THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S 26 ================================================================= THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S -- The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation ================================================================= This is episode 26. I am blessed. Glub is good. He saw to it I got a room across from the Hooper Closet. Today I have been smelling a combination of my unwashed pussy-shaped urinal hanging one foot away on my bed rail and the decidedly more pissy smell from the Hooper Closet where somebody has parked some soaked bedding for a later hosedown. At least my urinal doesn't reek of garlic now, nor does my groganpaste. And last night I actually shat something which, if it were allowed to dry a bit, could have been a real turd! Maybe the garlic has been making me loose after all. Last night poor Rita had to change Mr Salazar, our premiere male betsy-wetsy, the one who hollers incoherently twenty of any twenty-four hours. They'll have to burn that reusable snap-on grogancatcher along with half the bedding. Changing him has got to be a contest of wills. He fights like a heavyweight. I've seen CNAs come out of there with bruises. Now that they have him on that bed full of glass beads, all they have to do is turn off the air compressor and the sand-like beads freeze him in time so he can't move. Catch him just right and he's helpless. She stood there over the giant sink-toilet Hooper spraying the most vile crud off the fabric. It stank to high heaven with a heavy metallic aroma. It was bad enough I shut my door. It was sooooo bad Rita put on a face mask similar to the ones worn by riot police! The tarry mess she was valiantly trying to make vanish and its stench tell me Mr Salazar is not long to be with us. Looks/smells like intestinal bleeding. Bye-bye Mr Salazar. It was not nice knowing you. The Chink next door wasn't doing too bad either. He started in at four a.m. and didn't shut his hole til they fed him egg pie for breakfast. No, kiddies, this was not a bastardized quiche; this was egg pie. It had no crust. I accuse both of these alter kockers of having Mad Cow Disease. Miss Kooky and Mikey came over yesterday afternoon and brought their video tape of the Gay Parade through San Francisco the end of last month. Right there he is at eight minutes, some-odd seconds into the parade. He's riding his monster non-Harley in the men's section -- make that the _genital male's_ section -- of the Dykes on Bikes. Mr Cheez looks like something hard-boiled off of Folsom Street, the S&M/B&D/leatherqueen district. He exudes attitude enough to cut with a chainsaw. To a tard like me it is reassuring to know that there is still a crazy world out there which I may some day go back to being a part of. Yesterday the newbie CNA, Roger, got to go around taking vitals. This is to see who is alive and who isn't a paying customer any longer. They squeeze your arm for blood pressure, count your pulse and respiration, and poke a hole in the lining of your mouth with that Glubdamned pencil-like digital thermometer. I always take that fucking stick away from them before they can injure me with it. Actually, I'd like to put it someplace where it would not only get a more accurate reading but would also be fun. So he's inflating the BP cuff and saying, Let me know if it's too tight. Really? I thought it had to be tight to work, just like datehole. I had to explain what datehole is. I didn't know such a darling brown boy could turn so red. I controlled myself and was not lewd with the thermometer. I'll wait til we know each other better... He enjoyed himself trying to get a pulse. Finally I told him to try my neck. That was even more fun. I'm sure my respiration rate is screwed up because he was not counting breaths but sighs. Before you say it-- Date: Sat, 13 Jul 1996 08:52:38 -0700 (PDT) From: Paul Frederick Schnellbecher To: Subject: Re: Latest St. Timmy's... On Sat, 13 Jul 1996, SOMEBODY SEXY wrote: > Subject: TRIALS OF ST TIMMY'S 25 > From: pauless@rahul.net (Paul Frederick Schnellbecher) > Date: Sat, 13 Jul 1996 03:32:28 GMT > .Hell, it was so good I was secretly pinching a > .tit to go along with it. > Glub man! Not only are you a 'tard, but you're a dirty old > tard at that! ;) Au contraire, mein herry one -- I have a bed bath every morning and get hosed off in the shower room ocassionally when the crud builds up in the crevices. > .pound of that awful plastic-like fat-free Alpine Lace "cheese". > It is true, the stuff is just too weak to use as trash bags! It won't even work for dildo covers! > .I wanted to tell him I keep one in my bra and one stuck up > .my ass. > What cup you wear? "D" and that's no lie. I tried on one of my high school sistah-girlfren's aunt's bras one time just to see. > .Bee wandered into my room as nurseypoo was putting me up for > .the night. This time I _know_ Her Majesty saw my promised > .land. I hope she's happy now. If she wants to view it > .again, she may, > Too bad you're not hung like some of these porno stars...you > might have opened another bed on the 'farm. Then I wouldn't need a cunt-shaped urinal, either. But it is fun to get a woodie and not have anyone be the wiser :) > .Today is looking up. They brought me _real_ scrambled egg > .for breakfast. No more of this yellow crud that looks like > .vinyl paint scapings mixed with warm water. It was served by > .another newbie, a cute flip boy name of Roger. Oh baby oh > .baby oh baby, I'm sick sick sick. Heal me with your magic > .wand. > Congratulations on the real eggs. As for Roger, I've already > commented on the dirty old 'tard that you are. "magic wand." > heh, I have several of those, if you're interested! Roger's eyes are a little close together but he seems the obedient I-want-to-please sort. Wait til you read about him and my vital signs... [you just did] > .Anyone who wishes to introduce me forcefully to the Clue Desk > .may do so. > Only if you don't send Roger my way.... You can borrow him but you mustn't ruin the merchandise... Pee Ess Stumpette * * * * * Date: Fri, 12 Jul 1996 22:29:10 -0700 From: To: pauless@rahul.net Newsgroups: alt.tasteless Subject: Re: TRIALS OF ST TIMMY'S 25 Hi, I don't post very often but when I do I'm the one who writes about experiences at the zoo. I just wanted to let you know I've really enjoyed hearing about your trials at st. timmy's. I applaud your tasteless efforts that keep me still reading this group when I might otherwise have given up on it long before. I liked your descriptions of the food. Although I, personally, have eaten a rat (which I would post about but it wasn't very graphic) I found it very gross; not easy to do with stuff that is meant to be edible. A good job! Keep up the good work! Date: Sat, 13 Jul 1996 08:39:53 -0700 (PDT) From: Paul Frederick Schnellbecher To: Subject: Re: TRIALS OF ST TIMMY'S 25 Thank you for your kind words. I didn't set out to portray the food here as gross; I just told the truth. I guess gross is as gross does. My grandfather used to shoot possum and bring it home for my grandmother to cook. She hated him doing that and said they were awfully greasy. How was ratmeat? I once had kangaroo tail soup in a can I bought at a gourmet section of Phoenix's most snotty department store. I guess I was a yuppiescum foodie before there was such a thing. Tail was sort of like oxtail, nothing remarkable especially for the price. What else have you eaten that was unusual? Letters like yours tell me I must be doing *something* right. I appreciate the kind words, especially in a forum where flaming has been brought to a high art. Any thoughts on the Bastards series? I've had 100 percent het boys write me to say, Hey I don't go for that queer nonsense, but your stories made me get a woodie. That's pretty good for a little fat nerd who went to the zoo and had the hippo turn around and drop a great green grogan and walk back into his den. I've never felt good about large animals since. Take care, Paul Ess Stumpette =================================================================