rants n raves

by tom miller

 

 

11/16/98 - 2:40 P.M.

 

revenge of the crabs

 

 

- 11/15/98 04:23:26

 

Comments:

 

Miller, you lying sack of steaming, frothy, Taco BellŪ fueled shit.

 

No crabs since '84? Ha!

 

All that peroxide done washed out your memory?

 

Think: 1993, Kinky headed brunette.

 

Startin' to itch just thinkin' about it, aintcha? Indeed.

 

All in the name of literary license, I'm sure.

 

 

*****

 

got this letter in the comments section of my web page. apparently, somebody knows me better than i do.

 

okay, you anonymous worm. you got me.

 

yes, there was another time i had crabs. yes, it was in 1993. yes, it was with a kinky haired brunette. she liked to fuck and she liked to be out in nature. two of the happiest worlds for crabs.

 

i hate going on and on about this crab thing, but there's a serious stigma about it, and it's complex.

 

for example, people figure if you have crabs, you are unclean. this isn't always the case. when people talk about crabs, they say "so-and- so gave me crabs." nobody gives crabs to you like some sort of wedding present. they just happen.

 

crabs happen.

 

third. if you get crabs but you've had sex with more than one person in the last six months, you don't know where you got them from. it could have been one person or another. you could have gotten them when you went out into the forest to piss. you could have sat on somebody's couch and pet their dog, and now you got crabs.

 

and how do you approach the subject?

 

"hi, mrs. X. i had a great time with you last night. by the way, do you have crabs or anything?"

 

"crabs?" she'll ask, "no. why? do you? oh my god!"

 

she'll never go on a date with you again.

 

here's more. i've written about crabs. anyone reading the journal is going to think, stay away from that guy. he's got crabs. he's had 'em before. he'll get 'em again. in the meantime, i'm so freaked out about all this crab business that i put that crab-death shampoo on me every weekend. kills crabs and their eggs. i got no pubic hair-- not anymore. i wash the bed sheets every other day. all my laundry is done on the hottest setting with bleach and dried on the hottest setting until slightly burned. i'm the least likeliest guy to have crabs at this point in my life.

 

but they'll say, "i've read his journal. he's crab man. he attracts crabs and people with crabs. and then, they'll bang somebody else who they're sure doesn't have crabs. but the crabs will be there, waiting to latch on and lay eggs and proliferate around the cock or cunt or whatever you got down there. suddenly, they'll be involved in the chain of life, feeding the little parasites with their ignorance, blood, and their dead skin.

 

fine! don't have sex with me! just better odds i don't get crabs.

 

and to compliment matters, if people do have crabs, i'm sure they lie about it. so you ask, "do you have crabs? could i have gotten them from you?"

 

they respond, "no." they scratch their groins. you don't see that because you're on the phone. "of course not. how dare you." the crabs, irritated by the scratching, crawl around to a more peaceful location, maybe around the balls or that unmentionable patch of skin between the balls and the anus. you hang up and figure you must have gotten them from the other guy.

 

you call him up. he really doesn't have them and he now knows you have them or had them, and you'll never see that one again. now the whole thing is fucked up.

 

i say, let's talk about it. keeping silent on crabs and yeast infections and fucking and buttfucking and sucking dick and what it's like to masturbate with the end of a corona bottle in your ass, is going to produce nothing but ignorance. and when your ignorant, you's a stupid idjit.

 

 

*****

 

so on to the brunette. she's pretty. she's a farm girl now. she likes watching things grow. she has the most beautiful smile. she worries too much about too many things. she's kind of a hippy and kind of not. she's mischievous. i don't see her very often any more. she lives in another state. i'm sure she's in a relationship with some guy, and he probably has a big dick. she likes her dicks big. nothing wrong with that.

 

as far as crabs go, i guess they used her to get onto about two other people that i know of. but whether she got them from the forest or the taboo places of the body, it makes no difference. there is no blame.

 

not much of a story to tell, except for the fact that she and i became close friends, and things worked out better that way than when we were in a relationship.

 

however the ant story is pretty good.

 

 

*****

 

 

we were out in the boonies, in a town called reddick. it's about as central florida as central florida can get. and we were at a gay bar called phil's place, built into a sort of combination house / trailer. we played pool together and drank, and drank some more. there weren't many people there. mostly toothless leering rednecks with distended livers showing through the skin of their stomachs, which stuck out from their too small t-shirts. this was their sexy look.

 

we got out of there and walked off into the forest. we were hot for each other that night.

 

"want to fuck?" she said.

 

"oh, yeah," i replied.

 

we kissed as we took off our clothing. right there, in the middle of god's grand forest, we fucked beneath the full moon, and three minutes later, we felt the ants.

 

"i think we're in ants," she said.

 

"shit!"

 

i bounded up, as did she, and we began hopping and swatting ourselves. just two monkeys lumbering around trying to get the ants off. the ants were biting.

 

we got our clothing and put it on as we ran back to the club. she headed for the ladies room and i for the men's. i pulled off the pants again and in the light, i could see i was covered with ants. i killed them all, slapping them, pinching them, cursing them. "you die, motherfucker," i said to one. "i'll show you who are the superior creatures."

 

with that done, i put my pants back on, went back into the bar, and ordered another beer. soon, she joined me. i'm highly allergic to insect venom of any kind and on the way home in the car, i passed out.

 

they don't call it reddick for nothing.

 

 

*****

 

so there you have it, you anonymous worm. the truth is out. i had crabs in 1993 and ants too.

 

you hear that, folks?

 

i had crabs and ants!

 

leave me alone. don't have sex with me. who knows what the hell i'll get next from you people.

 

maybe lobsters.

 

maybe fungus.

 

maybe rats.

 

 

(tune in next week for the continuing adventures of tom miller and his world of the rotting fruit.)

 


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