Wednesday, August 17, 2005

I, Anonymous

prose poem

To all the guys who come into the porn shop and hit on the surprisingly young cute girl working behind the counter: Fucking stop it. For eight hours a day, I sit in a room of T&A watching myself progressively lose more and more of whatever it was I liked about porn in the first place. On top of that, I have to deal with the scum of Portland, who, one after another, ask me for a date, phone number, blowjob, WHATEVER. I'm tired of putting up with you people. For godsakes, I have the only pair of clothed tits in the entire room, yet they're all you can seem to stare at. The only 'services' I provide are giving you change so you can jack off in the arcade, and if you were smart, you'd put some of that change in the tip jar. Now eat me. --Anonymous

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