The hand, the feet, and the mind

"You can only be as sloppy as the horny man's drool if you don't control that lust of yours."

I sat across from a sick person, someone whose mind had rotted to the point of no return. I sighed deeply.

"This fucker. Why would someone whose dick has been ridden by so many whores have anything to say about being consumed by lust? And what does that even have to do with me wanting to drink something?"

"Tsk tsk. A child born a virgin, and till thirty, you still hold onto it like an antique. You might want to get that checked in. It ought to be pricey now."

"Agnhh??"

This piece of shit was really getting on my nerves.

"And what does that have to do with my lust?"

"Because you are lustful?"

"Hah? Are you high? Did that brain of yours melt inside that tiny cranium? I feel like I'm talking to a dead corpse."

"Now now, let’s be civil here."

I slammed the beer I was holding.

"Civil? Why the fuck would I?"

"And here he is, the man whose lust shines in full light."

A smug grin spread across his face. It was infuriating.

"You keep talking about that. Straight to the point—tell it to me."

"No."

"That only fits half of what I said. Where’s the other half?"

"No."

"I’d like to cave your head in at this moment."

"Fufuh, that is a funny announcement."