THE STRANGE AFFAIR OF WALKER BALLANTINE

 December 25, 2014


THE STRANGE AFFAIR OF WALKER BALLANTINE

          I saw this post entitled Walker Ballantine.  And there was nothing in the post. 
            Well, that’s not very fair to Walker or Mr Ballantine.
This fellow started out as a character in my list of other names by which I call myself from time to time. I always
figured a little camouflage doesn’t hurt - especially at such times as you are being pursued. Or such times when you’re just certain you are being pursued and it’s your imagination only. Paranoid spells.
          The characters I create, some of them
become pals of mine. They’re me and they’re not me.
Walker has somehow developed a personality of his
own. To be honest, I often like this alter ego better than I like myself.  And unlike me, when I go through depressive patches, Walker Ballantine is usually fun to be with.
         Besides,  Walker has written all my erotica. When
I write erotica, I usually put these tales in bright blue notebooks. And then I stack them in the other room -
Walker’s room. I keep these stories because they are well
written and arousing as they are to me when I write them,
after the passion has passed, I read them the next morning.
And these fetish stories are so extreme…. that the morning after, when having breakfast in a local pizza house, I read them again.
            When I read these stories in the morning, a strange metamorphosis has taken place.  Walker’s hot and sexy story
of the night before often becomes quite hilarious the morning
after.
            I type the damn things so fast, sometimes just using one hand because my other hand is busy, I type them so fast that I have no memory of the hot scenes the morning after.
It was nothing for me, using certain stimulants, to type up a smoking cloud of sixty pages single spaced for me to read at breakfast.
           No memory at all.  So at breakfast I’m reading these words afresh. I’m no longer in a sexual frenzy. I’m hungry and happy and clear-headed, so that when I read the first few pages I’m astounded at what I’m reading. And rather than get aroused, I see these pages for the true comic effect
they have.
        Many times I’ve started to laugh in the restaurant, laugh so hard that tears come to my eyes
and I have to put a hand in my mouth so as not
to shout  out loud laughing and shock the other diners.Also, I press my knees tight together in case some other unacceptable kind of accident might  occur,
while I’m undergoing convulsions of hilarity.
       I noticed the other day that I have a thousand
pages in these bright blue notebooks. I’m going to have to publish some of these stories on a site that is clearly marked OVER 18. The writing is too damn good to throw away of keep private.
       It’s Walker Ballantine’s writing that gives such arousal and so many laughs. Well, I thought I’d better say something in his defence.  What a guy!
       May he never stop his strange activities!