Story 60 of 💯: Joe’s Place wasn’t where you went looking for a friend unless you had a death wish. But Hank owed Sean too much to care. — The bitter melancholy of loneliness and despair infected every square inch of Joe’s Place. It was once a happy, bustling bar filled with the raucous laughter of well-paid working men looking to blow off steam before heading home to their wives and children. It was a short respite between the…

Story 59 of 💯: The perfect way to end a good workout in the gym is to have a great workout in the steam room. — I’d been eyeing the new member’s bulge in his shorts my entire workout. He stood around six-foot-four, olive complexion and muscles bulging out from everywhere. I could tell from the outline in the clingy material he was long, thick, and uncut. With every squat thrust, my asshole puckered, wishing he…

Story 58 of 💯: At our age, it’s even more important than ever to pay respect to our fallen brethren. After all, they may have left the widow rich and horny. — A few years ago, it seemed like it was a funeral a week for my friends and family. The reaper was picking us off like flies. The funerals have slowed now, but only because there are so few of us tough old bastards left. Death is still my constant companion…

Story 57 of 💯: When the big guy calls, you’d better make sure to be there on time. — Fuck, it’s hard to write when they’ve got you locked up, so I haven’t been too prolific recently, but I managed to smuggle a pen and a notebook up my ass after my last conjugal visit with Emily (Little Miss Right Now). …

Story 56 of 💯: When Smelly Ratfucker finally gets what he deserves, the whole city comes to the party. And everybody brings matches. — So, you dumb fuckers liked my story about the death of the Ratfucker, it seems. Some dubmasses even want to learn more about the pustule on the asshole of society, and who am I not to try to make an extra $0.25 from the misery of Smelly ”Smillew Rahcuef” Ratfucker…

Story 55 of 💯: The moral of the story is to make sure the old drunk gets his whiskey. Or is it? — “I come here every fucking day, and I pay every fucking day. Hell, I even leave a tip for you lazy ass motherfuckers. Fuckin’ layabouts. Lazy fuckin’ sods!” “I’m sorry, Jack, but the bar is busy tonight. Hank is pouring as fast as he can, but some sorority babes just…

Story 55 of 💯: A gruesome death is the only prize of being a slow learner on the mean streets of Paris. — It’s already fuckin’ Saturday? I was supposed to have this tale finished on Wednesday and published on Thursday. Motherfucker! Better late than pregnant, my momma always said. She would say it with a sad, wistful look in her eyes as she beat the living hell out of me for doing…

Story 54 of 💯: Harken, the apocalypse is nigh, and your false profits of salvation will not save you. Nothing can save you, for the true prophecies are unfolding. — The world will burn, and I will perish the same as you. But let me reassure you, the horror in my eyes and the laughter on what’s left of my tongue betray my intimate knowledge of humanity’s end. From out of the fire will arise a new dynasty.

Story 53 of 💯: Rules are rules, and friends are friends, even if they fucked your wife. — Walking into my usual haunt, I scan the crowd of the usual lowlives and reprobates, looking for Sam. My best friend, Sam. My drinking buddy, Sam. I spot him, unsurprisingly, at your usual table, with an open bottle of whiskey in front of him. “You fucked my wife!” Sam looked…