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Jim walked down the block, towards the corner store. He needed milk. A woman tending to her baby was standing on the side of the street.
“Good morning, miss!” said Jim.
“Well good morning to you, si… OH MY GOD, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”
Jim laughed. He got that all the time. No matter. He had done his best to be friendly, and all she was doing was exposing her prejudice. She was probably a nice enough person… just a bit closed-minded. Anyway, he needed milk, not a warm welcome from a stranger.
The bells jingled on the door as he walked in. The man at the register didn’t bother to look up from Auto Trader to call out a “hello”. Jim warmly gave him the same. He loved this store. He looked up and down the isles, finding a treasure-trove of Cheetos, Milky Ways, Energizer batteries, Mini Muffins, Little Debbie, poorly prepared hot dogs, a soda machine, and sliding doors that held seemingly infinite amounts of every kind of beverage he could think of surrounding it all. Jim looked quite silly… even ignoring his appearance, his expression was that of a father full of pride, and he was in a Speed-E-Mart. Jim slid the door open on one of the coolers and took out a gallon of milk. Just what I needed! With a smile of satisfaction on his face, he walked up to the register.
“I really like this place” Jim announced.
“Why? It’s a pile of shit! The hot dogs taste like dog hair, and the floor has a permanent residue that sticks to the bottom of your shoes. This is the worst job I’ve EVER had, minus the fact that I rarely have to do much” said the man at the register, still with his eyes, glued to the magazine. “Well, what’ll it be today…” he shifted his vision to Jim, and his tone quickly changed. “YOU SICK BASTARD! GET OUT OF MY STORE!”
“But I haven’t even paid for my milk yet…”
“Just take it and never come back! Never!”
Jim walked out the door to the street, happy to have saved some money, but a little distressed about the idea of never coming back. After all, it was a really nice place.
Walking down the street, person after person shielded their eyes, screamed obscenities, and avoided eye contact with Jim. Talk about over-reacting! He couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. But he was almost to the park, so he stopped thinking about it and put his mind to the task at hand. He had a performance to do.
The park was beautiful. It was the perfect time of year when summer and fall meet, the grass is green, and the sun is forgiving. The trees had a look of impending change, but still kept their green summer look for the moment. There was a lake along the south side of the park, with ducks swimming and honking. The public benches were positioned in a circle around the large wooden stage in the middle. It had been constructed so that performances could be held and viewed on all sides, eliminating the idea of a “front” to the stage. Jim always thought it was nice, but never got to perform here. Now, finally, people could see his performance art, as he was ready for his first time doing a public performance, especially when it was unscheduled and unexpected. It makes for a more diverse audience. Hopefully the hours in solitude, in front of a mirror, would pay off.
Jim walked to the stage, jumped up and approached the center. A chorus of horrified screams rang out from the people in the benches, who apparently didn’t want to see a performance today- or at least not one like this.
This is your big moment, Jim, do it just like you did at home. Jim took out his lighter, and lit his hair on fire. Then he took the jug of milk, tilted it skyward and started to drink. And drink. A trickle of milk ran down each of his cheeks. His throat was sore from the cold of the refrigerated milk, and his eyes watered from lack of air. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, the finished off the gallon. Jim bent over, to catch his breath, and felt his stomach rejecting the massive amount of new milk. He smiled, happy to be doing what he loved. He tilted his head back, and threw up violently into the air. A large amount of it landed on his right shoulder, the rest on the stage. It ran down his arm and over the breast implant he had gotten, making a discolored stain on his white bra. He threw up again, bending over to make a nice, large, concentrated pile in front of him on the stage. The screams from the public were changing from disgusted to panicked. After hurling once again, he took a few steps back, ran, and jumped into the pile like a little kid on a Slip ‘n Slide. He rolled over to his back, exposing the new splinters and cuts from the rough wood. A bit of blood came from his chest. He ran his hand through the largest pile of hurl, and then against his chest, adding blood to his collection of vomit. He then grabbed his oversized, neon purple strap-on dildo, and began to simulate masturbation on it, causing it to become covered in his mess as well. After a few minutes, he squeezed the dildo, and the hole in the tip shot a bit of white lubricant that looked a convincing amount like semen. His hand covered in the most disgusting thing anyone in the park had ever seen, he licked it clean, one finger at a time. Now a few members of the unwilling audience were losing their lunches.
Jim stood up, having completed his performance. He took a deep bow. He was very proud of his work. When he looked up from his bow, he was greeted by a policeman.
“You are under arrest for indecent exposure and simulated masturbation. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can or will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you are unable to afford one, you will be appointed one by the state. Now get in the car, you sicko.”
Jim ended up with seven years in prison. Once he got out, he had his breast implants removed. He never again cross-dressed, and never again performed in public. He adopted a daughter after 4 years without luck with women, and raised her the best he could, until her fifteenth birthday, when he passed away of lung cancer.

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