Hermit’s Scrapbook: “Liberation”
Here’s a little morose poetry from the great Hermit’s Scrapbook:
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Janet was determined not to follow the path her Mother had taken. Born out of wedlock, Janet was witness to Mother’s endless parade of lovers who grew progressively more sleazy and less wealthy in direct proportion to her advancing age and diminishing beauty. Janet’s own romantic life was a confusing jumble of hurried, backseat sex and promised phone calls that never came. The men who substituted for lovers in Janet’s life smelled of stale cigarettes and false bravado, rap music and chrome rims, court dates and ankle bracelets. The faint whiff of body odor breaching cheap deodorant.
Harvey was a frequent customer at the Quik-Stop where Janet worked. He was middle-aged and overweight and his pockmarked face was testament to some past battle with acne. He was shy and clumsy, but drove a new Audi which indicated steady employment and relative financial success. Janet secretly fantasized about the things she could buy with Harvey’s money and when he began his awkward flirtation Janet flirted back. After just a couple of dates he asked for her hand in marriage and young Janet pounced like a she-lion on a wounded zebra.
Janet’s newfound prosperity was nice, but as those who marry for money soon find out, it comes with a heavy price. The long weeks spent pretending. The tedious visits with his mother. The tacky wallpaper. The suppressed giggles from her friends. His propensity for cross-dressing. But, by far the worst, was Harvey’s foul breath blowing heavily into her face as he pressed his flabby bulk against her small, young frame during coitus. It was more excruciating than any poverty and sent her into soul-crushing despair.
When she finally informed Harvey that she was leaving it was as if the gates of a hellish prison had been flung wide open.
The crushing news, coupled with Janet’s unchecked exuberance, caused Harvey to promptly drown himself in the closest body of water, much to the horror of the miniature deep sea diver, the bubble-blowing clam and the assembled tropical fish.
Harvey is Rooster Wank?
…does this mean Janet is HBT?
Looks like Janet is the douche in this tale. Never marry for money ladies. Any way you slice it its lose- lose.
His propensity for cross-dressing.
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Lets the howls commence. One must love the twisted minds of Hermit, RevChad, etc.
“Lets,” I says.
And that is why I don’t own a fish tank.
I shed a tear, I’ll admit it. Superb writing as always, Hermit.
“Finding Emo”?
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In honor of Hermit and Red State America (respect).
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if hermit were ever to publish the great American novel, I would read it… tucked in the middle of a Homes & Gardens magazine because you know the cover would have all sorts of titties and taint and testes- a collage of debauchery.
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great shit once again hermito
Creature
Here are the original Janet and Harvey.
Awesome. This could be published as the eulogy for any small town Mayor in the Inland Empire. Just change the cause of death to whatever horrifying conclusion they had
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I love a happy ending tale
Hermit’s words are too good for these two.
As far as HCwDB spin off characters go, my money is on Hermit. While Ask Rev Chad requires a Canadian to English translation H€emits prose requires no such effort. It’s a great read every time.
Great fookin’ read, Hermit.
thnx hermit…juliet lewis in boxer short makes my gimp restless
The Inland Empire and Redstate Amërïkå are congruent.
WOW!!!, very very poignant I’ve seen the tortured souls of fools who married for money. The hardest to take is the guys who did it, miserable fucks.
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How do i sign up for Hermits blog? some one help me out.
Dear Rev,
Heading out tonight with a red headed ex stripper, would tonight, the first night, be too soon to expect motorboating?
Et tu, you should be able use your old blogger account.
I’ll field this one Rev.
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@ Et Tu, I have much experience with ex, current, and even future strippers, so here’s my experience on matter:
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– If she’s over 36, then it would be a little presumptuous to dive in face first and raspberry away between her gently sagging money makers. But it’s not a show stopper, it just might speed up any other developments.
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– If under 36 and with small titties, she won’t appreciate it, and may in fact become quite offended and break off the date early. If, however, she is unable to score a worthwhile date within the next 5 days, you can expect a call and a second date. By the end of date #2, you’ll be going to town on her firm little mounds like you’ve got a mouth full of Novocaine and are gargling away and spewing saliva like a geyser and the dentist.
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– Ex-stripper with obvious breast augmentation of any age, it is not too soon. Hell, 5 minutes after meeting her for a blind date isn’t too soon. I think it’s actually expected, and prepare to get slapped and walked out on by the end of the night if you don’t slap your lips around betwixt her voluminous mammary sacks.
Some of Hermit’s stories are like filling a syringe with absinthe and injecting it into your brain through your eye socket.
Et tu, following Jacques advice is as advisable as assembling your own rocketship using a garbage can and gunpowder emptied from 200 shotgun shells. Both are gonna get you burned.
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26.5% of strippers are proper ladies just like anyone else; they just got a bit lost along the way. For these the best approach is show them the respect a lot of people don’t, and you’ll be rewarded 100 times over. The other 76.% are too cynical, damaged, and calculating to waste any time on. You need to figure out which you have in 35 seconds or less. Seriously.
just wear drawers made out of dollar bill$…she’ll have you bare back & buck nekkid lickety split
Ignore DMC’s “sensible” advice, Et Tu, and go for the gold! I concur with creature. And who would you rather believe; your beloved pals creature and ol’ Jacques who have never steered you wrong? Or old boring stinky pants Dude McFogeyshoes over there talking about “respect” and “proper ladies” like it’s the frikin’ 1890’s.
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This is the fuckin’ internet, man! Go with the most misogynistic and seemingly misguided advice you can find, full throttle holding a pair of scissors with your eyes closed. DO IT!!!
@ Dude McCrude,
200 shotgun shells ain’t gonna cut in man. You need about 40 E30 model rocket engines, a 10 foot section of 6″ steel sewer pipe, 5 water balloons filled with 2,5-Dimethylfuran, some duct tape, and a small dog.
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If you’re especially handy with the duct tape, you won’t get burned. But you will be down one small dog.
Great, convivial, edumacted debate about strippers.
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I say, know you’re blowing a wad of $, and get what you can. This ain’t “table pussy” we’re talkin’ here.
To describe Hermit’s work, especially the inspiration photo, is to diminish it.
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I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. So, is that the dead guy in the pic?
I’m in love with fibre-optic-hair guy’s date.