Pink Planet

by Jon R. Meyers

“Watch the movie,” he said to her.

  Kat laughed again and whispered into his ear, “I bet you got that piece of wood watching Amanda Napalm’s giant tits bounce up there on the screenie weenie,” she said.

  Milo quivered in his seat, “I did not. Please, just watch the movie,” he said.

  She laughed and flicked his boner before focusing her attention back to the screen. Although she didn’t really care about any of Milo’s sexual needs, she still thought it was cute and funny.

  Amanda Napalm got to the house she was running to and knocked on the door, “Let me in!” she screamed, as the camera chased her across the screen. Daddy was nowhere to be found.

  “Let me in! Quick!” she screamed, again. Puddles of sweat dripped down her throat and down between her big tits. “Please…”

  The music slowed to a minimal ambience. Daddy was still nowhere to be found.

  “Let me in! Quick! Please!” Amanda screamed, knocking on the door again, this time more rapidly.

  The music built up before showing a scene where Daddy was face-timing entire tree branches, running belligerently, while his hatchet swooped in and out of fast paced running sequences through the woods. The screen glitched segments of a devil face with horns, before flickering back to Amanda Napalm and her huge hot tits that were now hard pressed up against the wood on the door and screaming, “PLEASE LET ME IN… QUICK!”

  The door opened.

  Amanda Napalm was face to face with an old man. He had one tooth and was sitting in a wheelchair with two wooden stumps for legs.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned,” the old man said, “C’mon in pretty little lady,” he said.

  She darted into the house and slammed the door. The old man stared at her as she tried to catch her breath.

  Daddy was nearing the end of the tree line and getting closer to the house.

  When he got there he knocked on the door.

  “Don’t answer it,” Amanda Napalm said to the old man. “Please, don’t…” she begged.

  “Bitch, I got two wooden legs and haven’t seen a pretty little broad like you since the goddam fifties. Now, why would I go and open that there goddamn door,” he said to her.

  She took a deep breath and felt safe for a second, “Thanks,” she said, half-smiling at him.

  “You’re welcome, honey bee,” the old man said.

  Amanda Napalm got a strange feeling from the old man but, it was better than being chased by her father with a hatchet through the woods.

  “That’s my daddy,” she said to the old man, explaining the current conflict, “He’s a raging dickhole…”

  The old man laughed, belligerently. “He caught me sucking his old lady’s clit in his bed,” she said.

  The old man by this time was hysterical, “What! You doghoused that man’s goddamn wife?” He asked, practically rolling in his wheelchair, “Bahahaha!” he roared.

  “What is so funny?” Amanda Napalm asked him, feeling slightly more creeped out by this old man’s actions.

  “Why don’t you show me some of those freaky moves, bitch” the old man said, as he knocked on the hardwood floor beneath him. He knocked three times.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and show me on this pretty thang, right here?” The old man requested, holding his hand out as if someone were about to appear in the shadows.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  A muffled scratchy sound came from the end of the hallway, it sounded like the way the old man’s wheelchair sounded from the other side of the door from the outside.

  The look on Amanda Napalm’s face was priceless.

  And, again.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Right after the third boom, a little old lady wearing a gas mask peeked her head out around the edge of the hallway. The old lady cocked her head to the side, appearing to be wearing some sort of once-piece vintage black wrestling costume, on top of that god awful gasmask.

  “What the fuck?” Amanda Napalm said to herself, looking to the left, and then quickly to the right for a place to run. There was nowhere.

  Daddy taunted her from outside the door, “I know you’re in there, you little goddamn bitch!” he yelled, as he scraped his hatchet on the outside of the front door.

  The old man said, “Well then, how’s about it, honey bee? You wanna’ fuck this sweet thing while I kick my wood,” he said, flailing his two wooden legs around and click-clacking on his wheelchair, “Hmmmmm, darling?”

  The old lady with the gasmask walked slowly toward Amanda Napalm, rubbing her crotch and tits together at the same time. Her crotch sounded like sandpaper, and, her tits, they sounded like jello shot sliding down Amanda Napalm’s throat. But, this wasn’t a shot she was willing to take.

  She was disgusted with nowhere to go. Death lingered on the outside and on the inside of the house. What was she to do?

  A) She could run outside and get hacked to death.

  B) She could fuck death in her pretty little napalm mouth.

  “Give me a second, please,” she requested, thinking about her two options.

  “You’ve got about thirty seconds you fucking bitch,” the old man said, rubbing his wrinkled penis.

  Amanda Napalm busted through the front door, knocking it into Daddy’s face, and ran like the goddamn wind back into the woods.

  Daddy and the old lady with the gasmask followed, running after her, violently.

  Amanda Napalm was still running before running into a low hanging tree branch and fell. She got cut up pretty bad, stumbling to the ground, before crawling back up to her feet and staggering much slower through the trees. The screen still glitching segments of devil faces in and out of the scene prior.

  And they kept running—one after another—the anxiety pumped in Milo’s chest as he watched. Kat rolled her eyes a few times. Deep inside she kind of wished that the movie was over, but she was getting into it a little bit.

  Amanda Napalm fell, again. She twisted her ankle and was now laying on the ground, screaming.

  Daddy and the old bitch were quickly gaining on her, “hee—hee—hee!” the old lady chanted while rubbing her clit like sandpaper.

  Daddy looked more pissed than ever. He was still chugging violently after her.

  And then stopped… to scratch his dick.

  The old lady passed by him, “Hee- hee—hee…”

  Amanda Napalm screamed when the old lady caught up and pounced on top of her.

  The screen faded into a slow-motion action sequence, chopping up Amanda Napalm’s screams, as the old lady ninja kicked her vagina. “Pew, pew, pew,” the old lady screamed, before plopping down on Amanda Napalm’s face. She wrapped her legs around her while rubbing her sandpaper clit on her, “Lick that shit like it’s 1999!” the she screamed, thrusting her face hard.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh!” Amanda Napalm screamed, her vagina was scratchy and could feel every movement underneath her soggy one piece.

  Daddy was still standing still, scratching his dick, and paused even further to light up a cigarette, “Ahhh,” he sighed, as he took a big puff of the Cuban, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into his own face and saying, “I’ma get that bitch…” he said.

  Meanwhile, the old lady was still face-timing Amanda Napalm, cottage cheese curdles puddling up just above her mouth. It smelled like the Great Depression.

  The crowd in the theatre roared in unison, “Uggghhhh!”

  “Eat it. Eat it. Eat it,” the old lady said, swiping up the chunk of cottage cheese before shoving it into her mouth.

  Kat laughed and said, “What the fuck?”

  “Eat it. Eat it. Eat it,” the old lady said again, shoveling up more cottage cheese and jamming it into her mouth.

  Milo was disgusted, and, for a second, felt like he was going to puke.

  Kat looked over at him and laughed. She taunted him playfully, “Still got a boner?”
she asked, taking a sip of her soda.

  Milo shook his head and kept watching. Daddy caught up, lifted his hatchet above his head, and power slammed it down through the old lady’s head, and into the face of his own daughter. Double-tap. Blood spewed everywhere. Every square inch of the screen, the camera lens, and everything within the hatchet’s path—covered in a thick, violent blood red.

  The final scene was a close-up of Daddy’s face. He was puffing his Cuban, smiling like a mother fucker, and blowing smoke straight into the camera lens. The scene faded out and into the credits with some 1980’s power pop song.

  Milo looked over at Kat and smiled.

  Kat looked at Milo and shook her head like, “Why’d you want to come to this?”

  Milo and Kat left the theatre and went back to Milo’s. But Kat had enough; she wasn’t go stay long (if at all).

  Milo leaned in and kissed her in the driveway of his Mom’s house. “Want to come inside?” he asked her.

  “I got a headache,” she said to him, giving him the weakest peck on the cheek ever, “I’ll see you in a couple of days…” she said, “I got to go.”

  Milo got out of the car and stood there with his hands in his pocket. He watched her leave like a lost puppy dog, before shrugging it off, and running back inside to play Pink Planet.

  Maybe I should call Flea back? he thought to himself, shrugging his shoulders again, still thinking about Amanda Napalms tits, before shrugging his shoulders again and saying to himself, “Nah, fuck it. I’ll just call him back tomorrow.”

  Milo turned around and shuffled his feet up the driveway. He opened the door and walked straight to his bedroom, picked up the NATARI controller, and hit the start button.

  Chapter 17

  Milo stayed up all night playing Pink Planet, waking up with the NATARI controller still in his hands, as the phone rang.

  “Hey, bro…” Flea said.

  Milo shook his head, waking himself up, as he scratched his balls, “Whattup?” he said.

  “You sound tired…”

  “I am, totally stayed up all night.”

  “With Kat?” Flea asked, sounding shocked. They barely ever spent time together.

  “Nah, playing Pink Planet, man,” Milo said, “Why’d you sound like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Shocked.”

  “Oh, no reason,” Flea said. “Thought I’d see how things were going with you and Kat?”

  “Ah, yeah… She’s alright. We went out for ice cream and a movie last night.”

  “What’d you guys see?”

  “Slash em’ up, Daddy…” Milo said, laughing.

  “Ah,” Flea said, sounding disappointed but still trying to show that he cared, “Was it any good? It looked kind of lame…”

  “Nah, it was actually pretty good, man. Kat hated it, I think. But, I loved it,” Milo said, rubbing the sleep goo from his eyes.

  “That’s good. Might have to check that one out then,” Flea replied. “So, was Kat being weird or anything last night?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Like not weird at all?” Flea said, sounding more shocked (like how could he NOT know what was going on by now).

  “Nah, man. Everything is good. What’s the matter? Why you asking so many questions?” Milo asked.

  “Nothing, man. I’ll catch you later, okay?” He said, before slamming the phone down on the table.

  Dude is fucking weird, Milo thought. But he didn’t have a clue what was really going on.

  Flea hopped on Snouk and went for a long ride through town, pondering what he was going to do about the situation with Kat. He had to show Milo what was going on behind his back. He owed him that much out of all their years of friendship.

  Hopesfall, MA was a strange place. Flea liked to ride around for hours getting lost in it. What could he do or say to make Milo believe him? It bothered him so much that Kat was fucking around on him. There were dozens of them. And he knew about half, Brad, the teacher, the other guy, and that other guy, and it just wasn’t right. But, what could he do?

  “What should I do, man?” Flea asked Snouk.

  “…” Snouk said nothing, while rolling eight spider eyes in sarcastic circles. Snouk didn’t know anything about love. You pumped fat sacks and laid tons of babies in sticky webs. You had to wait until they hatched. Wanna talk about getting stepped on? Snouk thought to himself. That was something he could relate to. But, love? Nah, that was for the birds and the bees.

  “I know buddy. You’re just a spider, but, really, what would you do?”

  Flea shook his head as he realized he was trying to talk to a spider, “I got you, man. Me too…”

  Flea was a fucking mess over this situation. He needed to figure something out.

  And he needed to do it quick.

  Milo started Level 48. The game was getting harder and harder with more mini-games between the further he got. He still swore up and down that Pink Planet was the best game of all-time. His anticipation grew more and more as he chugged through each level. He was getting closer and closer to the end of the game; which meant that he was getting closer to her, Molly Methhead.

  LEVEL 48.

  The opening video sequence started and introduced, Betty Blue, who was sprawled out on a table in the middle of barn. Milo could tell it was a barn because there was a horse and a bunch of hay in the background.

  “Hey, boys…” Betty Blue said.

  She was fat and wearing an American flag themed bathing suit. Fat boils basked on top of her plump fatty skin. Large amounts of grease poured out of her armpits and down onto the table as she tried to maneuver erotically—which was more gross than erotic.

  Milo couldn’t help but gag as she said, “Have you ever seen a Blue Waffle?”

  No, this isn’t happening, he thought to himself, pressing the A button violently to trigger the next video sequence.

  “Hey, Betty Blue,” said Chef Charlie, who was completely naked aside from his cowboy boots and his chef hat. His cock dangled in the barn.

  “No, what’s a Blue Waffle?” Chef Charlie asked, as Betty Blue smacked her fat lips together, simulating a blow job with a giant chicken leg, before ripping off her bikini bottom.

  “What the fuck?” Chef Charlie said, “Now, that’s a Blue Waffle.”

  Betty Blue giggled and patted her swollen, blue pussed vagina. Disease ridden ick leaked out of her onto the hay below. Small mangy purple sores along with blood red boils coated her entire vagina.

  Milo gagged and thought about stopping the game.

  But, he couldn’t do it. He had to play. He had to get to Molly Methhead.

  “Come over here cowboy and show mama what you really got,” Betty Blue said, pulling her finger out of her vagina, looking like she’d just dipped it into a bowl of blueberry pudding.

  “And don’t forget this…” she added, throwing a bottle of maple syrup at him.

  “That’s it. Now come to Mama.”

  Milo pressed the A button to trigger the gameplay.

  He ran over to Betty Blue with his bottle of maple syrup, forcing Chef Charlie to dump it on thick, before going to face-time with her puffy, blue waffle.

  “Mmmm, tastes like chicken to me,” Chef Charlie said. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm,” he said, wiping the thick blueberry pudding residue off his face, before diving back into her mystery box.

  “That’s it… Ride em’, cowboy,” she taunted him. Milo bashed buttons like crazy trying to beat the level. It was gross. Man, fuck this bitch, he thought.

  “Fucking, C’mon,” Milo screamed, watching as Chef Charlie kept munching on that nasty shit, “C’mon, baby boy,” Betty Blue taunted, “C’mon, now…”

  Milo kept watching, trying not to, but still watching Chef Charlie doghouse her blue cratered twat, “You like that?” he asked her.

  “Sure do, boy. Keep that shit up and you might get a little surprise all up in your face…” Betty Blue said, hard thrusting her blue waffle all over his face.

&n
bsp; “Uhhh, yeah,” she moaned.

  “Yeah, harder. Uhhhh, I’m getting close. Wanna lil’ surprise from Mama do ya? Do ya?”

  “Uhhh, yeah…” and just like that Betty Blue creampied in Chef Charlie’s face, exploding a mixture of maple syrup covered pus, blood, and blue waffle chunks at him.

  The horse in the background vomited and neighed.

  “Now that’s a Blue Waffle,” Betty Blue whispered as the camera zoomed in on her fat face.

  Milo threw up a little in his mouth and said, “Ughh, thank god that’s over…” before starting another level.

  Meanwhile Flea was still trolling around Hopesfall trying to gather his thoughts. Where was Kat? Who the fuck knows? She’d been gone since she left Milo’s. He eventually convinced himself that it wasn’t his girlfriend. If it were his girlfriend, he’d have left her by now. If Milo wanted to be a dumbfuck then he’d let Milo be a fucking dumbfuck. He wasn’t going to beat himself up over it.

  And that’s when Flea saw her-- Kat in Brad’s car, driving past him and Snouk, “What the fuck? That dumb bitch.” Flea said, noticing her giggle through the window in the car.

  The moment played slow-motion in Flea’s head. Over and over, again—as Flea devised a plan.

  “C’mon, Snouk… think,” he said. “Think.”

  Snouk rolled eight crazy spider eyes and said nothing.

  “C’mon… think,” Flea said, again, “think… think… think”

  “That’s it!” Flea said to himself, “Snouk, follow that car, buddy!”

  Snouk made a weird sound and floored it. He was high tailing it on the sidewalk, catching up to them, “Yeah, buddy. You got it. Get em’, Snouk!” Flea screamed, riding him like a horse.

  “Over there!” Flea shouted, noticing that they’d turned off and slowed down in an alleyway, “What the fuck?” Flea said. He was playing detective on Kat’s bitch ass. He tried to call Milo but he didn’t pick up.

  Brad’s car was parked in the alley behind the old T.V. repair shop. The place was called Antennas.

  “Stay here,” he said to Snouk, as he chained him up to a bike rack.

  Flea crept up on Brad’s shiny, red Camaro. He tip-toed up to it and peeked in the back window.

  “I knew it,” Flea whispered to himself, “I fucking knew it.”