Poetry: Selections from PJ Grollet

night school

 

“Psychology, Mythology and Crime”

was the course title for the night class

I signed up for at the community college.

 

on the first day of class, I walked inside

the small auditorium and the instructor

handed out the syllabus which also

contained the day’s lecture notes.

 

I took a seat towards the center on the

right-hand side and as I settled in, I noticed

two gorgeous Latinas making out in the

front row. the girls were model types like

promotional girls for a beer company.

 

I tried to not let them distract me but by

10 minutes into class, one of them had

taken the top off the other and was

wildly sucking on her breasts.

 

I don’t remember anything about the

lecture but by the end of class, the girls

were taking turns eating each other out

on top of the seats and in the aisles too.

 

…

 

on the second day of class, I sat next

to an attractive older woman—a white

woman. she immediately put her hand

on my crotch, started to rub my dick and

it wasn’t long before my pants were all

around my ankles while my eager

classmate jerked me off.

 

those two sexy Latinas from the first

day really set the tone and I felt

completely at ease, engaged in sex

acts in the middle of class.

 

…

 

after that, I was unfortunately

transported to some abandoned

cobblestone town square but

that’s another story and one

that’s not as interesting.

double grossed out from the rat races at the dorm

 

during my first week away at

college, a massive party broke

out at the dorms; it bordered

on the carnivalesque.

 

the dormitory was a large, flat

building and I was still finding

my way around the place when

I walked into a room at the very

end of a hall where a gambling

operation, a rat race was set.

 

dozens of mice and long-tailed

rats scurried along a track on the

carpet and the only other person in the

room was the carny, a middle-aged man in

flannel and suspenders who held

dollar bills in his hand and chomped on

a cigar. the guy delighted in the close

proximity of the coeds as he waited for

them to step up and bet.

 

I left the room and quickly realized

the shoddiness of the operation as

several rodents had already escaped

and were crushed on the floor right

outside the door.

 

I was double grossed out because not

only was the dormitory now certainly infested

with rats, but the equally sick thought was

that my fellow residents stomped on the

rodents and continued to party with rat

death all over their feet.

Two Shapeshifters Talking Shop (in the Women’s Shop)

 

I saw an associate of mine, a college-aged guy, standing on the street corner in front of a shop that specialized in bridal and maternity wear and women’s undergarments too.

I walked up to him and we chatted a bit outside the place before he suggested we go inside to meet some women. Admittedly, I felt that my pickup days were far behind me, but I agreed to join the guy as his wingman.  

Once inside the place, I scanned all the females walking about and I considered how one would go about picking up a girl in a place like this. It struck me as unseemly to approach women in the bridal and maternity departments and way too obvious to hang around the bra and panty section and then I became acutely aware: perhaps I was indeed too long in the tooth to be playing this game.

Despite my reservations, I appreciated my young colleague’s moxie, and I was curious to see his opening move but when I glanced back at the guy, he was sound asleep on the aisle floor.

I knew he wouldn’t want store management to catch him sleeping in the aisles and throw him out before even his first approach, so I woke him up. I helped my comrade to his feet but he was suddenly completely exhausted. He wanted to fall back down, and I tried to keep him awake by engaging him and asking questions.

I asked, “Hey man, how’s it going with your new shapeshifting powers? Being a werewolf and all?”

While my friend swayed side to side, struggling to keep his eyes open, he pulled a smooth round stone from his pocket. The object emanated a sort of energy and even though I was the more experienced shapeshifter, I had never seen anything like it.

“You place the stone between your toes,” my young friend slurred, “and you speed through time and space.”

I took the stone from him, followed his instruction, and everything became an instant blur. With the stone you move too fast through the dimensions, and I knew I could easily get lost.

I came back down to the women’s shop, returned the object to my associate, and thought to myself what a trusting guy he was. Someone else could have easily run off with that stone never to be heard from again.

PJ Grollet is the scribe for the six-volume series, The Book of Dreams. He’s been published inHorror Sleaze Trash,Stereo Stories, Impspired, Bull: Men’s Fiction and elsewhere.