Macphisto.
Recently I was out drinking with my friend Gooshy and he was joined by a couple of work colleagues who decided to sit with us and make friends. The conversation was flowing and we were all dipping our fingers into each others' whisky sour residue which only served to bring us closer together and Goosh told a story about his grandparents screening blue movies at their house which we all made duly shocked murmurings at and then work colleague Mark started talking.
Mark: Man, you think that's fucked up...you should hear about my family. You know my mum's into fisting, right?
Goosh: ....
Me: Pardon?
Mark: My mum, she's into fisting. (to Goosh) I thought you knew about that.
Goosh: No.
Mark: Weren't you making jokes about it at work the other day?
Goosh: No, but I will now.
Mark: Oh. I thought - doesn't matter.
Me: (merry with wine and interesting new friend) TELL US ABOUT THE FISTING.
Mark: Okay, but it's kind of fucked up.
Goosh: (settling back in chair with fresh drink) All the better.
Mark: Well, my folks were away for the weekend and someone broke in to their place. My younger brother came home and found the joint totally trashed...they'd just gone through everything.
Me: I dread where this is heading.
Mark: My mum's bedside table had been upended on the floor, and there was just this...pile of hard-core fisting magazines. Spread all over the carpet.
Goosh: Oh my god.
Mark: And this massive sixteen-inch black fist dildo thing. Just sitting there.
Me: Oh my god.
Mark: The worst part about it was -
Goosh: There's worse than stumbling across your mum's fisting stash?
Mark: They'd done a poo on the bed.
Me: Who had?
Mark: The thieves.
Me: Why?
Mark: I have no idea. But my sister had to call mum and tell her about the break-in and the fact that the bedside table was...you know. Devoid of contents.
Goosh: What did she say?
Mark: She just went very quiet. And then she changed the subject.
Me: Have you talked to her about it since?
Mark: Nah. Occasionally I make jokes about fisting and stuff, but she just looks away and pretends she didn't hear me. Heh.
Me: You are officially my new favourite person.
**************
1. No child - NO CHILD - should have to live through such trauma. Oh god, the horror.
2. CAN YOU BELIEVE HE TRIES TO JOKE WITH HIS MOTHER ABOUT IT?
3. 'You know my mum's into fisting, right' is officially my most favouritest casual conversation starter ever.
249 days til the next election.
Comments
Did Mark ever consider that the thieves had just rolled a house down the street, and then realised that they couldn't carry all mum's bedside table stuff + the fisting mags and dildo nicked from the neighbours?
And of course Mum doesn't want to talk about the break-in, especially considering the filth (turd + fisting mags) left in Mum's room.
Mark, your mum's normal. You've got the sick mind not being able to see what actually happened.
Damn. And I thought I was going to impress you with a documentary I taped off TV the other night. YOU MUST SEE IT ASAP ANYWAY.
Massive sixteen-inch black fist dildo thing?
I feel quite inadequate and realise that I lead a very sheltered life.
Sweet Jumping Jesus! What a thing to learn... I... wow.
"sixteen inch".... is he saying that he (gasp) actually got down and MEASURED it?
you do realise you simply MUST marry that man now, don't you?
p.s. gooshy is too cute for words. i am most impressed with the likes of him.
Best. Post. Evs.
Yeesh...
- what was the follow up story; "...and as for my dad and the three-legged goat-" *?!*
*laughs so hard he starts crying*
Oh god yes that's just what I needed to lift the pressure of putting this week's paper to bed. Thanks, Fits, Gooshy and friends!
Hola Ms Fist,
Tales of suburban decay. Excellent. I bet you didn't expect this sort of story gold when you wandered in for a drink.
A thought though... why was it assumed the poo was a pressie from the thief? Could the poo not be some sort of prop, and the bad, bad thieves rained on Mark's Mum's stash 'o' poo? Could it be that her deep love of fisting took her to a place where she loved to be a human volcano?
It also occurs to me to ask, reading there term "hard core fisting, is there such a thing as soft core fisting?
Excuse typos in my post, I'm operating on about 5 hours sleep the last three days.
My last par should read "It also occurs to me to ask, reading the term "hard core fisting, is there such a thing as soft core fisting?"
Oi fits...I've got two fingers attached to my arm. I want to stick them the fuck in your little taut box
Is that you, Uncle Doug? Cheeky.
Read the first comment people.
Clearly there was no fisting, just a poor innocent victim who not only had her stuff stolen, she also had her reputation trashed, and the relationship with her sick perverted boy destroyed.
Poor sweet innocent mumsy. Am i the only one who is going to back the poor lady up?
What happened to Anonymous's other two fingers and thumb? That is the question you should be asking, Fitsy.
This most definitely has the potential to be one of my most favouritest stories ever.
Unrelated: Fancy switching on the tee-vee. I would swear, Fitsy, that you VERY NARROWLY avoided saying "blowjob" (c.f.: pick-up line, Things Not Given To Patrick White).
I bet some bloke returned from the second world war and got a good fisting from his wife.
"Ethnographic research indicates burglars experience an exhilaration or thrill once inside a dwelling (Cromwell et. al. 1991), and other research maintains they sometimes drop clues in a desire to get caught, get a sexual thrill from the voyeurism involved, and have a need to urinate or defecate on the floor out of excitement or to show their spite for the victim (Schlesinger & Revitch 1999)."
http://faculty.ncwc.edu/TOConnor/301/301lect16.htm
The only thing worse than finding your mum's fisting mags, is your dad finding your Buttman dvds.
and I thought my dad starting up an 8 AM conversation with "you know your mother had an affair..." was a good start to breakfast. This beats that hands down.
or rather, fists up.
Has anyone condsidered that, while Mark's mum might be into the fisting, the fisting might not be into Mark's mum?
I mean, maybe it was his dad who liked to get reamed with a 16 inch dildo.
Perhaps Mark should susbstitute this image for the one he previously held in his mind.
i'm still stuck on the poo on the bed part.
a poo on the bed?
a stranger poo?
rough. must be that adrenaline rush/ownership of theivery type of thing.
Holy shit.
this is a good blog.
Yes. burglars crapping in a prominent place in houses they rob is common.
The story reminds me of a couple of practical jokes played on my little brother when he was working as a geologist in the WA desert. Out there the drillers, men who operate a drill rig on the back of a truck and drill where the geo tells them too, are real pigs. Fringe of society, borderline career crims, they make big dough, $3-4K a week, then they hit town (Kalgoorlie) every second weekend and go on a cocaine/speed/heroin/pot/ booze/prostitute/gambling frenzy and blow the lot. It wasn’t unusual for my brother to encounter one of his drilling associates on a Sunday arvo and they’d hit him up for a loan. He was earning about $1.5K a week.
Anyway, my bro was in the middle of the desert, town was pub, servo, 2 houses staying with 2 drillers in the pub with a lovely old landlady. One day they were out working and they told my little bro, who was a baby-faced 21yo, that they'd spread their extreme hardcore porn mags all over his bed and covered them in jets of suncreen, or was it shampoo, you get the idea, for the lovely landlady to find. She did, she neatly tidied the porn mags on his bedside table and was very standoffish for the rest of his stay.
Another one was wrapping up a turd, human, and hiding it in his ute that he had to drive 500km back to Kalgoorlie in. Nice fellas.
Comments are closed.