Thursday, March 6, 2014

ROBBLOG #530

A little story not for the faint of heart, the prudish or the exceptionally young...
 
Jarrod awoke.
He yawned as he stretched his bulky frame across the bed. He had a huge grin on his face.
His junk was firm.
Jarrod loved mornings.
 
Jarrod knew he had just come out of a dream. In the dream he had been tied- shirtless to a tree, deep in a forest of tall palms. Strange creatures with long tongues and bulging eyes surrounded him, taunting him with wooden sticks. The strangers had poked tenderly at his chest and arms all the while keeping him strapped to the tree.
 
“Cripes. What a dream that was! Last time I eat chicken balls after nine.”- he thought, “However, I did look real good tied to that tree.”
He was proud of the musculature of his six foot body.
 
Jarrod glanced at the clock on his bedside table.
8:15.
 
He needed a coffee. Slipping into the track shorts he had thrown on the floor next to his bed, Jarrod lumbered to his kitchen. He measured the Arabica coffee and placed it into the filter of his coffee machine that sat on the kitchen counter beneath the cupboards that held a vast assortment of coffee cups. The cups came from many of the places where he had travelled to over the years.
 

Turning towards the kitchen door, he opened it and let the warm morning air filter through the screen. He would take his coffee out onto the deck as he usually did and have a think about life.
Grabbing a special cup he had bought two years ago in Tahiti, Jarrod poured in some fresh, homogenized milk and filled the cup to the brim with hot coffee. Taking a sip he spoke out loud
“Ahhh. The first sip of the first cup is the best of the day. Damn that’s good!”
Jarrod pushed through the screen door to the patio, flopping his lanky frame down onto his favourite lounger.
 
The morning sun stroked his buff skin. It felt warm and safe. His golden chest hair glimmered in the lightness. He took another sip and looked out across the ocean in front of him. He had always wanted a spot right on the ocean with a beach literally a stone’s throw away. Winning the lottery a short year ago enabled him to do just that.
Life was indeed grand.
He was comfortable both in his skin and in his world.
 
“Morning Mr. J.”
It was Pablo the gardener and all round handyman. Jarrod hired Pablo about a half year ago when looking after the huge beachfront property himself became a daunting job. Pablo was a great guy and Jarrod knew he was lucky to have him in his employ.
 
“Morning Pab. How’s it shakin’ today?”
 
“Oh, real fine Mr. J. Beautiful morning, eh?”
 
“Sure is. Hey, there’s coffee in the kitchen. Fresh just 5 minutes ago. Help yourself as usual.”
 
“Thanks Mr. J- I will.”
 
Pablo crossed the patio and disappeared into the kitchen.
 
“Muffins are on the table in the red tin! Come on back and sit with me. This is just too nice a morning to waste!”
 
“I see ‘em Mr. J. Thanks!”
 
Jarrod settled back down to his warm morning thoughts and coffee.
He could smell the ocean.
 
As he lie there, eyes gently closed, he felt something tighten around his ankles and across his broad chest. Opening his eyes he could see two shapes standing at his feet, silhouetted against the sun. He also saw a rope had been lashed across his chest as well as around both ankles.
A third shape grabbed him from behind and threw him over broad shoulders. His coffee cup flew across the yard landing next to a yucca plant in the far corner.
 
Jarrod was transported by these three strange shapes across his property and down the dirt road behind his house.
They never spoke.
Suddenly he felt a sharp zap to his right shoulder and he was out.
 
When he awoke, Jarrod found himself tied to a tree in the midst of a tall forest of tropical pines being poked by a dozen or more shapes with long tongues and bulging eyes. Each held a wooden stick firmly in their grasp. The tree bark felt rough against his skin. Ropes were tied securely around his upper body.
 
“Oh. My God! Like in my dream! This can’t be! Who are you people? What are you?”
The shapes did not speak, although they snorted- just a little.
 
He was being poked.
Jarrod looked around him.  A dozen or so shapes stood a few feet away from him, holding wooden sticks. Some long. Some, much shorter.
A few shapes poked sticks at his chest. One shoved and prodded a large stick at his bare feet and legs. Another jabbed a wooden stick- gently, at his stomach. Still, two others with longer, larger Y-shaped sticks, jabbed and poked at his privates.
 
 
For the most part, the shapes were silent- except for the occasional snort, as they jabbed and prodded every inch of his firm, tanned body. Their tongues hung loosely from the edges of their salivating mouths. Big eyes darted back and forth as they poked and prodded Jarrod some more.
The shapes seemed happy and content. They also seemed harmless.
 
Jarrod tried to relax, yet the more he tried the more he stiffened.
“No! Not now! Not here!”- he shouted out loud but it was too late.
 
 
Jarrod had to admit all this prodding and poking felt rather good although he couldn’t understand why the shapes were doing this to him.
What seemed like an hour later,  the poking still continued.
 
Meanwhile back at the house Pablo called out to Jarrod through the door screen-
“Be there in just a second Mr. J, I’m warming my muffin in the microwave.”
 
The morning sun sparkled on the ocean as the surf gently caressed the sandy shore.
 
 
 
 

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