Doggy Style

Hot Potato

Jose's POV

Well, shit. Never had I ever hit someone in the crotch so hard that they passed out. This fact added to the comedic sight that was Bara boy, as Russ had so eloquently knighted him, laid out on the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, a three-hundred dollar electric guitar rested peacefully on top of his junk, which was probably throbbing in a not-so-fun way. "Damn, I hope I didn't actually make him infertile. That would suck massive donkey balls."

"Um, I'm sure he's fine." Russel smiled unsurely as he dragged Bara boy across the room and plopped him on the seat furthest away from Antony. Speaking of which....

"So, Antony. What in the name of Satan's massive, throbbing, gay dong was that about?! You don't just punch someone in the fucking face the second you see them!" I shouted, getting up in Antony's face because I knew damn well that being calm was not a way to get answers from him when he wasn't calm.

"He just....I just....I don't fucking know!! I just saw him and was like 'Well, damn, I'm just gonna go up and punch this dumb mutt straight in the fucking nose!' I didn't plan it or anything, he just showed up, and I caught a wiff, and got angry. That's never happened before. He must be bad news." Antony's anger slowly faded into confusion and barely noticeable fear.

"So you actually couldn't control yourself? Is it because he's a buff dude, too? Were you, like, jealous or something?" I asked, my face turning red from frustration at Antony's weird answer. Don't worry, it's perfectly normal, so there's only a fifty percent chance that I'll pass out from oxygen deprivation.

"No, I just....I don't know! He's smells bad! I don't trust it!" Antony shouted back as he glanced past me and at the stranger, his eyes showing distrust and slightly more noticeable fear. It almost looked as though he expected the kid to jump up and pull a rocket-launcher out of his ass.

"What do you mean 'He smells bad,'?! That is not a valid excuse!"

"You know what, you wouldn't understand it because you're not like me!!" Antony screamed back angrily, the fear gone from his eyes.

My eyebrows shot up and my mouth dropped open. Oh, shit is about to get real. "I'm sorry, who are you again?! Are you some kind of god with supernatural knowledge of everything in existence?! Should I be on my knees begging for forgiveness because I want to know what the fuck is up with my boyfriend who just fucking assaulted somebody out of fucking nowhere?!" I sniffed as I started to feel tears well up in my eyes. I hated fighting, but angry me had taken the wheel and was on a crash course to Mental Breakdown Mountain.

"Babe, just calm down, I'm sorry." Antony said as he scrubbed his face with his hands, but apparently, I didn't feel like having it.

"I'M PERFECTLY FUCKING CALM-" My words were immediately muffled by the wall of muscles that was Antony, and I continued to rant, my tears staining his shirt. After a solid minute of screaming nonsense into chest, I got tired and shut up, sagging against him like the hottest sack of potatoes to ever walk the earth. "Oh, god, I hate fighting. Are you gonna explain or what?"

Antony sniffed and rubbed my back, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was crying too. He was a major sympathetic cryer, especially with me. "I don't know, babe. It's kind of a major bombshell, and some of it isn't mine to hustle off the plane. Think we could wait until....what's-his-face wakes up?"

"Blech," I exclaimed as I melted further into Antony, "Fine, you big sack of dicks."