So I was in bed and failing to get to sleep. Now there’s nothing unusual about that but an image of a man being raped at gunpoint entered my head (thankfully, that is very unusual). It was only a matter of time until I’d decided why he was in such a predicament. So I don’t know if I’ll take this any further but here is what I scratched out of that nasty brainworm.
I thought the nozzle of a gun pressing against my temple would be a far more frightening experience but its coinciding with my first time being raped has rather stolen its thunder. By all press reports, this shell of a former Hollywood action hero should’ve been incapable of sodomising me, but then, most reports of his failing health and slide into feckless alcoholism were fabricated by yours truly.
Tyler Throwback had been the toast of Tinseltown and a hero to socially awkward teenage boys for nearly a decade. His films a shocking mix of high-kicking, car-chasing, soft focus tits and naff one liners; his presence on the marquee guaranteed huge opening weekend box office receipts. That was until he was outed as a pederast with a sideline in bestiality. Or did I make that up too? The difference seems academic as he tears the flesh of my arsehole and spits furious nothings into the pooled saliva in my ear.
I know how I got here. And I don’t really care. Like many in this town I saw my shot and took it. I only wish I wasn’t about to die face down in a pillow case I should’ve washed months ago.
Worth pursuing? Perhaps. We’ll see what happens.