The B-Sides Part III: Things in Chairs (Original Version)

I'm posting this to show you how wise I was to not post it. Make sense? Good.

To keep my crust crisp, I had to move in with Ben and firmly abuse his hospitality.
"K'Edward wasn't the man to mess with," he said after I spilt my guts on his rug.
"I know, but I'm glad I don't work for that bastard no more," I retorted in a firm, masculine tone.
"Double negative," scolded Ben as he lit his pipe for kindling.

The fire roared and the night went on. A sense of inactivity steadily dawned on us both, and we decided to sandwich a prostitute. Despite Ben's namesake fiercely protesting the continuation of that thought, we succeeded in hailing a whore in from the cold. The trouble came upon witnessing the repulsive ring of cold sores around her mouth, which wasn't exactly the most enticing site. But we gallantly powered on regardless.
"Are you enjoying this?" asked Ben.
"God no," replied Ben. "Did you have to use my name?"
"No, I meant you."
The prostitute looked up at her client.
"Yes," she said flatly, "of course I am."
"Are you really?"
"Yes."
"You're just saying that."
"So?"
"So how do expect us to enjoy it?"
"I'm enjoying it," interjected Hugh.
"Quiet," said Ben.
"I expect you to enjoy it because I have a vagina," answered the prostitute.
"I can vouch for that," said Hugh.
"Are you done yet?" asked Ben coldly.
"Almost."
Ben sighed.
"Well, that idiot may just need a hole to be happy, but personally I want something more. I want it to be a mutual experience of passion between two—"
"—Three," corrected Hugh.
"Between two," continued Ben, "consenting adults. Aren't you feeling anything at all?"
"Nope," said the prostitute.
"But I have a really swell shoehorn," Ben protested.
"I've seen a lot of swell shoehorns in my time, and they're all unremarkable."
"What do you do for pleasure, then?"
"Sleep."
"No, I mean sexual pleasure."
"Sexual pleasure has been sapped for me, but kissing is nice, I suppose."
Ben stared at her train-wreck lips and sunk in thought. After a minute or so, he swallowed nervously and spoke.
"I would like to kiss you," he said.
"Not on the first date," said Hugh, attempting to be humorous and failing.
"Oh god. Will you hurry up? How come you're not done yet?"
"I am done. Have been since about ten seconds after I started. But this is the first time in my life I haven't felt regret or guilt after finishing, so I'm savouring the feeling of this lovely lady around me until I'm ready to go again."
"You could at least give me a go at that end while you're waiting," said Ben.
"Hold it!" interrupted Ben. "Hugh, can you please stop this now? I mean honestly, what are you doing?"
I ignored Ben and continued the narrative.
"Nope, I won the toss," said Hugh.
"Oh be quiet and hurry up. Anyway, madam, I would very much like to kiss you."
"You're joking, right?" said the madam.
"No I'm not. I've seldom been significantly more serious in my life."
"But my lips are a mess."
"No, your lips are wonderful and I would very much like to kiss them."
A pause for thought later, and they kissed.

"I think I'm ready to go again," said Hugh a moment later, and he went.
Ben, meanwhile, said, "I do believe I love you, madam" to the lady in question.
"Oh," she said, startled. "Well, I like you, but I don't love you."
"I can live with that. Let's elope."
"All right."

I do believe this is the worst thing I've ever written.

From the 14th of March, 2006.