11. Irina of Simple Needs

Year 290-356, born to Alejandro and Amygdala

"Oh pretty laaaaaaaaaadyyyyy!" came the call from Irina Weller's window, for like the fiftieth morning in a row.

"Beautiful laaaaaadyyyyyy I am here to court yoooooooooou!"

"The hell you are! Shut the hell up or I will jam another shoe up your ass!"

"Yes! Talk romance with me, beautiful lady! I am only here to show you love, love like you have never felt before!" Boris Markina waved his hand up as her window. A potted plant came crashing through it and landed at his feet.

"Flowers! The lady returns my affections!" He danced among the corpses of potted plants of days gone by.

Why didn't she kill him? Well, Irina secretly enjoyed the attention. Married at seventeen, a mother at eighteen, then a widow at nineteen, she had not experienced romance like she heard in the stories, where strong powerful Wellers took their respective mates in their muscled arms and made sweet, sweet Weller love. Irina was determined to experience it, but no suitors had come to call. Boris Markina scared them away, due to his horrible case of the stupids. She had no interest in romance with a Markina, let alone such a horribly brain-dead one… but a woman has needs, doesn't she?

"Boris Markina, I am not going to give in! Just go the hell away and marry your sister like all the other Markinas!"

"But rampant inbreeding in the Markina family has led to horrible disfigurement! None match the beauty of a Weller! Your luscious brown hair, chocolate orbs, by which I am referring to your breasts, oh and also your eyes! Those are nice too!"

Irina sighed as she changed her son's diaper, wisps of hair falling in front of her eyes. Normally she would have a servant do such a thing, but on an occasion such as this… She balled up the feces-covered mess and headed to the balcony.

"Oh my gorgeous Irina Weller, I am so in love with her, I guess that I should tell her!" Boris was attempting to sing.

Irina leaned over the balcony and observed his hideously misshapen face.

"What is it going to take to get you to leave me alone?"

"Nothing short of death, my lady!" he answered cheerfully.

"I don't know anyone named Charles Darwin, but if I did, they might be able to explain what is about to happen to you."

"Will you put an arrow through my chest? Alas, it has already been pierced! For I do not know anyone named Cupid, but if I did, they might have shot a figurative arrow through my heart! An arrow of love!" He ripped open his shirt, exposing an impeccable set of abs.

"A gift for you, my lady! I have been working on them for months!" Irina eyed him. Maybe… with duct tape over his mouth… and a bag over his head… maybe.

WHACK! The dirty diaper smacked Boris in the face, knocking out three teeth.

"Fine! Be up here in twenty minutes. Bring lube, and for God's sakes, wash that filth off of yourself, you disgusting pig!"

Boris fistpumped! He was finally going to SCORE! He dunked his head in the town well, an act that was sure to plague the local populace with dysentery for decades. Then he scrambled up to Irina's bedroom in anticipation of scoring.

Irina smiled. She had no intention of forming a relationship with this disgusting, stupid fiend, but at least she could run her fingers down his abs and let off some steam… it had been a long time since she had made love.

"I am here, lady!" said Boris Markina, buttoning up his shirt.

"Why are you buttoning your shirt up?" she asked.

"Uh… so we can make love!" he proclaimed.

"Take that thing off. Now." He did as he was told.

"Also your pants." He did that as well.

"Any reason why I am doing this to make love?" he asked.

"You're joking, right? You don't know how to have sex?" she sighed.

"Of course I do, I'm not stupid, duhhh! I was only kidding!" he removed his underwear too, just in case.

"That's much better. Now get with me on the bed."

"Yes!" Soon they were together on the bed.

Boris Markina looked left. Then he looked right.

"So," he said, "Is this what it feels like to score?"

Irina sighed and her eyes deadened. She shoved him off of the bed.

"No," she said, picking up her left shoe, "This is."

And another one went up his ass. Maybe next week he'd figure it out.