“Zero F*cks Given” (Scene 5)

This is from the beginning of Dave Lundy’s new novel (still in development) called “Zero F*cks Given”, a prequel to the best-selling comedy “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery”.

Zabka pressed his foot between the naked trespasser’s shoulder-blades, keeping him down on the floor. Bob and Magnum stood nearby, scratching their heads.

“Where the hell is Satan?!” Zabka yelled. “I want to know who this fucktard is!” He pushed his foot down harder. “Where in-the-fuck did you come from?!”

The deviant wriggled — his angry screams muffled by the soiled sock in his mouth.

“Goddamnit! Shut-the-fuck-up when I’m asking you a question!” Zabka kicked the guy in the spleen.

Magnum raised his hand. “I gotta question. Does this plastic-sex-doll-thing count as a woman in the house? It does, right? And like, shouldn’t we write this down somewhere official? For record-keeping purposes?”

Bob massaged his chin. “Yeaaah, so it sounds like we need to lay down some contest ground-rules.” He leaned against the door entry. “The first rule — and probably the most important — is that the woman must have a pulse. Sound reasonable?” He waited for them to nod in agreement. “The second rule is that someone else must be here to confirm it. I don’t trust any of you fuckers to…”

Two arms wrapped around Bob’s neck from behind. Panic shot from his eyes and a gargling scream rang from his throat. He buckled forward, twisting 180 degrees, and fell backward, squashing the person choking him into Zabka’s prisoner.

Bob rolled over and saw that his assailant was short and, best guess, was from Thailand. As he tried unsuccessfully to identify the Thai person’s gender, he or she laid there wheezing and sucking air — the wind clearly knocked out of them.

Magnum was on full-alert, bouncing around in circles like Bluto Blutarsky before they took Neidermeyer’s horse into Dean Wormer’s office. “Who’s next?! Bring it!”

Zabka pulled Bob up from the ground and yelled at the newest intruder, “How many more of you maniacs are there?!” He used his foot to keep both of the strangers down.

The gender-neutral Thai yelled, “You fucka! You no belong!”

Bob shook his head. “What a fuckin’ debacle. Are we sure we’re even in the right house? This is messed up.”

A faint noise came from above — like someone strumming an acoustic guitar. Instinctively, they looked up and followed the sound through the walls while it made its way down the rickety stairs. Slowly, as it got louder, they recognized the riff from “Locomotive Breath” — gin gin gin gin, gin, gin — being repeated over and over again.

Magnum had his dukes up, anticipating a rumble.

Bob thought to himself, This imbecile ain’t sneaking-up on us. He grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon — the naked guy’s boombox — and got ready to hurl it if needed.

Zabka applied additional pressure to the Thai’s sternum while making the shhh-signal.

Quietly, they waited…

Then it came into the room — a guy dressed only in boxers, his eyes as red as the devil’s. He saw the ambush awaiting him and, after a noticeably delayed reaction, ceased playing the riff.

Zabka, Bob, and Magnum lowered their guard.

Bob said, “What the fuck, Satan?! Who are these guys?! And why are they in our house?!”

Satan laughed like a snake, “Sss, sss, sss,” if it were possible for a snake to get stoned and laugh. “These are our roommates for the summer.” He pointed at the genderless Asian. “That’s Narong.” He then pointed at the naked guy underneath Narong. “And the dude you tied up — very creatively I might add — is Mike.”

Magnum asked, “And when exactly were you planning to share this information with us?”

“When the time was right… which I guess was just then.”

Zabka took his foot off of the captives and Narong sprung to his feet. “These fuckers are damn lucky I didn’t send ’em to the emergency room.”

Bob points his chin at Narong. “Is this one a dude or a chick… or a combo? I don’t even know what’s going on here. Can someone please explain?”

Narong got on his toes and tried to get in Bob’s face. “I man! What you, fucka?!” He then spat a loogie and nailed Bob between the eyes.

After a brief moment of shock, Bob wiped off the sticky saliva and punched Narong in the mouth, scuffing his knuckles in the process. He shook his hand in pain as it began to bleed.

Magnum looked at Satan and asked, “So what are you doing with the rent you’re collecting? I assume you are collecting rent, right? We’ve all been paying our share this summer even though we’re not up here.”

Satan took off his acoustic guitar and set it down. “Don’t worry, fellas. I’ve been putting Mike’s money into an account that I’ll use for our utilities until it runs out. That work?”

“Why only Mike’s?” Magnum asked. “Why not Narong’s?”

“Because Narong is one of our roommates.” Satan laughed again like a stoned snake.

Bob stood tall. “Wait a minute, I got some issues with that. I knew you had someone lined up, but this guy?”

“Either he’s our roommate or you can pay double in rent. What’ll it be?”

“No, I can’t do that,” Bob conceded. “But he better not ever jump on me again.”

Satan shrugged as though to say he couldn’t make any guarantees. He then got back to his original question. “So, are you guys good with using Mike’s rent money toward utilities?”

His official roommates nodded in agreement.

Zabka said, “As long as, in essence, we’re getting paid outta this, I’m good.”

“Yeah, I look at it as beer-money,” Bob added.

Zabka took the sock out of Mike’s mouth and pounded his hand on the bed. “This is my mattress… I best not find any jizz on it.”

Mike, still hogtied, lifted his chin off the floor and looked up. “No, no, you won’t. There’s none.” He worked a few sock fibers to the tip of his tongue and blew them out. “Now can you please untie me?”

“I’m sicka lookin’ at ya — so yeah, I can do that. And then you’re gonna take all your shit outta here and move into Jimmy the Italian’s room. You understand me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” Zabka grabbed Mike’s bound wrists and ankles, and freed him.

Bob pulled Magnum outside the room and said to him, “Hey, all that shit was crazy, but I really need to talk to you about something — in private. It’s kinda important.” The two of them became good friends in high school when they played on the baseball team together.

“Sure, yeah,” Magnum replied. “Let’s go to the living room.” They walked into the front room and sat down on a couch that was older than they were.

Bob took a deep breath and blew out, fluttering his lips. “As you already know, the last few years have been pretty shitty for me. After my parent’s divorce and having to leave Colgate because of money issues related to that. Then transferring here… well, I’ve pretty much been on my own. Paying for tuition, rent, my car — basically everything with loans and crappy jobs here and there.”

“I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t realize that.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I haven’t told anyone.” Bob hung his head. “Sorry to drop all this on you, but I just need… I hate to ask this…” He looked up. “I just need a little help with rent for the first couple of months until the loans come in. Could you…”

“Done,” Magnum replied before he finished asking. “I got you covered.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t think anything of it. Okay, let’s go put our bags away and set up our rooms.”

At the end of the previous school year, they moved all of their belongings from their old house on West Northrup to this house and used their bedrooms as storage units, which they never bothered to arrange.

Bob asked, “You really want the room up in the attic?”

“Yeah, I kinda like it up there — I can escape from the shenanigans.”

Bob laughed. “Yeah, good luck getting away!”

They both walked up to the second level where there were four bedrooms and a bathroom off of a square, central, hallway-type room. Magnum had left his luggage there when they heard the commotion coming from Zabka’s room. He grabbed it and continued up the stairs to the attic.

When he got to the top, there were two doors, both shut. One went to his bedroom, and the other had a padlock on it. The locked room also had a sign taped to it with the following written in green crayon, “Darkroom. Entry prohibited! Photography development.”

Magnum noticed a bright light coming out from under the door and lowered himself to the floor. He tilted his head and peered through the crack. Befuddled, he stood back up and yelled, “Satan!”

Scene 4 | Scene 5

zerofucksgiven

“Zero F*cks Given” (Scene 3)

This is from the beginning of Dave Lundy’s new novel (still in development) called “Zero F*cks Given”, a prequel to the best-selling comedy “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery”.

Zabka steered off the New York State Thruway and drove his black Camaro north on highway 290. He was singing along with the Grateful Dead song on the radio — “Livin’ on reds, vitamin C, and cocaine. All a friend can say is ‘Ain’t it a shame?’ Truckin’… up to Buff-a-lo!” A slow-moving eighteen-wheeler merged in front of him and wrecked his joyous mood. He laid on the horn and floored it, veering around the trucker and taking the exit’s curvy offramp at a screeching 75 mph.

After straightening out on Main Street, Zabka loosened his grip of the steering wheel. “Did you see that asshole?” he said to his passengers.

“Yeah, the nerve of that guy,” Bob answered from the seat beside him. He turned and looked at Magnum in the backseat, cramped between their luggage, and they chuckled.

Zabka stuck his arm out the window on that sunny afternoon and floated his hand up and down like a plane as it cut through the wind.

The radio station switched to a commercial, and Magnum asked, “Dude, what happened to the tunes?”

“Yeah, Bob.” Zabka whacked his buddy. “You’re in charge — fix it!”

Bob slid in a Jackyl CD, skipped to the song he wanted, and turned up the volume. It didn’t take long before the guitar riff had their heads banging. Zabka eyed a car full of girls with a UB bumper sticker and sped up next to it. He looked over at them and shouted along with the chorus, “But she loves my cock! — Loves my cock! Loves my cock! Loves my cock!”

The girls were repulsed to the point where their faces seemed to throw up.

Having witnessed Zabka’s behavior many times before, Bob wasn’t at all shocked — his friend was the poster-child for “not giving a fuck.” But on the flip-side, Bob did take notice of the girls’ reactions. Also, a few of their faces seemed familiar — Are those girls from Third Base?

As expected, Zabka was incredibly pleased with himself. He gunned the engine and took off down the road.

Bob turned the music down. “You know, not to sound lame or anything, but I feel like the way we approach girls might be a touch off-putting and could probably use… oh, I don’t know… some refinement. Whaddya guys think?”

“What are you talking about?” Zabka replied. “Those bitches ate that shit up!”

Magnum offered his thoughts, “No offense, Zabka, but I didn’t get that impression. And to Bob’s point, women haven’t been exactly throwing themselves at our feet. He might be on to something.”

Bob added, “Yeah, Zabka. You don’t really have the Don Juan seduction-thing goin’ on.”

Zabka brushed off his friends. “You guys are crazy.”

“No, really,” Bob said. “Okay, so how many girls did we have in our house last year?”

Zabka shrugged. “Plenty, I’m sure.” He started a mental tally. “To start, there was Earthshaker — that ginormous chick from the Base that you banged. Good lord, you truly have no shame.”

“First of all, I did not ‘bang her.’ We barely got outta the bar before her mouth was playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with my balls. She was like, ‘Nom, nom, nom…’ She just went to town. The chick was nuts — literally! I’ve never had a girl laser-focused on my sack like that.”

From the peanut gallery, Magnum remarked, “I bet you’ve had dudes laser-focused on your sack like that.”

Bob’s eyes rolled. “Also, as I recall, we didn’t go to our house. We went around the corner to her place. And finally, she wasn’t that big — you tend to exaggerate. She just had a tiny bitta junk-in-the-trunk.”

Zabka threw his head back and laughed. “Haha! A tiny bit?! She had a ton! Her ass looked like two overstuffed garbage bags full of marshmallows!”

Magnum looked up and tapped his chin. “Oh, I know. There was the woman that hooked up our cable. She was kinda hot.”

Bob replied, “Dude, she was as old as your mom. Plus, she worked for the cable company, so that doesn’t really count. Okay, so who else?”

Hmm… oh, I remember.” His mustache-wearing friend pushed an imaginary button. “These girls rang our doorbell and I invited them inside.”

“You mean the ones selling cookies?” Bob shook his head. “The Girl Scout and her mom? Come on.”

The three of them sat in silence, racking their brains.

“You see my point now? We did a pathetic job last year.” Bob glanced at Magnum then Zabka, to make sure they absorbed what he was saying. “But here’s the good news — this is a new year and we’re in a new house. We’ve officially hit reset. Plus it’s our last year in college. We need to go out on a high note.”

“Should we set a goal?” Magnum asked. “Like the number of women?”

“Well, there are six of us in the house, soooo… we should easily be able to pull in two girls each. Real girls — not girls working for a utility company or selling shit door to door.” Bob did the quick math. “So that’s twelve.”

Zabka offered, “Shit, I could pull in a dozen myself. What are you guys gonna do?”

Magnum said, “Yeah, I could do that too.”

Zabka slapped his knee and laughed along with Bob. After composing himself, he said “But seriously, we need to think this through. The others in the house are Satan, someone Satan knows, and Jimmy the Italian — a stoner, probably another stoner, and a short guy who’s prematurely-balding and talks like he’s been kicked in the nuts. Something tells me their contributions ain’t gonna be shit.”

“Yeah, they’re completely useless,” Bob agreed. “No way they’re putting any points on the scoreboard.”

Zabka nodded his head. “Yep, so that just leaves me and you, Bob.”

“Hey, what about me?” Magnum asked.

“What about you?” Zabka replied. “No offense,” he winked at Bob, “but this is clearly a two-man operation.”

“Yeah, Zabka’s right.” Bob grinned. “But don’t let that stop you from giving it the old college try.”

“I’ll show you guys.” Magnum folded his arms. “I may even decide to get a girlfriend.”

“Highly doubtful. But even if you did, that’s not gonna help us much with the numbers.” Zabka passed the Grover Cleveland Golf Course — named after the former mayor of Buffalo and ex-President of the United States — and crossed Bailey Avenue. “Hey, there’s south campus. We’re officially back in the Buffalo!” He honked the horn twice. “And it feels daaaaamn good!”

About a mile later, they arrived at their house on Winspear Avenue. The roof over the front porch was covered in bird shit, and the paint on the siding was chipped badly. The lawn looked like it had never been mowed and was covered with yellow dandelions. To top things off, a rat had torn into a bag of garbage and made an impressive mess near the side door. All things considered, it was one of the finer looking college houses on the street.

Bob smiled. “Home sweet home.”

Zabka pulled the Camero into the driveway and drove straight into a pothole, scraping the car’s front bumper. “Fuck!” he yelled.

“Relax,” Bob said. “I’m sure your precious pussy-magnet is just fine.”

Zabka drove behind the house and parked in the backyard. He jumped out to inspect the damage, squatted in front of his car, and rubbed the bumper. “It’s not too bad. She’ll be alright.”

“Phew,” Bob said as he opened his door. “Thank god for that.”

Magnum climbed out from the backseat. “You think Satan’s here?”

“I don’t see his piece-of-shit car, so probably not,” Zabka replied.

The three of them pulled their bags out of the Camero and walked to the house. Zabka unlocked the side door and they walked in. Immediately, an odor hit them — the type of skunky air that lingered at a reggae show.

Magnum said, “It definitely smells like Satan lives here.”

One set of stairs went down to a scary-looking basement where there was a spare room and the laundry. They followed the other short set of stairs up to the hallway between the kitchen and living room. The ragged interior of their living quarters helped strengthen the case that the place should be condemned. Zabka turned down the small hallway off the kitchen and went to his bedroom. Bob and Magnum continued upstairs to their respective rooms.

As Zabka got closer to his bedroom, he heard an odd noise — one that oscillated between a rabid squirrel-like sound and someone rubbing a balloon. He paused and listened to confirm he wasn’t imagining things. He opened the door expecting to find a rodent but walked in on something far worse — a fully nude guy holding a blowup doll’s head between his legs while he did unimaginable things to “her” oral cavity. The plastic squeaked from one last thrust.

The stranger and Zabka froze like statues in a Mexican-standoff — eyes locked in the most uncomfortable three-way. Slowly, Zabka’s eyes filled with rage. Sensing impending doom, the doll-fucker panicked and kicked Zabka in the nuts while screaming bloody murder.

Zabka curled-over in pain, his balls thumping like the bass in an Ice Cube song. He looked up, calmly said, “You picked the wrong nigga ta fuck wit,” and karate chopped the doll’s head free from the guy’s engorged appendage.

The intruder covered himself and stammered incoherently.

At that point, Zabka was done being friendly. He swung a left-hook and nailed the guy in the eye.

Having heard the commotion, Bob and Magnum came running down from upstairs. When they got to their friend’s bedroom, they found Zabka standing over a naked guy their age, hogtied with a deflated French-maid doll, and a dirty sock shoved in his mouth.

Magnum entered the room in full alert-mode, his spinning head almost hitting the top of the doorframe.

“Zabka, is there something you want to share?” Bob asked. “Trust us, we’re not judging you.”

With a half-smile, Magnum agreed, “Yep, this is a judgment-free zone.” He and Bob nodded their heads vigorously. “No judgments whatsoever.”

Zabka responded, “I found this dickhead in my room gettin’ it on with blowup Betty. I don’t know who the fuck he is, but we’re about to find out. Either the easy way… or the hard way. That part’s upta him.”

Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4

zerofucksgiven