cellular phone and took a sip of her coffee.
“It’s now or never” muttered Rob as he got up and approached the tart’s table.
“Hi, I’m Rob.“ Said Rob to the tartly lady. “I couldn’t help but notice you ralphing major drop trough. Looks like your stomach was full of puke.”
“Yes, Hi I‘m Linda.” replied Linda with tarty dough eyes, “My stomach was most definitely full of puke. Kind of looks like cottage cheese and couscous with an eggy beef sauce.”
“Yes” said Rob. “Do you like corn?”
“Why gosh golly, yes I do!” answered Linda with a tarty excitement she couldn’t conceal.
“Would you like to go to the County Corn Fest with me next weekend?” asked Rob
“Oh, I would LOVE to go with you.” Replied Linda, “I plan on going all three days and entering the corn eating contest!”
“Oh I’d love to see that” replied Rob. He was thinking of how many whole corn kernels would be dotting Linda’s stool considering she would be eating a lot of corn very quickly over a 3 day period.
“You seem sincere. A lot of guys are nice to me because I’m good looking.” Said Linda, “They will engage me in small talk and banter in an attempt to gain my trust. They basically want to eject semen from their penis. They would like me to be involved in stimulating their penis with my hands, or mouth usually, but I’ve had guys want other things too.”
“Yes” said Rob, “I know the type. I assure you, my intentions are honorable.”
“I’ve heard this business of ejecting semen from the penis referred to as ejaculating” continued Linda, “I’ve heard it is very pleasurable. Is that true?”
“Yes, I’ve heard it said.” Answered Rob. “It can be very pleasurable.”
“You have a real romantic streak in you, asking me to the County Corn Fest and all.” smiled Linda, “This guy named Walter took me to the Corn Fest last year, and wanted me to suck on his wang and I knew from experience that Walter’s shlong was ugly and smelled like ammonia, limburger and, old sweat socks. It was so gross! I decided to try teabaging him, but his balls smelled even worse. I ended up tossing his salad. Ass can only taste so bad, but at the end of the day, it’s a judgment call. I gave him a reach around while tossing his salad and he shot his man milk on the floor. He said it was very pleasurable, for me it lacked romance.”
“Well,” offered Rob, “I’d bring you flowers then we could go to the corn fest, you could eat a lot of corn fast then we could go to my place when you are ready, and you could evacuate your bowels into a glass bowl while I lay beneath it reveling in your stretched sphincter pinching the loaf of dung daintily into the glass bowl; warming the glass and hopefully causing a slightly foggy condensation on the glass were the poop touches it.”
“Oh, how romantic and erotic!” replied Linda “It’s a date!”
fin
