Soyoco Shorty: A Lewd Awakening
Hey just a real quick and short little story I had that really could just stand alone as it's own piece of " Slice of Life" short story. I might start doing more of these inbetween bigger/longer stories, just as a quick glimpse into a moment in the life of these characters. Idk, It could be fun!
In this one, looks like Scraps had a little too much fun last night and for got all about working his shift at the family owned Scrapyard.
As the mid-morning sun begins to crest over the tall privacy fence that surrounds the Shankly Scrapyard, the family owned business that is operated by the two Shankly siblings, Scraps and Dixie, the sun’s bright ray of light finds it’s way through the window blinds of the younger sibling, Scraps’, trailer house. The possum laid sprawled out, butt naked on the couch that faces the television that was placed on a snack food wrapper and beer can littered entertainment center a few feet to the right of his front door. The TV played the looping menu music of the possum’s favorite TV show ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’.
Similar to the entertainment center: the couch, coffee table and even the possum himself were littered in remnants and clues to the hedonistic activities the possum was up too the night before. Along with empty beer/soda cans and as half eaten containers of various dollar store snack foods, several pieces of drug paraphernalia call the crowded coffee table home such as; a water bong with the murkiest, most foul smelling water one could imagine, an ashtray with a dozen or so half smoke weed roaches sprinkled among the many packs worth of cigarette butts, and a vanity mirror with a $20 gift card to the regional franchise Mexican food restaurant, Madre del Sur next to a rolled up dollar bill.
The couch was dotted with several cigarette burn holes and various mystery stains, as well as several small pieces of snacks such as corn chips and the licked clean, creme-less cookie portion of Oreo’s that escaped the inebriated possum’s bottomless appetite.
The possum was objectively the dirtiest of the three in terms of common decency and literal filth. The possum’s muzzle, along with being stained completely orange from rutting around for crumbs in nearly empty chip bags, was held agape in order to allow the loudest most obnoxious snoring ever heard by anybody who had the unfortunate history of sharing a bedroom let alone a bed with the possum. The bare white chest of the possum was peppered with crumbs of various potato and corn chips, grey stripes from cigarette ash that didn’t make to the ashtray on the coffee table, and the rogue couple of gummy bears stuck in the white belly fur of the passed out possum.
The bare waist told a gross story in a much different way. Along with being the resting idling place for the young males left hand which gently fondles and on occasion gave the two walnut sized testicles a soft scratch from outside their cozy, gray colored, fuzzy sack the two balls called home. Above the sack of the marsupial rested the soft, inoffensive, pink member that lay pointed upward toward the chest of the possum. Coming in at a whopping 2.78 inches (to be fair to poor Scraps: He is a grower not a shower, and his A/C was set to 61 F last night, as per his liking) the possum’s penis was dubbed by many of his ex-girlfriends as “cute~” and “just the right sized” all to the dismay of the possum himself. Dotting the area around his genital are several splotches of matted fur, which are crusted with a viscous white substance which was the byproduct of the possum’s several successful attempts at “self-love”.
Following along down to the legs of the possum, the left on going up and over the back rest of the couch, loosely dangling off the backside of the impromptu bed while the right seemed firmly planted against he ground with his knee at a near perfect 90 degree angle.
All in all the possum was in no state of being or cleanliness to be discovered upon by anybody who Scraps’ valued the opinion of his image to. But luckily for him it was his older sister, Dixie, who just so happened to come across the foul display of hedonistic impulse in the living room of the single wide trailer. Dixie, who has seen her brother in similar and possibly worst states of cleanliness, was no stranger to the utterly disgusting scene that had been previously described. Although her parental tone when she scowled he younger brother for living in such a pigsty seemed to grow angrier and less patient with his inability to change his nightly routine.
As the possum was slowing and gracefully waking up in his nest of filth he amassed from last night, the front door swung wide open, which displayed the dark silhouette of his older hyena sister, Dixie in front of the 11:17 a.m. sun.
“SCRAPS!!”
the silhouette screamed at him
“whhAATT?!”
The possum said, squinting at his sister who stood directly in the frame of his front door, which was the only source of bright light emanating from outside that his eyes had not yet adjusted to.
“It is almost 11:30 on a Tuesday, you know what that means?!”
Dixie rhetorically asked Scraps
“Uhh, is it past time for you to barge in my house and yell, like.. A.. FUCKIN’ CRAZY PERSON?!”
Scraps answers his sister with vitriol
“THE SCRAPYARD HAS BEEN OPEN FOR FIVES HOURS NOW!!!”
“I’ve been running the SCALE and the CLAW, BY MYSELF!”
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD IT IS TO JUGGLE THOSE TWO JOBS BY YOURSELF?!”
Dixie takes a moment to catch her breath before continuing
“SO… What I need you to do is:”
“1. Stop tugging on your lil’ pud, wake the fuck up and get dressed”
“2. Get you’re back-talking, narrow-ass down to the Weigh Station, and start getting customers weighed-in, sent my way to I can unload their scrap with the claw and send them back your way to get weighed and cashed out, can you manage that?”
Dixie, talking down to her brother as she gives him his jobs for the day, her being already sick of the attitude he’s thrown her way this morning.
Scraps knowing he’s well within the wrong on this, tries to play it off cool and throw the classic sibling “trump card” his sisters way.
“Alright alright, I’ll get dressed……. Jesus Christ. You ain’t my fuckin’ mom….”
The possum says under his breath
Dixie hears what Scraps mumbles under his breath and quickly shuts him down with a quick comeback that the possum couldn’t refute
“Yea yea, you’re lucky I ain’t mom. Hell, with the way you’ve been acting lately its almost better her and dad died when they did, because if they were alive today to see how little amount of respect you have for yourself and the family business, they’d die of shame!”
Scraps gives his sister a quick flip of the middle finger before entering his bathroom to wash the sin from his fur from last nights “me time”.