Saturday, August 5, 2017

I was in a Titty Trance...

Chapter Twelve, Old Spermy

Old Spermy is my biological father.  Well, Leonard's biological father.  And Leonard just happens to be my biological father's name.

Yes the chapter was influenced by my sperm donor, deadbeat dad.  God I hate calling him dad, in any capacity.

The mother fucker sold me and my siblings for a penny to get out of paying child support.  That's right.  The child support court order was lifted, and the back child support owed was removed from his credit reports, all for a stinking red cent.

I'm almost positive my story isn't unique.  I mean, how many kids had to or are having to or will have to live through their parents' ugly divorces.  Millions upon million upon millions, maybe it's in the trillions?

Fuck you, Leonard.

At least I got to feel out his new trophy wife's tits.

It's interesting, and I've noticed this before, but every time I write something specific about Leonard, Wee Wee's Dad, I write it in the first person, "I."

And why did I name Wee Wee's dad, "Leonard," when I hate the guy so much?  This book is ugly, folks, with lots of unsavory characters.  "Leonard" fits right in.

Anyway, I dedicate this chapter to Leonard Harry Leeds, the colossal prick deadbeat da (I can't write it) that sold my ass for a penny.  I hope it was worth it, you cocksucker. 

Chapter Twelve, Old Spermy, The First Few Pages

It was Thursday morning and my wife thought I started a new job today. But I was really on my way to the sperm donor’s house. It turned out that he was living large in an upscale neighborhood in Ventura County. It was a sprawling ranch style home at the end of a paved road that turned into a dirt road at the end of a cul-de-sac. Keep in mind that I haven’t seen Old Spermy, as I refer to him, in thirty years. He gave me up for adoption and quit his kids when I was nine. The cost to him was one fucking red cent. That’s right. I was nine years old at the time, and Harry gave the adoption of his kids to my stepdad the seal of approval under one condition. Old Spermy negotiated a payment of one red cent to get the hundred thousand dollar child support back order removed from his credit report. To say I wanted this man deader than a door nail was an understatement. I knocked on Harry’s door at 10:30 am. Through the thick stained glass on the door, I saw somebody approach. One of the thick oak wood double doors opened, and what did I see? The hottest trophy wife I’ve ever seen. She was a petit bottle blonde with fake tits and a hot tanned body. I’m pretty sure I was older than her by at least ten years. Actually, she looked barely eighteen. She had a little tike hiding between her legs. Let me guess, Old Spermy’s second attempt at the perfect family. It was enough to make me throw up, and I did in the potted tree just outside the front door. She said, “Are you alright?” I wiped my mouth and pretended like I didn’t hear her. I said, "Is my dad home?" She replied, "I'm sorry. You must have the wrong house. My husband doesn’t have a grown son." As she closed the door in my face I blurted out, “Harry Finkelstein?” She slowly opened the door again. With a crinkled brow, she gazed at me. I thought I heard her say under her breath, “Harry, you motherfucker.” I said, “How rude of me. My name is Leonard Litkovitz. Harry is my sperm donor dad. I mean my biological father.” She looked at me like she’d just seen a ghost. Her kid started crying. I said, “Could you kindly tell Harry that Leonard, his son, is here to pay his respects?” She said, “Uh, Yeah, sure.” She picked up her baby and went to get Old Spermy. I took a moment to admire the beautiful front yard landscaping and thought to myself, “Looks like Old Spermy’s done well for himself. I bet he’d have no problem paying that back child-support now.” The door opened, and I quickly turned around. There he was, ladies and gentlemen, with a full head of dark brown curly hair and a dark brown mustache. He had half a head of gray hair when I was nine years old, so I said with an enormous amount of sarcasm, “Dad? Your hair looks great. How about giving your son a great big hug?” His trophy wife watched all this drama taking place from inside the door. I saw that she had one of her hands over her mouth. Harry said one word in a fake excited tone of voice, “Leonard.” Then he ran towards me like I was his lover. Even still, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to tackle me to the ground or give me a hug, so I prepared myself for the worst. He decided to give me a hug. Then he looked me in the eye and whispered, “Leonard, what the fuck are you doing here?” “Don’t make a scene, Dad, or I’ll fuck this marriage up too.” Harry suddenly had a smile on his face. I smiled back at him. “That’s right, Old Spermy. Play the fucking game.” I put my arm around him, and we walked towards the front door. I said, “Let’s go inside, Pop. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” He went along with the charade because his new wife, who was staring at his every move, had no idea that her loving husband had three kids from a previous marriage that he gave up for adoption at a price of one stinking cent. We walked into the entry way. I said, “Dad, your home is gorgeous. Looks like you finally found a job, huh?” I glanced at his wife and the expression on her face was priceless. Trophy wife cleared her throat as a signal to Harry. He said, “Forgive me, this is my beautiful wife Beverly, and our three-year-old son Chad.” I nodded at them. “It’s my pleasure meeting you Beverly. I wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you, but dear old Dad never got around to letting me know he got remarried.” Yeah, I was on a mission to fuck up Harry’s day and enjoyed every minute of it. After an uncomfortable silence, Harry said, "Why don't we continue catching up in the living room?” Beverly asked me, “Would you like something to drink, Leonard?” I replied, “Sure, a soda would be fine.” The living room was easily 1,000 square feet with a fifty-inch flat screen television embedded in the wall. We sat down on the Italian leather couch. Harry said to me, “Please, Leonard. Don’t fuck this up for me. So far you’re doing a pretty damn good job."






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