Life Of Viv

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Viv watched the small dog do a shit in the street, then went up to the shit and got down on his hands and knees and started to rub his face in it, groaning. He picked up the dog’s shit and smeared it all over his face and hair. A passer by walked up to Viv and exclaimed with alarm:

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing mate?” Viv replied in a breathless voice.

“I’m not sure really, I’m a bit confused and desperate!”

It was a cry for help. Viv ran down the street covered in shit, and ran to the adventure playground up the road. When he got there he threw himself down the slide face first, smearing the slide with shit. Parents looked on aghast at the confused man, trying to shield their children’s curious eyes. Viv screamed “CUNTS!!!!” at no one in particular and gibbered to himself hysterically. He moved over to the monkey bars and began to swing from them with his shitty hands, yelping like a monkey. He thought to himself that he might get some little round sunglasses like John Lennon. Hardly anyone wore them anymore. Parents started to frantically ring the police from their mobile phones, so it was time for Viv to move on. He was not getting nicked for any fucker! He winked slyly at a young mum then sprinted away as fast as his little legs would carry him.

 

Next he went into Woolworth’s and threw himself as hard as he could into a rack of kids’ clothes, knocking them to the floor and ruining them with shit. The staff were terrified and didn’t really know what to do. Suddenly Viv pulled his trousers and pants down and started to shit on the floor. It was quite hard to push out, so he grunted and strained as loud as he could. The turd coiled out of his arse and lay on the floor steaming. He hooted with satisfaction and wiped his anus on a brightly patterned child’s t-shirt. Staff and customers were paralysed with shock as Viv took off again, dashing down the high street stinking of shit. As he ran he thought how he would like a pet. He would talk to his Dad about it, he pondered, as he made his way to his father’s house.

 

Viv sat in his Dad’s front room drinking a cup of tea. He had just told his father what he had been doing that day. His Dad didn’t really want him in the house as he reeked of shit and he seemed hysterical, dangerous even, but humoured him out of fear and concern. His father shook his head slowly, despairing. 

“I’m sorry, but I wash my hands of you son” he sighed. 

“Well, that’s funny, because I really need to wash my hands after handling shit all day! Haaaaaaaa!”

Viv found himself hilarious. He got up and ripped his Dad’s curtains down then kicked the TV over. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake Viv...” His Dad was starting to cry with despair. Viv did another shit, this time in his own trousers. His father hoped all this would soon be over and he could clean the house up and get back to some semblance of normality. He was used to Viv’s episodes. After a few minutes of running up and down the stairs screaming, shit running out of his trouser legs, Viv became bored and left, his Dad slumped on the sofa sobbing. Viv was going to go home and find information about pets on the Internet. He thought he might want a little monkey friend, a monkey of his very own!

 

Viv had found a website that sold pet monkeys, and shipped them anywhere in the world within 28 days guaranteed. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He bought himself a little spider monkey for two hundred pounds, money he had from his Mum’s will. His mum had died of dysentery when Viv was very young – she had literally drowned in her own faeces whilst doing volunteer work at an orphanage in Kenya. Viv had been with her as a young baby, and the imprint of shit and death had vividly burned itself into his impressionable young mind. It had turned out to be an incredibly powerful influence on the confused young lad, causing a subliminal shift in his entire psychological makeup. Now he would have his own little spider monkey pal, and the two of them would take on the world together and shit anywhere they liked. Suddenly, Viv smashed a glass into his forehead as hard as he could, causing blood to stream into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He started weeping and shaking violently, blood pouring everywhere, all over his computer keyboard and down onto his filthy stained carpet. In time, he pulled himself together and the wound stopped bleeding. His face was caked in dried blood – he certainly did look a right old state!

 

In bed that night, Viv had a very vivid dream. He was in a farmyard looking around in a panic. He was looking for something he had mislaid, but he wasn’t sure what. There was a pile of breezeblocks over by a barn. He walked over tentatively and looked down into the hole in one of the breezeblocks. Suddenly, dozens of hens flew out of the hole towards him, shouting in the voices of men. The hens had the eyes of humans and beaks full of strong white teeth, and were in some kind of obscene rage. They set upon him furiously and overpowered him, knocking him to the ground. Somehow, he wasn’t disturbed by this, and lay there peacefully as the birds attacked him. They were tearing the flesh off his face with their hideous beaks, laughing heartily like drunken revellers at a working men’s club. Two of the hens plucked out each of his eyes and crunched them like gobstoppers, at which point Viv woke up with a start. He was covered in sweat and had shat himself. After a couple of seconds of disorientation, he started roaring with laughter. What a cool dream! It was time to have a little adventure!

 

He quickly got out of bed, naked, sweaty and covered with both fresh and dried excrement, and headed next door. It was about four in the morning. He picked up a stone and smashed the window, taking care to remove as much glass as possible so he wouldn’t wound himself when climbing through. He clambered through the window into his neighbour’s living room. He stood there proudly and surveyed the beautifully decorated lounge. 

“Wake up you fucking cunts!” he screamed, at the top of his silly effeminate voice. The owner of the house came running down the stairs and entered the living room, full of adrenalin. 

“What’s going on?” yelled the heavy-set middle-aged man, bewilderment and anger in his tired eyes. 

“I’m really sorry,” whined Viv, “I just need someone to try and understand me. I’ve had such a hard life and I’m overcome with confusion a lot of the time”. Viv shivered and looked at the man with sorrowful eyes. 

“You think that’s bad, you cunt?” shouted the man in a gruff masculine voice, “well have a look at this”.

He opened his robe, displaying his boxer-shorted stocky body. Viv looked at the man’s legs. They were tiny, spindly and withered, like gnarly branches of a willow tree. They bent in on themselves and his feet pointed in different directions. It was quite a sight to behold,

this strong barrel-shaped torso atop these freakishly twisted, disfigured limbs. 

“This goes to show what a man can truly deal with when he puts his mind to it, buckles down and gets on with life without complaining. I run three businesses and I have slept with some of the world’s most beautiful women. When I visited Vietnam, I killed a man for fun. I ran a long blade through his stomach. Now, if I can do that with these disgusting appendages hanging from my powerful frame, then I don’t want to hear a fucking word of your self-pity, you little prick”. 

“Wow” - Viv was amazed by the man’s candid and forthright nature – “do you like monkeys? Can I come and talk to you when I need some help and support?” 

“Of course you can son. I’m not bothered either way about monkeys, really. My name’s Ron. Don’t worry about the window, you little prick! Now get out of here!” Ron ruffled Viv’s hair in a fatherly manner. Maybe all Viv needed was a strong male role model other than his own father. He bade farewell to his new friend and went back to his squalid shit-stained bed.

 

It seemed like he was waiting for an eternity, but finally Viv’s spider monkey had arrived! Rabid with excitement, he tore open the padded envelope and removed the small monkey, his eyes aflame with joy. 

“Alright you cunt”, grunted the monkey, “my name’s Martin Kenner. Who are you? You stink of shit, by the way.” 

“My name’s Viv”, squealed the disturbed young man. “I am really happy to welcome you to my home. You will become a great little friend to me in the months to come. I hope you will provide the support and understanding that I’ve always craved!” 

“Steady on, you little queer” spat the cynical, gruff little monkey, “have you got any fucking drink?”

 

Martin Kenner and Viv sat on the shit-encrusted sofa in Viv’s squalid living room, watching a cookery programme, drinking cans of cider. Viv could hardly hold his drink and was feeling a little giddy, a couple of cans down. He was overcome with joy and kept gazing at the little monkey incredulously. Martin Kenner sighed wearily and rolled a joint. 

“So, what’s the fucking deal then you prick? I’m merely a primate, but I’ll be fucked if I don’t recognise depravity and an inability to cope when I see it. What’s with all the shit everywhere? Are you some kind of mental case?” The spider monkey didn’t mince his words, and Viv was taken aback to say the least. He started crying, as he had never expected his own pet to be so tactless. Martin lit his joint and inhaled greedily, exhaling with his eyes pointed to heaven, shaking his head. Viv was lost for words and sobbed and bawled until his body shook violently. He lost control of his bowels and rich brown shit ran through his trouser fabric, a torrent of excrement spreading rapidly all over the long-suffering sofa and soaking in. The unbalanced young man couldn’t stop shitting – literally litres of stool poured from his arse. 

“For crying out loud…” Martin Kenner wearily got up off the sofa and trudged up the stairs, to get away from this weird, stinking little freak. Boy, he sure had got the short straw here, he thought to himself, this kid needs sorting out, big time…

 

By the morning Viv had composed himself and was feeling positive. Him and his new monkey pal were getting to know each other, and they were getting on okay, all told. Viv explained about his childhood trauma and how his behaviour could be easily accounted for.  He also made it crystal clear that he would not stop doing exactly what he wanted – he liked shitting everywhere and causing a stir out in town! Martin Kenner conceded that he was quite an abrasive personality, and sometimes could come across as a tad gauche. He was genuinely concerned for his new owner, though. He seemed really traumatised by past experiences and needed some closure in a lot of areas in his life. Something had to be done to give this distressed young man some hope. He had a vague idea of a plan, but he needed a bit of back up. Martin recalled Viv mentioning the friendly, straight-talking crippled man next door. 

“Hey Viv me old son, fancy going round Ron’s for a bit?”

 

Martin Kenner had managed to get Ron to one side in the kitchen and have a sly word whilst they prepared some martinis. Ron was impressed by the smart little spider monkey’s idea, and was generally quite taken with the firm-but-fair little primate. He had met a few guys like that over the years, and they had always done well in business. Perhaps he could persuade Kenner to invest in one of his car yards and possibly do a little management work for him, he thought absent-mindedly whilst pouring gin. Anyway, it was settled. It was a sound plan, it would do Viv a lot of good, and what’s more it could be a fun little bonding exercise for the three pals. The small monkey and the disabled entrepreneur glanced at each other conspiratorially and tried to act natural, bringing the drinks through to Ron’s luxuriously decorated lounge. Viv was sat slack-jawed, engrossed by a particularly gripping episode of Enjy Benjy. Shit was bubbling through his trouser fabric and running down his pale legs onto his socks. He stank like a sewer. 

“Viv, how’s about we go and pay your Dad a visit?” suggested Ron, subtly raising one eyebrow towards his new monkey associate…They turned up outside Viv’s father’s terraced house. The journey through town had been eventful to say the least – Viv had thrown his shit at an elderly man and had also put both his arms inside a dog shit bin and pulled out a couple of handfuls of turds, which he then rubbed in his hair while a young girl looked on crying. It had been a right old do! Viv was excited about going round his old man’s as he could always smash stuff up and have a laugh when he was there. His father answered the door and before he could say anything, was roughly bundled into the house by Ron and the monkey, and was shoved against the back wall. Viv’s Dad was consumed with panic, frozen with shock. 

“Right Viv you little cunt,” yelled little Martin Kenner, “now’s your time. Cleanse your soul! Get it out of your system! Wreck the house! Destroy it!” 

“Yeah, and when you’re done, smash fuck out of your old man! Don’t worry, we’ll hold him here! It’s all under control mate!” added Ron, nodding towards Viv in encouragement. Viv’s eyes widened and his face fell into a broad grin. He took his Dad’s new TV and threw it out of the window, the tube exploding with a bang. He stamped on the DVD player, wrecking the expensive Japanese machine in seconds, as his father looked on in horror. Then all the pictures came down off the walls and were hurled across the room. All the while, shit streamed excitedly from Viv’s arse like a can of putrid silly string. Shit sprayed all over the leather sofa. Viv grabbed an ornamental knife from the wall and tore the thousand-pound sofa apart dementedly. He picked up the dining chairs and smashed them against the walls and floor, turning them to splinters. Martin Kenner and Ron restrained Viv’s father, who was moaning in despair. After obliterating the contents of the lounge, the unstable young lad turned his attentions to his Dad. He headbutted him in the nose and kneed him in the balls, causing him to slump to the floor, winded. He then kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could, with his two friends yelling words of encouragement from the sidelines. Viv’s father groaned in pain. 

“For fuck’s sake Viv…” 

“Shut up you prick! It’s not fair! Waaaaah!” Viv screamed cathartically like a little spoilt baby as he pulled his Dad up off the floor and repeatedly walloped him in the guts. He carried on until he was out of breath. Viv’s Dad lay there in a lot of pain, too battered to make a noise, internally cursing his stupid destructive son. Viv took a deep breath. He felt completely at peace with the world. He had stopped shitting! No more excrement was running from his arse! Everything was calm. The three pals said sorry to Viv’s father and left the house.

 

When Viv got home, he tidied up his entire house, cleaning all the shit stains with bleach and a pressure washer. Ron and Martin Kenner could not believe their eyes. He had sorted out his own personal appearance. He was a new man! Even his voice had changed, from the annoying effeminate tones to a more masculine, confident burr. He got a job helping run one of Ron’s companies and six months later was incredibly wealthy and fulfilled, married to a gorgeous model.