childhood memory 2

when i was 7 i was slow and missed the toilet by a few long seconds. it was the last time i shit my pants*. after a minute of initial panic, and a brief check to make sure it really was as bad as it had sounded, i decided to cunningly dispose of the soiled underwear by lobbing them over the cubicle's side panel - thereby disowning the evidence and cleverly avoiding any future consequences. tee-hee-hee, i thought. after tuck-break, however, we returned to class and i immediately smelt trouble. a stern teacher addressed the class brandishing the filthy pants - lofting them on high for all to see. on this i had not counted! an awkward child shuffled beside her, growing red in the face. "WHO...", she paused for effect, "thought it was a funny prank, to throw THESE...", she paused again, "on poor Andrew's head?" shit. i was done for. the all seeing eye of the teacher would surely know it was me. did they really have eyes in the back of their heads? - there was the childish "ommmm..." choiring around the room, and accusative stares shot from tell-tale pupil to tell-tale pupil like bitchy friendly-fire. i kept schtum and Miss made us ALL miss play-time. after the bell had gone i approached Andrew in the playground. i told him i was sorry and said i'd share my fizzy pop with him if he didn't tell anyone. an out-of-court settlement, for all intents and purposes. since then, of course, i've grown up a lot and instead throw my shit out of windows (LINK)

*correct at time of writing. due to a bout of particularly aggressive diarrhoea this must now be corrected

why are all the best lays unconscious?

last night i dreamt i was fucking my ex. again. why am i always fucking ex-girlfriends in my dreams? i wake up harder than a tree trunk and knock it out so fast the alarm hasn't even stopped fucking bleeping by the time i inadvertently come on my own face. gross. it's been over a year since i had a really good lay that wasn't unconscious. i mean, don't get me wrong, i'm not ungrateful - i put my hands together in thanks for all the teenage tongues that have turned me epileptic, but i can't recall a recent balling that left me with the post-orgasmic shakes and shivers. "you're living in the past" says a friend, "when you still had a soul to share" ...has it really come to that? that the sex is better in the time machine of dreams? these are supposed to be the most virile years of my life? now i am truly fucked.