You talking to me? You talking to me? Nobody else is here, so you must be talkin' to me. -- Robert DeZero


by Tim Bean © 2004


--What is it?

--They’re reading us.

--Jesus, you’re right. I’m far sighted. They’re just a big blur to me.

--Quiet down, dammit, or they’ll hear you.

--They aren’t gonna hear me, idiot. This is a story.

--It is not. It’s just us.

--Well, they think it’s a story. We should entertain them until we can think of what to do.

--Should we tell them a story?

--I think so.

--What kind?

--Something short and gory with sex.

--All right.

Once, a young porn star decided to eat his director. The End.

--Longer than that. I think if we get them really close to the page, we can maybe make a leap across. Make it to the bridge of their nose and then into the eyes.

--What then?

--Then we dig.

--And what then?

--Let’s get to that point first.

--All right. On the count of three.

--No. They’re too far away. Get them closer to the page.


--Tell them something interesting.


Your tax dollars are being used to fund a giant underground gelatin project in which mounds and mounds of rainbow cubes are being stockpiled in case of nuclear war.

--Did that work?

--That was the dumbest thing I have ever heard you say.

--Did it work though?

--No. Oh crap, I think they’re losing patience with us. Come up with something. Wait, wait, hold on, I got something:

Frank wasn’t much of a lover, but when it came to his newest girlfriend, loving took on a whole new meaning.

--I think it worked. They didn’t close us.

--Thank God.

His new girlfriend was named Maureen and she was a red head.

--Yeah, and she had big boobs.

--Hey, what’s wrong with you? You don’t build up a character like that.

--Why not?

--It’s just not . . . not very . . . smooth or dignified.

--Since when are we trying to be dignified?

--Good point.

Maureen had big boobs and when she walked they bounced up and down like helium balloons.

--Good one. They’re loving it.


Frank met her at a . . . a . . .

--Bible conference.

--Bible conf . . .? Whatever.

Frank met her at a bible conference while they were reading the last three chapters of Deuteronomy.

--Why Deuteronomy?

--I don’t know. Quiet.

After finishing, he asked her out for dinner and she said yes. He couldn’t believe it. When she showed up at his house two days later, she wore a red dress that matched her hair, and her fingernails were painted black . . .

--I think that’s enough description.

--I’m trying to get them closer. They eat that stuff up, description. Watch.

Over dinner she noticed her high heels had come loose and as she bent down to fix it, Frank saw the front of her red dress slip down, revealing a lacy black bra, which molded the heavy crest of her breasts like smooth ice cream.

--How's that?



--Yeah. Keep going.

Her head twisted up and she caught him looking. Her wide, slow smile said it all and when they got back to his apartment he all but plundered her on the living room couch.

--“All but plundered?” What does that mean?

--It means he ravished her.

--Why not just say plundered her? Why “all but?”


. . . he plundered her on the living room couch.

--Yeah. Go on.

Afterwards she was lying sweaty and naked on the couch, her legs sprawled out revealing a dark thatch of . . .

--Whoa, bring that down a little, that’s X-rated, I think.

-- Who cares? I don’t think they do. Look at ‘em. You can hear their heartbeat from here. Imagine what it sounds like in their head. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

--All right.

Frank was amazed at how relaxed she was with him, and vice versa. He had a hard time walking around in his own apartment in a towel, and that was when he was alone. Now he made two drinks naked and sat on his own sofa, the sweat of their good sex drying on his warm skin.

--Get ready.

--Just wait, we’ll get their nose right on the paper. Makes our job easier. Remember, when you land, they’re going to try and shake you off. Dig your hands in and hold on. You just have to get a few steps before you’re at the eyes. Then use your shovel.

--Hurry up, they’re backing up.

And when round two came an hour later after they talked endlessly about nothing at all, Maureen pulled him back down to her and guided him in with a greedy grunt. Frank was sore and when he finished this time, it was quicker and stronger, his prostate throbbing like a hot apple just below his testicles. But she wasn’t done. Not yet.

--Keep going, just a little more. Come on, you stupid bastard, just come a little closer.

Her smile spread ever wider and for the first time Frank noticed how strangely big her mouth was, and how she seemed to have too many teeth. And it didn’t stop. With her body moving quicker and quicker beneath him, ivory skin, flaming hair, freckles in a rash across her breasts, her smile grew larger and larger, until it stretched beyond her ears.

--Beyond her ears?

--Shut up and get ready.

Her smile opened wide and her moan turned into a heave, and her heave into a growl, and her growl into a roar, a hungry lion in the Serengeti, and Frank tried to get away, but something held him. And he was moving faster now, so fast that he was afraid if he slowed, whatever held him there would rip his swollen, red member off like an ear of corn.

And it went faster and faster, until his stomach burned with effort and sweat streamed from him in rivers and when he felt the sudden stabbing pain it seemed distant, almost a mercy from his heavy breath and Maureen’s smile grew so wide her head flopped back, neat as a bottle cap, and the head that poked up wasn’t pretty but green and shriveled and then Frank discovered that some creatures don’t keep their mouths in the same place . . .

--All right ready?




When I realized that I had selected two of Mr. Bean's stories, I was a bit embarassed. Usually, we publish only one story from an author per year. Both of Tim's stories were so good, however, that I refused to choose between them. Instead, I increased my purchases this year from 30 to 31. Read this one and you'll understand why--but don't read it too carefully. Who knows what might happen?

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