[ VM ] For Whom The Baja Blasts
Apr 27, 2021 21:45:53 GMT -5
☠ VooDoo ☠, Paul Montuori, and 2 more like this
Post by Vhodka Marie on Apr 27, 2021 21:45:53 GMT -5
Look, what I’m about to tell you is going to sound completely bonkers and unbelievable but I give my word what follows is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Scout's honor, hand to God, quid pro quo or whatever Hannibal Lector said.
After Showcase went off the air I was incensed about Paul Montuori and Tommy Kain getting involved in my La Cosa Nostra tournament match and costing me a spot in the finals with my Vinny Boo Boo Do Me Where I Poo Poo. Like, seriously. Who do these two clowns think they are? It never fails, I’m out just living my best life minding my own business doing hood rat shit with my hood rat friends and here comes Paul Montuori getting all up in my Kool-Aid because he doesn’t know how to talk to girls and assumes I’m a good place to start. I’ll be honest, when I stormed into Johnny Stylez office demanding he add Tommy to the match with Paul and I at International Incident I probably wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to be out in these streets just making demands like I’m Mariah Carey writing a tour rider. And truth be told, Johnny Stylez wasn’t in the right state of mind to be granting demands given his altered level of consciousness courtesy of the pile of snow white powder mounded on the top of his desk. Either way, I asked (told) and he granted (wanted me to leave). A request that I would come to regret very soon.
8:17am
Tuesday after Showcase Showdown
Snap, crackle, pop, and one very loud fart. No, not a bowl of Rice Krispies but actually the sound my body made as I stretched underneath the weighted warmth of the heavy comforter that rested overtop my body. I knew immediately something was very wrong as Vincent and I don’t actually own any linens, choosing instead for me to sleep directly on top of him like a human car tarp that he frequently mounded up into a very small ball and fucked multiple times a day until passing out. At first, I laid there for a minute hoping that, like, maybe Xavier was playing some sort of sick prank on us that involved giving us human living arrangements but then I realized that in addition to this seemingly clean and unfucked blanket covering me I was also laying on... brace yourselves... an honest to God mattress. This wasn’t a dirty futon pad resting directly on the floor like we had in our apartment, this was a legitimate bed. The kind they give kings and winners on Jeopardy. I could feel the bile rising up in my throat as I panicked that someone terrible had abducted me while I slept and placed me in a well-appointed bedroom where I would sleep peacefully and wake without back pain.
The second inclination I had that something was wrong was when I sat up and opened my eyes and saw my feet sticking out from the end of the comforter. These were not MY feet. These appeared to be the feet of a recently divorced mailman suffering from a bad case of weeping eczema. The snarled nails were ingrown and yellow tinged curling into the flesh of the nail bed they sprouted from, heavy lines of black grime underneath the edge of several of them. A thick layer of wiry black hair covered each toe and formed a sort of mossy quagmire that spread up the top of the foot and disappeared underneath the comforter. If I had to describe it, it was like Tom Selleck's moustache had fused with a clog of hair pulled freshly from the shower drain and taken up residence on these grotesque appendages. There was no chipped polish, no tattoos, no lyrics to an obscure Charlie Daniels Band song written along the flesh of the inner side. These feet, if you can even call them that... they were the most hideous things I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I just saw Joe Montuori shirtless backstage so that’s saying something. My mind immediately jumped to the logical conclusion that I had been drugged, dismembered and sewn back together with reclaimed corpse pieces and would soon find myself the middle part of the next Human Centipede.
When I came to, I was much more prepared to deal with the change in circumstances than I was the first time around and decided to take a moment to orient myself as I laid there. Now that I was thinking past the shock and panic I could see that the room around me was tastefully decorated in modern minimalist furniture and done floor to ceiling in white and silver. It was just this side of being overwhelming and felt kind of like being inside a giant marshmallow or one of Johnny Stylez cocaine piles. The one bit of color was Van Gogh's “Church at Auvers” placed on the wall opposite of the bed. Whoever had placed it there clearly had a stronger stomach than me, any of Van Gogh’s work post ear detachment freaks me out. Something about this particular painting has always seemed a bit dark and foreboding but maybe that’s just because it was done in the period between his institutionalization and death. I made a mental note to recommend something from the sunflower series when I finally made the acquaintance of the psychopath who decorated the room. The room around me didn’t look like a surgical suite at first glance so I assumed that I must be in someone's home which only ratcheted down my fear approximately two percent from the one hundred it was at. To make matters worse I had just woken up from what appeared to be a pretty good sleep, all things considered, and nature was calling. I don’t know about you, but when I wake up post-kidnapping having to find a bathroom to use is on the top ten list of things I don’t want to do. Then there was the complication of the whole feet thing. What was I going to find when I uncovered myself? Was it just feet or were things even more serious than that? What if there were calves! My eyes (please god let them be my eyes) scanned the room taking note of the three doors in the room, one closed door next to one open appeared to possibly be a bathroom, a third open door caddy corner from those which I assumed was the nearest exit. After a deep breath and a few silent prayers to StratGod I squinched my eyes closed and threw the blanket back, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to stand. I very studiously did not look down as I strutted purposely towards the room that appeared to be a bathroom, after all, if I had been kidnapped and horrifically surgically altered into some kind of disenfranchised Yeti I assumed that my captures were likely watching me on an elaborate closed circuit television system and I didn’t want them thinking I was scared of them. I wanted to look calm, confident. Like this sort of thing happens every day to me. Wouldn’t give these assholes the satisfaction of fear, I silently told myself steering the goblin feet toward the toilet.
As I passed by the mirror above the sink my stomach hit the floor and a little toot slipped out before I could stop it. No. No, no, no, no, no. I moved closer to my reflection, hands gripping the side of the porcelain sink as the most horrific face I had ever seen stared back at me. Paul Montuori.
When I came to again on the bathroom floor, I had a killer headache and I could tell from the dampness in my nether regions a bit of pee had came out. Shakily I gripped the edge of the sink pulling myself upright again to face the man in the mirror. My fingers rose without instruction to poke and prod the face staring back at me in the mirror, manipulating the features like some sort of grotesque Lon Cheney caricature. Okay, okay, it’s fine. You’re in Paul’s body. No need to panic. There is probably a perfectly logical explanation to all this like that you’ve died and gone to hell. Why did it have to be Paul, of all people? Couldn’t it have been Vin? Or at the very least X? I could have had fun in those bodies. But this one... okay, well, I guess it could be worse. I could have woken up as Joe. It’s one thing to wake up as a Montuori, it’s another to wake up as the worst Montuori and have to walk around all day in those pants with the button snaps going down the legs. How could this have happened? Was it some bad eggrolls? The twelve Capri Sun’s I drank before bed? I just didn’t get it. This kind of thing only happens in the movies, not real life. But wait. They had to get those ideas from somewhere, right? Maybe Freaky Friday was based on a true story? Maybe this kind of thing happens all the time and people just don’t talk about it because they wake up in Joe Montuori’s body! I mean, not the kind of thing you go around bragging about – right? Okay, Vee, you got this. After you finish your business in here then you sit down and figure out what LiLo would do. My head was nodding to no one in particular as I pulled the pants down to sit on the toilet, I was just about fully down too when the cold water touched me in places I had never been touched before. And I’m not talking about my heart or kidneys, Vin has touched the kidneys a few times. As if I hadn’t had enough shocks for one lifetime, something very large dawned on me much later than it should have. OMIGAWD. If I was in Paul’s body then that meant.... THE MONTY PYTHON.
I jumped and turned flinging toilet water off the tip like an unmanned firehose before slamming my back into the wall across from the toilet. Hands much larger than my own instinctively flew up to cover my eyes and protect what little sanity may have remained. God, it’s me, Vhodka. Please don’t make me look at it. Please. Please, God, please don’t make me have to see Paul’s python. I’ve heard stories, dark dark stories. I really didn’t want to do this but I also really really had to pee. Paul isn’t really my favorite person but I also felt kind of weird peeing his pants. What if he found out? He’d think I was gross or that I never got potty trained and then he’ll tell Brandon and Brandon will tell Michelle and Michelle will tell literally everyone that I’m a little piss baby goblin girl. Then there will be fan art and people will start throwing diapers when I go to the ring. Ugh, no. I’m just gonna have to be a man and pee in the toilet like a normal person. It’s really not that big of a deal anyway, I mean, it’s natural. Everyone pee’s. Even Paul Montuori. It’s really not even that weird anyway, it’s more weird that I’m making it so weird – right? I shuffled off towards the toilet, the python slapping my shin as I moved to stand before the throne – eyes dead set on the towel rack above the toilet lest I accidentally glance down and see the beast live and in person. Alright, all that was left now was to Nike this bitch. You know, just do it? Yeah.
Now that I was standing here and had psyched myself up sufficiently, I realized that the mechanics of this whole thing was a bit different than what I was accustomed to. Girl’s just have to sit down and let nature take its course, a little wipe when it’s all said and done and on with your day. I’d tried the sitting thing and it hadn’t worked the first time so that was out. I’m not stupid, mind you. I live with a man. I’ve seen how this whole thing works and know how the guys typically do it. The issue I was having was that while I had psyched myself up enough to not piss my own pants I hadn’t psyched myself up enough to make physical contact with the Loch Ness Monster down below. First of all, it’s gross. This is PAUL we’re talking about, I don’t want to touch Paul there. It’s weird. Secondly, it’s PAUL. What would Vincent say? If I touch it does that count as cheating? Like granted, I know that I’m in Paul’s body so it’s not really my hands doing the touching since it’s Paul’s hands but I’m piloting this meat vehicle which means I’m the one deciding to touch it so even though physically it’s not my hands what if Vin thinks I wanted to touch it because I made Paul touch it. This is just the sort of thing to drive him back into the arms of his ex-wife and her roommate Bob Villa.
There has to be another way to do this, just think Vee. Man, I really wish McGuyer was here at a time like this, he always knew the way out of a jam. Be kind of weird for him to be in Paul’s bedroom but I’d keep it a secret if he’d just help me figure out a way out of this pickle about Paul’s pickle. My eyes scanned the bathroom but at eye level without looking down there wasn’t really much to help me. My bladder constricted and I could practically hear Michelle chanting piss baby goblin girl as I clinched to cut off the stream that had begun to trickle down my leg. The only way I was getting out of this was either to look down and find something I could use to grab it with or to go in with my bare hands. I’d rather be stuck like this the rest of my life than risk losing Vin so door number two it was. Seeing Paul’s Ringo Star isn’t a fate worse than death, right? You’ve seen one dick you’ve seen them all.
At first glance it was like one of those abstract pictures that you stare at and eventually a sailboat appears, except this sailboat was a gigantic fucking dick in a well manicured ocean of pubes. It was like Danny DeVito’s arm holding a lightbulb if the whole thing had gangrene. Okay, okay, I’m embellishing. It wasn’t that bad, it was actually kind of cute if you were into that whole grew up next to a nuclear reactor kind of thing. It wasn’t just the sheer length of the thing, it was the girth too. A lady would have to have a very wide set vagina to take everything PMont was laying down. Actually, I could see why he did so well in adult film. It was a beaut of a dick, not as nice as Vincent’s but hey, not everyone can have the marble sculpted cock of a Greek god. It curved to the left a little with a bit of a hook in the end that made it look like it was looking up with me with sad puppy eyes. “Touch me, Vhodka” it said. No really, it really said that. I could see it’s little pee hole moving like a set of lips as the words breath out into the silence of the bathroom.
« Vhodka Marie »
Dude, I’m tripping balls.
« The Monty Python »
Happens to me all the time, on account of the boys down there. Always in my fucking way. I tell them time after time, when the pants go on I get the right leg, you get the left. But they’re always up in my personal space anyway. I need my fuckin’ breathing room, you know?
« Vhodka Marie »
Right on.
« The Monty Python »
Anyway, what’s up? What’s your story?
« Vhodka Marie »
Oh, uh. I’m not Paul if that’s what you’re asking. I mean, I know I look like Paul but I’m not. I’m Vhodka, I woke up like this. *Flawless, Beyoncé. Yas kween.
« The Monty Python »
Yeah, I knew you weren’t Paul the second I laid eyes on you. If you were the big guy I’d have thrown up six times and then had to sit there awkwardly while he cries for an hour when it’s over.
« Vhodka Marie »
That’s incredibly sad.
« The Monty Python »
Heh, it’s a charmed life, what can I say? Anyway, I know we just met and shit but I kind of have a situation going on down here I could use your help with if you know what I mean.
The Monty Python jiggled himself towards the toilet which was really impressive. He spoke with a thick New York accent and the kind of pack a day voice I wouldn’t have expected for a talking dick. It made me wonder if he had been sick recently and was still getting over it, upper respiratory or something like that. Dicks have upper respiratory systems, right? Someone call Bill Nye and get back to me.
« Vhodka Marie »
Oh yeah! The pee thing. Sorry, got distracted.
« The Monty Python »
Happens all the time.
My eyes scanned the bathroom in search of anything that might assist me with this endeavor before finally settling on what appeared to be Paul’s toothbrush. It was a good idea in theory but when I tried to use it to lift up the Monty Python I found that if I lifted the end of it up the middle part slunk down in a U shape and caused the tip to point directly at the ceiling. If I tried picking it up from the middle the end got all floppy and swung in the breeze from the air conditioning. Jesus Christ, why do they make these things so hard to use?
« The Monty Python »
Look, you’re just gonna have to reach down and grab me with two hands, alright? That’s how the big guy does it.
« Vhodka Marie »
Yeah but…
I chewed on my lip which I guess was really Paul’s lip as I looked down at the Monty Python trying to think of the best way to explain the complication of my relationship with Vincent and Paul’s relationship to us. I guess I must have waited to long to speak because the Monty Python suddenly withered a bit and sheepishly swung himself back and forth like he was nervous to say what words were about to come out of his peehole mouth.
« The Monty Python »
Ya think I’m disgusting, don’tcha? Can’t even bring yourself to touch me with someone else’s hands.
« Vhodka Marie »
No! That’s not it at all!
« The Monty Python »
I see the way you look at me. You think I’m a fuggin’ side show freak! I can’t help the way I look, ya know? I was born like this.
« Vhodka Marie »
I swear to God, it’s not you or at least you personally, anyway. You’re a beautiful dick, really.
« The Monty Python »
You’re just saying that.
« Vhodka Marie »
No, really, I mean it. I think you’re probably one of the most handsomest dicks I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Top five, for sure. It’s just, like, I have my own dick at home and it’s kind of complicated.
« The Monty Python »
Complicated how?
« Vhodka Marie »
I love my dick with all my heart. It’s overwhelming because I’m just really, truly, butt crazy head over heels for my dick. It’s the most beautiful perfect wonderful dick in the whole world even if a lot of people think it’s crazy but they don’t see the good in my dick like I do. When my dick loves someone it’s totally selfless, it’s dedicated to its family, it’s so smart it scares me. I’m still kind of shocked that my dick is really my dick because we weren’t always in the position we are now. He used to be someone else’s dick and I had to watch him with another woman and that’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone else in the world.
« The Monty Python »
That’s really beautiful. I wish someone talked about me the way you talk about your dick.
« Vhodka Marie »
You’re gonna find her one day pal, I know it.
« The Monty Python »
I still don’t understand what your dick has to do with me and you making some things happen.
« Vhodka Marie »
Like I said, it’s complicated. Paul, the real one, he kind of had this thing for me but he didn’t know I was with Vincent already cause we were having an affair since Vin was married.
« The Monty Python »
Vincent is your dick?
« Vhodka Marie »
Yeah. Anyway, like I don’t want Vin to think that I secretly want to touch Paul’s Dick, I mean, touch you. Or that I’m living out some repressed fantasy now that I can blame it on being stuck in Paul’s body. I guess I’m worried he’ll consider it cheating or think I don’t love him.
« The Monty Python »
This Vincent the jealous type?
« Vhodka Marie »
He’s protective.
« The Monty Python »
Sounds more possessive to me. I mean, you can’t touch another guy's dick to help out in an emergency? What’s that about?
« Vhodka Marie »
You just don’t know him like I do! He’s not possessive of me at all.
« The Monty Python »
Why not? He should be. I’ve felt what the big guy feels whenever he sees you. He’s got a serious hard on for you, lady. And I don’t just mean me, I’m talking about the red thumpy guy by my cousin Nipples up there.
« Vhodka Marie »
Wait. A minute ago possessive was bad now you’re making it seem like he doesn’t care about me or something.
« The Monty Python »
Hey, your words not mine.
« Vhodka Marie »
Vincent loves me.
« The Monty Python »
Of course he does. I’m sure he loves you just as much as you love him.
« Vhodka Marie »
He does!
« The Monty Python »
No argument out of me. Look, I tell you what. Help me out just this one time and we can keep it between you and I. Your dick never has to even know about me. I’ll take it to my grave.
« Vhodka Marie »
I don’t know..
« The Monty Python »
Alright what if you pretended I was your dick? What’s its name? Vinland?
« Vhodka Marie »
Vincent.
« The Monty Python »
Just reach down here, wrap your hands around me and call me Vincent. Please, I can’t hold it much longer. I need your help.
« Vhodka Marie »
You promise this stays between the two of us?
« The Monty Python »
Hand to balls.
He seemed like he was telling the truth so against my best instincts I took a deep breath and reached down. The skin of Paul’s dick was feverishly hot but smooth, like the skin behind your knee after a long shower.
« Vhodka Marie »
You’re really soft.
« The Monty Python »
Thanks, I moisturize a lot. And I use the good lotion, not that Jergens shit. Makes all the difference.
The golden stream was heavy and pulled to the left which threw me off at first but wasn’t hard to accommodate once I course corrected. It seemed like there was much more in there than my normal body usually held and I was just about to open my mouth to ask how much longer when the stream steadied to a trickle and then a drip.
« The Monty Python »
Alright just about finished up down here. If you could just give me a little shake we’ll be on our way.
Not sure where my mind had been but my attention was suddenly snapped back to Paul’s dick in my hand as I gave him a little shake.
« The Monty Python »
A little harder, please? Sorry, I just hate having to sit in a wet spot if you don’t get it all.
Understandable, I wouldn’t want to walk around all day in wet pants either. I shook the Monty Python harder, really taking care to make sure that he was droplet free, it wasn’t until he began to stiffen in my hands that I realized my mistake and dropped him like I’d touched a hot pan accidentally. Ohmygod, I just jerked off Paul Montuori’s dick!
« The Monty Python »
Oh come on baby, I was almost there!
« Vhodka Marie »
You dick! You tricked me!
« The Monty Python »
You knew what you were doing. You loved it!
« Vhodka Marie »
I should get a knife and cut you off for what you just pulled! You made me a promise.
« The Monty Python »
Alright, alright! I’m sorry! It was a moment of weakness. It’s been a long time for me, sometimes I don’t think straight. Still friends?
Part of me wanted to tell him to get fucked but the other part of me was kind of starting to get used to the little guy. Plus, given my circumstances it was nice having someone to talk to that I could be myself with. If it was anyone else I’d have to put on an act so they didn’t suspect anything but with Paul’s dick I could really relax and let my guard down. After a brief moment of deliberation I decided to forgive and forget, after all, I couldn’t really blame him. He did spend most of his time hanging around Paul Montuori.
« Vhodka Marie »
I forgive you. This time. But no more funny business, okay?
« The Monty Python »
Deal. I’ll be a one hundred percent stand up guy from here on out.
The Monty Python nodded its little mushroom head and I nodded back in acknowledgement. It was only when I turned to leave did I realize that the pajama pants were still around my ankles, leaving Monty to flap in the wind. What had felt natural a moment ago was suddenly one of the most awkward experiences of my life and to my chagrin my mother hadn’t covered the etiquette of a situation like this when I was growing up. Would it be rude of me to pull the pants back up? Did Monty like being tucked away all day in this pair of bottoms or that pair of jeans? Could he breath? Was he comfortable?
« Vhodka Marie »
Hey Monty..
« The Monty Python »
Yeah, what’s up chickie?
« Vhodka Marie »
Um, I don’t really know the standard protocol for what happens next. I need to go figure out what happened to me and Paul but like, I don’t want to be disrespectful to you.
« The Monty Python »
Not following you.
« Vhodka Marie »
The pants, Monty. Are you cool if I put them back on?
« The Monty Python »
What? You’re ashamed of me? Don’t want to be seen with me, is that it? You think I haven’t heard the shit you’ve said about me, girly? You called me small, you said I looked like I went to Olive Garden and fucked that little thing they use to grate the parmesan on your pasta. What was my favorite? Oh yeah, “I’d rather choke on Wendy Williams used tampon than touch Paul Montuori’s dick”. Real cute stuff. I have feelings too, you know. That shit hurt me.
« Vhodka Marie »
Okay, yeah, I said all those things but that was before I knew you. If I could take them all back I would.
« The Monty Python »
You’re just saying that.
« Vhodka Marie »
No really, it’s true. How can I make it up to you?
« The Monty Python »
Let me stay out a while longer, just while we’re alone. It gets real old being all cooped up down there and forgotten about all day until he wants to hit me or take a piss.
« Vhodka Marie »
Deal.
One hand gripped the towel rod above the toilet to stead myself as I carefully stepped out of the pajama bottoms. Got to be honest, I was pretty impressed with how well I was handling all the shocks of the day. Wonder how ol’ Pauly is doing waking up next to Vincent. My feet were suddenly cemented to the ground as a million scenarios ran through my head about what might be happening back home between my body and my boyfriend. The Monty Python twitched and looked up at me.
« The Monty Python »
Hey, what’s the deal? Thought we were gonna go look for a clue or somethin’.
« Vhodka Marie »
It just occurred to me that if I am in Paul’s body then he is in mine.
« The Monty Python »
Yeah, so?
« Vhodka Marie »
And my body doesn’t live alone like Paul’s does. My body is rarely alone. If Paul woke up as me this morning then that means he woke up next to Vincent.
« The Monty Python »
Not following.
« Vhodka Marie »
Vincent likes to start his day a very specific way.
« The Monty Python »
Breakfast?
« Vhodka Marie »
Eating is involved.
« The Monty Python »
Yeah it usually…. oh! I get it! You think the big guy is fucking your boyfriend right now.
« Vhodka Marie »
He wouldn’t. Would he?
« The Monty Python »
It has been a long time for us. And it wouldn’t just be fucking like all those movies he made, this would be making love. Pretty tempting for someone like the big guy. He talks a good game but I’m there late at night and really, he just wants that special someone to come home to, ya know?
« Vhodka Marie »
But he’s a dude! Paul doesn’t go that way. At least, I don’t think he does.
« The Monty Python »
It’s not gay if you’re a woman.
« Vhodka Marie »
He’s not a woman!
« The Monty Python »
For today he’s you. And if you don’t want to get your body back missing a few teeth you better hope he’s convinced your boyfriend everything is status quo.
« Vhodka Marie »
Get real, Vin would never hit me.. err my body.
« The Monty Python »
Not even if you woke up raving you were Paul Montuori trapped in your body?
« Vhodka Marie »
I don’t think you understand who I am as a person. Vin wouldn’t even blink twice. I just hope Paul knows how to give head.
« The Monty Python »
You’re good then.
« Vhodka Marie »
Do I want to know?
« The Monty Python »
Yoga has many benefits.
I gagged as we moved into the living room of the home which was as tastefully decorated as the bedroom had been. My mind had a hard time imagining Paul Montuori in the bright space, moving about his day like a ghost in his own home. On the wall that shared the bedroom door was a large cabinet with Paul’s adult video awards all lined up and proudly displayed, there was also a shelf dedicated to past title wins with the tag team titles being the most recent. On the wall opposite there was a large bookshelf with what appeared to be an extensive book collection, I moved closer running my fingers along the spines of the books and mumbling the authors names out loud.
« Vhodka Marie »
Faulkner, Jane Austen… Nietzsche? No fucking way PMont reads Nietzsche.
« The Monty Python »
There’s a lot you don’t know about the guy.
« Vhodka Marie »
I know enough about him to know he’s not sitting around reading Nietzsche in his off time.
« The Monty Python »
Oh is that so? Well, why don’t you read his journal then see if you know him as well as you think. I’m telling you, he’s not the kind of guy everyone thinks he is. Take it from me, I’ve spent my whole life attached to the guy, he’s got his rough edges but he’s not all bad.
« Vhodka Marie »
Paul’s got a diary?
« The Monty Python »
A JOURNAL.
« Vhodka Marie »
Same difference. So, where is it?
« The Monty Python »
If I tell you you give me your word it stays between us and you don’t tell the big guy you know about it.
« Vhodka Marie »
Scouts honor.
The Monty Python stretched itself in the direction of what appeared to be an antique writing desk next to the bookshelf. Sitting on the worn lacquered top was an old black and white picture of a handsome young couple holding a baby, they appeared to be standing outside of some sort of church whose name I couldn’t make out beyond Saint Catherine’s. I’d have to ask Paul who they were when this thing was all said and done. The Monty Python gestured for me to open the slim middle drawer where I would find a well worn leather bound notebook. Upon opening it I was struck by Paul’s sweeping script, he had lovely penmanship for a guy. The words were another story. In keeping with my promise to The Monty Python I cannot repeat to you exactly what I read but what I found in that journal made my heart constrict in the most painful of ways. The Monty Python was right, Paul wasn’t the man I thought he was. From the pages in the journal I learned about a Paul who was sensitive and lonely, someone who watched the people around him and knew that they were laughing at him and not with him but laughed along anyway because after all, it was much better than being here all by ourselves. This Paul called his mother every night without fail and diligently journaled with pride about her latest knitting project or win in bridge at her weekly game. This Paul looked at the women around him with a soft wonderment and longing, his words told me that he had looked at me in that way too. I was ashamed of myself and the way I had behaved, embarrassed that I had made fun of someone who only wanted to know me, understand me, take care of me and for me to do the same for him. Isn’t that what we all want? Someone to understand us? To take care of us? As sad as it made me, I couldn’t be that person for Paul. I had my person already, I had forever. But I could be his friend, I could help him find his person, that I could do. I wiped at my eyes furiously trying to clear them of the tears that had begun to well.
« The Monty Python »
You crying?
« Vhodka Marie »
Shut up!
« The Monty Python »
Oh man, if the big guy could see you now. He’d be tickled to find you crying over his diary.
« Vhodka Marie »
Don’t make fun of him! It’s a JOURNAL!
« The Monty Python »
Right, right.
We both jumped at the digital sound of a phone ringing somewhere off in the distance, caught off guard by its sudden intrusion. After some digging I located Paul’s iPhone in between two of the couch cushions. The digital readout showed the letters TK. Tommy?
« Vhodka Marie »
Hello?
« Tommy Kain »
Homewrecker?
« Vhodka Marie »
The fuck, TK?! That’s no way to start off a phone call you rudeass motherfucker.
« Tommy Kain »
Just wanted to make sure I had the right Paul. Little P has just let me in on the ol’ Freaky Friday situation. I appreciate his moxie but if Paul and I are going to consensually tag team you I want to make sure we’re doing it to the right body. Would hate to have my good man switch back into something that’s been as used and abused as your usual body is.
« Vhodka Marie »
This was you?! You did this to us?!
« Tommy Kain »
You deaf? I just said my precocious P-nizzle is the one who did it. Try to keep up, lady.
« Vhodka Marie »
Whatever! Just tell me how to fix it before Paul fucks my boyfriend.
« Tommy Kain »
Don’t be ridiculous, he’d never fuck Vincent Black. Xavier Wolf though I think most men would have trouble making a case against if you know what I mean? Smooth dude. Skin feels like an angels asscheek.
« Vhodka Marie »
Less sounds, TK.
It took a while but after a solid twenty minutes of argument about which men on the roster the real Paul might swing his chariot low for we finally settled on a plan. Using high tech advanced technology (find my iPhone) I would locate Phaulka Marie in my body and get us both on the first flight out to the locale the Wannabangohhh was currently situated. By the time we got there TK would have convinced his right hand man to switch us the fuck back so we could get back to our lives and the match at International Incident. The negotiation with the Monty Python took much longer as he had strong opinions about the items I found in Paul’s closet. We finally compromised on a good pair of jeans with the zipper left open so he could still see what was going on, he assured me Paul allowed him to do this all the time.
I found the real Paul crying in a titty bar which is remarkably on brand. At first I assumed he had taken up a secondary income on my behalf but it appeared that he had entered seeking refuge but instead found feminism. It was a strange turn of events in a day full of them and all things considered ranked pretty low on the list of weirdness despite how unnerving it was hearing him tell random women in the airport not to let the bastards get them down.
After some initial argument over who got the window seat, we finally settled down beside one another for the short flight that would lead us to the current location of the Wannabangohhh. Up until that point I feel like I had been handling this whole thing pretty well but sitting beside Paul and seeing someone else staring out at me from behind my own eyes was way too Invasion of the Body Snatchers for me. The silence between us was heavy and awkward, neither of us knowing quite what to say to the other. I could feel the Monty Python in my pants tugging toward Paul in what I assumed was a sign that I should be the bigger person and break the ice. Something about Paul seemed fragile today, and I don’t just mean that because he was half of his usual side. Whatever peek behind the curtain he had witnessed today seemed to have shaken him in a way that I wasn’t accustomed to. Usually, I had no problem knowing what to say to the dorkus but after my own journey into his psyche I felt like I was sitting next to a stranger.
« Vhodka Marie »
So... does it always talk?
« Paul Montuori »
What?
« Vhodka Marie »
You know. Him.
I nodded my head toward the Monty Python as Phaulka Marie looked at me with confusion showing plain in his eyes. Suddenly knowledge dawned on him and I got to watch as what was usually my face turned a shade of red I didn’t even know I could achieve.
« Paul Montuori »
You looked at it?!
« Vhodka Marie »
Was I not supposed to?
« Paul Montuori »
Here I was being a gentleman during this whole ordeal and you’re over there taking advantage of me!
« Vhodka Marie »
Hold up, I did nothing of the sort. It ASKED me to touch him and I did it as a favor, alright?
« Paul Montuori »
Haven’t you ever heard of consent? You can’t just go around touching other people's bodies without asking them! You men are all the same, you think the world belongs to you and that you can just take-take-take and do whatever you want. I’m sick of it! I’m a person too! I deserve respect.
« Vhodka Marie »
Lower your voice, people are staring.
« Paul Montuori »
You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d like me to just shut up and be a good little girl. I’m not your property, Mister.
« Vhodka Marie »
You’re not a girl, Paul.
« Paul Montuori »
You monster!
Paul crossed my arms over my chest in a huff, sulking as he looked out over the plane, daring the woman staring at us from 3C to keep looking. Man, I liked him better when he was a lech. There was a suddenly stinging pain coming from my nether regions that told me clearly the Monty Python had had enough of the two of us and wanted the fences mended, or else. How do I end up in these situations? I lead a good life, I’m well liked and not an entirely terrible person minus what my boyfriend's ex-wife might think. Why was I suddenly in charge of Paul Montuori’s wellbeing and mental health? Ugh.
« Vhodka Marie »
Look, Paul. I’m sorry. For everything.
« Paul Montuori »
Yeah, right.
« Vhodka Marie »
No, really. Today has been a really eye-opening day for me and I guess it was easier for me to think about you as a cartoon character and not as a serious person with thoughts and feelings. But you’re a human being and you’re just doing your best like the rest of us are. I’m sorry that I haven’t been a good... frie..co-worker to you. I’ll do better.
Paul was silent as digested my words, likely trying to weigh out if this was going to end up some sort of prank that would see him hurt in the end as he so frequently was. But one thing I knew about Paul now that I hadn’t known before, all he really wanted was to belong. So, he accepted what I said as truth and turned my body toward his own, taking his larger hand in my much smaller one as he gave me some of the best eye contact I had all day.
« Paul Montuori »
I should apologize to you, too. When you treated me the way you did before I thought it was because you were a jerk, now I realize how I was just one in a long line of people trying to shove themselves inside of your life without asking. If I wanted to get to know you I should have just asked instead of trying to force myself on you. I’m sorry.
« Vhodka Marie »
Friends?
Paul smiled at me. Maybe it was because he was wearing my body like a fleshy Vhodka Marie Halloween costume, I don’t know. But whatever it was, it was one of the most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen and warmed me right down to the tip of the Monty Python.
« Paul Montuori »
Friends. You’ll still feel the same after I take your title at International Incident?
His grin wilted around the edges a little as the reality seeped in that our new found common ground might not last as long as we had hoped. I nudged him with my elbow, bumping my head into his in an effort to let him know things weren’t as bad as he was internally catastrophizing.
« Vhodka Marie »
Tired of carrying it around anyway. Makes my luggage heavy.
« Paul Montuori »
Liar.
« Vhodka Marie »
Whatever happens, I’ll still be there after the bell rings.
« Paul Montuori »
And I promise not to pull a Joe if you somehow beat me.
« Vhodka Marie »
Literally all I ask.
We spent the rest of the rest of the flight talking about our families, oddly enough. Paul was a fan of my mother having met her out at a bar when he was passing through Nashville with GOAT sometime ago. I asked him about the picture I had seen on my desk and he told me that it was his parents holding a very small Baby Paul. The old me would have been shocked that Paul Montuori kept a framed photo of his parents on his desk, the new me knew better.
We finally found ourselves standing inside the mobile bachelor pad known as the Wannabangohh. It was both everything I expected and… well no, it was just entirely what I expected. Paul and I stood side by side, awkwardly making small talk with GOAT as TK and Pierre were huddled across the… room? I guess? Talking in hushed serious tones. From what I had pieced together it seemed that Pierre didn’t think that switching us back was a good idea. Suddenly in a huff Pierre threw his hands in the air and walked to the back of the Wannabangohh, he returned holding what appeared to be a Baja Blast from Taco Bell. Judging by its coloring in the clear cup it resided in it appeared to be the Code Red variety. Personally, I’m a purist. I like the OG Baja Blast. Some people are into the new shit and that’s cool I guess but I was raised traditionally. Pierre thrusted the Blast in the direction of Paul and myself and very aggressively indicated that we should sip the nectar.
Noelle impatiently cleared her throat from across the room where she, Asher, Vincent and JJ were sitting as I recounted this epic tale. Asher eyes were entirely glazed over at this point and JJ was on the edge of his seat looking like he was hanging on my every word - which honestly is how I prefer people to look at me. Vincent stood behind the three and looked at me in the way he always looks at me, soft bemusement with a baseline ten percent horiness.
« Noelle Rivers »
Can we wrap this up at literally any point? I don’t want to miss my Chinese water torture.
Vincent absentmindedly smacked her in the back of the head, like a mother dog does with its misbehaving pups if the mother dog was a human man with a hand the size of a Volkswagen. He gestured for me to continue with the story but her surly demeanor had kind of ruined my flow. Just like her to fuck up my goddamn mojo.
« Vhodka Marie »
Ugh it’s too late. She ruined it.
« JJ Starfire »
Wait. So, are you Paul or are you Vhodka?
« Vhodka Marie »
As if Paul has this much charisma.
« JJ Starfire »
How did you get your body back though?
« Vhodka Marie »
It was all the Baja Blast! I guess this was like a magical Baja Blast cause we both drank from it and then things got hazy and I was like sure that I was about to get date raped or trafficked then I came to in a Chili’s mid baby back ribs and everything was back to normal?
« Vincent Black »
You only order chicken crispers.
« Vhodka Marie »
Exactly! I guess Paul is a baby back ribs kind of guy.
« Vincent Black »
Well, that proves it.
« Vhodka Marie »
You don’t believe any of this, do you?
« Vincent Black »
With you? I’d believe anything.
FADE.