BigJimsWornOutTires
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In 2022, a scrawny little feller lived in Nogales, Mexico. But to Americans, it was border town.
Vermilioncore dreamed of coming to America. He knew the risks involved. He heard stories about the immigration enforcement's aggressive tactics. Ugh, the thought made him shiver with fear. But one night, during a visit to his favorite cantina, he met a guy who would convince him the bussy can be a pussy.
Sitting at the bar, Vermilioncore carefully sipped his wine cooler as he watched CNN on the monitor that overlooked the patrons.
On the screen, the American press showed his people sneaking into the USA through a breach in Trump’s Wall. He smiled and took a gentle sip. Quickly, he dabbed a napkin against his lips. A commotion alerted him from behind. He spun around on his stool.
A 400-pound American wobbled inside the joint. He had a familiar face and wore a tight white t-shirt that was too small for his torso. His big, bare belly was fully exposed. But his equally tight American Eagle shorts are what really captured Vermllioncore’s eyes. He took another sip of his pink drink and patted his lips. The odd fellow took a seat next to him.
“You have gay jeans,” the American told Vermilioncore’s crotch.
“My eyes are up here,” he redirected his gaze to his puppy browns.
“I’m Tompson,” the feller introduced himself. But his attention dropped back down to Vermilioncore’s jeans as he said, “What yours, feller?”
“I’m Vermilioncore, I troll a men’s forum.”
“It has Chads on it?”
He beamed and bobbed. He took another sip, but this time, it wasn’t so kind. He chugged it!
Vermilioncore half-pivoted on his stool to Thompson, giving this stranger his undivided attention. But there was something so familiar about his face, he couldn’t stop staring.
“Wanna fa?” Thompson said.
“Uh?” he challenged the feller.
“Wanna fa?”
“Um,” he knew what Thompson was trying to say, but was a little astounded at such foreplay omission. He made sure.
“Are you asking if I want to fuck?” The feller nodded swiftly. “You have Down syndrome, don’t you?” He nodded again.
“I also have a bussy, wanna see?” Thompson stood and turned his back to Vermilioncore. A short giggle followed as he unbuttoned his Sweeneys.
“Stop that,” he blurted and got to his feet and grabbed the feller’s arms. “You don’t remove your shorts in a public place.” Thompson giggled and continued unbuttoning his shorts.
“Ha ha, you gotta top me!”
Vermilioncore rushed around him and grabbed his hands, preventing the confused man from further embarrassment. “You can come back to my place. I live with my mom and have my own basement.”
“Hooray!” Thompson celebrated. “Vermy take me home, Vermy take my home,” he repeated that several more times as the happy Vermilioncore led him out of the bar.
The End.
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