Shelby downs the full cup  of beer as fast as he can, a knawing inside of him says, get drunk fast, it's the only way you can do this. It's the only way you have ever been able to approach a girl at all. But alcohol is evil and it never works when you want it to, it has it's own timinig and always seems to come at the wrong time. When you least should have it. As he surveys the room, like a good predator, looking for the weak link, two emotios invade his gelatinous body making him feel as though he's going to disolve into a mass of goo. Fear and Lust. They seem to nibble at his scrotum, both at the same time. They seem to bark at each other as if taking ferocious bites from each side. Strangely, they both titilate him. How can this be, he thinks to himself. How can I have these two feeligs? How can I want to kill and have sex at the same time? My mission is to kiss a girl, but I have been so unloved all my life that a kiss can only lead to one thing. It's what I want, he thinks. Suddenly he spots "his prey". She's young, sort of tall and frail. Not a knock out fox but not ugly  at all. She seems to be gigling incessantly and rocks her head way back and forth. Obviously drunk and laughing at nothing. As he approaches her, she looks at him and smiles. Perfect, he thinks to himself. This is the one. What's up!,says Shelby, getting very close to her, or at least as close as his ample mass will allow.To his dismay, she responds in a positive way. One would think of this moment as moment of ectasy for Shelby, an archaic swoon. But no, instead his mind yanks right out of his conciousness into a deep and dark hole where flames lick the walls and shadowy figures dance in pain. His male aches, his souls argues, his senses cloud.

To be cotinued