"So what kind of porn is it gonna be?"
"Couldn't tell ya. Gonna have to think about that."
"Well what kind of porn do you like?"
"Josh, would you believe me if I told you I don't watch a lot of porn?"
"Normally, yes. But considering you practically jumped at the idea of writing smut, I think otherwise."
"Eh, got me there."
"So, what do you like?"
"Well nothing special I guess. Lesbians are hot."
"What are ya, a sixth grader?"
"The fuck is that supposed to mean? I can't find lesbians hot?"
"Nah, you have every right to. But every pubescent sixth grader in the country thinks scissoring and strap-ons are God's gift to horny men."
"So what else should I like?"
"Don't ask me you psycho. Why do I gotta decide what kinky shit you are into?"
"Well mother fucker, you're the one calling me a sixth grader. You're acting like you are about to sing me a Disney song that half way through I'm gonna like transition into a kinky porn connoisseur."
"You keep using big words like that, you'll be the playboy Da Vinci."
"I'm having a lot of trouble deciding if you're actually helping or not."
"Well I mean you said it yourself, you gotta be original. A kink might be your best bet. Who wants another love story about a guy simply banging a woman? See what I mean?"
"Well list a couple."
"Kinks?"
"No, publishers. Of course fucking kinks!"
"Well I mean ya got feet, scat, milking, enemas-"
"Holy shit, I'm sorry I fucking asked."
"Dude, you said list some kinks."
"Yeah, and two out of the first four involved asses."
"Well if you're creative, it could be all of them."
"You know what, I'm just gonna ask someone else."
"Mother fucker, like who? Who the hell you gonna ask about kinks and porn and shit?"
"That's for me to figure out and you to stay the fuck out."
"I feel the love brother, I feel the love."
The next time he talks about anal kinks, I'm gonna stuff an entire God damn potato salad in a vacuum cleaner for him to fix.
After another day of work and arguing what the true definition of Viking metal was, I found myself at home plastered in front of my laptop. Why was I plastered? Because I remembered I had no fucking idea what I was doing.
"Porn…porn…porn…how the fuck do I write porn!?"
I really wanted to smash my head on the keyboard, but then I remembered my laptop costed me a couple paychecks, so I just grunted instead like a good boy. As annoying and gross Josh could be, he did have a point and he was more knowledgeable about any of this shit than I was. I was contemplating texting him for some more advice, but that then takes the risk of him texting me porn and weird shit as reference. Well…'weirder' shit.
"So…..who do I ask for help?"
Welp, authors were out of the question. My best friend was Deadpool for Halloween, and managed to break up with last girlfriend using silly string. Do you really think I have any sophisticated writers in my contact list?
"Maybe like a professor or some kind of doctor?"
Maybe, but that probably meant having to sit on a red love seat with an old white woman with a non-identifiable accent while she talks about her previous and scarily vast sex life with four husbands, two wives, and maybe a farm animal. Um, gonna have to take a pass on that.
"What about like an actual porn star?"
Like hell. Even if I managed to get into contact with one, the reek of sweat, cocaine, money, remorse, and artificial body treatments would probably send me down the fucking yellow brick road and back to Wonderland just in time for tea.
"So I got no authors, I got no doctors, and I got no porn stars. Great."
I drew a shit hand, and I am forced to fold.
"Come on, there has to be fucking someone that can just pop in and help me with this shit. It doesn't even have to be personal, just send me back an anonymous e-mail or chat or some shit."
If my laptop was alive, it would have either killed me or itself by now. Even though I barely used it, I looked at my laptop as some sort of magical conduit. It was what connected me to my future, so I spent a lot of time talking to it, trying to metaphorically pass through it right to my future mansion and hot ass wife.
"What do I need here? I need someone who is down to earth, someone whom I can easily get into contact with anonymously, and someone who knows how to describe what it's like getting penetrated. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-"
Wait a second…
"That's it…. That's it!"
I'm starting to feel that spark finally! Well, I think it's a spark. A conduit is like an electrical thing in real life, right? It corresponds to my previous analogy? Eh, who cares. I figured it out!
"One of those fucking cam girl things!"
All I gotta do is have a pleasant conversation with a college girl who will shove a banana up her cooter for enough virtual coins! Why doesn't everyone else do this?