Catfish McDaris

It’s Getting Hard as I Write

Catfish McDaris

I can look at all the centerfolds and stroke the bone any way you want, but the jizmo refuses to cooperate, until I read or write about it. Or the real thing, of course always works wonders. I moved to Milwaukee from New Mexico and lived with my aunt and three cousins. They were all major prick teases. My aunt liked to sit naked at her dressing table and wait until I looked in, then she’d powder her beautiful tits and hairy pussy and smile, pretending she couldn’t see me in her mirror. I wanted that woman so bad I could taste it. I closed my eyes and fucked her a thousand times.

Her youngest daughter would screw anything with a heartbeat. I caught her eating an amazing black chick’s snatch and I made them both suck me and fuck me many times, until my weenie was ready for vacation. She used to open her cunt lips and play with herself and let me do anything I wanted. That was always a fun game.

Her sister was a redhead; she wore bikinis with her cunt hair sticking out. She used to let me put suntan lotion on her tits and finger fuck her, then she’d blow me into oblivion. I never got to tap that, she got religion first.

My third cousin was half Mohawk. I took her to Juarez, Mexico, with a cat named Reefer. I took her to a whorehouse, where I let her watch the matron check me for critters. She kissed my dick and fingered my asshole. My cousin got so hot, we split from Reefer and fucked each other's brains out. Her pussy was tight, but not educated. After a week with me, she graduated with honors.

Damn, I’m horny. What about you?

Respect

by Catfish McDaris

The small town newspaper headline reads: Man defecates on father’s grave. A source that wishes to remain anonymous reported to the police a suspicious man in the cemetery. The man was doing disgusting things. He had his trousers lowered and was making foul grunting and farting sounds, as he defecated all over a tombstone.

On closer examination, it was discovered that it was his very own father’s grave.

The police arrived immediately and confronted the man. A slight struggle ensued with the inebriated man. Luckily, the cemetery was almost empty. They subdued the perpetrator and placed him in the rear of the police car.

“Damn, Sarge, did you ever see anybody shit like that? That stuff is sprayed and plastered like stucco on that granite tombstone.”

“Hell, no, I’ve never seen anything like that. That shit is incredible, no telling what that crazy bastard has been eating and drinking. I’ve got shit smeared on my uniform. I’ve got a good mind to shoot the son of a bitch right here.”

From the rear of the car: “You guys aren’t going to waste me for that, are you?”

“What in the hell are you doing shitting in our graveyard?” the sergeant said.

“That’s my so-called father in the grave,” the perp said. “All of my life, I looked up to him and trusted him. He was a hard worker and always brought his check home to the family. He boozed it up sometimes, but I figured he earned it. My mother always bitched and nagged him, he was due a little escape. I cherished the man.

“A month after he died, my sisters came forward with the truth. He’d been sexually and mentally abusing them most of their lives. My older sister found out my father had started in on my two younger sisters and told the entire story to our mother. She refused to believe a word of it,” the perp said. “She had my sister put in a detention home, where she was sexually abused by guards and lesbians. She underwent shock treatments in a mental hospital, until she died very young. My younger sisters went through hypnosis and mental and drug therapy, until they also lost their minds and way.

“I never suspected a thing,” the perp said. “If I had, I would have killed this fucker long ago. I’ve been drinking red box wine and eating diarrhea pills for a week. Now you know my story, if you want to take me to jail, I understand. At least you know where I’m coming from.”

“Sarge, we can’t arrest this guy,” the patrolman said. “He only did what we would’ve done ourselves in the same situation.”

“We had a complaint filed, but maybe we can smooth things over. If we let you go, what will you do?”

“I’m thinking about finding a shovel, digging the motherfucker up, then shoving the handle up his ass, getting some gas, and making him into a crispy critter.”

“Look asshole, you’re lucky we’re letting you go. Don’t press your luck.” They pulled in front of the bus station. The sergeant said, “Now don’t come back until after I retire and that’s in five years.”

“Thanks, officers.”

The bus pulled out.

The patrolman grinned at the sergeant. “Wipe that smile off your pie hole. You’re cleaning the stench out of this car, while I change uniforms and get a maple glazed doughnut.”

Amarillo

by Catfish McDaris

My brother called from a

town outside of Tulsa, he

needed my help to remove

some unsavory characters

He knew I’d been in almost

up to my neck in Vietnam &

most of my life, he referred

to me as an overachiever

It felt kind of strange wearing

a star, since I’d always walked

in shadows of good & wicked

My first day on the job, I met

a thief, rapist, & child abuser

all rolled into one, I gave him

fair warning, he pulled his pistol

His hog leg barrel traveled straight

toward me, I double tapped his

chest, his lungs splattered the wall

He was dead an instant before his legs

received the message, finally he folded

like a house of cards, he made a sound

like a broken sick accordion bagpipe

I stayed for a week, I didn’t have to kill

anybody else, my brother was relieved

when I laid my badge on his desk,

everyone was rested a lot easier

Pointing my Ford west I headed for

Amarillo & a senorita that could make

enchiladas so good, they’d bring tears

to your eyes & a smile to your belly.

Five Finger Discount

By Catfish McDaris

Nasty Jack was a greaseball biker

from near the Mexican border, he

got his name from his Levis being

so stiff, he could stand them up in

the corner awaiting his reentrance

He was always working on Indians

and Harley Davidsons, occasionally

he applied his magic to four wheel ve-

hicles, but he preferred the freedom

of riding in the wind, unless he was

Pulling a big shoplifting job requiring

a crew to cart away the stolen goodies,

his hands were invisible fast, I worked

with him a few times as a distraction

man or driver, Jack knew no fear

I’d entered stores with him and never

seen anything, outside he’d unload

eight huge Porterhouse steaks, three

bottles of Heinz 57 and he’d grab a

rack of fifty packs of Marlboros

Situated right in front of the checker,

he once walked away with two dollies

of booze, one had nine cases of Corona

and the other had top shelf tequila and gin

We never knew what Jack would show

up with next, but he never came home

empty-handed, he wrote a note goodbye and

said forget about being thieves, he was going

fishing at Boca Chica where the Rio Grande

flowed into the Gulf of Mexico.

Crime in Milwaukee

by Catfish McDaris

It's rough all over, for blacks

and whitey in blue and out, a

black man was sitting on a bench in

Milwaukee, whitey popo put 14

Bullets in him, he was supposedly

nuts, he grabbed popo’s baton, folks

are walking up and down the streets

waiting for Sharpton and Jesse to speak

And Paula Deen to show up and

cook fried chicken and prove she’s

not any more of a racist than any

other God-fearing American

Then we have this 20-year-old black

kid that rapes a 101-year-old lady

and wears a dopey grin into court

and he’s bragging to the cameras,

saying how famous he is now

A 10-year-old girl on her way

to school was dragged into an

alley and raped by a 26-year-

Old 300 lb. scumbag, he had his

pants down and threatened to

kill the little girl if she ran

Her screams brought people and

the cops arrived, they captured

the animal the next day, but not

Before he molested the girl and

murdered her innocence and purity,

the baby rapist pervert deserves

a slow wretched miserable death.

It Only Hurts When He Cracks a Smile

by Catfish McDaris

Quick was hustling nine ball, shooting

with an eagle eye, it was from growing

up on snooker and billiard tables

This dude got pissed off and pulled

out a Saturday Night Special and

shot him right in the ass, his lady

dragged him to the hospital, he felt

Like he was between a dream and a

nightmare, Quick was laying on a gurney

waiting his turn, when they rolled

in a fat heart attack victim, the nurses

Peeled off his shirt, the doc said,

“Son of a bitch, this fucker looks

like a gorilla” they applied the paddles

and turned up the electric juice

His body jumped off the table like a

fish out of water, he was flopping on

the floor next to Quick, they jolted him

again and his chest hair caught on fire

Lucky for him his lady had marshmallows

and chopsticks in her purse, they were soon

having a nice picnic minus the ants.

Quicksand

by Catfish McDaris

Jose’s amigos arrived from Austin

in a new 4-cylinder Mustang, they

said it had no pep, they asked him

to destroy it for the insurance money

They harvested 20 lbs of psilocybin

mushrooms, covered them with honey,

froze them, and transported them in an

ice chest, 10 lbs were Jose’s if he did

The car, he wanted to strip it and sell it,

but they insisted he blow it up and burn it

he drove out to a caliche pit followed by

his lady and soaked the Mustang in gas &

torched it, later he called the cops

He tried the mushrooms before selling

any, they were strong, sort of like good

acid, but they made him laugh for hours,

Jose decided to go see Iron Butterfly

With a quart of Coors he ate some ‘shrooms,

parking his short a few blocks away, the

hallucinations slowed him into snail turtle

motion, his stomach was grizzly growling

Seeing a dark backyard, he dropped a load

and a rat dog kept barking so he used it for

ass wipe, he gazed up at the brilliant sky

It started raining whores and tequila, he felt

thirsty and stiffer than petrified wood, he led

three senoritas to his car and got a bucket to

catch some cactus juice in, looking in the

back seat he saw the stinky little dog

Jose figured he had been adopted, he asked

“What’s your name boy?” The dog replied,

“Quicksand, motherfucker and I need a bath.”

Snake Dog

by Catfish McDaris

A woman screamed and tried to scoop the guts and blood back inside her dying baby girl. A man and a boy collapsed into the street, moaning in agony, blood gushing from multiple wounds. Sirens filled the night in Chinatown, Los Angeles.

Nappy and his amigo, Chuy, rushed to try and help the injured people.

“I can’t take much more of this senseless killing,” said Nappy.

“I feel you, brother. Dog Town Rifa keeps trying to recruit my older cousin, Juan, and they asked about me,” said Chuy.

“White Fence and La Mirada Locos have been sniffing around me. I even had some Black Dragons from Chinatown asking about who we were with.”

They joined the Marines and became experts with many deadly weapons.

“The mission you’ll be trained for will require strength, cunning, intelligence, bravery, and intestinal fortitude,” said Captain Sam. “You will go to Navy SEAL School from here. To learn to be snipers, experts in hand-to-hand close quarters combat, knives, demolitions, amphibious maneuvers, parachuting, and guerrilla reconnaissance. You will study Sun-Tzu’s The Art of War. Before you go to dirty trick school, you’ll learn to think creatively, by learning hypnosis and magic. Then you’ll become experts in drones and computers.”

Nappy and Chuy looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

For eighteen months, they trained like murder machines. They were both promoted to First Lieutenant. They weren’t allowed to return home on leave before receiving their assignments. Their mission was to eradicate opium poppy fields in Afghanistan, along with the assassination of warlords. To protect women, children, and innocent civilians.

Nappy and Chuy were leaders of an elite force of 48 highly-trained soldiers at the peak of their physical prowess.

They infiltrated the opium fields in Afghanistan. They had missions in Pakistan, Iraq, and Yemen. They had no mercy for Taliban, al-Qaeda, or ISIS Mujahidin and Jihad terrorists, who used drug money and were guilty of human trafficking.

Chuy and Nappy adopted a mutt and trained him to be a combat dog. They named him Snake. Snake chewed the nuts and dicks off bad guys and bit the tits of bad women. The dog was an endearing hero and both men grew to love him.

Their next assignment sent them to Kabul to investigate what their destruction did to the hawala, the banking system that financed terrorists, drug warlords, and flesh peddlers. There, they assassinated Abdullah Adel, a minor leader in al-Qaeda. Intel from Jamal al-Fadl led them to Yemen. Nappy and Chuy used drone strikes and blew up a bank and captured Zawahiri Atiyal. They sent him on his way to Guantanamo for interrogation.

Captain Sam kept the POTUS apprised of Nappy and Chuy’s success. The two-man team went to Abottabad, Pakistan, where Osama Bin Ladin was killed. There were suspected Taliban sympathizers there, but not enough proof to light someone up. Nappy and Chuy were careful not to injure civilians. When in doubt, they walked away. A million-dollar bounty was put on their heads.

Their next target from al-Qaeda was Yahya Nasir. He eluded them for three weeks, by using human shields. He always hid behind women and children.

They took him in a crowded market. Nappy slipped a combat knife into Nasir’s throat and twisted the blade. Chuy covered their retreat with smoke drones until they made it to their extraction point, led by a Navy SEAL team in an evacuation chopper.

Yahya’s men tried to shoot them out of the air, but the SEALs showered them with lead and white phosphorous and stopped their breathing.

All good things ended in Kabul. Two men in Dishdasha robes and Keffiyeh scarfs tossed grenades at them. The men had no chance. Snake jumped on the explosives, but was blown into infinity.

After a convalescence, medals, and discharges, Nappy and Chuy returned to Los Angeles.

They drove a supercharged Ford-250 pickup in hot pursuit of a Hummer. Nappy had his automatic machine gun with a mounted grenade launcher, plus some hardware that would turn that Hummer into a hot penny. Chuy had a bag of drones that carried high explosives, cameras of all types, including infrared, tear gas, and concealment smoke.

Lizard was the bad ass of the gang; eight of his men were trying to rip off another gang. Three took the front, and three went around to the back.

Two were lookouts. Next door, an elderly lady sat on her porch, with a nursing dog at her feet.

Lizard’s two men went over, and one went for the dog. The old lady tried to stop them, but was pistol-whipped for her effort. Eight newborn puppies sniffed their mother, who fought back with the man. The other grabbed a pup. Laughing hysterically, he held his gun to the whining pup’s head.

Nappy hurled his razor bayonet at him, and his arm was sliced off at the elbow. Chuy jumped the guy who was fighting the mama dog, but Nappy had a better idea. He gave both men his pelvic punch. It pulverized their balls. They would never have sex or urinate without agony.

“Every time you do that, it even makes me cringe in pain,” Chuy said.

The lady took the mama dog and puppies inside her house.

Inside the house next door, bullets were flying. Chuy took the back and Nappy hit the front, bringing it heavy. They had each other’s six, guardian angels of death. Blood, brains, viscera, eyeballs, hearts still pumping. Stacks of money and bricks of cocaine acted as sponges for the rivers of blood.

They were all out of pity when the cavalry arrived. The old lady next door gave them one of the puppies.

“What do you want to name our dog?” Nappy asked Chuy.

The little puppy licked their faces as they split. “How about Snake?”

“We lost Snake in Afghanistan. You think this might be him reincarnated?”

“Hell, yes,” Chuy said. “Snake, it is, then.”

Catfish McDaris won the Thelonius Monk Award in 2015. His 25 years of published material is in the Special Archives Collection at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and he is listed in Wikipedia. His new book is 265 pages of poems and prose, that will make your hands tremble. www.amazon.com/Sleeping-With-Fish-Catfish-McDaris/dp/0692671323 Available Now! Sleeping With the Fish

In Association with Fossil Publications