Listen to Helm read the entirety of 'Fetish,' with sonic spookiness by Brother Bramm, here:
When the UPS guy arrives, Bob scurries into his bedroom. Drone-like, his disembodied voice tells me to sign for the package, and I make a mental note: he’s scared shitless of being outed as a perv.
I open the door and UPS greets me with a stiff hello and no eye contact. Right away I see why: there’s a stamp on the cardboard box that reads, The Fantasy Warehouse, Making Your Dreams Cum True.
“It’s for my Dad,” I say, signing the electronic pad with the electronic pen.
“T. M. I.,” UPS says. “Too much information.”
“Is there any such thing?” I ask.
Bob is in his bedroom. When I enter, I see that he’s cleaned the syrup off; his leather crotch gleams in the incandescent lighting. I hand him the package, and there’s liberation in his green-ringed eyes.
“Oh, baby,” he says, tearing open the box. “Come to Daddy.” Without warning he lifts off his chain mail top and flings it to the floor. He shoehorns the leather chaps with thick fingers, and I’m suddenly looking at Bob in the buff.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
That’s when I decide to get a job.
Have any questions? Contact the shop owner.