Friday, April 26, 2013

Story 2

Note: This is the second part of the story creatively entitled, "Story." Read the first here.

“Fuck fuck fuck! What do we do?”

“Calm your tits, man!” I said after slapping Khalid square across his left cheek.

Rubbing his face, he asked, “Should we pretend to not be here? Maybe he'll go away.”

The creaking sound of our front door was as loud as the laughs of the gods that hated us so.

“I’m coming in, so hide anything you don’t want me to see!” said the maintenance man while walking through our living room.

“Shit! Tell him I pissed my pants!” I quickly whispered and closed the door in a hurry.

I sat on the toilet seat and closed my eyes. I had hoped that the slap I gave Khalid’s boney cheek would help him loosen up and think of something quick. Finding a dead hooker a minute after I woke doesn’t exactly help me think.

And then Khalid delivered.

“Thanks for coming in, but I’m afraid you’ll have to return some other time. My roommate is in there and he just wet himself on my floor. He’s been wetting himself a lot lately, persistent childhood problem, and he’s a bit embarrassed by this whole thing.”

“Oh it’s no problem! Sorry to hear he’s had such a bad day,” the maintenance man said in a booming voice.

Bad day. Boy, I’ll say.

Khalid opened the door and poked his head in.

“The coast is clear.”

“I would’ve told you to go fuck yourself over your disparaging comments regarding my ‘persistent bladder problem’ if it were any other day, but you may have just saved our asses…for now.”

I got up, still feeling the damp cotton of my pajama pants.

“Why was the maintenance man here when we inconveniently have a dead hooker in the house?”

“The shower wasn’t working this morning, so I called up the maintenance line. She was still alive then…”

“And it completely slipped your mind that someone was coming over just when there happened to be a dead body in the tub?”

“I don’t know what to tell you; I panicked. And for the record, I didn’t kill her. Don’t you see how high those heels are? She must’ve tripped or something, because I walked in and she was unconscious on the floor after breakfast. I tried checking for signs of life, but nothing. My parents would kill me if they knew about this from the cops or anyone! So I freaked out and put her inside the bathtub and went out to get acid, as per the many gangster movies I’ve seen.”

“So you weren’t completely responsible for all of this, just some of it. Thank you gods for not completely shitting on our miserable souls,” I replied in a cynical tone while looking up at the sky.

“Look, someone might be able to help us out here. Mason, maybe?” I wondered out loud.

“Or Wisam. Maybe he knows some people that ‘take care’ of people,” said Khalid.

“We’ve got to get her out of here either way. Think of something while I go shower. Also, try your best not to get mixed up with any more hookers while I’m away,” I said and then walked across the hall to my room.

“For your information, she preferred to be called an ‘escort,’” said Khalid

To be continued…


I woke up at around noon with my bladder acting as my very own inconvenient alarm clock. The sad part is that I can't throw the fucking thing away like I would an iPhone. Thus, I was forced to empty it at my nuclear holocaust of a bathroom.

The full bladder prompted me to run there, only to notice the unexpected lack of toilet water. I tried flushing, but the mechanism took no effect. Feeling the weight of my bladder converting into pain, I stopped trying to figure out what the problem was and I quickly thought up of a way to salvage what was left of my urinary system.

"Fuck it, I'll use my roommate's bathroom."

I rushed into my soon-to-be sanctuary, which later turned out to be only the second gravest mistake I've made in the past 12 hours, ranking right after not taking a piss before I slept.

In front of me, a tall, curvy, womanly figure lied face-down inside the bathtub. She wore what appeared to be a skimpy outfit and a pair of black high heels.

In a panic, I turned around to exit through the wide-open door, only to see my roommate's red, sweaty face. He carried a couple of Walmart bags that were filled to the brim with Drano and other acidic cleaning materials. The bags dropped to the floor immediately after the realization of my discovery hit him like a Mike Tyson uppercut.

"Khalid, why is there a dead hooker in your bathtub?" I asked in the slowest, least trembling tone I could muster up.

"Nayefo you gotta help me!" he screamed. "I didn't mean for you to find out about this!"

"So your best solution was to dissolve her in acid? That shit doesn't work in real life!" I retorted.

The bright side from all this was that I didn't need to go to the bathroom anymore, judging from the warm liquid passing between my toes.

"Did you just pee your pants?" Khalid asked, looking at the large yellow stain gracing his formerly clean floor.

"Shut up! You killed a fucking hooker!" I shot back. "I came here to pee in the first place when I made the gruesome discovery."

"Besides, how do you know she's dead?"

"She isn't breathing, mate."

"I can check on her again all the same."

But before I could act, there was a knock on the apartment door.

"Maintenance! Here to fix your bathroom," the fat, balding man shouted.

To be continued...

Click here for part 2

Sunday, April 21, 2013

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