J. S. Jasko

The Healthy Halloween
Spicy Fan Fiction:
The Hunky Halloween

Posted by Ernie the Email | November 24, 2024

It was five years before the beginning of the book, and everyone’s favorite character Mr. Buttercream had just gotten back to his manor from a trip to the grocery store three towns over. He couldn’t go to any of the local grocery stores anymore because most of them had put his picture on the wall after that whole misunderstanding with the honey-baked ham, but that was okay. The long walk relaxed him, and Mr. Buttercream was excited about the big bag of Halloween candy he bought for this year’s trick-or-treaters.

He poured the candy into a shallow bowl by the front door and then decided to play a little ditty on his accordion while he waited for the first costumed children of the night to arrive. Truth be told, the man got a bit lonely in this empty manor all by himself sometimes, and so it cheered him to see the instrument’s gentle bellows expand in and out and fling bits of custard onto the walls through song.

Mr. Buttercream was just warming up the old squeeze-box when he heard a loud ping! come from his home office where he ran his small business of licking stamps for people with dry mouths who couldn’t do it themselves.

“Oh, my!” Mr. Buttercream proclaimed. “Could that be a message on my personal computing device?”

He didn’t think the computer even worked anymore because of all the custard in the mainframe, but when he clicked open his email client, there it was: an attractive piece of electronic mail addressed specifically to him!

“Well, hello there,” Mr. Buttercream said. “And who might you be?”

“Hi there, handsome! My name is Ernest the Email, and I’ve been looking for a new friend. Would you like to print me out and have some fun?”

“Would I!” Mr. Buttercream said excitedly and quickly hit Print.

At long last, after fixing several paper jams because of all the custard in the toner cartridge, Mr. Buttercream watched as Ernest the Email popped out of the printer and stared up at him with a smile.

Mr. Buttercream was suddenly starting to feel a little shy, but Ernest the Email was so warm and charismatic that he made Mr. Buttercream feel super comfortable right away.

“Let’s have a sleepover!” Ernest said.

“Okay!” Mr. Buttercream loved sleepovers. “I’ll get into my long johns!”

A few minutes later they were giggling under the covers of Mr. Buttercream’s four-poster bed and telling each other ghost stories. After finishing a really spooky one about an email that was left in the Drafts folder for centuries, Ernest the Email looked right at Mr. Buttercream and asked, “Truth or dare?”

Mr. Buttercream grinned at the hint of mischief he saw twinkling in Ernest’s eye. “Dare!” He could handle anything that Ernest threw at him, even if the email dared Mr. Buttercream to stick his feet in a bucket of refried beans. Little did Ernest know, Mr. Buttercream already did that every Wednesday.

But Ernest never broke eye contact as he said: “I dare you to give in to your desires.”

Mr. Buttercream’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and then Ernest was kissing Mr. Buttercream like he hadn’t been kissed since that day in the deli department all those years ago. Mr. Buttercream kissed him back with hunger until the paper was damp all over and Ernest’s dark, hunky ink began to run down the page.

Ernest proved to be an adventurous lover. At one point the email decided to role-play as an empty cereal box, and Mr. Buttercream lathered him up with vegetable oil like he did in the book if you remember that part. Mr. Buttercream folded the passionate printout this way and that and licked the sensitive creases like one of his dry stamps. Ernest moaned and was really into it, even when Mr. Buttercream got bold and crumpled the email into a little ball, stuffed him in his mouth, sloshed him around a bit, and then spit him back out and smoothed him flat again.

The email saw stars after that.

All the mouth stuff made Mr. Buttercream a little parched, and so he skipped to the kitchen and drank the watery residue that formed on the top of his yogurt tub in the fridge to quench his thirst. When he returned to the bedroom, he found Ernest lying on his side and staring out the window at a glowing gibbous moon in the sky. Mr. Buttercream got back into bed beside him and cuddled the email like they were two teaspoons in the kitchen drawer of temptation.

“Mi amor,” whispered Mr. Buttercream, who had taken four years of Spanish in high school.

“Mon chéri,” Ernest whispered back, having been well traveled on the World Wide Web.

The doorbell could have rung all night with trick-or-treaters and they wouldn’t have known, because the only thing that Benjamin John Buttercream III could hear now was his own name on Ernest’s paper lips.

It felt as if Mr. Buttercream had opened up the trick-or-treat bucket of his heart, and Ernest the Email had filled it to the brim with the gooey caramel filling of true love.

Neither man nor email would ever feel lonely again.

---

Back to Ernie the Email’s Three-Ring Binder of Spicy Fan Fiction