Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  A few days without alcohol had really cleared Cooper's head. Nabi was obviously a cursed magic item. Who knows how many of his friends he might have hurt if Tim hadn't taken him to the desert.

  He scowled down at the axe and pulled his dick out. “Taste my knob, Knobby.”

  It was easily one of the top five most satisfying pisses he'd ever taken. When he was done, the cursed axe was drenched from handle to blade, and the Fertile Desert sand had produced a large grape vine.

  Cooper snatched a bunch of grapes from the vine and followed the sun eastward in search of Tim. He owed his best friend a big apology.

  The End

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