Books by Jason Earls:
Underground Guitar Handbook Naked Lesbian Stalker & other stories Mathematical Bliss How to Become a Guitar Player from Hell Red Zen Naked Lesbian Stalker & Other Stories Zombies of the Red Descent Heartless Bastard In Ecstasy Cocoon of Terror ERROR_Cyberpunk(); Please help me out and purchase one of my books below Thank you! (Fugly Man Story on next page)
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/how-tobecome-a-guitar-player-from-hell/1048343 http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/naked-l esbian-stalker/7407219
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/underg round-guitar-handbook/7760397 http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/concret e-primes/7277732
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/mathe matical-bliss/6542538
The Fugly Man
by Jason Earls
The fugly man worked as a dishwasher. The fugly man was 29 years old and lived with his mother. The fugly man’s mother took every cent of his paycheck on Friday, the bitch. The fugly man rode an old red bicycle made in the 60s to work. The fugly man was a virgin and weighed only 98 pounds. The fugly man wore the same clothes to work every day: a white t-shirt and wrangler blue jeans. The fugly man had oily black hair, big ears, large thick glasses, skinny arms and legs, and big yellow teeth that shined flourescently whenever he smiled, which was rare since the fugly man never had any fun. I felt sorry for the fugly man, I wanted to help him, I wanted him to gain weight, I wanted him to attract a member of the opposite sex for companionship and fornication (a girlfriend), I wanted the fugly man to move away from his domineering mother who stole all his money, I wanted him to lose his virginity, I wanted him to become a “real man” by the time he was 30, I wanted him to “succeed” in life, whatever that meant, because I liked the fugly man and wanted his life to change for the better, so I formulated a little plan. First I put the fugly man on a workout routine and told him to eat a lot at work I had him drink big glasses of milk and eat big plates of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes and green beans and on his days off from the restaurant I had the fugly man do workouts at my house with weights I had him perform bench presses curls power cleans squats pullovers military presses clean and jerks chinups bent over rows shrugs flyes upright rows pushdowns crunches and other exercises I also gave the fugly man a haircut myself but it did not turn out very well. The fugly man worked out hard. He ate big. He was devoted and dedicated to my plan. “Good job, fugly man,” I said one day. After one month of the fugly man eating and working out a lot, we weighed him on a highly accurate scale and he had gone from 98 pounds to 99 pounds – a gain of exactly one pound. “Jesus Christ,” I prayed, “This is going to be a lot of work, I’m going to have to improve my plan a little bit.” One night after a date with my buxom girlfriend Michelle (on which I scored big), I got an idea. I purchased some illegal steroids from one of the local drug dealers and snuck them into the restaurant the next day. I went back to where the fugly man’s dishwashing machine was located. The fugly man began telling me a strange dream he had in which he was manufacturing methamphetamine with a barbecue grill and also rolling humongous doughnuts powdered with the drug, and when the fugly man turned to reach for a dish, I stuck a syringe filled with powerful steroids into his neck and pushed the plunger down quickly. The steroids went into the fugly man’s system and immediately went to work.
“OUCH! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!” screamed the fugly man, after I pulled out the syringe and hid it behind my back. “Just some vitamins. Don’t worry about it,” I said. He looked at me skeptically as he rubbed the small hole in his neck where the needle had penetrated his flesh. The next day the fugly man came into work and he looked totally different, his body didn’t fit into his white t-shirt and wrangler jeans anymore, his biceps were bulging, his pectorals were pumped, his triceps were huge, his trapezius muscles were standing tall, his abdominals were ripped, his head and face had even changed a little bit too. The fugly man was not fugly anymore. He was studly now. Almost super-studly. He had metamorphosized from fugly man into studly man, but it still wasn’t quite enough. He wanted to tell me something, but before he could say a word I thought, One more dose of roids should do it. I went out to my car, filled another syringe with illegal steroids, re-entered the restaurant, and when studly man was not looking I injected them into his neck again, pressing down the plunger with speed and agility. He screamed again and this time his body really accelerated into extreme growth his biceps pectorals and triceps quickly doubled in size his legs formed humongous quadricep muscles that ripped out of his pants his weight increased to over 200 pounds of solid rippling muscle. Studly man stood there with his clothing heaped on the floor wearing only tight red jockey shorts with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the back he looked down at his gargantuan arms and legs he flexed them and grinned and said, “Wow, my bod really looks incredible now. Those vitamins you gave me are exceedingly excellent.” Then studly man strutted through the folding doors of the kitchen into the main dining area of the eating establishment. He stopped in the center of the floor and flexed his muscles yet again, striking several bodybuilding poses. The slutty waitresses soon gathered round him and gawked and sighed at his bulging muscles. They also looked at the large bulge in the front of his tight red shorts since his penis was fully erect from all the steroids in his system. The studly man strutted around in a little circle grinning and posing for everyone in the restaurant. Then one of the oldest waitresses came up and squeezed his bulge. He quickly grabbed her and pulled her close and stuck his tongue down her throat. She fainted and two other waitresses who were watching the scenario swooned and fell to the floor. The studly man who had previously been fugly man strutted out of the restaurant, squeezing his muscular buns together as he walked, and everyone in the restaurant had their eyes locked in on him as they remained dead-silent. Then I realized that I had succeeded.
I had helped the fugly man turn into studly man and hence he had achieved victory over everyone and everything. And now the entire world was his prize. -end-
Bio: Jason Earls is the author of the Underground Guitar
Handbook, Mathematical Bliss, Naked Lesbian Stalker & Other Stories, Red Zen (taught by Prof. Robert Siegle at Virginia Tech), Cocoon of Terror (Afterbirth Books), Heartless Bastard In Ecstasy, How to Become a Guitar Player from Hell, If(Sid_Vicious == TRUE && Alan_Turing == TRUE) {ERROR_Cyberpunk(); }, and 0.136101521283655... all available at Amazon.com and other online book stores. His fiction and mathematical work have been published in Red Scream, M-Brane SF, Yankee Pot Roast, the Magazine of Bizarro Fiction, Scientia Magna, three of Clifford Pickover’s books, Mathworld.com, AlienSkin, Recreational and Educational Computing, Escaping Elsewhere, Neometropolis, Thirteen, Dogmatika, Prime Curios, the Online Encyclopedia of Integer Sequences, OG’s Speculative Fiction, Nocturnal Ooze, Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens, and other publications. He currently resides in Oklahoma with his wife, Christine.