Ohio Revisited
By Nick Peron
"I cried that I was coming again, and he joined me, moaning in that way that always excites me so much. A geyser of cum erupted from his cock to fill the dark depths of my ass...."
.... I stop reading and both me and Rhonda burst out with laughter at this awful prose. I've been reading out of a publication called Saucy Tales as we speed along I-70 W somewhere between Columbus and Canton, Ohio. We have at least one more hour of highway of shredded tires, racoon road kill and litter to pass through before hitting Canton, our second last stop of the night. I was reading these stories to her so that she could keep awake because it's been a long and somewhat sleepless couple of days and Rhonda needs something to keep her awake. We were rather horrified about this particular story, as it started off as a drab and boring story about a young woman in a new town hooking up with her online lover. It would go into detail about the Chinese dinner they had, and what colour the doors were, and suddenly went into this really dark territory (no pun intended) about anal sex.
"Wait," you must be saying, my dear lightly abused reader "what are you doing in Ohio again? It was only a few weeks ago that you were there, what the hell man?" The above paragraph my friend is what they like to call a "hook", you reel the reader in and before they realize it's too late, you've got them reading another shitty travel log. That would be you by the way, congratulations sucker.
This all started a few weeks back after I returned home from my first adventure in Cleveland (which has been epically depicted here.) Rhonda and I decided that our Micro-Shock exchange program of Summer 2009 was not done yet, and we were trying to organize time for her to come up and spend time in Ottawa so that she can get a slice of the Canadian life and have some more excellent Micro-Shock adventures. The initial game plan was denied by forces beyond our control (which appropriately has the initials "B.M." and for very good reason) prevented from such a visit happening -- yet.... Canada has been spared the destruction the two of us can bring forth when we meet... at least for now. So I decided, fuck it, I'm going to travel out there again.
So once more this intrepid webmaster and scribe to the world-famous Micro-Shock.com has taken time off from his dull and boring desk job to travel to the US and pay a visit to fellow Micro-Shock cohort, and tantalizing literary vixen Rhonda Baughman. Last time we did a fuck load of videos (The Cleveland Steamer Saga which you can find in our video section), in fact we are probably going to a fuckload more. Possibly even a fuckload fuckload of videos, which is like --- so many fuckloads we don't even know what to do. We're talking quadriplegic sex kind of fuckloads. Hey, don't judge me man, legs just get in the way.
So anyway, I've been doing a lot of videos lately, and while they are fun, nothing beats good old fashion writing. I love that shit. I can write for hours, and chances are if you have a modicum of patience, and my horrifyingly bad grammar and punctuation doesn't put you off of my material, you're probably going to be reading for hours and hours. That's because most of my fans are apparently stupid gibbering masses who find such literary triumphs as Go Dog Go! and One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, considerable challenges. This is because it's a known fact that nobody but stupid people like me on the internet. Don't ask me, ask LordMegatron64 on YouTube, he is apparently my official biographer on the internet since he has a keen insight on how much my parents love me, my sexual habits, and my recreational drug use. But hey if you believe him, I've been lying to you, I'm not really in another hotel room in Ohio writing this, but my parents basement and I am writing this after a monumental argument with my unloving parents, and I have just finished a line of angel dust after jerking off to pictures of Turtles having sex. You my lightly abused and luscious reader make your choice.
But before you do, keep in mind, Megg's profile is now offline, I suspect because of me, so I win! Such are the spoils of war when matching wits with a pissant 16 year old on the internet who think's they are cooler than someone 10 years older than them. A worthy victory for me I assure you, and as you may well know: winning arguments on the internets = getting women. Trust me on this one, I've been on the internets for 14 years, I know all the rules.. er sorry, rulez.
Anyway, as usual this webmaster and wonderful word slinging wunderkind (thanks Stan Lee for teaching me the magic of alliteration!) has gotten waaaaaaaaaay off topic, and what happens? Boom five paragraphs not about my trip to Ohio. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do you people even read this? What's that? You read because you love it? You do, don't you! YOU DIRTY WHORE, I KNEW IT. You also want my cock don't you? Well, I don't think you could handle it, but I have to admit that I am very flattered by this reader, I mean this is so sudden, I don't know what to say about how you feel about me. But what I can say is that I expect some valentines and maybe some flowers from you come February 14th. You're not going to pry off this pair of nylon thong underwear that I have on (Hey! I like to travel in fucking comfort!) so easily. Let me tell you, it involves deep pockets and a tongue that is like velvet. PURE VELVET. Not the knock off imitation shit from China. Thanks.
Anyway, as I was saying.... I decided to hell with it, I can get time off work like nobodies business, so I decided to truck my ass back out to Ohio and have yet another excellent adventure with Rhonda, this time it was going to be more epic because we were going to be doing that much more. However, I decided to go about my travel arrangements in a different manner. In my previous adventure I traveled by Greyhound, which was entertaining the first time around. This time I didn't feel like making a 20 hour trek from Ottawa to Cleveland, it was amusing at first but I knew that to do so again in so many weeks would wear thin and my butt would hate me for all the sitting. This time I decided to fly in, because it wasn't that much more expensive for me to fly down, and it would add a wrinkle of originality to my prose about traveling to the United States.
My flight consisted of two flights, one from Ottawa to Toronto and then another from Toronto to Cleveland. Flying from Ottawa to Toronto was a breeze, typical stuff for flying in your own country: checking your bags, running your carry-on through an x-ray machine, emptying your pockets, having some doofus in a uniform wave a metal detector around you, you know the drill. I arrived in Toronto, and other than dealing with the fact that the place is a huge fucking maze, I had to check in at customs once again which meant only one thing: Dealing with the Department of Homeland Security once again. A match of wits to see if I would be allowed entry into the United States.
Frankly, even after the post 9/11 Rock 'n' Roll World, I don't honestly know what all the big fucking deal is -- Not about the beefed up security, but the apparent "hassle" getting through customs. If you're prepared, organized and give yourself enough time to get checked you have nothing to fucking worry about unless you're trying to smuggle something in your anus or are a convicted criminal with a forte in attaching detention devices to orphans. The whole experience was three fold: Pick up my luggage, make my customs declaration, go through yet another security screening before I was allowed to go anywhere near the plane to Cleveland.
When I was making my declaration I was asked the usual 20 questions, and afterwards the nice man from Home Land Security apologized for all the "hassle" of the security process, he was very polite and not very scary. Next came the security screening, I had to toss my bag on a conveyor for it to be inspected by customs before it got loaded onto the plane and then through my own security screening. Now, when it comes to this part of the game, the lady at the security gate asked everyone to take off their shoes and run them through the x-ray machine (All this, because this one time some nutty extremist tried to smuggle a bomb in his shoe or something equally as absurd. Come in, what sort of idiot travels somewhere by airplane with a fucking bomb in their shoe? The terrorists won't win because America is having a war against terror -- which is a joke in and of itself -- but because the type that usually execute these plots are usually very fucking stupid, and usually get away with their plots by pure luck alone) As absurd as I thought it was, it still amused me that a line up of grown adults had to take off their shoes and put them through an x-ray machine. Oh, fine, in x-raying my shoes, the Home Land was safe from everything except for my powerful foot odor, which as noxious as it is, is not considered a biological agent -- yet, so the jokes on them. This also proved to be the more amusing part of the security check as the guy behind me.
He was your typical business man, widows peak, slicked back hair, respectable suit, kinda doughy. When the lady at security told us to take off our shoes he's like "Take off our shoes? Are you going to take off yours too sweetheart?" I couldn't really tell if he was trying to be funny, or thought it erotic, but when he said this the women at the security counter -- probably having heard this line, or variations thereof many times before-- ignored the comment and walked away to diligently watch the x-ray machine for any exploding shoes. This my friends, is a text book example of what they call an epic fail on the internets. I should know, I am an internets pro.
After spending some time rotting in the US departure terminal at the Toronto International Airport, I was on a plane off to Cleveland. The type of plane they used for this jaunt is my all time "favorite" type of aircraft, the Dash 8. This is one of those aircrafts that still uses propellers to aid in travel. They are used for short distances, and I swear the ones that Air Canada uses were part of the original series of models of this aircraft they made back in 1984. Granted they usually build airplanes to last, the fact that I'm in an airplane that is almost as old as I am is a little unnerving. These things feel like they're going to fall apart when they take off and land... Then again, every airplane kind of sounds like that, so I digress.
When I arrived at the Cleveland airport Rhonda was waiting with a cardboard sign reading "Peron" like a chauffeur, it was really cute (and proof that she pays attention whenever we talk on the phone to discuss Micro-Shock related matters, as I made mention that this would be particularly funny for her to do.) Our first stop was to make a trip out to Cincinnati, because Rhonda had some other business to conduct and I was in for the ride whether I wanted to or not, the ride was going to take about 4 hours....
