CALIXIAN // Nice Girl Without Bad Habits

My budget was tighter than a goldfish’s anal sphincter, and there was no way I could make it stretch any farther. I’d slashed my expenses to the barest minimum. It was ridiculous! And no matter how I looked at it, I still wouldn’t be able to afford the flat. There were two options to make the rent they were asking for, and I hated both. After considering the pros and cons, I made a very difficult decision.

‘Nice girl without bad habits looking for flatmate. Phone 409 828 2690 during social hours only.’

I sighed like I was about to walk the plank. I didn’t want to do this, but needs must as the devil drives. I approached the bulletin board and stabbed the leaflet into place with a hairpin I’d found somewhere. I couldn’t even afford a thumbtack. That’s how skint I was.

“Hi, Calix!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Seriously, you wouldn’t have needed to take an x-ray.

It was the guy from this morning. The café guy. The one who allegedly worked at the magazine with me. He was stood there with a shy smile, and a posture that reeked of unnecessary subservience. Naturally, I still couldn’t recall his name. Had he given me his name? I couldn’t even remember that.

Fuck this. I was going to be rude. “Hey, jack, are you following me?”

He immediately adopted a defensive pose. “Oh my god! No!” he squeaked. “I have to come this way to get back to the office!”

“You’re some kind of weird sex pervert, aren’t you? Admit it!”

“NO no no no no! I’m not! I promise!”

He was waving his arms like a cartoon character. Even sweating bullets like one. It was almost comical, but I was bored.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

I turned away, and left him gawping there at the bulletin board. It was time to get back to the office. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him typing on his phone. It looked for all the world like he was silently mouthing words as he did so. Who was this guy?!

Never mind that, Calix. Just keep walking and don’t look back.

Moments later when I had turned the corner, my phone rang. An unfamiliar number popped up on the screen. I sighed and accepted the call.

“Hullo.”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

Open-Source Poetry Four #1

Our Dearest Readers and Budding Poets (and Masters of Poetry, of course!),

We’d be lying if we said that Open Source Poetry is one of our least favouritest features here on Unbolt Me. Why? Well, it’s easy. We love the element of surprise that it brings. What scintillatingly fabulous line will you come up with next? What will you write to make us gasp in envy and wonderment as we struggle to match creative minds?

In short, communal poetry writing is a whole lotta fun!

Now, usually we’re the ones to start a new round of Open Source Poetry. We suggest the first line and then allow y’all to run with it, but we figured it would be more fun if this time we allowed you to suggest the first line of the new poem instead! Cool idea, huh? And, actually, while we don’t wish to restrict you in your creative efforts, because it’s Halloween soon, we propose that the theme should be ‘horror film’!

Here are the rules of this devilish game:

1) You submit the first line of our new poem via the comments section of this very post.
2) We pick the line we like most, and write the next one.
3) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post.
4) You submit the next line, we pick the one we like, and then we add it to the poem.
5) Step 4 is repeated until we have a masterpiece!

And with that, we sit back, put on our 3D glasses, grab a monster-sized tub of All Hallows’ Poppycorn™, and ready ourselves to shake and scream in horrified rhymed delight!

by TETIANA ALEKSINATONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

All Risk and No Reward

“This is nice.”

I had to admit it was, her soft pillows with their hard buttons bunched up over my belly like that. And the rivulets of commingled sweat pooling in her cleavage beneath come hither eyes and an all-too-knowing smile. Well, that was kinda nice too. I loved that she wanted to try.

If only I could feel something stirring.

She squirmed against me in the narrow near dark of the cupboard. Her flannel shirt was undone, spread open, wife beater hiked up to reveal her aforementioned charms. My own shirt was hanging off the arm closest to the plywood doors that threatened to pop open with every thrub and downbeat. Outside, the party was thumping full throttle. Inside, we were taking a risk. We both had no pants on.

“I need you in me.”

Her bottom lip quivered, just enough to let me know she meant it. She squirmed some more, but neither of us could move nor do much of anything. Perhaps this wasn’t the sexiest idea we’d ever had. I took a deep breath. She winced.

“Sorry!” I squeaked. “Sorry sorry sorry…”

“It’s fine.” She gritted sweetly at me. “It’s fine, my big boy.”

I tried to adjust my breathing, but this only made tears come to her eyes. My girlfriend was no wilting flower, so it wasn’t the pain and discomfort that was getting to her. It was the knowledge that this kinky tryst was clearly not working out. She knew it. I knew it. It was only a matter of who was going to admit it first.

“Gehenna…”

“Don’t call me that!” Her eyes stabbed through me with such heartbreak and longing. “Call me slut. Or whore. Just fucking nail me. Please.”

I cast my gaze about this stuffy box with all the enthusiasm of a wilted fly-fisher on holidays at the fiery lake of hell.

“I’m so sorry.”

God, I sounded so pathetic. Even Gehenna deflated visibly at this point.

“Do you remember our first time?” she said softly, almost to herself.

“I do.”

“You said sorry then.”

I took a breath and added, “Because I was so small.”

She looked up at me. “And I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make you big enough.’”

We didn’t say anything after that. Really, what was there to add?

My name is Nether. I’m too large, and I have a tiny dick.

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

THE CRUMBCAST // He Said, She Said…

Guess what? I’ve gone and done the unthinkable, and re-recorded episode twenty-five of The CrumbcastJoining me for this reboot is my wife Cassy whose talky talky abilities far exceed my own. Seriously, she knows how to keep a conversation going when all I tend to do is waffle on like a prat. She’s got the gift of the gab, you could say. And, actually, Tati and I have often discussed the possibility of making Cassy our agent…

“So, why redo this instalment of the podcast?” you may or may not be asking. Truth be told, I was deeply unsatisfied with my previous effort, and felt it would be better to have someone to conversate with. My recording experiences with Peter have given me a taste for this, and so I’ve decided to continue in this vein. And anyway, does anyone in their right mind really want another long, tedious, rambly monologue by me? Of course not!

So, what do we talk about this time? Well, what don’t we talk about! Let’s see… The Crumble Cult strip Subversive Element‘. Blue hair. Tattoos. Sluts. How to make a sister write your comic for you. Hell, social mores and more! Y’all are gonna have a great time with this one, and mostly because my better third is so utterly intelligent and engaging!

Oh, and please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below. And maybe even leave a question you’d like us to answer in the next Crumbcast. We can’t promise that we’ll be able to address everything, but we’d love to try! So, go ahead. Ask!

PS: To listen to the podcast, click on the image below. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

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not in this life, bro
nor in the next shall we knell
but it don’t mean, bro
you can’t go balls to the wall
and ring someone else’s bell

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018