Mikhail_S's profile

Was it she? Scarlet heart, swollen mouth. Was it she? Was it she, amid the tendrils of chaos, in a bulletproof vest, with a colt 45 pressed to the back of Larry King’s head… was it she, napalm Iraqi, luminous Kurd… was it she who blew out my crotch? Must think. Must retrace steps. Doves. A flutter. Doves aflutter. Sometime around three. Inside the mansion of a popular American news anchor. Sounds. A stirring. Sounds astirring. A cardiac interruption. Fade to black. A pair ...

I was a buxom, betesticled Russian.

Theresa Everglade, dipped in the furnace of pulchritude, rode a full-blooded Pomeranian in the dog races at Fat Rock, Minnesota. In the crowd, David Frunmam sat and smiled at the undulations of her breasts and pockets of cellulite under her arms, imagining himself in a room with her, performing tongue-licking sexual foreplay rituals with the droopy hangings of skin, then performing intercourse with her while the dog watched, barking with canine envy. Jesus, I need to snap out of this. I do al...

Dear Lord, grant us rakes. Amen.

At the innermost point in Minsk, at the nucleus of the whole gravid, subterranean ragshack, amid the squealing wants of the hussars and the desolate mewl of the beggars, stood a juggling muzhik named Husky Huskovich – an infertile, knuckle-dragging haemophiliac allergic to gravel and warts. On his left, at the innermost point minus three baby steps stood the debauched damsel Countess Whisk Whiskovich, cigarillo pressed between her scant, talcum-tainted fingers and a smirk of the seediest prop...