The apartment building is cozy and dung-colored. Five little identical two-bedroom units, standing side-by-side separated by toilet paper walls, and the people within: degenerate. The rectangular boxlike structure backs up to a similar complex, and the alley between the two has been sectioned off with 7-foot-tall plywood fencing to create a jail cell-sized patio for every residence. The walls between the apartments are so thin, if your neighbor comes down his stairs you think he’s coming down yours, and the brushing of teeth is a common morning buzz. Most of the occupants hate each other, and the ones who don’t only obliquely tolerate each other in the shack of a coin-operated laundry room. People know each other’s names, but they don’t interact directly. They subtly compete with each other, and everybody’s dirt poor. The rent is outrageous.
Dan in unit four wakes up to his neighbor Peggy’s declaration of ecstasy at 6:30 am.
“Pile-drive your elephant trunk cock into my sweaty, little hole!”
Dan rolls over onto his back and begins to masturbate halfheartedly. His wife, the frigid Cathy, snores next to him, undisturbed and unaware.
“I’m impaled on your turd sword!”
The “turd sword” imagery kills it for Dan, and he rolls over on his side to spoon his wife and cup her sleeping breast. She shudders awake.
“Danny, it’s too early; let’s sleep a little longer.”
“I can’t; Peg is impaled on Larry’s turd sword again.”
So, Dan gets up and spanks it in the shower and then goes downstairs to rip bongloads, waiting for his wife to scurry off to work and thinking about how to battle those pesky neighbors. As soon as Cathy vacates, Dan puts on porn and cranks the rent-to-own surround-sound. Dan doesn’t work. He’s like many of us: waiting for something besides work to happen.
Dan goes to Costco and buys an industrial tub of potato salad and a toilet plunger. He leaves the porn rocking while he’s gone, but turns it down when he gets back. He’s got a better idea. For the next hour and a half, Dan busies himself recording snippets of female porn moans and quotes, one after the other, onto an audio cassette, filling up the whole tape, both sides.
Dan flips the tape deck on auto-reverse. He peels back the plastic lid to the tub of potato salad and positions the microphone directly above it. Then alternatively working his finger on the PLAY/PAUSE button and thrusting the toilet plunger in a violent downward motion directly into the yellow potato slop, he creates a tremendous moist, suction-like fucking sound as well as mega-loud female hollers of satisfaction and encouragement.
“Dump that cock into me! Dump it! Dump it! Dump it!”
It’s only up to Dan to supply the male improvisation and commands.
“Uuugggghhhh! Take it like a whore! Ugh! Oh yeah? Back then they didn’t want me, ugh, huh, now I’m hot they all up on me!”
It’s the loudest fuck the apartment building has ever experienced. The crowd is on their feet. And they all saw Cathy leave for work at 7:30. They can only assume that Dirty Dan’s got a young chippy up there getting rectally re-built.
Larry’s already in his car on his way to Chinatown to get some roman candles, liters of Astroglide, and a dive bar whore. The war has only just begun.