LESLIE MONTEIRO'S MOTHER:

THE INTERVIEW CUT SHORT

Continued from yesterday:

So I closed the door on the Patch Shack, stepped over the old witch, and looked around to see if anyone was there. The witch was snoring peacefully on the floor, and so I stepped into the only bedroom the house had. There were garbage bags piled against the wall, full of empty beer cans and what looked like small cardboard boxes. I couldn’t tell what the labels on the boxes said because the white plastic of the bags obscured the writing. But they were only a little bigger than cigarette boxes. I stepped over to the nightstand, and saw burned-out candles everywhere. They covered the stand and surrounded the bed, all burned low, the wax in melted puddles all over the red shag carpet. It stunk of what I now believe to be CPK spunk, but at the time I thought it was diarrhea, with a hint of armpit stench.

There was a letter on the night stand, with a broken seal on the flap. I picked it up, glanced behind me to make sure the witch was still out, and opened it. I stole it from the house, so I can quote it verbatim here:

“My dearest Leslie Monteiro,
Last night was so special. When I came in and saw that your mother was not here, my heart leapt for joy. And so did my penis. And when you took me in your arms and held my head tightly against your flabby man-tits, I was in pure ecstasy, Leslie my boy. Thank you also for showing me the many tricks that you can do with your penis and vagina. Watching you have sex with yourself was very off-putting at first, a little scary, but I grew to like it. And then that bitch of your mother had to come home and I had to jump out the window so she wouldn’t see me. But I watched through the window, Leslie. I watched how you did with her the same thing you did with me. How you stuck your penis in her butthole. I was so angry, Leslie! Why would you do that? Anyway, call me later lovebird.
Love,
Joe Egan from Franklin Park.”

I was so disgusted, but I knew I had to keep the letter as proof of this sick homosexual relationship. So I put the letter in my pocket and looked around some more. I decided to look in the garbage bags and see what the boxes were. What I saw made me recoil in shock and disgust. They were boxes and boxes of condoms. Imagining what they were used for would have been terrible enough, but the label said, “Deer Lovers: Ribbed and Nubbed for Deer Vaginas”. Why they would make such a product I don’t know. But it was obvious that CPK was engaging in bestiality as well. At this I looked up sharply, to the walls. When I had walked in, I thought I’d seen deer heads mounted on the walls, a product of an avid hunter. But looking closer I now realized that it wasn’t the heads that were there. I was staring at about a dozen deer asses, the hind legs hanging below them. Upon closer inspection I noticed the ass holes were big and flabby. Those poor animals. I still tear up when I think of it.

At this point, CPK’s witch started coughing. I ran to her body and saw her struggle to sit up. I almost helped her, but imagining those hands of hers feeling CPK’s flabby man-tits made me shudder. Instead, I waited for her to get to her feet and sit in one of the kitchen chairs.

“So,” she said, her eyes twinkling and her smile revealing a mouth full of gaps and rotted teeth, “what brings a stud like you to my place, huh, lover?” I vomited a little bit, I felt it come into my mouth a little, but I swallowed it back and grimaced. “Look,” I said, “I’m not here to screw you or do anything like that. I’m conducting an investigation into the life of Leslie Monteiro, to see why he/she/it is so different from the rest of humankind.”

At this, she threw back her head and laughed. It was a disgusting sound, like rats fighting over a piece of meat, squeaking and screaming horribly. I shuddered a little. “You will never understand my hermy, my Leslie,” she said. I suspected that she was telling the truth. “He was the most precious child, he was,” she said. “But then he grew up into a man. And what a man! Oh how hard his abs are underneath that walrus flesh!” At this, she started to open and close her skinny, knobby legs. I got up.

“Look,” I said. “I think I made a mistake in coming here.” I started backing towards the door, and she got up with lightning fast fury and knocked me backwards against the door, struggling for my zipper. “No!” I screamed, wanting nothing more than to get away from this horribly horny witch, tearing at my pants zipper and making hungry noises.

“Oh, please,” she said, “Leslie is so small! I haven’t seen a big penis in so long, please!” “No!” I yelled, turning towards the door knob. “My penis is gigantic, yes,” I said, “But I’m married! And even if I weren’t, I’d rather have sex with a dead gorilla, a dead female gorilla, than with you, you fucking old ugly bitch!”

At this I turned around and kicked the door out and ran. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash in the trees, a huge mass of walrus flesh, quivering with each step, man-tits bouncing, and I knew CPK was on my trail. I figured he saw me take the love letter and didn’t want me to post it so that people at jaythejoke.com could see. This made me run ever faster, and finally I got to my car, fumbled with the keys in the ignition, and put the car in reverse, turning it around towards the gravel road so I could get the hell out of there.

And in the rear-view mirror, when I’d pointed the car in the direction I wanted to go, I saw the bitch! She was racing at an uncanny speed towards my car, her shirt half off and her ratty old panties in her hand, swinging it around like an Indian with a tomahawk, rushing towards the back of my car!

I had put the gear in drive, but thought better of it, and put it into reverse and slammed on the gas, rushing to meet her. She was screaming something that sounded like “Meeeeeeeeeee soooooooooooo hoooooornnny!” but it was cut off with a sickening thud as my car smashed into her at a frightening speed, and I felt her decaying, ugly body slide under my wheels. I stopped the car and drove over her body, and then reversed over it again. I repeated this about nine times until she was buried in the mud, dead. As I tore off towards the city, I heard a terrible howl in the distance. It sounded like “Maaaaammmmmmaaaaaaaa!” It was CPK.

Later: My quest to track down Joe Egan and get more dirt on CPK, aka Leslie Monteiro.