I have been an adult for a few years now. My life, as I know it, has completely changed because of this girl.Porma
Romantic partners are dying from an acute and highly fatal disease.
Public health is helpless; there are no survivors. Porma has just moved in with Iteni, his old high school crush.
Presented like a screenplay, Splattering Yet Endearing is an adult romance drama series with sci-fi, thriller and other elements. If you like a deep, intimate story with visceral action in and out of bed, you’ll love reading Philip Yang’s vivid fiction series.
Read Splattering Yet Endearing to meet distinctive characters and their rich story.
Dark, funny, compelling, engaging, psychological…Booxby Report
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I have been an adult for a few years now.
My life as I know it has completely changed because of this girl.
I had nowhere to go, three months ago.
Iteni had the extra space, so I moved in with her.
I changed my name, to Porma.
I needed to escape my past.
Our relationship was, less than the usual. You could say we were acquaintances.
Every night was calmer than the day.
It was calmer than calm—as I write this down, for myself.
We slept in the same bed.
She only had one queen bed, and we could never conclude on who would sleep alone.
It was the most awesome bed, ever.
We shared a bed.
We shared a car.
We shared a bathroom.
We shared a home.
We always found ways to work together. The blatant isolationism between us became a lie when we were in public.
I always tried to avoid her mute and detached mood. I would read the latest Newsmonth. Another outbreak of AIDS-2 in Florida. All of my old college classmates were stuck there.
Many, many—many bodies found themselves in the ocean over the past month. Whether the choice came by conscious will or not, I tried not to worry about it.
I was sitting on her living room sofa, with fair sunlight and quietness in the room. She sat down next to me.
I turned my head to meet Iteni’s brown eyes and her shining, sunlight-yellow hair.
Iteni: What’s up? Her eyes stared absolutely at me.
Porma: Not much, just trying to relax for work tonight. sweat covering my forehead.
Iteni: About that…can you tell them I won’t be there? I have to go see a doctor.
Porma: Oh, for—
Porma: I can go too—
Iteni: No, you have to work. curious, staring precisely at my pupils.
Porma: I’ll be fine, trust me.
She tilted her head slightly and focused her eyes a little more on me. I patted her shoulder, and turned away from her.
I hope you’re doing okay…
Her hand was gripping my heart, like she was holding onto a vertical handle bar in a train. Her dark eyes and gorgeous, long hair pulled on me.
It was so hard to turn away from her.
I left her living room. In her hallway, one lone stairway led to her basement bedroom.
It was simple and boastful. Almost everything had a purple tint. More space; less clutter.
Meaning the room had a dresser, two mirrors, and a bed. A large goose down coated the massive bed in the middle of the room.
Boxy stereo speakers sat next to her bed, playing gentle pop. I tapped the volume up, and sank into the bed’s pleasing fabric. It was soft, yet just a bit roughened by its cheap material.
Some windows peeked outside.
Iteni makes me so damn nervous…it’s completely unfair.
She makes my bones and heart ache so much for her.
It’s impossible to avoid humping her each night—but I respect her heavenly body—every night.
She’s such a considerate, hot, pretty, kind girl. Ideal among all girls, for all girls to follow too.
Such a wonderful, perfect goddess…goddamn.
What a mystery.
I barely know about her.
I want to know all about her.
She’s out of this world, yet from this world.
We stepped outside the following cloudy afternoon, around a fall drenched with flailing leaves and a partly cloudy breeze. Kids often played in piles of raked leaves, on our street.
In our driveway was a cobalt blue Americross Code. A four-door car topped with a rounded design.
Circular roof; circular windows. Very 20th century but with the small look of a fast, sporty coupe.
Leaves glided around and on top of the car, dancing and weaving with an easy grace. Our clothes and hair followed the wind too.
Iteni had a nice smile on her face.
Time had unwoven Iteni, a college dropout—just like me. Thank god for the internet and forgetting first impressions in high school.
She told me it was merely to focus on writing a book.
She was a better roommate than either of my split parents—I guess.
People in school thought she was a robot. I just knew her shy nature would make a good roommate.
Even her walking was gorgeous.
She had long, slender, powerfully potent legs. Their tones reflected off onto the rest of her. The curves from the U-turn up were all perfectly arched.
Her hands led soft fingers, with gentleness.
She kept her head down, fine with my constant presence.
During the short drive, I asked about the paper. Her paper, in the kitchen. Maybe for the book she wanted to write.
Iteni: I was just writing to my pen pal, Prazzi. Her hands cradled the wheel.
Porma: Hm, sounds like a nice name.
Iteni: Yeah, she ice skates in Greenland mountain lakes. Soothing—deep voice.
Porma: That’s cool.
Iteni: I knooow and she—
Iteni: What is it?
She kept driving down the road, as I placed my hand on her shoulder, smiling with spirit. Just, because. Her eyes glanced at me—before she looked back to the road. Her hair shook a second slower, while she kept driving.
I sat in the waiting room as Iteni finished stuff with the hospital’s front desk. I had nothing to do but stare at the small flat-screen TV hanging in the corner of the room. The female staff were way more receptive to Iteni anyways. Women didn’t want to sit near me—anyways. I hope the rest of the 2000s are better than this.
Male TV Anchor: Widowing, a new, emerging and severe infection that is being compared with cancer. It affects only couples, according to the Center of Disease Control. Iteni got so cold and distant—after the spike in Widowing in New England.
It felt overdone—but—marriages started to become rentals. A true marriage was becoming irrelevant and the new system of essentially hooking up became more popular over time.
One state was testing out a ten-month trial period. Tied to an existing driver’s license, you could marry and then renew it as desired. Every other state was, dumb, enough to have feminists argue over misogynists.
Many simply opted for long term relationships, ignoring the prototype marriage lease system.
I’m still a guy.
Everyone is getting new marriages, and life insurance.
The insurance also covers ozone cracks, when the sun blasts and burns roofs and cars…
Everything’s so temporary, might as well hire for sex and companionship, or rent it.
Male TV Reporter: Too many know too few who have not cheated-after-death. slowly. Women are carrying knives and men keep roses in their pockets. painfully slowly. Despite the continued interest in dating, birth rates and marriage rates are down significantly this quarter, in the US. For single people, it’s go big or nothing now.
A black man with a dark hoodie appeared onscreen, Black Man: Yeah man. Vapor escaped his breath, If you want a kid with someone, most are willing—at the beginning. Marriage is pretty useless. I’ve seen many couples enter a building and leave separated.
The TV changed to a tired woman with alert eyes. Maybe in her early 40s, Middle Aged Blonde Woman: No one is a killer. We have to get along, as friends. I mean, cheating should be punishable by death but—that’s no reason to target women. We don’t need to be called the weaker link. We don’t cause Widowing.
Black Man: Ey. Like, just don’t stay close to her for too long dawg. Be coooooool. People still believe in sex—ahahahahaaaaa. Just don’t stick around. A few hours are still enough, for love. Or just be single. Don’t mingle! Mmhaha.
Male TV Reporter: Many of these deaths occurred at home. This is an ongoing story. We’ll be back with more, after these messages from our sponsors.
My gut dropped. A rich layer of gleaming, yellow hair swept past my eyes—with a curious and neutral glare. It was so unbelievably wonderful—sitting down next to me—as I only expressed blankness.
Her hair was like strands of literal gold.
Gravitation was not responsible for that moment.
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