Knetter's Monthly Blood: Dishes
The man! The myth! The ass! Joe Knetter's back with another tale (or is it tail?) of bowel shaking horror that is guaranteed to make you uncomfortable! Dare you read on?
I first realized I was not alone in the house while doing something I loathe, the dishes.
The dishes had been piling up for the last week or so. Every time I walked through the kitchen I was hit with the potent one-two punch of sour milk and rancid meat. I understood the milk smell; I had eaten a bowl, or more accurately a box of cereal for dinner a few nights ago. The meat smell confused me though. I had not eaten any form of meat in the last week. Don’t get me wrong, I would have gladly stuffed my belly with the sweet taste of animal flesh until I burst, I’m not a vegan or anything, I simply couldn’t afford any meat at this time, not on my income alone. It may sound weird but I can handle smells that come from me. I think it’s similar to when you fart. For some reason your farts never smell as bad as other peoples. The sour milk smell was bad…but I could tolerate it. After all I understood it. The meat...well the meat stench just kind of pissed me off and seemed to violate me in ways that can’t fully be described.
I finally broke down and decided to do the dishes, more to find the source of my discomfort than anything else. As I walked to the sink, the smell was overpowering. I remember one summer when I was young, we lived in a trailer. Not the nice ones you see now, nope, one of the old metal ones. Hot as hell during the summer. Well, we had a smell in that place too. It stank to high heaven, mostly when you opened the kitchen utensil drawer. You’d open that damn drawer and a warm breeze of filth would engulf your face. For those that lived in the old trailers you’d know that access to the underneath of the trailer was blocked by plastic panels. They broke and cracked with ease. Well we found the source of the smell underneath the trailer. A raccoon had crawled underneath the trailer and died. How? Who the fuck knows? All we knew was that the smelly bastard lay rotting directly under the kitchen cabinet. I still don’t know what was worse. The smell of the carcass or the sound of my Uncle puking as he crawled under the trailer to retrieve it. It was months before we fully got the smell of death off of the silverware. You try and eat your dinner like that. We didn’t chew much…only swallowed quickly before the smell hit. It was gross.
I stood at the sink and looked down. Fruit flies covered the sink and dishes. I swatted them away and they scattered, settling on the walls and cabinets. I had a sudden thought of grabbing a toothpick and spearing them one at a time. Ugly fuck nasty bastards. As the thought crossed my mind I felt a cool breeze from behind. Goosebumps popped out all over my arms and I quickly turned. All I saw was my living room, messy but otherwise the same. I rubbed my arms as I turned back around. It was an old house so drafts weren’t uncommon. Still, one so cold was kind of out of the ordinary. I began lifting the dirty dishes out of the sink so that I could fill it up with sudsy water and more importantly find that damn stink. I stacked them on the counter. Every time I lifted one out I would expect to find the source of the putrid smell, but didn’t. With the sink empty and the smell more pungent than ever I looked down into the drain. It had to be coming from there. I leaned down and took a quick whiff. Oh God was it harsh. My eyes watered and I held my hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting. The smell was definitely coming from there. I ran the water and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. It puttered for a few seconds and then stopped. It must have cut whatever nastiness was in there open though, for the smell doubled in intensity. There was only one thing I could do. I had to reach in and take out whatever was rotten in there. I slowly stuffed my fingers in and tried to feel what was in there. It was just within reach. My fingers glided over the top of it. I folded my hand inward so that I could squeeze most of it in there. My fingers cradled whatever it was. I had to push and strain to grasp all the way around it. It felt moist and almost gelatin like. Its outer skin had a roughness to it that exploded into juiciness if I squeezed too hard. I had it in the palm of my hand when it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move behind, something bright. I jumped, whatever I was holding fell out of my hand as I yanked it out quickly. In that split second, the garbage disposal roared to life, its metallic blades spinning quickly, narrowly missing my fingers. I turned around and the flash of light was gone. I turned the disposal off, pissed off that I was so stupid to not have done so before I went and stuck my God damn hand in the son of a bitch. I have never been one to believe in ghosts. I think most of that talk is horseshit; however I can’t deny the initial feeling that something was looking out for me that day. I walked into the living room and as I passed through the doorway I felt another strong rush of cold air. The hair on my arms stood up and my balls crawled into my stomach. Now I know you ladies find that hard to believe but when a man gets into a predicament his balls know, and then tend to run for the hills or, in a more accurate description, your belly. They cower there, waiting for the trouble to subside. I stopped and looked around. I didn’t see anything weird. From behind though I heard a chair begin to slowly slide across the kitchen linoleum. I turned in time to see it rotate a full 360 degrees before sliding back in place. Whatever was going on was definitely happening in the kitchen.
“You there?”, I asked sheepishly.
My mouth was so dry. It felt like I hadn’t drank anything in day...hell months. I stepped up to the doorway and reached my hand through. The hair on my arms stood up like a cobra in front of a snake charmer. It even seemed to weave back and forth.
“Shit”, I said, because it was the only thing I could think of saying.
I stepped into the kitchen and felt a rush of numbness spread across my body. My whole body began to vibrate. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. My lungs filled with cool air and I felt suddenly at peace. I wanted to feel that cool air all over my body so I stripped off all of my clothes. I know how peculiar that sounds, trust me I do, but if you would have been there you would’ve done the exact same thing. I stood naked and erect as a ghost blew cool, heavenly air all over my body. Like I said I never believed in ghosts before but at that moment I had one…and not only that, it had to be an Angel, my Angel. While I felt the cool air all over, tickling and teasing me, I could definitely feel it stronger in certain areas, first behind my ear. The Angel breathed into my ear and it sent off all sorts of sensations pulsing throughout my body.
“Mmmm”, I moaned, shivering in delight.
The sensation moved down my neck onto my chest. It spent a few seconds on my left nipple before heading over to the right. It was amazing. I opened my eyes and while I couldn’t fully see anything I did notice a slight wavering in the air before me. Not that much different from a mirage on a hot day. The sensation moved down my belly and I arched my back, pushing my pecker forward. The coolness surrounded my cock as the Angel began her blow job. It teased me just right, slowing down and speeding up at random moments, the cool air baptizing me with lust. I began to want nothing more than to ejaculate, just to see what would happen to the semen. As I neared I felt myself rise into the air, floating above the floor. I couldn’t take anymore. I began thrusting forward, greedy for the release. The cold quickly turned warm as I fell face forward, my dick jabbing the floor.
“Ahh”, I screamed.
My arms were at my sides and I tried moving them, but couldn’t, same with my legs. My body was rigid and as I looked down, the only part of me that was touching the floor was also rigid, my cock. The pain was overpowering and I screamed again loudly. My mouth filled with the pungent aroma of decayed flesh and I vomited on the ground. My body began to glide forward, towards the sink. I looked at my cock as it skittered across the floor, sliding right into the vomit. I stopped when it was in the middle of the yellow acidic puddle.
“No, please”, I said before I began to spin, like a top. I started out slowly and was able to close my eyes and fight off most of the dizziness. After a few seconds I sped up, spinning so fast that I swear I could smell smoking coming off the head of my cock. I threw up again and managed to wear it as I was spinning so fast I caught it right in my face as I spun back around. And then it was over. At least the spinning was. I abruptly stopped and began to rise up in the air. I floated over to the sink and hovered above. I began to lower and then I realized what was going on. I was being lowered into the sink, cock first. Somehow I was still fully erect. Still there was no way I could possible get my dick in that disposal. I would have to bend practically in half. I settled on the sink and counter with an inch to spare before it went in the drain, let alone the six inches or so to get down to the garbage slashing blades. I felt a momentary feeling of relief when I felt my spine crack, not crack as in break, just a nice crack, similar to what you’d pay a chiropractor to do. I felt the cock head touch the rubber lining of the drain.
“Oh Fuck!” I screamed.
A few more cracks and I entered the drain. The disposal turned on and I screamed at the top of my lungs. I’m ashamed to say I shit myself as I struggled, but it was no use. I couldn’t move. I screamed as I felt the air flying off the blades open my urethra. Then there was darkness.
The events of that day are etched into my mind permanently. I remember everything exactly as it happened, right up until I blacked out. I woke up here, in this godforsaken hospital a few days later and here I’ve stayed for the last three years. What I experienced that day haunts me. I suppose I should be happy my neighbors heard the screams and came barging in my house. If not for them who knows, maybe I would have continued bending in half until my body joined the rancid substance in the drain. Still no one believes my story of what happened that day. They don’t say the word but I can see what they think. They think I’m crazy. I know in my heart I am not. They don’t understand, but really how could they. They didn’t experience the angel like I did. That angel was going to kill me, sure as shit. I know that now because they found my wife in the freezer, chopped up and put into little sandwich baggies. The Angel did that and would’ve done the same to me. You see it laid the trap by putting her vagina down the drain.
I’m not crazy. I know the truth. I didn’t kill my wife and then spread her cheating cunt over the drain to give it one last fuck. That’s crazy. I experienced a true to life meeting with something from the other side, something that people have wondered about for years and the doctors won’t believe me. No one will. Now you tell me, who’s the crazy one?
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