The Norton Reader: Issue 1, October 2020 - Jack Norton - E-Book

The Norton Reader: Issue 1, October 2020 E-Book

Jack Norton

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Beschreibung

Welcome to the very first issue of The Norton Reader, a monthly literary magazine of writings by Emmy Award winning author Jack Norton.

This curated collection highlights Norton's wide literary range, from short fiction ("Rednecks and Longnecks") to steamy erotica ("Bible Study Girls Gone Bad" and "Ejackulation: Sexy Confessions of Teenage Love"), memoir ("Two Stalkers One Goal") to nonfiction ("Cornstars: Rube Music In Swing Time") as well as poetry ("Nicotine and Aesthetic Dreams").

Jack's words are refined yet raw, subtle and profoundly powerful. Critics have called Norton "a poet's poet" and author Nick Tosches once wrote, “Jack Norton is my hope for the future of America.”

Enjoy this new collection of writings by Jack Norton. They are unflinching truths direct from the typewriter of a keen observer of the human condition.

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The Norton Reader

Issue 1, October 2020

Jack Norton

Contents

Introduction

FICTION

Rednecks And Longnecks

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

FICTION: EROTICA

Bible Study Girls Gone Bad

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Ejackulations: Sexy Confessions Of Teenage Love

Chapter 8

Introduction

Chapter 9

Teenage Pussy Stink Bait

MEMOIR

Two Stalkers One Goal, or: How The Sciene Of Implosions Nearly Destroyed Our Lives

Chapter 10

Foreword: What's In The Box?

NONFICTION

Cornstars: Rube Music in Swing Time

Chapter 11

Freddie Fisher’s Idea of Jazz

Chapter 12

Highway 61, Revisited

Chapter 13

Pappy’s Screwball Symphony

POETRY

Nicotine & Aesthetic Dreams

14. The End Came

15. So Beautiful So Clueless

16. Nicotine & Aesthetic Dreams

17. One Letter At A Time

18. Where All The Good Stuff Is

19. All That You Need To Know

20. Carefully Guarded

Afterword: Can You Do Me A Favor?

Additional Books by Author Jack Norton

About the Author

Disclaimer

Introduction

Welcome to the very first issue of The Norton Reader, a monthly literary magazine of writings by Emmy Award winning author Jack Norton.

This curated collection highlights Norton's wide literary range, from short fiction ("Rednecks and Longnecks") to steamy erotica ("Bible Study Girls Gone Bad" and "Ejackulation: Sexy Confessions of Teenage Love"), memoir ("Two Stalkers One Goal") to nonfiction ("Cornstars: Rube Music In Swing Time") as well as poetry ("Nicotine and Aesthetic Dreams").

Jack's words are refined yet raw, subtle and profoundly powerful. Critics have called Norton "a poet's poet" and author Nick Tosches once wrote, “Jack Norton is my hope for the future of America.”

Enjoy this new collection of writings by Jack Norton. They are unflinching truths direct from the typewriter of a keen observer of the human condition.

Warmly,

Lawrence Cohen

Editor

New York, New York

FICTION

Rednecks And Longnecks

1

"If at first you don't succeed, keep on sucking and you'll eventually suck seed."

Chad howled at his own joke, nearly falling off his bar stool. His grandpa used to tell him that funny. He stole it from an old Three Stooges film. Curly somehow managed to get that one past the censors in 1936. Chad's grandpa had been dead for almost a decade now, but that doesn't really matter to our story. What matters is Chad is a drunk. And a redneck. And he spends most every evening at places like The Fur Trapper, a makeshift titty bar located out on Route 231. That's where Chad is right now.

The beer was cheap, the girls were easy and life was good for Chad. Not as good as it could be, but good enough. He had an old lady at home that he loved. At least, he thought he loved her. They had four kids and one more on the way. Chad worked his ass off working construction for the great state of Alabama. They'd send his ass all over the state, by now he'd probably re-paved half the roads south of Birmingham. It wasn't too bad. Fresh air, hard work, decent money. The crew he was usually partnered with weren't too bad either, except for all The Illegals. Chad hated them, with their constant yap-yap-yapping in Mexican. He hated when The Illegals talked Mexican. It just wasn't right. If you're gonna come to America, you damn well better learn to speak American, Chad had thought to himself more than several times a day.

Largely his crew consisted of guys from his hometown, most of them graduated from high school the same year as Chad.

"Fuck college," Chad would say. "College is for pussies and fags."

Since Chad was neither a pussy nor a fag, he didn't elect to go to college. Rather, he went straight to work. First for a local excavation company and then finally the job with the state. Brandy was already six months pregnant when Chad graduated from high school and he'd be damned if his kid wasn't gonna grow up with a father. So Chad did the right thing and married Brandy. Two weeks after graduation. He was tipsy, but not drunk enough for the judge to kick them out. They got married at the courthouse. Two buddies from the football team served as witnesses. Brandy was still hiding her pregnancy, she was only fourteen after all.

Now, only twenty-three, Brandy had lost her looks, her body and her motivation to become a cosmetologist. She lost it all somewhere along the way of four, soon to be five, kids that just came a-poppin' out. She hated when Chad was on the road with the crew. She knew every night was spent getting drunk and going to strip clubs all across the state. She told herself Chad was a good man, that he wouldn't fuck around on her, she knew he wasn't like other men. Besides, even if he was, she had been fooling around a bit with Booger, the kid that starting working as a maintenance man for their apartment building. He was a junior in high school and reminded Brandy of Chad when they first met. Except Booger didn't drink and wasn't working all the time. Things had gotten complicated with Booger, in fact, Brandy wasn't a thousand and one percent sure that Baby #5 was Chad's...or Booger's. At the end of the day, that doesn't really matter either.

In fact, nothing really matters. Not to Chad, not to Brandy, not to The Illegals and most certainly not to Darleen Diamondbaby, the stripper whose oily and oversized balloon-like tits were currently being pressed into Chad's face. His buddies were cheering him on, hell, even The Illegals knew Chad might score some free road poon that night. Darleen was in deep, hot and heavy for the hunky construction worker with a crooked grin and a pocket full of five dollar bills.

Darleen Diamondbaby had moved to Dothan, Alabama from Biloxi, Mississippi. Well, technically she wasn't from Biloxi, she was from a nothing dot on the map located in Jasper County. The town she was from seemed like a cruel joke: Success. Yup, she was from a town called Success, Mississippi. A town so small the post office closed its doors back in 1900. By eleven, Darleen - whose real name she no longer discloses - was sneaking out, riding her bike to the truck stop located three miles west of town. There she would tease the truckers, play coy, score whatever she wanted, in exchange for whatever they wanted. She was in jail less than a year later. If she had graduated high school, she would have had a criminal record more impressive than her academic record. That said, Darleen's academic record ended in the eighth grade - when she simply stopped attending school. No one at home gave a flying fuck. Her memaw was an invalid cripple and her older brother was a retard, who spent his days drooling as the television set forever played the Game Show Network.

Darleen learned early on she could get whatever she wanted - or needed - from men. She wasn't the best looking girl in Jasper County, but she was the sluttiest, and that was all that mattered. Sex is a form of currency, and because of this, Darleen knew her tits and ass were worth millions. She had stopped fucking around with the truckers in Success years ago, eventually hitching a ride to Biloxi where she started fucking around with the guys (and occasional girls) at Keesler Air Force Base. She could make damn good money on the base and she worked every angle she could think of. She was pregnant more times than humanly possible, but the guys she fucked around with were too stupid to connect the dots. It was a scam she had perfected within months of getting to the base. Show a redneck a positive pregnancy test and the hillbilly code of honor kicks right in: all Darleen needed to do was hold up a lil' plastic pee stick showing the blue "test positive" symbol and it was like winning the lottery. Well, not really the lottery, more like a really great scratch-off ticket. Either way, she milked money out of the pockets of damn near half the base. Finally, the scheme started to wear thin and word had gotten around about a former lot lizard now working a pregnancy scam on the new arrivals at Keesler.

So Darleen reinvented herself, she started working the casinos that dotted the shores of the Redneck Riviera. More specifically, she worked the parking lots of the casinos - and the beds of the motels - that made up the nearly one hundred mile stretch along the Emerald Coast. From Pensacola to Panama City, Darleen fucked her way to drugs, cash and a new pair of titties. She would get busted occasionally, usually sucked were way out of whatever jam she was in, and would be back working an angle later that night. Marks were everywhere, rich fat cats that came to the coast to throw some money around and fuck anything more exotic than what was back home.

And to Chad, Darleen was certainly more exotic than his wife Brandy's fat ass.

Brandy, the tight teen he once boasted to his friends about fucking. He had taken her virginity and had all the guys on his football team sniff his fingers as proof. She was that fucking hot back in the day. A total gotdamned smokeshow. But she had let herself go. She was past the point of gone.

Now, Brandy was most likely sitting on the couch in Walmart sweatpants, eating some Flamin' Hot Cheetos and watching re-runs of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. So Chad let himself go, falling deep into the fantasy that Darleen was grinding in his face.

Little did Chad know that back home, Brandy was currently floating in her own fantasy, with Booger's cock balls deep down her throat.

Things were about to get very interesting for Chad, for Darleen, for Brandy and for Booger.

By the end of the night, two would be dead, one would be missing and one would be in jail.

2

"Oh, Boogie, god, oh," Brandy moaned as Booger mounted her from behind. He didn't seem to mind that she was pregnant, in fact, it seemed to Brandy that it must have been a turn-on to Booger. The bigger she got, the more the brawny teen wanted to fuck. It was totally the opposite of Chad, who used the line "we should be careful, you're pregnant" as an excuse to avoid his wife at all costs. You'd think by the fifth time around, Chad would have been used to his wife's size, but he wasn't. He just could bring himself to fuck her - unless he was good and drunk. And Brandy hated drunk fucks. It reminded her of her father and things he did which are best left forgotten. The further in to her pregnancy she got, the more time Chad spent on the road, hanging with his buddies and going to titty bars all across the great state of Alabama.

Booger wondered if the baby inside his lover was his, or her husbands. At sixteen he knew he wasn't ready to be a daddy, but that didn't stop him from secretly wishing it was his. Sometimes, after church service, he would sit in the pew and wait for the rest of the congregation to leave. Then in the silence of the empty church he would pray to God for a miracle, he would pray to God that Brandy's baby was - in fact - his. He didn't know why he wanted to be a daddy, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it would forever link him to Brandy.

Brandy, God, Brandy, the woman that taught Booger what it meant to be a man. He had first entered her home (to fix a toilet that wouldn't flush) as a boy, but he left an hour later as a fully grown man. He never imagined something like that would happen. Oh sure, of course, he imagined it. What sixteen year old red-blooded male from the great state of Alabama wouldn't imagine it? He was the new teenage maintenance man at the apartment complex owned by his Uncle. He would be helping damsels in distress all day long (at least that was what he fantasized about late into the night). Reality came crashing it's ugly head in, as it always does, and after a few weeks on the job, Booger realized it would amount to a lot more calls from old ladies needing a light bulb changed than sexy young women in distress. But that all changed the moment he first laid eyes on Brandy.

Sure, she was a mom, and she was a bit older. But that just meant she could teach him things. She was experienced. She was a real woman.

Her husband Chad was a pile of shit with a capital S. Booger knew it weeks before he ever met the man. Brandy would offer little asides, offhanded remarks that let Booger know just how miserable she was...and he knew he would need to do something about it.