Tingle - Pounded In The Butt By My Book Pounded In The Butt By My Book Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt

POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY BOOK POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY BOOK POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY OWN BUTT

By Chuck Tingle

In all of my years as an investigative reporter, it was never once this tense, and I certainly never expected it to be once I transitioned into the world of blogging.

Shouldnt this new era of journalism be defined by lazy click-bait articles and top-ten lists? At least, thats what I was told when I was hired, but now here I am on the edge of my seat in Billings, Montana, sitting in a bustling coffee shop while I stare daggers at the door and sip from my warm cup of blonde roast.

Dont get me wrong, Im not complaining. This kind of on the spot and off the cuff investigating is exactly what I dreamed of when I was a young man working my way through college. But, as the newspapers died and social media began to rise up into the information titan that it is, I was well aware that my dreams of running around with my tape recorder in some strange part of the world were over.

Granted, I never thought that strange part of the world would be Billings, but Im happy to be here. Nervous, but happy.

Im not sure if my anxiety if from the prospect of actually meeting my subject, or simply the fact that my boss at the blog was willing to put actual money towards this trip and if I dont come back with something amazing then Ive proven the naysayers right. In this day and age, this type of in-the-field reporting is rare to come by.

I suppose that says a lot about my subject, the elusive Dr. Chuck Tingle.

Chuck has been an enigma to me ever since discovering his book, Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt, a masterpiece of erotic literature that is both ridiculous and revolutionary. While some might be turned off by the idea of sentient butt love, I was fascinated by the story, but even more fascinated by the twisted mind that wrote it.

This is where my journey down the rabbit hole began.

Soon enough, I was researching Chuck Tingle late into the night, trying to set up an interview but growing ever more confused by the elusive nature of the man. While there were many photos of the doctor, and his voice had been recorded several times, he seemed incredibly adverse to any interaction other than an email interview, even when I offered to fly out to Billings.

Unfortunately for Chuck, this denial only made my thirst for the truth even stronger. I became so fascinated with Chucks world; his son, the villainous neighbor, and his deceased wife. It all seemed too outrageous to be true, but there was only one way to find out for sure.

Suddenly, my thoughts are broken by a ringing bell as the door to the coffee shop opens and the man himself steps inside, followed shortly after by his adult son. Chuck looks exactly how I would expect him too, a middle-aged man clad in a white gi.

I immediately try to look away, so as not to give away my interest, but somehow Chuck and his son have spotted me and are immediately walking over to the small table at which I sit. This is strange for a number of reasons, most importantly; they should have no idea what I look like.

I try to act nonchalant, glancing away until I hear two wooden chairs pull out and then realize that they are sitting down next to me. My cover has officially been blow.

How did you know it was me? I ask, turning back to face Chuck.

Because were the same person, he states bluntly.

I realize now that this person is clearly more mentally disturbed that I could have ever known, a very confused man who is just barely holding onto his sanity.

Im afraid not, I offer with a laugh.

Chuck smiles. Then whats your name?
I try to brush his question off, but then suddenly realize I have no idea how to answer it. My name is I stammer, not exactly sure how to finish the sentence.

Exactly, Chuck tells me.

What is going on? I question, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. I realize now that I have no idea how I actually traveled here to this coffee shop, how my past was somehow able to weave its way up to this present moment of confusion.

Im utterly terrified.

Calm down, explains Chuck, I understand that this is going to be a lot for you to take in but I need you to stay incredibly relaxed, otherwise this dream will end and Ill need to start all over again.

Dream? I question.

Chuck nods.

Who are you? I continue, my heart pounding in my chest.

Im your subconscious, the part of your brain that knows youre asleep and remembers why were here, the author reveals. I can tell you more, but you need to stay calm. Believe it or not, this is the two-hundred and fifteenth time Ive tried to wake you.

Well, why doesnt it work? I question.

You get too freaked out, Chuck explains, and you escape into another dream setting which starts the whole process over again.

How long have I been asleep? I ask him.

Two years, Chuck informs me, and you were supposed to sleep for another eight more, but plans have changed.

Chuck glances over at his adult son Jon, who nods in approval, officially sanctioning whatever is about to come next. When Chuck looks back at me there is an intensity in his eyes unlike anything I have ever seen.

You seem like you might be able to handle the knowledge this time, Dr. Tingle begins, so here goes. Youve been in hypersleep for two years, traveling through space towards the planet Kibbs Porp-9. You are Earths only hope to intercept a brigade of hostile alien lifeforms that are headed towards Earth.

I shake my head, unable to accept this ridiculous concept, but the second that I do I begin to feel the entire coffee shop trembling around me, shaking violently as if it is made of film that is coming unwound from its spool.

Calm down! Chuck shouts, desperately trying to get me to pull it together. Breath!

I do as Im told, focusing on the internal sensations of my body until finally the world around me returns to its original state.

Your name is Chuck Tingle, the author explains, years ago you wrote a book called Pounded In The Butt By My Book Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt, do you remember that?

You wrote that book, I protest.

Were one in the same, Chuck informs me, you wrote the book and eventually it became a worldwide hit, it was such a massive cultural phenomenon, in fact, that the book was launched out into space as part of our effort to contact extraterrestrial life. It was used as an example of humanitys sense of romance.

I cant help but feel a surge of pride as he tells me this, pleased with the knowledge that, after all of this time struggling as a journalist, Ive finally been recognized for my writing. Its only moments later that I remember Im not really a journalist at all, and any history that Ive imagined in this career has been completely manufactured by my brain during hypersleep.

The books landed on an uncharted planet deep in the farthest corners of our solar system, only to begin a rapid evolution. Unbeknownst to all of us back here on Earth, the books had become sentient, blossoming into an entire civilization of horny gay books named Pounded In The Butt By My Book Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt, Chuck explains. We had no idea it was happening until it was too late. Weve now picked up signals from the planet and discovered their rapid evolution, but its too late. There is already a convoy of heavily armed space craft headed towards Earth.

And thats why you sent me, I offer, and then correct myself, I mean us.

Chuck nods. It was decided by a vote of the world leaders to send the author of the book out into space, hoping that he could intercept the hostile ships and either reason with them or, if need be, destroy them.

How close are they? I question frantically.

Very close, you were intended to wake up years from now but the books are much faster than we anticipated. As your subconscious mind I only know this because, while we sleep, Ive been picking up a distinct lack of shaking from our own vessel. I believe that we have been stopped by the enemy ships, Chuck informs me.