Sex * Sherilynn Macale (HeyCheri)

Ballad of a Serial Killer, Part Two: 72 more lines of poetry in iambic pentameter

November 10, 2011 in Creative Writing, Sex

Okay. You probably don’t know this about me if you’re one of my newer readers, but once I get started on a new hobby, I kind of dive into it at full-speed and get pretty crazy with it. It’s only after a few weeks of constant new-hobby-ism that I finally manage to peter off and find something interesting to do elsewhere (assuming I get bored of my new hobby, that is).

Yeah.
Kinda flaky, I know.

Fortunately, my strange and almost instantly-sparked obsessions usually take a rather productive turn.

You might remember yesterday when I posted a pretty rape-tastic poem written entirely in iambic pentameter. It’s from the perspective of a serial killer as he recounts one of his first “adventures” in, well, serial killing. o__o It was received surprisingly well, despite its rather offensive genre, and since I’m a freak of nature who can’t stop writing, I managed to dish out 72 more lines to continue this nameless killer’s story.

Check it out.

Ballad of a Serial Killer (continued)

The levelheaded man I knew is gone,
And in his place a monster growing strong.
Persistently I wish for ropes and chains
Around a neck that’s bound and squeezed in pain.

Ferocious appetite for something sweet,
I hunt the night for my forbidden treat.
My wife, she sleeps unknowing of my ways
While prey I do on unsuspecting strays.

You see, this is no curse: It is a skill.
And one enjoyed in silence for its thrill.
Perhaps in secret others do the same.
For me, I choose a very public game.

I start my meal by stalking in the day,
A time when shadows won’t get in the way.
She seems so unaware of dangers near.
When drawing close I sweep away her fear.

My gullible, naive and guilty pleasure:
I warm the oven, waiting for my treasure.
So charmed by my demeanor does she seem,
Oblivious to my erotic scheme.

As dusk descends upon the hunting quarry,
The meat of this exhilarating story
Becomes alive with dark anticipation
For my frenzied need and sweet fixation.

Routinely does she travel by the woods,
And so I cannot help myself. I could,
for good, if someone said I should, and would!
Although I feel a bit misunderstood.

It’s not the killing part I so desire.
Instead, this yearning part of me requires
That I feed this lewd and wanton craving.
And so I often wind up misbehaving.

“Inadequate and lacking in conviction,”
Insulting words that drive my vile addiction.
My wife, you see, she makes me insecure.
I fear we may have married immature.

The sex is dull. It leaves me sore and wanting
For fantasies so devilishly haunting.
And if you feel I’m simply here for flaunting,
I’ll leave you with a story made for taunting:

I’m sad to say that not all tales end well.
A sloppy mess I was at first, and dwell
I do on mem’ries past that make me flinch.
I’ve made mistakes that should have been a cinch.

My first, you see, was smarter than the rest.
She charmed me too, and uttered out, “Unless
you bring me presents, I refuse to stay.”
And this is how my first meal got away.

I thought persistence would lead her to see
How gifts come after satisfying me.
Insist she did until she managed free!
I now use bait for ev’ry killing spree.

A man like me gives gifts with dark intent.
The sparkling jewels throw her off the scent.
I take my time, a hobby worth the wait.
Feeling risky? Take her on a date.

With whores, I find it easiest to sin.
The eager little things quickly give in.
But virgins are the type that oft inspire.
Their timid ways do set my lust on fire.

How sweet it is to end it with a kill.
My lack of guilty worry such a thrill.
So rarely do I question my technique
Before I toss a body in the creek.

It’s when I ditch the bloody clothes and go
Back to my wife that suddenly I know
What tempts me into this vocation. I
Believe her harping causes girls to die.

It’s in their eyes that I do see her face
And snap their necks with such a pleasing grace.
For years, she’s often left me worn and vexed.
I’m through! You know … I think she might be next!

– Sherilynn Macale

I swear I’m really not this creepy normally. Maybe I’ve been watching too much Dexter? Anyhoo, please leave your thoughts in the comments below! Otherwise, have a fantastic Thursday evening.

Off to do something interesting that you will never hear about,
XOXO Cheri XOXO

26 Comments »

Ballad of a Serial Killer, a poem written entirely in iambic pentameter.

November 9, 2011 in Creative Writing, Sex

Today at work, I stumbled onto the Wikipedia page for “iambic pentameter“. It’s basically a rhythmic style of verse originally made popular by poets like William Shakespeare and applied to classical poetry — or so the Wikipedia page says. It could totally be lying to me.

Here’s a quick and dirty definition for those of you too lazy to click the link above:

The word “iambic” describes the type of foot that is used (in English, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable). The word “pentameter” indicates that a line has five of these “feet.”

A line of iambic pentameter is five iambic feet in a row:

da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM

Good. Now that you’re all schooled up, you might enjoy this little poem I’ve written in the spirit of iambic pentameter-appreciation. After reading up about it, I felt compelled to try it out myself. I can barely remember whether or not this style of poetry was touched on in the various English classes I’ve taken throughout my life. If so, it certainly wasn’t interesting enough for me to retain.

If you haven’t already guessed, I’m something of a grammar and word-freak. Being able to craft the entire poem below completely in iambic pentameter was extremely satisfying for me.

Yes.
I’m a writing nerd.
Screw you.

… But not before you enjoy this twisted poem:

Ballad of a Serial Killer

Some time ago when traveling yonder shore,
I came upon a sexy little whore.
Her hair so soft, her voice so sweet and tame –
Forgive me for I shan’t reveal her name.

A married man I was before I knew
how nothing’s sweet until you’ve tamed the shrew.
Here in the woods where none could hear her screams,
I did the act I’d only done in dreams.

I tied a rope around her milky wrists.
I felt her writhe and grind her little hips.
Her struggling woke this sleeping beast inside
that until now, I simply chose to hide.

I may have made a terrible mistake
with rules of lust ignored and meant to break.
Or if indeed these rules are set in stone,
why did the whore elect to sweetly moan?

It seems my dark desires do cause delight
for swift surrender came without a fight.
To my amusement, she soon begged for more.
I can’t deny my hunger for the whore.

Clothes asunder, hair and state a mess,
our gasps for breath in tune, no want for rest.
Swivels, turns and urgent clutching fingers,
I tease until the desperation lingers.

At last I gave the wench the joy she sought
while bouncing her atop my rigid 8==D.
When finally our shiv’ring bodies quaked,
I chopped her up and tossed her in the lake.

– Sherilynn Macale

Isn’t creative writing fun, kids? Now it’s your turn to tell me. Leave a comment with your own quickly written poem styled entirely in iambic pentameter, or fill me in on what other cool creative writing exercises you might know of. If you’re too ~~stupid~~ lazy to accomplish this, simply let me know how you think I did with the poem above! Not bad for a first-timer, right?

Off to fulfill prior social obligations,
XOXO Cheri XOXO

23 Comments »

Let’s talk about porn, personal bankers and money.

October 21, 2011 in Adventures, Funny, Sex

This is one of those stories that should probably not be told publicly — I can even hear the groans now. No, Cheri, no! Turn back! But pffft. In light of recent events, I find this story to be incredibly fitting and appropriately, uh, inappropriate.

Remember that story I told you guys a few days ago about how I lost my cellphone when I was dancing in some club, and when I reached in to grab it from my purse, it was gone? Yeah. Well. My phone has this really cute pink wallet-case thing on it that I actually used to stash a bunch of things, including my California ID and my Debit Card. Both of which were stolen along with my phone, obviously.

Because I’m a responsible little person, I stopped into my bank a few days afterwards to discuss replacing that sucker. And being the friendly sort of person that I am, I quickly made friends with a “Personal Banker” as he walked me through how to handle my shitty situation. For the sake of this story, let’s refer to my banker as *Pete.

The dilemma with Pete

Fast forward through a lot of personal introductions involving telling Pete what I do for a living, how I lost my phone, blah-dee-blah, and you’ve reached today where he’s sent me an email saying, “Hey, your replacement card just came in. Come pick it up.” But much more professional-sounding than that, of course.

So today I take off during work to go grab it since banking hours are conveniently only open while normal people with jobs who actually have to use banks don’t have a free moment to leave the office. I meet up with Pete, we get my card set up, and as he’s scrolling through my account he’s like, “So I notice a fee here that came in a few days after your card was actually cancelled.”

Immediately I’m all, “What? Really? How much is it for?”
“$39.99 (USD).” He says.
I’m racking my brain for what I could have possibly spent $40 on in the past week, and I just literally have no idea. “Where is it from?” I ask.
“It says AcceptCharge — that’s it. Does that sound familiar?”
“Uh, no.” I say, pretty damn sure I have no clue what he’s talking about.

He goes into some short speech, throwing out buzzwords like “dispute” and “claim” and blahblah, basically saying he can call in and have it cancelled, when suddenly it hits me – Oh shit. That’s that porn site I subscribed to.

I solemnly swear that I am not a freak.

Okay, so. Here’s where you’re probably like, “Yeah, this definitely sounds like an inappropriate story, Cheri.”

But here’s the thing, guys. It’s not like I’m regularly subscribed to porn. Seriously, I’m not. But uh, there are definitely some sites I’ll curiously look at now and then that happen to be free, and the clips I happen to continue clicking on all belong to this one porn brand or whatever. So I’m like, okay. I’m gonna go check out that brand and see what else it has.

This site ends up having like, all these preview clips or whatever of what looks like fantastic and high quality stuff, and come on — we all look at porn, right? And don’t you kind of sit there going, “I wonder what this full movie looks like?” Or, “What could possibly be so great about paying for this shit?”

And recently, I was all, whatever. I never take myself shopping, I never spend my money on anything but food or video games and booze on the weekends, it’s not like I’m running around getting regular sex anywhere, and I’ve just always wanted to see WTF was behind these paid subscription things, so why not?! A one-month peek won’t kill me.

So yeah.
I subscribed, like, two weeks ago.

I know you’re probably like, “What’s it like? What’s behind the pay-to-play?!”
I’ll tell you.

For all you poor fuckers or under-eighteen-perverts who don’t have your own credit cards or something, let me just say this now: Save your money because paying for porn sites is not worth it.

Probably the only cool thing about actually paying for a porn site is that it lets you download high quality movies to your computer, and trust me — even those aren’t that great. Once you realize that you have unlimited access to porn, it really doesn’t make it as fun as it was when you felt like you were being a cheapskate and watching the free stuff.

Too much of a good thing can definitely make it bad, and honestly, after two or three days in, I stopped watching it.

… On the bright side: Unlimited porn.

Back to the bank

“Would you like me to call in and dispute the payment?” Pete’s asking. Oh god, he can see right through me. Oh god, he’s totally disputed payments like this before. Oh god, he’s gonna think I’m a pervert.

Isn’t it hilarious that a porn site would cleverly disguise its name in your banking statement to be something unassuming like “AcceptCharge” or whatever-the-hell it was? I’m guessing this has more to do with protecting undersexed husbands from their snooping wives rather than preserving the reputations of curiously horny female twentysomethings with their personal bankers. Eep.

But when you’re sitting there wondering if you should dispute the payment or not, you get confused because the porn site has disguised itself way too well, and you end up embarrassing yourself anyway because you wind up sitting with your banker trying to figure out what this mysterious charge is.

:-)

In a poor attempt to save face — I suck at lying, by the way, so I know he thought something was up — I blurt, “No, no! I think I remember what that charge is from, actually!”
“… Ah, okay.” Pete says, leaving it at that.

Thank.
You.
Jesus.

No more smalltalk. Gimme the card.

I thank him profusely for his help and bounce outta there as fast as I can to get back to work. I just barely miss catching a muni — that’s always fun — cursing “Of course” under my breath. When I finally catch one, I plop into a seat with a nice window view and think to myslelf, Wow. I really need to cancel that subscription.

… Either that or actually put it to use, right?

The downside of subscribing to porn sites, however, is that they freaking make it impossible to unsubscribe. It’s like trying to cancel your XBOX Live subscription or something, which is, coincidentally, also a fucking nightmare. These companies want your money, after all.

The sneaky jerks cleverly hide all of the “Cancel Payment” links or “Unsubscribe” buttons so you end up having to go through some sort of phone process just to get this shit to end. And seriously, who wants to sit on the phone and discuss why you’re unsubscribing to a fucking porn site? Really? Come on.

Lesson Learned

Basically, you are all so damn lucky that I’m learning these lessons for you. I just saved you, like, $40 right now. Do not ever subscribe to porn sites. Stick to the crappy clips on free websites that make you think you’re missing out on something — I am speaking from first hand experience, guys. I really am.

Also, don’t lose your wallet once every month.
That’s probably a really good tip.

My bank, by the way, is awesome because they just gave me this fee-waiver thing which basically means that all of my banking with them is free for the rest of my life. Amazing. Not sure how they’d feel about that elite status if they started acquainting me with those mouth-breathing basement-dwellers who watch porn all day.

… Which I swear I do not.
Seriously.
You believe me, right?

And Pete, if you’re reading this, hi.
I swear I’m not weird (*edit: okay, maybe just a little), and I hope this made you laugh.

Off to make the most of my subscription before I attempt to cancel it again,
XOXO Cheri XOXO