Jeff Death- Dr. Jeff and the Women

Jeff was a man who loved sex, talked a lot about it, but got very little. An inverse ratio, typical of many such people. He apparently possessed a massive member, and could muster a great thrusting pressure from his penis. He once described to Brian and myself, a time when masturbating in bed, managed to arc the stream of sperm over his head and onto the wall behind him. Yet despite these attributes he was largely unsuccessful in attracting a potential paramour to his abode.

We often found that Jeff would freeze up at a crucial moment and not close the deal, or would make some memorable, but unbelievably obscene remark that put the girl off. While Brian and I often did this by design, Jeff reacted this way because he didn’t know what else to do.

Apart from Paula, “the stanky stalker“, there were few women that we could say went with Jeff. He had had at one time a fiancée. This was before we knew him, and it was safe to say that she was large and multiple chinned. Apparently she was one of those fat women who compensate for their culturally themed “ugliness,” by developing a personality of a raving bitch. I’m sure we all know a person like that. Loud mouthed, yelling, being pushy and mean to make their way. Seeing that being nice wasn’t going to get her anywhere, she found being mean worked even better, and took advantage of what she could. One of them was Jeff. Him being rather socially backwards and getting regular sex, gave in to everyone of her bitchy commands and put up with her bullshit insults to him, in order to please her, and to make a happy life for himself. The problem was that at the end of the day she was never going to be happy, because she was still going to be her, and that’s what she really hated the most. Jeff tried hard, but the more he gave the more she took, until he could give no more. He then regretfully and tearfully broke it off, towards which she made some nasty remarks to poor Jeff and waddled out of his life.

The next girl that I’ve known Jeff to be with was Emily. She was a Rocky Horror regular and 17 years his junior. Not yet 20, she and Jeff hooked up on the rebound when she broke it off with her boyfriend Sal. She was round, but not Jeff’s usual prey of a female with unbelievable amounts of excess tissue. She had a light purple birthmark on her right cheek, which in dim light looked vaguely with the Ghostbusters logo. I regularly pissed her off by asking if she’d like a washcloth to “get that crap off her face.”

          Most people saw that this was going nowhere. She broke up with a douchebag and bounced into the arms of the first guy to grin at her. A romance of forgetting. To Jeff though, this was a significant point in his life. It had been years since he had had a girlfriend and he took it with a mature aspect of building a life. She took it as 19 year old girl, who had plenty of time to look around and find someone else.

Little occurred in the relationship, he drove her around, paid for things, didn’t have sex, and then she moved on. Jeff was crushed, heartbroken, and upset. But those Germans take out their anger in the oddest ways. She broke up with him at Rocky, at the gathering afterwards, he walked outside and put his fist through the windshield. There was a huge hole in the driver’s side, and no damage to his fist.

A further story of Jeff’s attempt at love, was when he hit on The Beast. She was one of Craik’s crowd of lower intelligence individuals. She was a hideous contortion of flesh and bone. A large face that sort of dribbled down her neck, which was almost as large as her head, making it difficult to know where they joined. Her face was pockmarked with all sorts of odd growths and lesions. Needless to say I never ate while I was around her.

There was a large group of us at Denny’s. The square tables were snapped together. Brain and I were on one end, Jeff was courting the Beast on the other. Jeff sat next to her, nervous and tense. You could always tell when Jeff got nervous, because he would grab the arms of his chair tightly, as he were about to fall off. Brain and I watched in horrid fascination, muttering things like, “Don’t do it Jeff.” The situation engrossed us. Jeff glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes while engaged in conversation. He grinned in a schoolboy manner. The Beast surprisingly acted aloof and disinterested, which I was shocked at. Maybe she had never seen herself in a mirror? Coffee poured. Jeff leaned over trying to talk to her. She said a few words and turned away, a snotty expression across her face. Did she think she was too good for him? 

The night wore on, and Jeff kept talking, but making little headway. The Beast was not interested. She and the Craik crowd left soon afterwards. Jeff moved down to our end. “What the fuck were you thinking Jeff.” Was our first question. “Well just seeing what I can get.” And what can you get when you’re rejected by a retard.
For more fun try books by Rex Hurst