I'm writing a book called "Lucky Bitch"

Some friends of mine are doing the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and they convinced me to join in. Not really knowing what to write about on short notice, I decided to do a chronicle of the crazy luck (both good and bad) I've had this year. I imagine in December, when I go back and edit the damn thing, it'll be less disjointed and have more of a point (I do have an idea of what the point/ plot should be). But for now, here's an excerpt about when I met Bruce, my butthole bunny.

PS- For legal and friend retention reasons, I've changed names. Mine is Tori. I think y'all could have easily figured that out


Yea, But This One Has a Real Butthole

Not that Tori wasn’t used to things going well for her (she was quite used to accepting that good things in her life were begat by horrible things and vice versa), but February had been a bang up month. She managed to book a roundtrip ticket to Australia- one that would put her in Sydney just in time for gay Mardi Gras- for less than $600 on Virgin’s new service down under which, given her past experiences flying Virgin Shaglantic, would prove to be a great deal for the 14 hour flight. She also got hooked up with a shady tax guy who got her a boatload of money back from the government and the checks were supposed to arrive just before her departure the first week of March.

But wait! There’s more!

Despite being a bit of a shithole, Tori always managed to rent out her West Hollywood apartment any time she went out of town for more than a few days, providing her with a little extra spending money and a good reason to aggressively clean the house. Which didn’t happen often. Tori lived in what could easily be described as filth, but she spent so little time in her house she really couldn’t be bothered to care. Amazingly, the girl she had booked to stay this time was from Sydney and wanted to stay the duration of Tori’s journey to Oz. She was willing to pay $700 for a 2-week stay and even offered to watch Tetley, a godsend considering there was no where else to board the little shit after John decided he was going to rent his apartment too. For this great convenience, Tori knocked $50 off the bill and used some of the girl’s money to provide her with new sheets and towels and a featherbed to fill in the bed’s epic chasm.

Since Tori had more than $20 in her bank account at this point, she decided it was best to spend some of it so she could get back to feeling like the broke bitch who bought Miller Lite in the 30 pack because the per bottle cost was less. Top on Tori’s list of money redepositories was the Kid Robot store. Seeing as it was just a mile away on Melrose, Tori saddled up to ride the scooter, making sure to stuff a backpack in the bubble just in case the shopping got out of hand.

Stepping into Kid Robot somehow transported Tori back to a time when it was ok to lust after brightly colored playthings. You might think this had something to do with a lack of toys growing up, but no, Tori had all the My Little Ponies and GI Joes she could handle in her adolescence. So try as she might to figure out what caused her to desire things like Lost action figures and stuffed reindeers, the root cause was unidentifiable. Tori simply liked poseable action things that took her attention away from her job and man troubles and things of that nature. She also liked looking at pictures of Dave Grohl and Ben Folds which was why her walls still resembled those of her Freshman dorm room. Tori was considering her arrested development and how she should think about combating it when she sidetracked to thinking about Arrested Development and how good looking Jason Bateman is and forgot why she wasn’t in the toy store already.

Once inside, Tori grabbed all the toys she could justify buying and schlepped them to the counter. It should be mentioned that as much as Tori loved displaying these action figures for her and others’ viewing, the thrill of opening them comprised about 48% of her joy. Since the figurines were all blind-boxed (sealed so you didn’t know which bit of the set you were buying) Tori got to drift through the store’s selection until she got the feeling that she needed to pick something up. She relied on instinct and luck in these situations to guide her towards the best stuff. With Kid Robot, Tori rarely got what she was after, but the thrill of tearing into the foil cased Dunnys ensured that Kid Robot was a recurring line item on her credit card statement. Today’s purchase was no exception to the rule; Tori calculated it would be a $70ish debit on her Visa. She was ready to take out her card and move on to lunch when something plush caught her eye.

It can’t be said that what happened next was love at first sight, because the first glimpse Tori got of a 5” stuffed rabbit smoking a cigarette was from the front. And she wasn’t nearly as impressed with him as she was with his little pal with the mustache. Tori picked up the white fuzzy labbit with the mustache, rubbed him against her cheek and was immediately sold on adding him to her tab. When she turned him over and saw he had a little black bum sewn on, she took him to the front and started thinking of names. The guy at the counter, Josh, who knew Tori well from her many commission purchases, complimented her choice to pick up the new stuffed bunny.

“Didn’t take you long to find the new merch.”
Tori was completely fixated on the little black bum and had to refocus herself on the real world to answer. “He’s fantastic! His little mustache is so soft and fuzzy. I’ve already got half a dozen super gay names bouncing around my head.”
“Well, if you want him to be really gay, you should check out the one smoking the cigarette. He’s got a real butthole.”

As quickly as Tori had fallen in love with the mustachioed bunny, he was back on the shelf, replaced by a rabbit of the same size smoking a cigarette and sporting a pink satin butthole just big enough to stick your pinkie in. Tori knew it was pinkie size because the first thing she tried to do when she flipped the poor bastard around was stick her thumb in there.

“It’s so tiny!” Tori squealed. “I wonder if it’ll stretch?”
“Oh wow,” the counter guy winced, “nobody’s asked that yet. You’ll have to let me know.”
“I will!” Tori said a little too convincingly.
“Do you need anything else today?”
Tori fingered the bunny a little more before responding. “No. I just need to get home so I can find more stuff to stick in this rabbit’s asshole. At which time I will take pictures and put them on the internet. So awesome….”

This chance meeting in the Kid Robot store would be the start of Tori’s healthiest relationship in years. She had found someone/thing who would accompany her to concerts and lunches and shopping and who did not require a passport to leave the country. He would give her a torso to lean on when she was feeling shit and he didn’t seem to care about smoking laws or others’ perceptions of his appearance or his devotion to his new friend. He would appear in photos regardless of time of day, appearance or potential embarrassment factor. Most importantly, he would be accepting of her bizarre sexual proclivities as she passed him from friend to friend to have his butthole prodded for her amusement. This smoking bunny would be Tori’s new bestie and would be named for her dad’s pole vaulting partner from San Francisco State College.

When competing against other schools who assumed all SF college students were flaming homosexuals, her dad would chase his friend around the track, arms flailing, screaming about how he had promised to grab his pole from the bus. Countless athletes had gone through their adult lives scarred by the images invoked by Tori’s dad and his friend, Bruce. Ready to conjure newer, more frightening images, Tori tucked Bruce the Butthole Bunny under her arm and started dreaming up ways they could shock and revile her friends.