It is rare for
Bold Monkey to post the original, unpublished work of writers but Terence
Rissetto is a new alternate voice worth reading. He is a philosophy and
anthropology graduate of the University of Auckland. Rissetto’s work is characterised by its intricate word play, particularly
its extensive use of pun, black humour & self parody. His poem 'The Mistress' is clever in its use of dialogue to reveal the unexpected motivations of his characters. Rissetto's short story ‘The Great Bukowski’
pays homage to the master but also attempts to kick him violently in the balls. The poem 'Dutch Courage' which follows, likens the effects of alcohol to 'a young girl’s dressing gown/ Slipping
off before her shower'.
Biography
Terence Rissetto was
deprived of oxygen at birth, and immediately became an oxymoron, a lifelong
ambition. His full name means “tender wise counsellor of the wild rose”, often
shortened by those who meet him to “that prick”. He currently lives in New
Zealand after working at a Victorian psychiatric hospital throughout the 80’s.
He has never done a Masters of Creative Writing, preferring the insanity of
everyday anti-psychotic life. And he insists that he has spent more time inside
bars than behind them.
Terence is the author
of his own misfortune. In addition, he has had poems published in Blackmail
Press and Penduline Online, and short stories published in Landfall and
Pikihuia, where he was a finalist in the 2011 bi-annual short story awards for
Maori writers.
The Mistress
How could you forget our
anniversary? Look at the meal I made for us!
It’s
ruined, just like we are.
-
Honey, it’s not like you think, nothing happened.
Oh
yeah? How do you explain the hair on your shirt
And
the lipstick on your neck?
-Just
the waitress fooling around, you know how it is.
Sure,
how about the packet of condoms in your pocket
With
two missing?
-
Oh um, I was looking after them for the boys, they’re not mine.
You
know I’ve seen the two of you together, playing happy families? It makes me
sick,
You
spend more time with her than you do with me.
-
But I work with her.
I
used to work with you too until you asked me to leave,
Should
I go out and get a boyfriend? How would you feel?
-
Okay, how can I make it up to you?
Make
love to me, now.
-
Look honey I’d love to but I’m late for work.
Make
love to me or I’m gone when you come back.
This
place you keep me in is like a prison anyway.
He
started to protest then kissed her
Undressed
her and made love to her
With
a panache and passion she’d never had before.
Afterward
she sat on the edge of the bed crying softly.
-
You don’t have to fight me to make up, he said.
I
know you’re lying, those positions are new,
-
No they’re not, we just haven’t tried them before
So
how come you didn’t come?
-
Oh, honey you know I had a tough night out with the boys last night.
Henry,
just answer me this one question,
Are
you fukking your wife again or not?
This story comes with a language and subject matter warning: R rated material.
This story comes with a language and subject matter warning: R rated material.
The Great Bukowski
I couldn’t believe my luck, my
drinking hero, the Great Bukowski, GB, was in the same bar as
me drinking with a superbly built 6 foot tall dark haired amazon, one
drink short of one too many, and a mini of her, probably her daughter,
semi-drunk, with breasts as big in front as her ample booty was
behind.
Perfect time to show the world
who was the better man. Slipping down a quick triple whiskey I lurched over to
their table and announced loudly: “I want to fuk your
girlfriend.”
The GB looked
up disinterestedly and dismissed me without
interrupting the launch of a tirade of 1000 Helen
of Troy words about sluts and bitches. The amazon smiled at me lopsidedly
hiking her already short skirt higher and deliberately
uncrossing and crossing her long beautiful legs at the same time as leaning
forward and showing a ravine’s worth of cleavage.
I grabbed the
GB’s shoulder and announced again loudly: “I want to fuk your
girlfriend.”
“Fuk off,” he snarled,
shaking his shoulder free of my grasp.
“I said, I want
to fuk your girlfriend.”
He looked at me bleakly through
meat cleaver eyes.
“Pal, you got balls coming up to me
like this when I’m just chilling, chewing the fat with
my friends here but I’ll give you a bit of advice. Grow a vagina
and go fuk yourself.”
“I want to fuk your
girlfriend.”
“So do I but
she ain’t here.”
“Alright then I want
to fuk your wife.”
“So do I but she’s with my
girlfriend.”
“Okay then I want
to fuk her,” I pointed at the amazon who smiled
back with perfect teeth.
The GB slid back his chair,
cursing as he spilt his drink.
“Son, she only does threesomes, can
you handle that?”
“Course I can,” I said drawing
myself up to full height and sucking in a deep breath as the GB sighed.
“Okay kid. Show us your pecker.”
“My what?” I stammered.
“Your pecker, woody, your love
log, stars and stripes, old glory, your cock dumb muthafukka.”
“But we’re in the middle of a bar.”
“Didn’t stop you coming up to me
and yelling out you want to fuk my friend here.”
I was too far gone to sober up now
and after some fumbling for time I dropped my trousers
and flopped flipper’s flapper out.
“Okay,” said the
GB, “Stop fukking around. Where’s the rest of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“That all you
got? Muthafukka! She’s got a bigger one than that!” he pointed
to the mini amazon who smiled sympathetically at me.
“It’s cold in here,” I
protested, “besides my cock’s like bog, it
expands with moisture to fill any hole it’s put in.”
“I bet,” the GB said
sarcastically, “especially arseholes like yourself. You reckon you
could fuk these two with a chicken kebab like that? Try one
of these instead.”
He flopped out a pecker that
looked like a giant three foot long purple salami as ugly and ribbed as
his pitted face, and slammed it down on the table.
“Now that’s what you
call a pecker. I can slide little Miss Missy up and down between her
pussy lips from behind and still have enough nine yards to
stuff it into Chartreuse here’s wet pussy while drinking a
flagon of port with one hand. They don’t call me the GB for
nothing. You still game son? Can you do that with a
threesome?”
“A threesome?” There seemed to
be a hidden meaning in the way he said the words.
“Yep, I’m the third. The three of
us all at once or I can do you alone if you want.”
“I don’t like
being fukked in the arse or vice versa,” I was adamant.
“You got it. I don’t
like fukken arseholes either and you gotta be one of the
biggest I’ve come across, so to speak. Why don’t you crawl back
to the shithole where you came from”
The
amazon interjected, “Leave him alone Henry. You’re being
too hard on him. He’s just a kid and he is kinda cute
looking. I’d do him for $100.”
The GB looked at her interestedly.
“Really? Your
lucky day arsehole. Tell you what, give me $175 and you can have both of
them for half an hour, hope your wallet’s bigger than your pecker.
Buy me a whiskey while you’re at it and a pitcher of beer.”
He looked at his watch.
“Be back in an hour or I’ll find
you and kill you with your own pecker. Pucker up son
you’re going to get your arse screwed off. Be gentle ladies, Daddy loves
you!” He blew them both an ironic kiss.
The three of us staggered across
the road to a rundown motel with orange candlewick bedspreads and faulty
air conditioning. I poured us a round of stiff drinks and the amazon
hugged me hard and took off her top, one squeeze confirming that her tits
were real. Hell, i lov yah.
The mini bar squeezed my buttocks
tightly while burying her face in the front, her efforts doubling the
length and breadth of my kebab. The GB, what an
arsehole! Considering the size of his pecker the amazon was a surprisingly
tight fit. Mini helped guide me in, holding my cock from behind, massaging
my balls and rubbing her soft breasts against my
back. At some point she put a well lubricated finger
in my arse which magically prompted a frenetic heavy
metal hard horn unison threesome until bang on the half hour mark we all
came together in a great melting pot big enough to take the world and all it’s
got. As a bonus, Mini’s ministrations meant I was no
longer constipated. I felt good. Going by the shrieks of laughter from the
girls as they showered together, I had shown the GB a thing or two.
He was waiting at the same table
when we got back, belligerent amongst several empty pitchers of
beer and ripped up racing guides.
“How’d you go arsehole?” He
greeted me with a knowing leer, holding out his hand for the money.
“Finally lose your cherry?”
“Actually it was incredible if
I say so myself especially once I got past the used bits it was
come home to papa. Can’t wait to tell everyone
I fukked the GB’s girlfriends. What you got to say about that muthafukka?” I
slapped him a one armed fist salute.
The GB opened his mouth to speak
and the amazon shook her gorgeous head imploringly, leaning over to kiss him on
the lips and rub her breasts against him. He pushed her away and put his
hand up under Mini’s skirt and a finger in her panties.
“Glad to see you have a sense of
humour son. Tell you what, I’m a betting man as you probably know,
and I’ll bet you triple to nothing that I can show you something so
incredible that you will never forget it. I guarantee what you’ve
just been through will pale into insignificance.”
“What do I have to do in return?” I
was slightly suspicious but still on a high that would be hard to match, let
alone beat.
“Nothing. Sweet
FA. Is it a deal?” He tongue kissed Mini and looked back
for my response, knowing he had me sucked in.
I looked at amazon. She shook
her pretty little head at me vigorously.
“Okay, deal.”
With a magician’s flourish the
GB lifted up Mini’s skirt and at the same time whipped down her panties
revealing a somewhat guilty looking youth sized
penis underneath.
“Voila arsehole! Meet your
cherry picker plucker!”
I was dumbfounded. I’d
assumed Mini’d been using her thumb and shook my head in
disbelief. The GB mistook my silence for resistance.
“Not
enough? Chartreuse? Your piece de
resistance, s’il vousplait!”
Slowly,
agonisingly, Chartreuse slid down exquisite panties over equally
exquisite olive buttocks and tantalising thighs and bent over so
that I caught a quick glimpse of the scrotum tucked discreetly
out of sight.
“But, but you came with me,” I
stammered as she quietly shamefully pulled herself together again.
The GB howled with laughter at
the sight and my plight.
“Ah, the sweet whiff of true
love! Meet my Puerto Rican brothers fukhead. I was just telling them
I don’t do boys when you interrupted us and insisted on being an arsehole.
Takes one to know one muthafukka! Buy the bar some drinks and
give the ladies their money.”
Amazon
perked up at the words and came over to sit on my knee. Her breasts were
truly magnificent. She gave me a spine tingling buttock
clenching tongue kiss and whispered in my ear in a husky
voice.
“He’s a mean old man, not like
you. I’d like to get to know you better lover boy, where you
from? You married?”
Before I could answer a soft
feminine voice said above the noise.
“What’s going on here?”
I turned around and looked into the
deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen. They belonged to a 300 lb
whore with construction worker arms in her 60’s who had
obviously seen better days and fuller quart bottles of whiskey. The
GB kissed her warmly and introduced her as his girlfriend , someone not to
mess around with.
“This arsehole here says
he wants to fuk you honey,” he announced loudly.
Dutch Courage
When
I drink alcohol
It
filters gently down through my veins
Like
mist over a waterfall
Like a young girl’s dressing gown
Slipping
off before her shower
Its
warm hands slide down
Until
they clasp my balls
And
stay there until needed
Filing
fingernails, sunbathing
waiting
to be summoned
like a
eunuch’s harem.
When
it’s time they unlimber
And
crank up the apparatus
like
a Crimean gun carriage
Or
a Spanish man ‘o war
Gun
powder & shot, a little perfume
ready
to be uncoiled & pummeled
in
suburbia subversia.
And
so here we are
I
like the colour of your eyes
And
the shape of your breasts
and
the way the alcohol
filters
down through our veins.
Find more of Rissetto’s work here:
Blackmail Press: http://nzpoetsonline.homestead.com/TR32.html
Penduline
Press: http://www.pendulinepress.com/contributors/terence-rissetto/
http://www.pendulinepress.com/author-article-archives/first-love/
http://www.pendulinepress.com/author-article-archives/first-love/
Huia
Books: http://www.huia.co.nz/shop&item_id=2725
