Confessions of a Barfly

When you have less than a day to live, moments become precious.

The idiot blocking my way into Grub’s Bar and Bistro had already wasted one of my precious moments. I would not let him waste any more. Suffering from some poison or another. He collapsed when I smashed him in the face.

Dead.

Yep, must have been poison. I climbed over him.

Just a few more obstacles between me and the bar. Some silly parent had left their kids crawling around. Impossible to avoid, I stood on at least a couple. Although it’s hard to tell. Grub’s floor always felt squishy.

Inside, a motley crowd of the world’s lowest life forms. Their incessant chittering and chattering matched the low hum of my headache.

Crap. There was Rita! I’d ditched her that morning. I should have known she’d end up here.

The old tart likely didn’t have much longer than me. She looked terrible, half asleep, a lattice of drool connecting her chin to the bar. I wondered if I could sneak in without her noticing me.

Nope.

“Freddy!” she screeched.

Too late for me to escape. She lurched towards me. “Fredeeeey! Let’s do it again for old time’s sake!”

I wasn’t sure if I had it in me. But even as she closed the distance, vomiting down her front, I could feel my lower parts tremble.

Dammit. I only came here for a last drink.

Grub laughed in that low cackle of his as he burrowed his way through a pile of mess in the far corner.

Rita arrived at my feet. Glowing eyes, shit-eating grin, and legs to die for. Her pungent smell enveloped me, and any chance of resistance evaporated with the steam coming off her puke-coated abdomen.

“Okay, Okay!” I surrendered. “Turn around then. And only one more time, I’m running on empty here.”

She spat her thanks in my face and swivelled about, more dexterous at the promise of some Freddy action.

I fucked her in front of all the other customers. We created quite the buzz of conversation. Even Grub raised his shiny black head from his burrowing. He seemed pleased with the free entertainment we were providing his venue.

At least until Rita started screaming in climax.

I’d forgotten about that. It’s why I’d left her.

She was a red-hot screamer.

I shrugged my apologies to the audience, who all blocked their ears with various appendages. I even blocked mine while I shafted her.

“Make it stop!” Grub shouted from the corner. “For fuck’s sake!”

But I was too distracted by our anatomies. The irritation of her hideous screeching paled in comparison to the primal, burning ecstasy that fired through my synapses.

A big hairy lout couldn’t tolerate the noise anymore. He strode over and twisted Rita’s head clean off. The noise coming from her exposed neck became a guttural wheezing.

Gotta say this for Rita. She had stamina. The wreckage of her headless body still thrust back against me a few more times.

But I was coming, and she was going.

After those hesitant humps, the rest of her admitted she was dead and crumpled over.

The kids were scrambled over Rita’s corpse, racing each other to the juiciest parts.

I looked down and saw with dismay that I’d been a bit too vigorous. I’d broken my dick off inside her. So it would indeed be my last hurrah.

I stumbled to the bar, oozing green muck in my wake.

One of Grub’s six-eyed wenches looked me up and down, without much pity.

“What’ll it be?”

“A shot of your best putrid puss,” I replied, as the room blurred and three of my legs went limp.

Time was almost up.

“Better make it a double!”