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“Max,” Michael groaned, “you’re are really so fuck DUMB!!!!!” Max buried his head in the nape of his steed’s neck, tears welling in his eyes,
“my chael, is the hose gonna be okay??” he whimpered. Michael crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the ground, “Probably not,” he admitted. Max gasped loudly, wrapping his arms around the horse’s neck, an agonized snapping sound escaping from beneath the muscle and out of the poor beast’s dangly face, “Don t SAY THAT,” Max exclaimed, “he’s goingnna to BE FINE :( I know it”
“sugardick, you don’t know shit about nothing about shit about horses,” Michael protested, leaning down. He poked the horse in the cheek, a slight divot left in place of his finger. He retched dramatically,
“Something is very obviously not right with this horse,” he remarked, “I mean, beyond the fact that we – and by we, I mean you – made it drink gasoline.” Max stared down at the glorious creature intently. Michael eyeballed him as he did so. A moment of keen observation passed before Michael decided to speak up,
“deep in thought, hm??”
“goo horse,” Max replied. Suddenly, his eyes became wide, the shine that had once decorated them so vividly returning in spades, “UHH, I HAVE AN IDEEEEAAA”
“what” Michael asked, his voice absolutely brimming with excitement, palpable even to one reading a completely accurate transcription of his speech,
“where the hoes at?? :):)” Max frantically picked the hose up from off the ground, sticking its head in his mouth. Michael began screaming,
“VAX MAN HON WHAT THE FRICK FRACK PATTY WHACK ARE YOU DONG STOP IT HOOOLY JEEZ LOUIS HOLY GUACAMOLE GOODNESS GRACIOUS MY WORD MAX DO NOT DO THAT PLEASE YOU SILLY LITTLE THING TUT TUT AH AH I DO NOT LIKE THAT PLEASE STOP HOLY SHIT”
“nonononononoooooooooo,” Max pleaded, “give me a chance and a second pleasz,,, trust me”
“YOU ARE DRINKING THE GASOLINE, YOU FUCKFACE.”
“sippy sippy sippy yummy yummy in my tummy tummy gasolinis suck my penis”
Max pulled the hose from his mouth, which was now violently haemorrhaging blood and gasoline. He wiped the cocktail from his lips and chin. Michael grabbed the hose from Max’s hand, throwing it,
“MAMA, WHY DID YOU DO THAT???” he hollered,
“I am stronger that a hors,” Max began, “we are in a pickle right now and i have a fat f pickle if you know what I mean, hehe yeah big ol pickle and youre so oooold but its okay ily love you y, uh ANYWAY okay uh so we are in a pickle but its gonna be my pickle in it in a second, do you catch my drift?”
“fuck no, what the fuck are you talking about”
Max smiled, carrying on, “im gonna put my pickle in it in a minute, going to take the reins and fly us away to calabasis or calabasus or Calabasis Calabeisus Caleibeisus Calabasis Calabaysus”
“Calabasas”
“WHAOOOOO yeah we are going to get out of this piclel”
Michael cleared his throat, “What are you saying, Max? Are you telling me that you’re going to get us out of this dire situation?” he asked. Max nodded, “yeeeeah, booy”
“Peeessshh,” Michael scoffed, “That’s impossible. You couldn’t get us out of this dire situation, as was previously established as and confirmed to be your goal, if you had a boot with a heel with instructions on the heel of the boot with the instructions on its instruction-covered heel!”
“you know how koolaid is good?” Max asked. Michael furrowed his brow, “Yeah, sure, okay, I’d rather drink your mom’s bedroom last night, but whatever. Yeah.”
“and you know how, if you put koolaid flavour in water, it’d probably taste sorta good?”
“SPELL IT THE AMERICAN WAY, DIPSHIT”
“Flavor sorta good?”
“Yes.”
“and you knoow how, if you want it to taste sorta good?, you have to stir it?”
“Holy fuck, Max, can you please just tell me why you decided to drink the fucking gasoline?”
“so basically if i twerk properly i will turn into a car guy and we will be not a car guy sorry like a flying plane guy okay let me start again if i do what needs to be done peroperly iwe w will be we will get out of her I mean here”
Max rose to his feet, offering Michael a hand. Wearily, Michael accepted, standing alongside his beloved boyfriend. Once more, Max smiled, the unadulterated bliss in his face decorating it like a fancy moustache,
“okay so if youll just giiiiiiimme a second,” Max tore his shirt off suddenly, “we’ll be outta here faster than you can say calabasisfornia!!!!!”
“Didn’t you rip your shirt off in the first story?” Michael puzzled. Max shrugged, “i also murdered our hoerse ;( right now, we’re living to forget”
“Why’d the shirt have to come off?” Michael asked dramatically, his face flushed, “god!!! You’re so weird, Max van Horn! I can’t believe we have this whole desert to ourselves, and you’re shirtless!!!! You’re so stupid……………………………………..fuck”
“hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha eyyyy a circumsized penis is just a shirtless penis if you think about it :( okay hop on,” Max turned to Michael, gesturing to his back, “be my backpack.” Michael blinked, his face now incredibly pale, “bbbbbbbackpack HOLY SHIT, MAX. YOU DRANK GASOLINE.”
Into the sky, Max absconded, Michael on his back screaming like a man atop the back of his lover would if he were flying over a gas station. Behind the men, a rainbow trailed. Michael admired it as it stretched across the scenery below him.
“Max, did you know you could shit rainbows?” Michael asked. Max lowered his gaze, spotting the trail of light he’d created,
“that’s just the congealed sheen from the gasoline actually,” he explained. Michael sighed, “gross.”
Suddenly, from within his pocket, a buzzing began to erupt. Michael whipped his phone out of his pants. Dorothy was calling him. He answered,
“Michael, you need to give this up,” Dorothy spoke, “Your time is up.”
“How did you get this number?” Michael asked, his tone hostile,
“Come back, Michael. Come back to me. Don’t be long.”
Max glanced over his shoulder to Michael, “who son the pwn?” he inquired. Michael didn’t respond, his attention directly entirely toward the phone,
“Come back to me, Michael,” Dorothy demanded, her voice flat and methodical. Without warning, static overtook the line. Michael continued listening,
“HELLO? FUCK?”
“Michael!” Max hissed, clearly trying to keep hushed, “Please don’t shout. You could wake up the baby.”
“the baby??”
Max sighed, his shoulders falling, “She had to sleep somewhere,” he whispered, gesturing over to a cradle beside the bed. Michael stood from the bed he’d suddenly found himself swaddled in, approaching the cradle. Inside of it slept a baby, its face obscured in blanket. Michael had no time to ponder where he was, when violently, the baby’s neck snapped, revealing an all too familiar face,
“Come back, Michael!” it whined, its voice shrill and discordant.
“HOLY SHITTING FUCK,” Michael bellowed.
“holy fucking shit????” a voice beside him gasped, the blankets on the opposite side of the bed flying rapidly through the air. Beneath them had lain Max, who stared up at Michael,
“why are we screaming?? You woke up the baby :(”
Michael put his hands to his face, groaning groggily, “I just had the freakiest dream!!!! We were riding around in a desert on a horse, and it got tired or something, so you gave it gasoline, and it died, and then you drank the gasoline, and we were flying, and Dorothy called me, and she was being weird, and then, we had a baby, and the baby was Dorothy, and she was shouting at me.”
Max put his hand on Michael’s shoulder, “nice blogpost bitch tl;dr that shit next time will ya some of us cant read walls of text like that on account of not giving a fuck AHEM sorry I just woke up I was sleep talking hold on….YAAAEWN, oh but I heard your hole dream store, that sounda like one crazy dream, Michaela.”
“I don’t think I want to try that sleeping thing again,” Michael confessed. Max laughed, “Give me a second, you have to sneeze.”
Michael sneezed. Dorothy was now in the bed alongside him and Max,
“CAN THIS STORY END ALREADY?” she exclaimed.