Luke's Diary: An Unlucky Man in a Zombie Apocalypse. Days 201-400

Day 223: Thursday 6th April 2017 18:34

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Day 223
Thursday 6th April 2017 18:34

Esther has given me crabs!

I've been vigorously rubbing my nails around my crotch like a cat at a scratch post all day. That bl**dy Esther! Dirty f*cking crab ridden b*tch.

I went to work but struggled to hide the fact that I was itching down below. As people were sat opposite me complaining about water temperature and the lack of available ripe avocados, they could all see me desperately trying to hide the fact I was scratching my pubes. One woman asked if I was OK and like a complete knob I replied by saying I had a headache. A headache! What a stupid thing to say. Why the Hell would I be scratching my knackers if I had a headache. Someone else said it looked like I was in some discomfort down there. "Oh I'm fine," I casually said, "It's a new fabric softener. Think I'm allergic. Must be a different brand or something." That's what I should have bl**dy said to the first woman. Idiot!

When I finished work, I quickly locked up and very quickly started to make my way home. As I hurried down Main Street I bumped into Tina. "Hi Luke," she said, "How's things? TJ still letting you feel his arse?" "Yeah," I said, "Sorry Tina I'm in a rush." Tina looked at me and frowned. "What's wrong with you? Do you need the loo?" "Yeah," I said, "And I'm desperate." "Oh well don't let me stop you," said Tina, "There's nothing worse than trying to get somewhere and some oblivious idiot just keeps talking to you and not letting you leave." "That's right," I said, desperately trying to get away. "My next door neighbour did it to me once," said Tina, "I'd opened the door to sign for a package and I couldn't wait to get back to Coronation Street. Then what happens? Her next door sticks her head out. Oh, I couldn't get away for love nor money. Oh and the things she asked me? All this pointless sh*te about a load of mindless nonsense; the Labour Party, the state of the bins at the end of the road, her sister's in law's ingrowing toenail, the Atkins diet, if Pepsi is better than Coke, if it costs anything to have your dog put down, how many peas are in your average tin. Oh God, she went on, and I just wanted to get away. I mean do you know what that's like?" "I've got a rough idea," I said. "She's going on and on and I want to get inside and catch up with the Barlows, but she was oblivious. Completely oblivious," said Tina.

At this point I wasn't sure if the best thing to do was to aggressively rip off my entire crotch or smash Tina's face into the nearby brick wall. The itching was unbearable and her constant stream of verbal diarrhoea and drivel seemed to be irritating me further. "Anyway," said Tina, "I won't keep you any longer." "Cheers," I said. As I quickly started to leave Tina started talking to me again. "I've just come from the kids' club," she said, "One of the little lads has got chicken pox. Scratching like mad he is. Scratching, scratching, scratching, scratching. Poor little thing. He looks like he's suffering. I can only imagine what that's like." I wanted to punch Tina hard in the face. It felt like she was making it difficult for me to get away and now she was going on about scratching! "Can you imagine it?" she said to me, "Scratching so hard until you draw blood. Oooooh the pain. Oooooooh the discomfort. That constant urge to just scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. What a thing to have to go through." I was frowning with frustration and extreme discomfort. "Tina," I said, "Sorry but I really need to go." "Of course you do," said Tina, "Off you go. Just stay away from the kids' club." I quickly started walking away from Tina but then, again, called me back. "Oh, Luke," she said, "I forgot to say..." I abruptly interrupted Tina. "Oh will you f*cking shut up!!" I loudly ranted. Tina went silent. Her eyes widened and a shocked expression appeared on her face. I couldn't stay and apologise; the itching was unbearable.

I ran back to my chalet, pulled down my jeans and pants, and was greeted with a beaming red rash that covered my entire crotch area. It looked like my knob had been on a sun bed for a week. I shuffled into the kitchen with my jeans and pants around my ankles and started throwing bottles of cold water all over my crotch in a desperate attempt to soothe the burning sensation. I inserted my knob into a half empty water bottle and started gyrating backwards and forwards as the cool water helped to ease the pain of my burning c*ck. It didn't completely stop the discomfit but it eased it a bit. "Oh yeah," I said, giving a big sigh of relief, "That feels good. Oh yeah. Oh God, that feels so good." "What are you doing?" a voice from behind asked. I paused and a look of extreme horror appeared on my face. I turned round to see Naomi stood in my living room looking shocked and confused at the sight of a thirty odd year old man, naked from the waist down, using a bottle of water as a fleshlight. Apart from asking her if she'd ever heard of knocking I had no idea what I was going to say to her. "Oh God," said Naomi, "Are you actually having sex with that bottle of water?" I had two choices; say no and come up with some elaborate lie or say yes and make the best of coming across like some bottled water shagger. Either way, I wasn't going to tell Naomi I was trying to cool down my c*ck after scratching it too hard because I'd caught crabs from shagging Esther.

Naomi looked at me, waiting for an explanation. "Yes," I said, "Yes. I am in fact having sexual intercourse with this bottle of water." Naomi's confusion visibly increased. "Why?!" she bluntly and loudly exclaimed. "That is a good question," I said, "And it requires a good answer." "Well get on with it then," said Naomi. "Well you see," I said, "The thing is. . . that. . . err. . . I have certain sexual urges that need to be fulfilled." "Sexual urges?" questioned Naomi. "Well," I said, "I haven't had sex with a woman since Eve and like I said I have urges and this is how I satisfy them." "By shagging a bottle of water?" asked Naomi. "Yes," I said, "It reminds me of having sex with a woman. You know, the round hole, the gushing liquid. You know what I mean." "No I don't know what you mean," said Naomi looking at me like I was a freak, "What's wrong with you? Why don't you just have a wank like every other bloke?" Naomi noticed how red my crotch was. "Jesus!" she exclaimed, "Look how red you are?!" I looked down and then looked back at Naomi. "Well," I said, "I like it . . . you know. Rough." "Rough?" asked Naomi. "Yes," I said, "You know. . . hard. That's why I'm so red." There was a moment of silence as Naomi looked over at me in horror. "So," she said, "You're telling me that in order to satisfy your sexual urges, you stick you c*ck into a bottle of water and f*ck it?" There was a short pause. "Yes," I said, "That's correct. I'm not hurting anyone. It's in my own chalet and it's my own private business." "OK," said Naomi, "I'm going to leave now and do everything I can to wipe this image from my mind."

Naomi left, leaving me to continue scratching. The problem was that my c*ck was now wedged in the bottle neck and I couldn't get it out. "Oh for f*cks sake!" I yelled. I desperately started trying to remove the bottle from my penis. I grabbed hold of the bottom of the bottle and aggressively started yanking at it. I was glad Naomi had gone. I didn't want her seeing this. It looked like I was using the bottle of water to take part in some weird masturbation session. After one final yank, the bottle violently came free, water went everywhere and I ended up punching myself in the face. To make things worse, I tripped over the water that had gone on the kitchen floor, banged my head on the side of the kitchen counter and knocked myself out.

When I woke up I had a throbbing headache, a sore eye, a cut on my head and my c*ck looked like a right state. I'm going to bed soon but I doubt I'm going to get much sleep. My crotch is still itching and as much as I hate to say it, I think I'll have to speak to the Doctor tomorrow. I also think I might have to have an awkward conversation with that dirty crab infested Esther.