Skip to main content

“So a Lesbian and a Gay Guy Are Hanging Out…” (Louis Toliver Jr)


You haven’t heard this one before? I’ll give you a cleaned up version of the story.
It’s a few days, years..ish later after the end of the world, the end where Earth rotated off its axis and bumped into the moon and then ended up in its same exact position, but sideways.
It’s just the two of them. They woke up on an island, which they figured to be “old” Zimbabwe. Two things were certain now in their lives. There was no more Africa and no more people.
So, the gay guy and the lesbian didn’t mix. They were like icy hot and an asshole. And even though it was always on the back of their minds and it had been a long time since either one of them had had sex, they each, sometimes, thought about carrying on the human gene. But most of the time they thought of having sex, not with each other of course. The lesbian dreamed of a thick-thighed, heavy-breasted, slim waisted, ass jiggling vixen, nothing her flesh colored strap on penis wouldn’t handle. The gay guy dreamed of a thick armed, armored-chested, preferably Italian, friendly bulging sailor, everything goes but fisting, that he couldn’t handle. Neither of them was anywhere close to each other’s fantasy.
However, they both agreed they were getting older and they both agreed that if they didn’t have sex, the human race was gone…forever…forever.
            “So, you just want me to put it inside you?”
            “Yeah, I guess.”
            “It’s not hard though.”
            “Play with it or something.”
            “Can you put it in your mouth?”
“You want me to put that fetus-sized orangutan finger in my mouth?”
“You think it’s ugly?”
“Look, I’m the womb here. Why don’t you warm me up? Take a lick.”
“You want me to lick that, it smells like an old cod filet.”
            “I used to use perfumes.”
“I’m not into fish… of any kind.”
“And I don’t need a dick.”
And so, the gay guy and the lesbian just couldn’t bring themselves to mix any of their bodily fluids together. The lesbian and gay guy were so grossed out by each other that for the next 5 years they lived on different sides of the Zimbabwe island. On eve of the sixth year, they began bartering with each other. The gay guy would bring the lesbian fresh fish and island-made weapons and the lesbian would bring the gay guy beef and island-made organic lotion. They agreed to share bananas.
They lived this way until they both died. They lived to see the end of the world happened again, this time the earth tripped into the sun and burnt up. That clumsy Earth.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us.   On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive.  Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,”  “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His last piece was “Fairy Tale

The Man Under the Water (TK Craft - New Orleans, LA)

              Sitting at the edge of the small motorboat, Jordan willed himself to take deep slow breaths. Every time he opened his eyes and looked out at the endless water; panic began to overcome him.  Against the vastness of the ocean his small frame felt like almost nothing, this sense only made his fear grow worse. All he could do was stare out at the still surface for what felt like hours trying to gather the strength to jump into the depths.              When he was fifteen, Jordan almost drowned in the ocean. He hadn’t been particularly frightened of the water till that day. In fact, he had no real emotional connection to it at all. He’d taken swimming lessons every summer so when the riptide carried him further out to sea he didn’t panic. He just reoriented himself to the shore and dove down to begin a swim towards land. That’s when he saw him glistening in the depths.             Jordan was proud of himself for sitting on the edge of the boat as long as he did. He spent the

Ash Wednesday (Brian Falcon - New Orleans, LA)

  It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far more i