THE STORY OF MANDEL SHIVERS (standard:humor, 575 words)
Author: Danny Zil	Added: Apr 29 2007	Views/Reads: 3271/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Things ain't hangin right for Mandel just now....and bits of his girlfriend ain't hangin right either !

THE STORY OF MANDEL SHIVERS 

It begins like this.... 

“Could you shut that fucking dog up !!” Mandel roared, sitting up in
bed. 

Katya, his big breasted girlfriend, complied. She lifted the small dog
and placed him in his basket then bent over and stroked him. 

Watching her short skirt ride higher over smooth brown thighs, Mandel
felt an erection looming. Christ how he wished she'd hurry up and 
complete that sex change. Like, I mean, how can you have a serious 
relationship with a chick, who's got a bigger dick, than you ? 

Mandel lay back and lit a smoke. ‘How I wish I was French,' he thought
and dreamily saw it all. Paris. The Seine. The left bank where he would 
draw his sketches. The right bank where he would draw his allowance. 
From Mom and Pops. Back home in Florida. Pops ridiculous in khaki 
shorts and varicose veins. Mom ridiculous in diamonds the price of a 
house. 

“Oh darlink, how I am vontink you !” drawled Katya, disturbing his
reverie. 

Mandel grinned. He knew what was coming next – him. 

Katya removed her top and unhooked her bra, displaying twin triumphs of
breast enhancement surgery. Her nipples stiffened, as did Mandel's 
cock. They fucked. 

From the safety of its vantage point under a table, a cochroach watched.
Sensing the humans were otherwise engaged (and in the future, probably 
divorced) it took the opportunity to search the room for food. No luck. 


The bed creaked rhythmically and bounced on the floor. Katya groaned and
yelled. 

‘She's not a quiet fuck, I'll give her that,' Mandel thought as he
ploughed away. ‘And I'll give her this as well.' He ploughed on. 

In the room downstairs, disturbed once again by the noise from above, a
dwarf was woken from slumber. Enraged, he leapt out of bed, grabbed a 
broom and jumping up and down, tried to bang on the ceiling to 
complain. He failed. In the room below him, disturbed once again by the 
noise from above, a basketball player was woken from slumber. Enraged, 
he leapt out of bed, grabbed an umbrella and banged on the ceiling to 
complain. He succeeded. 

Semen dispersed, Mandel lay back and smoked. Beside him Katya drifted
off to sleep and was soon dreaming of her small village in Poland – the 
dark pine forests, winter snow, drinking hot rum and singing folk songs 
at cosy bonfires till somebody stood on an unexploded World War 2 mine 
then there was blood and guts everywhere. 

Disturbed, Katya moaned in her sleep. Mandel thought she was awake
because she moaned then as well. 

He blew some smoke rings and watched them drift up to the ceiling then
realised that soon it would be time not to go to work – the last job 
now a distant ripple in the boat's wake. 

“You are a successful failure,” Pops had told him. Pops, a wealthy
banker, had washed his hands of him. Mom, a wealthy socialite, had 
washed her feet of him. 

Mandel sighed and looked round the room – it was bare as a winter tree.
He considered his future prospects – they wilted faster than his recent 
erection. 

Picking its moment well, the ghost of his future briefly appeared before
him. It grinned and beckoned a boney finger towards a life of soul debt 
repayment. 

A thin wind blew in through the thin crack in the window. It was enough.
Huddled under his blanket, Mandel Shivers...shivers. 


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