"we are all very worried about you", that's what the kinky nightnurse says whilst unzipping my jeans, he says "we" but he means "i", he says "worried" but he means "eager to get into your knickers", i'm just glad i'm no longer trapped in that nuthouse, you can only get raped by a kinky nightnurse so many times before you lose your mind and end up stuck and subjected to his sleaze and sedatives for the rest of your life, like all those gorgeous anorexic orphan boys, who'll be minging and bitter tomorrow; i'm still stuck and subjected to his sleaze and sedatives, but at least we're not in a white room, we're in the wee forest next to the disused factory where they make soap from the fat of whales and seals, or in the shape of whales and seals, or both, i can't remember; i was just minding my own business, i was reading a smug russian novel that i borrowed from wee andy, the copulating pigeons were making it hard to concentrate though, and now i haven't even got a smug russian novel anymore, cos the kinky nightnurse threw it away and the sound of the flying novel wasn't the sound of copulating pigeons at all, or of any other copulating birds for that matter, just the sad lonely sound of rustling pages, they did sound a bit like dead leaves that are being walked on by frolic labradors and their perverted owners; the kinky nightnurse hates nutters who read, he thinks russian novels are gonna give us the strenght to run away from him, as if russian novels have that kind of power, wee andy will be devastated if he's gonna find out that his russian novel was destroyed by a perv, it's beyond repair, it's lying in a puddle of mud and moss and dead leaves, some of the pages are stuck in nearby shrubs, one of the pages is stuck to the kinky nightnurse's raincoat, but he hasn't noticed yet, that's why i'm sniggering, he probably thinks i'm sniggering cos he's touching my cunt, but if it wasn't for that chapter stuck to his mac i'd be crying my heart out, cos there's nothing sadder than being fondled by a cunt in a white coat, even if he isn't wearing a white coat right now, i'm not wearing my smudged apron right now, but that doesn't mean that i'm not a milk bottle stacker at this very moment that i'm wearing blue jeans and an oasis t-shirt and am being stroked by a sturdy kinky nightnurse who hates my guts but worships my genitals, i've got milk bottle stacker written all over my soul, there's no clocking off, but i guess it's different for nurses;he fucks me against a rain-soaked oak tree, i try to concentrate on the bark that's rubbing my back rather than on his cock that's brutalising my bowels, but it's hard; there's a red squirrel hopping in the upper branches of the oak tree, no actually i've been staring in the sun for too long, my sight's damaged beyond repair, it's hopping squirrels for me from now on, probably for the rest of my wretched life, but then the squirrel's gone; the kinky nightnurse is stark naked, i'm sucking his treacherous boner, he doesn't look vulnerable when he's stark naked, that's cos he's evil, and his weapon is a forty-inch boner, and his spunk is poisonous, last time i swallowed it i almost lost my mind, i slept in a sheffielder gutter for a week, i dreamt about dostoyevsky and i was attacked by malicious aboriginals who wanted to skin me, that all sounds like a load of rubbish in retrospect, but it was pretty scary at the time; i swallow his cum nevertheless, i instantly start feeling terribly itchy and paranoid, i'm too scared to put my clothes back on, they might strangle me you know, so i run out of the wee forest stark naked, just praying i don't look too vulnerable, not really praying though, just pleading with the oak trees, i guess that's even worse; there are a few pages of wee andy's russian novel lying on the pavement, the wind sends them flying and i collide with them, i run to wee andy wrapped up in many many pages, but the wind's less ferocious here and it's drizzling, and soon enough i'm stark naked again; there's a blanket lying on one of wee andy's horses, i cautiously approach the hostile beast but when i try to grab the blanket, the beast bites my throat, at least the blood makes me look less stark naked; i knock on wee andy's window, he's quite shocked when he sees me standing on his doorstep with a gaping throat and blood-soaked feet, he calls an ambulance and covers my body with a blanket that never covered any horse.
i'm watching a german soap with my new surrogate father, my new surrogate father is blond and tall and he is a gardener, he's probably perverted cos most gardeners are but that's ok, the women in the soap are gorgeous, if a little hysterical, the men in the soap are all kinky cunts and bent cops, although there is one bearded geezer who seems quite righteous and honest, but he's locked in a cellar, and my surrogate father says that he's gonna get shot, he knows cos the german channel is a few episodes behind the flemish channel, which is a few episodes behind the english channel etc etc, sometimes when my surrogate father has to do the gardens of rich yuppie cunts he breaks into their houses and watches soaps instead, they never notice that he's done nothing in their gardens, cos he pays a few street kids some money to chop off a few branches and clip a few hedges; the gardener has a name but when he told me his name his voice was smothered by a passing lorry, so i asked him again but his voice was then smothered by a lawn mower, i asked him for a third time but i still didn't catch it cos i was distracted by the sound of copulating cats in the distance, and after that i was too shy to ask again, that's why i'm calling him "daddy", which he seems to like; daddy fetches a bottle of white wine from the kitchen, his living room is tiny and musty and filled with porn videos, but just cos he watches a lot of porn that doesn't make him an evil person or anything, of course he's a potential rapist, but so are all those geezers who never watch porn, so i'm not too worried about his porn collection, even if most of it involves rodents and emaciated ten-year-old asian boys; we're drinking wine and i tell him something more about myself, cos he asked me to tell him something more about myself, i leave out all the gruesome stuff and find that there's little to tell, so i lie and tell him that i've got two horses and that i sell spreadsheets for a living and that my grandfather's a welsh taxidermist and that i once saved two wee french boys from drowning and that i love to paint, especially seabirds in their death throes; and that my mother is a black nurse who has to work sixteen hour shifts but never moans about it and when she gets home she reads russian stories to her ten children, but they aren't bleak or grotesque stories, they are cosy stories, no one's ever hungry and noone ever dies; my father died in a fire sadly, every week we visit his grave and put gladioli on it cos those were his favourite flowers; oh and there are four-leaved clovers on my bedroom curtains and i've got an alsatian who can do the dishes and hoovers the whole house every wednesday, though admittedly he often just humps the vacuum cleaner for hours on end, his name's porridge, do you think that's a daft name for an alsatian?, my surrogate father thinks that's a silly name for an alsatian and he pours me another glass of wine, there's something snorting in his corridor, it sounds like a randy horse, but there's not enough room for a randy horse in his corridor, so maybe it's in my head, or maybe it's standing on the doorstep, my surrogate father tells me something about himself, cos i asked him to tell me something about himself, it's all gruesome stuff: his father bludgeoned his mother to death with a garden rake when he was ten, afterwards he raped the wee boy and tried to drown him in a barrel filled with eels, his neighbour saved him just in time, the eels gave him a terrible rash though that he didn't get rid off until two years ago, despite the ugly stinking rash his neighbour who had adopted him raped him every bleeding night, teachers fondled him, social workers patronised and arsefucked him, priests whispered dodgy sermons in his ear whilst shoving crucifixes and candles up his wee arse, everywhere he went people wanted to bait and maim his wee genitals, until his genitals stopped being wee and he was old enough then to do a little baiting and maiming himself, mostly cats and anorexic orphans; i suggest we go outside and admire other people's gardens, cos there are thousand performing seals belching upstairs or in my head and they sound like they're in a lot of pain, but my daddy doesn't want to admire other people's gardens, he wants to fuck me and afterwards buy me new clothes and rip them to shreds and fuck me once more, so that's what he does: he fucks me on his ragged mud-stained rug, when his cock enters me it feels a bit like being woken up at two am by a spiteful junkie who's brandishing a baseball bat and thinks i owe him money and affection; i'm sucking his cock but it doesn't smell of flowers or freshly mowed lawns, it doesn't even smell of weeds, it smells of brownish ointments and dust on porn flicks.
Delphine says, "my full name's Delphine Lecompte, i'm 23 (born 22nd january, 1981), i was born in east london but moved to belgium a few years ago, oh and i thank my french name to my father (who hailed from lille), both my parents are dead; i used to stack milk bottles for a living, but now i'm back in the hooking game."