Unpublished short fiction

It is Florida 1985 and no one will fuck me. And no one has fucked me in five years and first dates never return my calls. This weighs on me heavily, and I can’t find a solution that doesn’t involve flagrant self-improvement. I look about for alternatives to satisfy my lust and soon find it: on my weekly drive to karate class I pass a billboard. It features a humongous cartoon picture in brilliant painted colors of a hairy man in blue overalls and a trucker hat, with no shirt, gorging on a cheeseburger or pulled pork sandwich or maybe a Reuben. He eats the meat carelessly. The cartoon man has abandoned the accepted civilized ruleset and forces the food toward the back of his head with his mouth in the way, until its animal provenance cannot be ascertained by food scientists. His teeth are gargantuan, like enormous white suppositories being ejected from his gums. Droplets of clear mystery bodily fluid are flung off in every direction. It may be sweat or saliva or tears or a mix of all three. His eyes are swollen open, bloodshot, and manic.
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2,223 words