J.D. Bradley
Bio
I've had a very different kind of experience.
Stories (33/0)
Ode to a Drunken Mexican Woman
She woke up every morning at 4am to make me homemade tortillas on the cumal, and cried out in ecstasy in Spanish, which I mostly did not understand, when we made love. Those are the two things I miss most. She laughed when I cussed her relatives in Texmex. She drank until blackout for days at a time and felt horrible when the ride was over but made fidello to make it up to me. We sometimes drank until Sunrise. I often had to carry her in from the car to put her in bed. More often than that, I woke to her crying, swearing that she’d be a better woman for me. If I had a dollar for every time that she threw up on me, I’d have about ten dollars, but, if I had a dollar for every time that I opened my lunch to find a note that said, “for mi amore”, I’d have closer to six hundred. I thought I loved her. Her mind was an unsolvable labyrinth that I got lost in for nine years…but at least I ate well…and goddamn she was pretty. I regret nothing, but she significantly scarred my heart, maybe more than everything else.
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Poets
The Car Door Punishment
My life has apparently been a string of experiences that most people cannot relate to, and on occasion, I come across incredulous individuals, who, in their naivete, question my honesty. I offer no apologies for my experiences. I lived through them and they did not. I don't lie. At least it’s very rare for me and when I do it’s usually to save someone’s feelings. That trait takes a great deal of cultivation...that being said...
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Psyche
Misplaced Chivalry
There used to be a reoccurring skit on Mad TV that had a white trash couple and the male would frequently (and mistakenly) accuse other men of checking out his “ole lady” and subsequently attack the accused only to reveal his own ineptness at fighting. I once knew a couple like that, the only difference being that they were Hispanic, and the guy could fight. He had fucked up a number of guys prior to this story. I’m guessing that it spiced up their sex life, but that’s purely conjecture. He might have just been an idiot, or she might have been his poisonous fuck bunny (a term coined by Marc "The Animal MacYoung" meaning a woman that enjoys getting you into fights. I highly recommend him as an author), or both.
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Confessions
The New Paradigm
In the new paradigm, every sentient human adult that desires it, will get 4 spouses, that’s four separate people that you get to fuck and care about and they fuck and care about you. The social strength from that arrangement can’t even be understood from our primitive mindset. You don’t get to care about them fucking their other spouses, that would be detrimental to the new system. You only get to care about the people that make you feel good, and why would any other possibility be relevant?
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Poets
The Time I Was Sleeping with a DEA Agent's Wife
When I first moved back to Texas, I was living with my Uncle Bob, a mid-level drug dealer and very successful legitimate businessman, I met one of his customers, a very attractive woman by the name of Donna who happened to be married to a Drug Enforcement Agency agent. My initial reaction to hearing her husband's profession was to not trust her, but Bob said she was cool, and she was every bit as sexy as any Playboy playmate, ever, and we started fucking.
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Confessions
Coffee Slut
I had to work at a factory in Walla Walla, Washington for a year when I got out of the Army to get state residency, so I could go to college. Then I started at Walla Walla Community College, whose legend described it as the "second best junior college in America" but that's another story (I've heard that about multiple junior colleges and am pretty sure it's just an urban myth kind of thing).
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Confessions
The Day My Mind Finally Snapped
Way back in approximately, 1989, I was stationed in Germany...9th Engineer Battalion. I’d been there about five, maybe, six months. Now, the key to deciphering how fucked up a unit is, is the lowness of the number. If you’re in, say the 462nd Engineer Battalion, things are going to be relatively easy. 9th Engineer Battalion is obviously much lower than that. Oh, and I was in the First Infantry Division (whose motto is, “No mission too difficult, no sacrifice too great...and they mean that shit); that’s my combat patch too, but that came later. I was fairly well indoctrinated as too how harsh the life of a soldier was, I thought, then I got sent to “the field” with Charlie company. For those who don’t know, a combat engineer is like infantry, plus explosives.
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Confessions
Ode to the Stupid People Who Populate the City in Which I Reside
You are too stupid to use birth control and your bullshit church encourages that anyway. You feel that life is a badass contest and highly suspect that you are a badass even though you are obese, diabetic, and can’t even do one pull up.
By J.D. Bradley2 years ago in Poets
