Phoneless Pharaoing in Buddhapest Part 2– Skin Deep In the Molarless Pigeon

Pharaoh went to Ambers cafe to catch up on some blogs. To cut back on his spending he decided to eat some cafe food, have a green tea party, and jackhammer away on his macbook.

Many gorgeous pigeons walked in and out of the cafe, but his intention of finishing the blogs he thought of the previous day was of more importance. Blogging is a way of completely letting go of all pain and suffering, and disregarding girls– in-joy with the currency. Shrugging off all that doesn’t matter, the trance music played in his buds, and he let go of all discouraging thoughts. They may come back later, but thats why Pharaoh continues releasing on to the mac– his means of meditation.

In the most recent conversation with himself he talked about the importance of not forcing things with girls, not being results oriented, and making the most out of organic encounters. While finishing the last post, he took a bathroom break, and a cute pigeon with pools of crystal turquoise eyes and lightish chocolatey hair apologized for having taken his seat. He told her that it wasn’t his seat and not to worry, and she again said she was sorry. He smiled and went to the bathroom.

While in the bathroom he thought of two things: her accent sounded extremely natural and was likely also American, and that she was by herself, overly apologetic and eager, and would have probably been open to him striking conversation afterwards. She may have even allowed him to sit with her. When he exited he noticed that she was glued to a book she was reading, so decided to let her be.

He then wondered what would have happened if he asked her what book she was reading– if he asked her if she was also from America because of now naturally fluent her English was, or if he trolled her for having stolen his seat and that he was previously lying, but just needed to get to the bathroom. Actually– scratch the last one, that was kinda weird, but sharing weird thoughts is something he loves most about his blog.

He thanked the two girls that had gave him photo advice for his To Japan post and also giving him directions to the Jason Mraz concert venue. 5 hours later of blogging later he decided to leave and see what he could discover.

He crossed the street and found a massive train station which contained a market. All sorts of sausages, fruits, vegetables, cheeses, in this ginormous grocery store in an ancient station. He wandered around staring at all the different stores, and finally stumbled upon a place that offered a whole pizza for less than a dollar! Can you guess what happened next?

Nibbling at the magical slice of pizza and staring at all the different chess sets as he reached the second floor of the station he contemplated buying one. He decided to wait until the last day in Buddapest to go souvenir shopping here. Chess was a game he no longer played, but one of his favorite things to do back in high school. One of the many things he needs to get back into. The yoga of chess. The yoga of reading and plunging into the worlds of authors which take him away from the depression of his own. The yoga of cooking his own meals– dicing chicken breasts and aligning asparagus like militia men off to go into the battle of the pan instead of eating out every single meal and splurging currency he wish he had or currency he wish he was in. Oh lets not forget an ACTUAL yoga practice where he might be able to awaken in a state of more permanent consciousness.

He stumbled upon all sorts of cheap Hungarian street food. He loved that pizza he just ate, but was a bit frustrated he hadn’t known of all options available for taking a ride on the magic carpet ride. He saw kabob skewers, stews of all sorts of different colored meats, some delicious looking scalloped potatoes, and some penne. He couldn’t recall all the seductive foods he saw. Unfortunately this place is closed today because of a Hungarian holiday, but he plans on making this train station his cafeteria for lunch until leaving next Tuesday.

He scurried on this street, a different one from the previous day, and stumbled upon a bar with all sorts of trains, saucers, and whistles on the wall. An ornament of clocks positioned on different walls within this bar, none of which were the same mesmerized Pharaoh and reminded him that he would be seeing Jason Mraz in 3 hours. He tried to make conversation with the bartender, a crow, who was likely just saving face and extremely racist. He never noticed someone trying to be as short with responses and a smile so phony. Pharaoh didn’t even finish his beer and wanted to get away from the place since it reeked of crow droppings.

He kept walking further away from his hotel and found an art museum which sadly was closed. Nothing was inside, so it likely wasn’t even operational anymore. The yellow stones ascending into the air turning into a green pillar at the top was still beautiful to look at. He stumbled upon a locked cathedral. He tried every entrance, but wasn’t able to get inside. He simply wanted to pray and adore the houses of the ancient world. A man walked up to him, not knowing how to speak English, and rambled on in his foreign tongue. He felt like he was in real Hungary now. Feeling like if it were nightfall he may get stabbed, noone speaking English, grafiti everywhere he could see, but was still Hungry for more.

Staring in awe at all the buildings nearby he found another bar. He noticed a gorgeous pigeon behind the bar. This pigeon was beautiful, owned large supple mango sized breasts, and wavy strawberry blond hair. She didn’t smile at all, but when she opened her mouth to speak with the other customer he noticed that the left side of her mouth had no molars. Pharaoh wanted to buy her a drink, but she scurried to the kitchen. Its as if Pharaoh has some gravitational pull which repels every pigeon in sight. He wondered if he was like Ushikawa from 1Q84, but didn’t think he was so bad. She wasn’t an elegant and friendly as many of the other pigeons he had seen at the cafe earlier, but was more like the douchey crow from the previous bar. Pharaoh finished his beer, said cheers to both, thanked the pigeon with missing molars, and left.


Pharaoh was no longer in the streets of Buddhapest. He was in a small cluttered apartment. It smelled of cigarettes, none of which he smoked, and there was a stench of unwashed dishes coming from the kitchen. There was tech house playing as it was in the bar in the bedroom.

The molarless pigeon had taken another hit of her crystal meth. Pharaoh, like Heisenberg, wasn’t keen on crystal meth, so decided that he was content with the hashish she offered him. She shaked her head back and forth. As filthy as her apartment was, he was extremely shocked that her strawberry blond hair was so well kept. It smelled a bit of cigarettes, but was straight, and softly wavy like the overly polluted Danube. He could hear neighbors yelling in some foreign language and a clattering of pots and pans coming from below. He tried to focus on the lack of drops and builds in the tech house which allowed him to remain conscious on the molarless pigeon.

He kissed her neck slowly. His tongue licked up towards where her hair started to appear while groping her waist. Her belly was smooth like alabaster. Its as if Michael Angelo created her without teeth to point out the beauty in the imperfection. She crossed her arms and with a swift upward swoop her shirt came off.

She used her legs to constrict him until he was in arms reach and then grabbed him to pull him onto her. He was slightly scratched by her deep nails, but was as silent as a mouse. She started biting his ears which prompted his eyes to roll to the back of his head, but he fortunately wasn’t seizuring from all the ecstasy. The feeling of hashish had faded, but he was still high on her scent. She would quickly jerk her head as if prompted by a puppet master, but Pharaoh didn’t judge her. He had been waiting for so long for what would be coming next.

Her nibbles on the ear transitioned down his neck, and he quickly threw off his shirt as she gave him a tongue bath. Making her way all the way south she undid his belt, threw it across the room, and accidentally broke a glass casing on one of her shelves. It was extremely loud which prompted some angry yells from her neighbors, but they weren’t involved in this act. As if in fast forward mode she yanked his jeans off as well as his boxers and indifferently tossed them behind her. Nothing broke this time.

Oedipus was fully erected and she teased it by licking the area around the pole, but could only continue for so long before inevitably inserting the shaft in the area where her molars used to be. It had been a long time since Pharaoh felt the slick comforting feeling of a cold beet beating to the beat of the tech house. A quick mischievous glance every now and then up towards him and he began gasping for air as if he couldn’t bare the pleasure she so benevolently bestowed.

She still had her jeans on as well and made her way back up north to kiss him. Pharaoh couldn’t bare it any longer and flipped her on her back to rapidly undo her button and slide her jeans off those Greek pillars. He reached downwards to her kitty which was salivating as he was, and rubbed it with a few intermittent soft kisses. He spread those pillars and immersed himself down in her box. Her hand guided him by the back of his head as she started moaning softly and then powerfully. A stream gushed out like a waterfall.

She grabbed her pipe from the dresser adjacent to the bed as well as a lid from the drawer and handed it to Pharaoh. Pharaoh politely refused her pipe, but wrapped his and inserted it. He knew to be more gentle when inserting his python in, but she was drenched and ready to be bitten by its fangs.

Her leg in the air– he started off slow, but she used her sharp claws to throw him on top of her and started kissing him. He returned the favor, and felt his cobra about to spit, so prompted her to take over.

She climbed on top and began galloping like a stallion. She dribbled herself in the air like a basketball, and Pharaoh immediately channelled out her majestic efforts. He grabbed her and slowed the pace because he didn’t want this moment to end yet. Her moans and desire to up the pace made this difficult, so he motioned her to get off so they could switch once more.

Positioning her in the mirror and switching to dead man’s position likely wasn’t a good decision, but for the next 2 minutes he felt as glorious as Patrick Bateman. He erupted into the lid and the room smelled like perspiration. Their panting eventually slowed down as they laid together like spoons in a drawer. Perfectly assembled–wordless– listening to the echoes of the deep house music.


6 thoughts on “Phoneless Pharaoing in Buddhapest Part 2– Skin Deep In the Molarless Pigeon

      1. I swore off my dad 10 years ago, haven’t talked to him since, and will never talk to him again. As soon as I get out of my co-dependent relationship with my mom I will never talk to her again either. She won’t break the cycle, so its up to me. Going to be a ridiculously hard to transition from more or less having infinite money from poker while she paid all my bills and I paid for ‘bad things’ and going to a more modest life as a teacher, but likely is the best way of getting out of this rut I’ve been in. So I hope at least

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