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I'm a "Hand Hooker."

Life is uber-sucking for me lately.

As you know, my folks are divorcing after 35 miserable years together.

On top of that, my roommate is getting her own place, so I'm going to have to find my own place soon.

And now, just when things look like they couldn't get any worse. The fuckers in Connecticut decide to raise taxes on cigarettes.

How cruel is that? Taxing the hell out of something that they know I cannot live without. What do they expect, for me to just kick it?

To any non-smokers out there, imagine your state reps taxing air, and then uping it 6 times a year.

I'm now going to have to pay $12 a pack, or something. Which, sadly, is forcing me to do things that I'm not proud of to support my addiction.

Namely, giving handjobs to strange men in the park.

Sure, I can just hear you all now. "Eeeww Jon, that's NASTY!"

Yes, sounds bad doesn't it? But until any of you have felt the pleasure of pure nicotine goodness, you'd understand that the rolled tobacco is not just a vice.

It's a friend.

A best friend.

It's your lover.

Now, believe-you-me. I didn't go rushing into the handjob business. This new part-time job of mine was a last resort. I mean, I've already given up other luxeries in my life, such as heating my apartment, buying soap, and various medications, but now with this new tax hike, I have nothing else to give up.............except my hand that is!

To those of you who aren't in the know, let me clue you in on the life of a "hand hooker."

First, you head out to the sleaziest park in town. Usually around midnight, never before. The Flagpoles (that's what we call the guys soliciting the handjobs. The guys that actually do the deed are called Jerks.) never show up before 12AM.

Anyways, you just plant your ass on a park bench and wait for the Flagpoles to show up. Usually what happens is that a Flagpole will sit on another bench opposite you, and size you up to see if you're a "Jerk."

A series of jestures will confirm to each other that you are indeed "Flagpole" and "Jerk."

For instance, Flagpole will make a fist and bend over, pretending that fist is your penis, he'll mock the act of anal sex and look for your responce.

Because I have a few months to go before the state increases the price on cigs before I need to do anything like that. I jesture that I'm not interested in "doin' da' butt!" by shaking my head. Then I'll make a fist and jesture like I'm jerking his penis to let him know what I am willing to do.

He'll usually try to barter something more than just a jerk. Like, he'll make a fist (universal symbol of a penis...when you'er sitting in a park at midnight, anyways) and pull it to and from his mouth, while simulating the head of my penis hitting the side of his cheek by using his tounge. This is asking me if I'd be up for a little poke in the mouth.

Again, I don't need to go there just yet. A few handjobs a night will get me a pack, so I again shake my head, and give the handjob jesture.

After I do about 8 or 9 of these a night I'm all set for a pack of Marlboro Methol Utral Lights, baby!

And sometimes on a good night, I can go to the sperm bank and squeeze my shirt into a cup for a few extra dollars.

That's rich, baby!

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