Chucking the slave screen

[Yellowthirteen]

(open for any lady)


“Oh for FUCKS SAKE!!”

I threw my stupid Iphone away from me. I hated that lousy piece of junk. And before you get your knickers in a twist: I have had similar experiences with Android phones. Sure I had several apps open at the same time, but it was a new phone! It shouldn't have crashed and auto-rebooted. For the fourth time that day.

It occured to me that it was madness, to even attempt to be active in seven apps at the same time. I had been texting people on several platforms, searching for a certain video in my galleries so I could delete it, thinking up another 100+ point word, rescheduling appointments, downloading a podcast, scanning the No Agenda News Network, and to top it off nicely, I had been learning a new timemanagement app...

I suddenly realised I had become what I dreaded most. A phone-zombie, addicted to my slave-screen. Thinking that my whole life takes place on a 5 inch screen. I-must-check-my-phone... I-must-check-my-phone... Pathetic. And take for instance me throwing away my phone. I had launched it cowardly and without conviction (as were so many of my actions recently) towards cushions on my couch. The truth being that I was scared to smash it, because I was scared I might miss some stupid message. Scared being the main word here.

And to be honest, my phone was playing a growing part in my sexual appetite. I could remember when I was much younger that I used to fantasize about girls I knew or didn't know. I controlled the fantasy and what happened in it. Then the internet came and now the slave-devices. I didn't have to even think up a fantasy, they were millions ready made for me online. But I wasn't using my brain power. It was making me lazy. I wasn't more productive in Any aspect of my life.

I felt myself getting madder. Angry at the way I was being programmed exactly like the slaves in Orwell's 1984. Only worse, because I was, and zillions with me, volentarily checking my slavescreen 100 times a day. I laughed at myself for trying out the timemanagement app: it was sooo obvious that that wouldnt work, but only draw my attention even more to the petite screen. I longed for freedom. I debated that If I truely was serious about this, I should chucked the phone out of the window and NOT on my cushion. Was I serious? Or just a scared little man. No way was I staying a slave!

This was IT, goddammit. Fuck it. I stood up, grabbed my phone and chucked it out of the window. A feeling of sheer freedom running through my body and soul. Jeez that felt good.


Three stories down I heard a womans voice cry out: “AAUUWWW... What the HECK!!??” Horrified, I sped to the window and looked down.




(Hi, im not in a rush to get to the sex!)

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

Downstairs stood this lovely reddish blonde haired lady who looked to be on the slightly younger side of 23 and stood what looked to be maybe 5 feet 7 inches.
She was dressed in black jean, a light almost white looking pink shirt and a fun multi colored scarf around her neck. The shoes she had on where flat short boots.

Hey what gives? Do you always chunk things out your window without looking first?

The lady's voice even being annoyed had what would seem a nice soft lilt to it and possibly also a slight twinge of an accent as she screamed upwards at the open widow from which the phone had pinged her in the head.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I rushed down the stairs, three at a time. Visions of court cases and millions in damage expenses flooded my mind. How could I have been sooo stupid! Chucking the phone out of the window on to a Busy Public Road!! What had gotten into me???

I opened the door of the appartment building and looked towards the area where I saw the woman looking up towards my window. Standing next to her bicycle, holding it with one hand, she looked up at the building. Her other hand was rubbing her leg. On the floor lay my stupid slave phone, still in one piece. Even that, I had not achieved. I walked over to her.

"I am so, so, so sorry!" I said. "I hope you are not hurt? Did you get hit by the damn phone?" I looked up and down her body to see if there was any blood. Nothing, thank goodness. I looked at her face, which was not at all a happy one. Understandably so. She was plain looking, not a stunner, but with a nice figure, I had to admit that. And the scarf was nice... But why the hell was I even thinking about that right now??!!

"I am really sorry," I said again. "I was angry with my phone so I chucked it out of the window. Such a stupid thing to do. Are you ok?"

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

Yeah I am OK just stung a bit.
Saying as she rubbed the place on her head the phone had hit.
I am V or well that's what most call me.
Next time be more careful.
I'm going to be late for work and my boss is not going to be happy.
Come see if you want.
V would then slip him a card unsure why she even did so to where she worked.
The card was from a stripe club.
V then got on her bike and rode away smiling to herself.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

"Uhmm... I am glad to hear and see that you are not too hurt, Miss ehh.. V," I stammered, accepting the card she gave me. What was she about? Why would I want to go and see her boss being angry with her? And what the fuck was a Stripe Club? A place where people adored part of the american flag or zebra's? I inwardly laughed at the thought of adoring a piece of cloth.

Could the card be misspelled? Was it a Strip club? I had detected a slight Irish accent, which made her voice attractive and went well with her reddish blond hair. I hoped she didn't work in a strip club though. She seemed like a nice lady. And why sell your body for money? Such a shame that ladies would want to do that. I had seen a documentry about strippers and clubs, and it made me feel sad. I didnt believe the myth that ladies wanted to work in a strip club, because they truely liked it. That was just a facade, created to make stripclubs attractive. But in my opinion, strip clubs were just as attractive as a lady with fake tits or full of other fake and done up body parts. The truth was, as I saw it anyway, that stripclubs were fake and shallow, in which most women, not all, were surpressed and dismissed as a piece of meat.

I watched her get on her bike again. She rode away, looking back over her shoulder. I waved and she waved back. Thank goodness she didnt sue me or die because of my stupid mistake of throwing my phone out of the window. Ah yes... My phone... I picked it up. Stupid fucking slave phone... I put it in my pocket and walked back up to my appartment. Once inside, I headed straight for my tools. I grabbed my hammer, folded the Iphone in a towel and took it back outside. I sat down on the sidewalk and starten hammering away on the towel. I hammered 33 times. Hard. I felt panic while breaking it, but it was exciting at the same time.

When the phone was completely pulverized I chucked the towel and phone in a passing garbage disposal truck.

Life was looking good.

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

Yes the cards had been misprinted and it seemed no one had noticed or at least V had not. Then again when it came to spelling there where times V could barely spell her own name. It was not that she was stupid she just suffered from a very rare disease which effected her site placing things at times which should not be and or removing things which where.
This was a lot of the reason V was on a bike rather then in car as normal person would be.

Now what was not known was V was in fact the owner at the strip club so really she was mad at herself for having to stop as she did despite knowing the route by heart due to her mind deciding to pull a fairly usual trick and that was to make everything vanish save for star dots in her sight.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

Back in my appartment, I didn't know what to do with myself. Normally, I would be reading and responding endless whatsapp groupthreads and checking the news for the 14the time for a new headline.

I was a nice day. The sun shining, a tshirt temperature. I walked onto the balcony of my appartment, a cold beer in my hand. I leaned over the railing and watched life go by. I breated deeply each time my hand wondered off to my back pocket for my phone, forgetting it was not there anymore. Damn, this was worse that quitting smoking!

As I observed the movements on the street, It occured to me that half the people I saw, were staring at their phones. Walking, driving, standing, cycling... Half were looking at their slavescreens. I shook my head when I saw a father walking past, eyes on his phone, and yelling at the small boy behind him to hurry up. The kid cried: "But I just wanted to show you that new game, dad, in that shop!"

Thinking back, I had been that man. When in conversation with friends, family or collegues, not looking them in the eye, but my attention focussed also on the slavescreen. How incredibly strange to do that, but how normal it had become. Sure, phones were practical, but while they felt essential, they certainly were not.

I sipped the beer. Still feeling the emptiness in my back pocket every few minutes.

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

V was having an extra hard day at the strip club. Two of her dancers had called in. One to say she was quitting upon finding out she was pregnant and the other due to being sick. On top of this V's site was really fucking with her so she hoped the man she gave the card too would come in. After all a man's company would be nice. V however was not holding her breath for she had way too much to deal with tonight was a huge party and she had not danced in over 4 years when and she knew she may well have to this night.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I sat on my balcony for another couple of hours untill I felt hungry. I had done groceries for a dinner with a friend at my place. But one of the last messages that had come through, was her cancelation. Oh well, it was her loss. I punt on my All The Young cd and let it blast out of the speakers, allways amazed that they were not as big as the far lesser Coldplay.

I started chopping up the veggies and spicing the meat. After about 20 minutes, wonderfull smells eminating from my stove, filled my nostrils and made my mouth water. I debated to use one or two bits of garlic, so decided to use three. I wasn't planning on getting any action anyway. As usual. My mind wondered off to the last time I had got lucky. Two months ago. The lady was nice, but it didnt work out.

I was 33. On my 32nd birthday, me and my girlfriend decided to break up. After six years. The times had been good, but we both felt the magic had ended. Well, if I was honest with myself, she had felt that more than me. Since then, I had dated several women. The sex was good withmost, but for daily relief, I had to resort to my trusted left hand. And the phone or laptop.

I wanted to try and use my memory next time. I wanted to masturbate to one of my best memories of having sex. I thought about it for a long time, while eating my delicious dinner. I wrote down a few keywords to remember potential memories while I tried to let as many memories as I could pass on my inner screen, going all the way back to high school. I was by no means a hunk, but I had to admit that I had had my fair share of girls.

I ended up deciding to think about a girl I dated at university. We had both been dating other people also, but had this silent arrangement that we saw eachother every few weeks just for sex. It had lasted for about a year. My favorite memory involved her talking dirty to me, and asking me if I wanted to see her nipples and pussylips. Each time asking it more obscenely and dirty.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I sat on my balcony for another couple of hours untill I felt hungry. I had done groceries for a dinner with a friend at my place. But one of the last messages that had come through, was her cancelation. Oh well, it was her loss. I punt on my All The Young cd and let it blast out of the speakers, allways amazed that they were not as big as the far lesser Coldplay.

I started chopping up the veggies and spicing the meat. After about 20 minutes, wonderfull smells eminating from my stove, filled my nostrils and made my mouth water. I debated to use one or two bits of garlic, so decided to use three. I wasn't planning on getting any action anyway. As usual. My mind wondered off to the last time I had got lucky. Two months ago. The lady was nice, but it didnt work out.

I was 33. On my 32nd birthday, me and my girlfriend decided to break up. After six years. The times had been good, but we both felt the magic had ended. Well, if I was honest with myself, she had felt that more than me. Since then, I had dated several women. The sex was good withmost, but for daily relief, I had to resort to my trusted left hand. And the phone or laptop.

I wanted to try and use my memory next time. I wanted to masturbate to one of my best memories of having sex. I thought about it for a long time, while eating my delicious dinner. I wrote down a few keywords to remember potential memories while I tried to let as many memories as I could pass on my inner screen, going all the way back to high school. I was by no means a hunk, but I had to admit that I had had my fair share of girls.

I ended up deciding to think about a girl I dated at university. We had both been dating other people also, but had this silent arrangement that we saw eachother every few weeks just for sex. It had lasted for about a year. My favorite memory involved her talking dirty to me, and asking me if I wanted to see her nipples and pussylips. Each time asking it more obscenely and dirty.

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

V day ended. it was hard. on the way home she once more pasted the place of where the phone had been clunked out the window hitting her. V wondered if the man was awake he did seem nice enough after all.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

After dinner I read a book. But I couldnt keep my eyes open. Probably the beers I had been drinking all day. At around 22:00 I decided to go to bed. I wanted to see if I could bring back details of the memory I had selected. It didn't work. After ten minutes of trying, I was fast asleep.

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

V went home herself after seeing no light on. It was a fitful night which ended in sleep at about the time a normal person would wake for the day and an hour long masturbation marathon which is in the was why V did pass out.

Waking the next day V figured she would just go knock on the strangers door having a fair idea of where he lived.

Putting on black jeans, a white shirt, a army green looking jean jacket and boots, V got on her bike and was soon at the strangers apartment. Now the trick was to find the stranger. This is when V got an idea.
V would stand almost where she was the day or was it now two days ago and the phone had been clunked and hit her and begin calling out.

HEY STRANGER PERSON WHO HIT ME WITH THE PHONE, ARE YOU HOME, ARE YOU UP, ARE YOU ALIVE.

V would then wait for a response,

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I was sitting on my balcony reading the paper. I made a mental note to unsubscribe to the worthless newspaper. Most of what was in it was just a load of garbage, with quotes from official sources only and small articles on the lives of silly celebrties. None of the topics covered had any true and usefull information.

I sipped my coffee, deciding how to spend the afternoon, when I heard a voice shouting. It came from somewhere down on the street. I got up and leaned over the railing. Oh shit, I thought... What the hell... It was the lady who got hit by my phone. And she was obviously calling me.

"Hi," I yelled down to her. "I'll buzz you in so you can come up."

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

V. walks over to the main door and waits to be let up.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I sped over to the buzzer and pressed the button. Like yesterday, thoughts of being sued crossed my mind...

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

As V walked in.
Hi I was hopping to see you at club but that is OK. You are on the way home, so I stopped by.
Smiling charmingly, and then with an all but 360 in the opposite direction V asked.
So do you want to fuck?
I mean you seem nice, maybe a tad bit touched, but then again so I am. After all who in their right mind chunks a perfectly good phone out the window and then who upon getting hit in the head with said phone would come abck a few days or so later and asked if the chunker and the hittie wanted to fuck.
V would then start chuckling as she sat down on the couch as if she lived in the place.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

I didn't know what to say. The redhead twentysomething had - if I understood correctly - just blurted out that she wanted to fuck me. I was stunned.

"Eehhmm... What?," I muttered while she sat down on my couch as if she had known me for years...

I was silent for a while, looking at her smiling face. "You got hit in the head by my phone and now you want to fuck me? Why?" I suspected that the blow on her head might have resulted in brain damage, causing this behaviour.

My eyes wondered over her body. What I saw was More Than Ok. But then I remembered that she was a stripper. I had visions of shouting drunk men, trying to stuff paper money down her panties.

The girl was definately special, but not my type.

...But then again... This was an easy score! I could just have sex with her, like a one night stand thing.

I didn't yet know what I wanted, but felt I had to at least say something. So again I asked her: "Why? I mean, its an interesting proposal sure, but I dont understand it and I dont know you."

 

[BelladonnaJoi]

You want the simple truth for an answer.
I work at a strip club I am the owner.
I see beautiful naked women all day.
This makes me horny.
Very horny.
When I get horny I want to fuck.
You seem like a nice enough guy and one not turned off by well me as most men seem to be.
So I figure ask you if you want to fuck.
Oh yeah and there is this small thing well no a few small things I guess I should tell you before we do fuck which yeah in the end may scare you away, hell it does every other man I tell these things too.
One, I am much much older then I look.
Two, I am not human by any means but in looks.
Three I want to fuck so that I can have off spring.
Four this may well be my last chance in too many moons to count to become with child.
Five, yeah I think four is good for now since well you are either going to running from your own place now or you are going to sit and ask me about 101 questions before calling the cops on the loon in your house.

 

[Yellowthirteen]

And they lived happily ever after.

The End.

 

[BelladonnaJoi]