Writing Practice

Jame

My name is Jame because there's only one of me. You're welcome for that, by the way. I have a cock longer and thicker than a 24 storey building.

Also I'm a noir cop detective private investigator with a dead wife. I won't go into the gnarly details of her demise, just know said cock longer and thicker than a 24 storey building had everything to do with it.

(I fucked her into another realm. The other realm being death. I'm sorry, wifey™️)

Now the only creature that keeps me company is my Partner: Cop Rude Ass Man Who's Short, Old, and Has a Receding Hairline, a Cool Gun, as well as an Alcohol Addiction and a Dead Son who was Killed by Robots™️.

I just call him Pahtnah from that time when I was a bounty hunter cowboy in the old west that passed my time by chewing on one single cigarette that was almost as long and girthy as my monstrous wang and also, of course, being Gay.

I also have a dog. I fucking hate it though. It looks like a mangy rat and has a name that rhymes with Phlegmentine. Probably a citrus fruit. Probably orange. The fruit it's named after, not the dog.

Did I mention I fucking hate it? The dog, not the fruit. I hate the fruit too, to be clear.

I fucking hate everything as I am a hater.

Pahtnah says I'm a nihilist because along with everything else I hate, I also hate God. And the universe. Especially god. And that one stupid planet at the end of our dumbass Galaxy that is just pure gas.

If you tried to land in it, you'd fall right through. What a waste. So lame. I've had farts more solid than that entire fucking space cloud.

He also says I'm stupid for not thinking the sun is real. If the FBI wanted me to believe in it, they should've made it more cool. What's winter? What are seasons? Why don't planes crash into it? Where does it go when it's night time? Why are there oceans?

I hate it. Fuck that holographic orb of orange. Reminds me of my dog that's named after that stupid fruit.

Pahtnah told me once the sun is actually white. He said if it wasn't white we wouldn't have the full-spectrum of color. I hate him. If the sun's white, then why isn't it white? Also is he implying color-blind people don't exist?

Idiot bootlicker.

We kissed on the lips once. He was drunk, and I was back on my gay vibes. He sucked at it. He was better at sucking dick. He told me I lacked humanity and warmth all because it took me 18 and a half days to cum. I would've explained that that's how long it takes for my cummie sperms to travel up the massive length of my shmeat, but I didn't because I hate him.

We haven't talked in years. At the precinct detective cop office, we just grunt and point at things.

We were trying to crack a case on some dead or actively dying prostitute who was missing. Cap'n said he was going to fire my ass if I didn't get my shit together. I grunted and smoked a whole cigar and then 8 more.

As we were leaving, Pahtnah grunted and pointed at the five-feet long bulge in my pocket. He telepathically told me that he needed to smoke one too. I telepathically told him that it was actually my flaccid cock.

I also told him I was embarrassed about how small it was when it was soft. I was a grower. I'm used to it being 24 stories as I already said, idiot.

He blushed. He wanted to kiss me on the tip again but we didn't have 18 and a half days to waste.

We went to interview another prostitute. Pahtnah ended up making her pregnant. It was his dead son who was murdered by robots™️'s birthday.

He thought he could make a clone of him by making another kid. It was the best damn logic I ever heard. Maybe I could make a clone of my dead wife if I remarried.

When the prostitute was 9 months pregnant with triplets (she gave him two clones for free) I asked her to marry me. She said no. She said she didn't marry men who didn't believe in the sun or god. She said the sun was god. I said if the sun was god, then why couldn't I see it? She said I had to look at it with my eyes open. I said no.

If there was anything I hated more than god and women, it was authority. Specifically women with authority who were telling me to look at god.

I asked her if she killed the prostitute. I could tell when people were lying as I was a noir cop detective private investigator, and I already found out the FBI was lying about the sun, as well as god.

She said no. And she said yes.

We'd broken the dimension in half. In one reality, she admitted to her crimes. In the other she was a filthy liar and I arrested her anyway because I knew she was lying. I'm so cool.

I repaired the dimension when she was 10 centimeters dilated and rotting in a prison cell. The clones died. They were clones. And everyone knows a clone of a dead person is just a dead clone.

Pahtnah and I kissed over their bodies. Oh yeah, the prostitute died.

I asked him to marry me. Not telepathically. We were talking again. He said yes. But only if I could make him another son. I said I would, but only if he could make me another wife.

When I repaired the dimension, I made male preg canon. I was now pregnant, and Pahtnah was now my life partner. He made a damn good wife.

Our son was stupid though. Couldn't even give birth to himself. Couldn't feed himself or walk or talk or sleep all hours of the night.

Dumbass baby. Even dumber than my stupid fucking dog.