Blind Date

You smell
like a dead person's
fart.

That's what she told me.

I took a whiff.

I did.

I regurgitated
a lil
in my mouth.

Not now,
I thought,
being dead is shitty.

Can you get me some cologne?
I asked politely.

Sure,
she said,
and ran off
inside her house.

I sprayed some on.

Is that better?

She said so,
and took me by the hand
to meet her mother.

She's really nice.

I didn't believe her.

I don't like
blind dates,
dead or alive.

Mommy,
my friend wants to meet you!!

Who is it?!

He's my good friend,
I just met hit
by the train tracks,
his name's Ray.

He's really, really cute.

She came down
and saw me.

I guess I still smelled
because she fainted.

Mommy?

She was obese,
but cute.

I picked her up and carried her
to her bed.

I stuck my tongue
in her mouth.

She moaned.

I groaned.

She opened her eyes,
panic possessed her mouth.

She separated my tongue
from my rotting mouth.

I began to bleed
all over her
rolls.

She liked it,
or at least,
this
is what I told myself.

I pulled down my pants
and tried jerking it
for her.

My skin peeled off.

She ran away in horror.

Anti-whore.

Damn,
I continued in my loathing,
I hate blind dates.

I pulled my pants up
and went to her daughter.

Where's the computer?

Thank you.

I punched in
Match.com
and started filling out
my profile.

Now this is more like it.

At least,
they can't
smell
me.

Picture time!