Coming back to life isn't a very pleasant experience. You know when your foot goes to sleep, and you kinda gotta shake it around some to get the blood flowing, and it just feels weird and detached and kind of painful? Imagine that all over your body. Meanwhile, imagine waking up without any sort of residual grogginess—just sort of popping into consciousness, not really sure what time it is or where you are. It's a bit unsettling.
Now, imagine that, combined with suddenly realizing that there appears to be something up your butt.
And you get my Thursday night.
"What the fucking ass balls?" I snapped.
Whoever the hell thought it was acceptable to sodomize a guy's dead body without permission was obviously pretty shocked to hear his sex doll protesting, and quickly backed away, making a cartoonish "yeeeeeh" sound.
I turned around. Guess the fuck who.
"What the hell d'you think you're doin'?" I asked, pulling up my boxers, which were hanging around my knees.
Kevin was overcoming the shock pretty quickly. S'not like this isn't a weekly occurance. He still pressed against the wall, though; most likely out of fear of what I was intending to do. "Well s'not like you were using it!"
"Y'don't just go doin' stuff like that! That's like…that's like wiping your butt with somebody's shirt cuz they're not wearing it! I mean, what the fuck, you gonna fuck a dog next cuz the owner wasn't using it?" I gesticulate wildly. "It's just impolite!"
"If I'd've finished sooner you'd've never known!"
"I might've noticed my poop chute was a little sore."
He's struck dumb, as dumb people often are. "Okay, sorry, geez."
I sniff snootily. "Well, just ask next time. Can't a guy die in peace without havin' nothing shoved inside him 'round here…"
"I said I'm sorry already, ya drama queen."
A/N: SUDDENLY, SOUTHERN ACCENTS! MILLIONS OF THEM!