mistconduct | Issue #60

Issue #60

[Locked from Cassel]

So say you're planning a trip to meet your boyfriend's family.

And said boyfriend's mom is complete and total psychopath who can fuck with your mind if she touches you.

And you think maybe you should actually try to get along with these complete strangers because maybe, someday in the far, far off future you might actually see yourself getting together with this fucking idiot with stupid hair.

What kind of gift do you bring?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Aaaaand this face. Is practically horrified. Oh god you poor thing. He reaches down reflexively to cup himself in sympathy. As if it's contagious.]

Shit. Sorry, man. That sucks.

[And then, because he's Tig and therefore incapable of shutting his mouth when he should:]

Must be rough on the boyfriend. What, you get one who went Lorena Bobbitt on you or somethin'?

Wait, what?

No. God, no, shut up, asshole. No, I was calling you dickless. I mean my legs. Not my balls.

Ass.

Nah, see that don't make sense because I got mine right here.

[He grabs it again, more deliberately this time. See. There is a dick in there.]

Pretty sure you don't have any balls either. But that's a separate issue. Why not just say legs, why bring dicks into it. Geez. Scare a guy, why don't you.

[HE HAS SEEN INFECTED BALLS OKAY. IT IS PRETTY BAD.]

[Chris makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.]

Jesus, man, stop doing that!

Fucking asshole. No. No, I still have my fucking...parts. Jesus.

[Chris, you DO realize the more uncomfortable it seems to make you the more he's going to want to push that particular button, right?]

What. This?

[Case in point. He even takes a deep breath and shifts his weight, like it's actually getting him somewhere and he has to adjust.]

Like you don't like a good palmful of sack.

[Frustrated, brimming mad, and practically hysterical, Chris grabs a fistful of his own crotch]

What do you call this, then?! Asshole!

[Tig only laughs.]

Fuck if I know. Somebody feeling left out? Pretty sure I said it was somethin' you enjoyed, yeah, didn't mean you needed to participate.

[Chris lets go of the grab, dropping down in a chair with a scowl]

You're such a prick. You know that?

God. I'm going to train my dog to go after that thing of yours.

Yeah, somebody mighta told me once or twice.

[His own grip eases up too, or at least backs off to its usual place at the buckle.]

Better fucking not; you know how many scars I got in my ass already?

Well, stop kicking rotties, then. Dick.

You probably have so many fucking diseases...

[Well that gets a reaction, at least. A facial twitch, pursed lips as he at least attempts to be reasonable about it, but finally he just laughs, short and humorless, an equally unamused smile to match.]

Fuck you. I may be a lotta things, but I would never -- never -- kick a dog.