secret motel

There was this little, old man who lived in my neighborhood. His name was Jeffrey. He went to the flea market every Saturday. He returned from the flea market, one Saturday, with a dog he purchased for two dollars. I never would've thought it wise to buy a dog at a flea market. But Jeffrey insisted that it was a magic dog. He named this dog The Colonel, as the dog ate nothing but popcorn kernels. The dog, after a time, would then shit out hot, fluffy popcorn. Jeffrey trained The Colonel to perform this trick while squatting over a bowl. As it turned out, the magic of the Colonel was multi-faceted. Jeffrey demonstrated by jerking off The Colonel until the dog ejaculated hot, buttery butter from its penis. Jeffrey sprayed the butter, as if from a hose, all over the popcorn.

Soon, my neighbors and I started calling Jeffrey "Jiffy."

Jiffy opened a small, single-screen movie theater where he showed old films starring Shirley Temple (because he had a crush on her when he was a little boy) or Abbott & Costello(because he had a crush on Lou Costello when he got older). And, of course, he employed The Colonel at the concession stand to make popcorn for the movie patrons. The Colonel was so popular that patrons no longer cared about the magic on the silver screen and paid admission just to watch the magic at the concession stand. Everyone lined up to watch Jiffy's dog swallow kernels and shit out hot popcorn into their paper buckets. Popcorn was free for patrons who dressed up like the stars in the films Jiffy showed. And Jiffy let everyone masturbate The Colonel, themselves, if they wanted butter on their popcorn. I thought it a striking sight to see little boys who looked like Shirley Temple and older lesbians who looked like Lou Costello taking turns to milk hot, buttery butter out of the dog's penis and spray it all over the freshly defecated popcorn.

Jiffy's movie theater was a wild success. He earned enough money to not only cover all operating expenses but there was even enough to give The Colonel a luxury flea bath.

Then, one day, The Colonel darted into the street outside the movie theater and was run over by a municipal bus. The dog died and expelled the remaining bits of popcorn from its crushed body amid a pool of blood and hot, buttery butter. Jiffy had witnessed the whole thing and was so grief-stricken that he cried until he depleted every tear he had. And, as we all know, we must retain a certain amount of tears to continue living. So, Jiffy cried and cried until he died. He collapsed into the street, reaching for the dead dog that, in life, had brought Jiffy so much fame, prosperity, and love. Jiffy reached for the dog but fell a bit short.

The End