The Mall
Tales of the Tickle Punks
By Max Speer
Part One
Note: The permanent domain of the Tickle Punks is in a place called Kittletown. To read more about Kittletown, it’s inhabitants, laws and history, check out Books One through Three of my KITTLETOWN series. For help understanding some of the Tickle Punk slang, check out the "Tickling Gawkers Glossary" on this Forum.
Jake lit a menthol cigarette and blew it up into the sky , watching it mix with the image of the clouds. It looked like a feather in the sky. He waited with his back against the wall wondering when the hell his friends were coming. Jake was a twenty year old Tickle Punk; a denizen of Kittletown, Florida. He liked it there. He knew that with Dr. Gregory’s support, he and his band of Ticklers could do just about anything they wanted. It felt good. He liked girls. He liked to tickle girls. He couldn’t really understand why but he never questioned because he grew up in a place where everybody tickled each other all the time.
But Kittletown was boring at times for his band of tickling hoods. After all, if a babe HAD to let you tickle her under law, then where’s the fun in that? For Jake and his friends, tickling was much more fun when the girl was caught off guard.
They were all aware of the fact that Kittletown was special, and that people just don’t walk up to strangers and start tickling them without some legal consequences. That was why it was so fun to go to the Outside every once in a while.
Jake stood up a little taller as the Punks arrived. They all wore trashy, ripped clothes of leather and denim. Their ears jangled with dangling silver and gold feathers and fingers and crosses and other various gee-gaw.
The Tickle Punks, for this journey to the Outside, was a band of 5, four men and a woman. The female was an 18-year-old cutie simply named Dink. She was a terminally cute redhead who was quite a beautiful woman underneath the layers of makeup, ripped tank tops (held together with safety pins), and jeans with holes cut out in various places that revealed her soft, pale skin.
Mouse was a short, stocky tough guy with an attitude. He also had a major foot fetish and was known, at times, to tackle females and savagely scratch his nails up and down their ticklish soles before he licked them, holding the ankles in a viselike grip.
Then there was John, the quiet one. However, his lack of speaking out didn’t change the fact that he was a ruthless tickler. To many young girls in Kittletown, John was their favorite because of his handsome look and quiet mystery.
Marcus and Andy were brothers, tall and scary. They tickled severely and were often carried away by the tickling so badly that they were forced to let go of the poor victim by their friends.
The Tickle Punks were a ruthless band of delinquents; a gang of tickling terrorists. They were feared in Kittletown for taking advantage and bending the rules, but when they traveled to the Outside, they were a wolfpack to stay very clear of.
Jake walked through his friends and they followed. Then they climbed into his car and drove. They drove past the sign that read, "You are now leaving Kittletown" and onto the long snake-like highway ahead. The Florida sun was hot but it was a relatively low humidity day. This was perfect for tickling; no sweat.
After driving about 2 hours, they stopped at a roadside diner. This was the perfect place for doing what the Tickle Punks called the Salt Trick.
"I hope we get a few Worthy ones," Mouse said as they walked up the steps. They peered into the tall glass windows.
"Looks like a couple of Whistlers, a few Lambs," Jake said, shading the sun out of his eyes as he tried to look inside. "Let’s go. I don’t see any dudes."
The Punks walked in and were stared at. They were an ominous bunch that couldn’t go anywhere without eliciting stares.
A young hostess walked up to them. She wore a conservative, sleeveless sundress and strappy sandals.
The Punks stared at her, up and down.
"Looks like we have some Mason/Dixon action going with this Little Lamb," Mouse said.
"Excuse me?" The cute hostess said, trying to be polite.
Jake smiled. "Nothing."
"How many?" She asked trying not look as nervous as she was.
"Five," Marcus said, spreading his long fingers out as if he was talking to a little child. Then he lowered his hand and grabbed the waist of Dink.
"Ah! Damn!" Dink giggled as she thrust her hips in the opposite direction in order to avoid any further tickling. "You’re always tickling me. He’s always tickling me!"
"Tickle tickle tickle," Marcus said as they followed the young woman to their booth.
The hostess seated the five Punks in a booth near the door and added a chair for Dink at the end. There was no way she would sit next to any of them when they did the Salt Trick. She might get caught in the Tickle Frenzy. Dink loved to tickle but was often the victim of their frustration when they went a few minutes without getting ‘any’. This was a problem since she was so incredibly ticklish herself.
Jake leaned forward to speak to his friends. "Listen, when we get to the Mall, we’ll do a few Hit & Runs, then we’ll find a Lamb or a Whistler in a shop and Shake her up a bit. It’s warm and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of South and lots of Northern exposure.
He looked up at the waitress reluctantly assigned to their table. She was a pretty woman in her 40’s. Her body was in great shape and her long, black hair was tied in a bun on the back of her head. She wore a white, sleeveless shirt, buttoned down the front and a black skirt. Her feet, which looked pink and smooth, were slipped into a pair of clogs. She wore a wedding ring.
The Punks looked her over as if they were purchasing a racehorse. The waitress felt ill at ease.
"Let’s order first before we Ragdoll this one. I’m hungry." They agreed but the waitress had absolutely no idea what Jake was talking about.
As they finished scarfing down their burgers and fries, slurping their Pepsis and waited impatiently while Mouse finished a piece of apple pie, butterflies flurried in their stomachs with anticipation.
They made sure that there was a small amount of fries left in the middle of the table. Jake called over the waitress as Andy dumped the salt into this coke and stirred it up. He replaced the empty shaker at the furthest spot from the end.
"Hey Miss?" Jake said. "Can we have a little more salt here?"
The waitress came over and saw the salt at the other end of the table, muttering how she didn’t understand why it was empty. Jake nodded to Dink.
"Why does it have be me this time?" She protested.
The waitress innocently reached her bare arm and tight torso across the table to take the salt shaker. They had done this several times before. Their buddies, Bobby and Tom invented this trick on several trips to the Outside.
Dink was about to reach up and tickle the exposed underarm of the waitress but Marcus was impatient. He grabbed her ribs and said, "Ticklish?"
At this point, all hell broke loose. The waitress screamed and twisted to pull away from the tickling but Jake and Andy grabbed her wrists and held her arms pulled out straight in front of her. They were very strong.
Dink stood up and tickled her two exposed armpits with her two index fingers and said, How’s this feel? Kootchee kootchee tickle tickle".
The patrons at the diner were dumbstruck as they watched the waitress screaming in laughter, twisting and jerking her body. The hostess ran over and Mouse climbed up on his seat and jumped down on her, holding her from behind and grabbing her ribcage with clawlike fingers. The young hostess screamed in laughter as his fingers dug deeper into her ticklish torso. Then he looked down and saw that, in all the struggling, her sandal had come loose and one foot was exposed and bare. That was all he needed. He let go of her, but before she had a chance to move, he had dropped to the ground and lifted her foot, holding the ankle tightly. Then he tickled her bare sole. The girl squealed in laughter and bounced on one foot, trying to escape. She began to fall and grabbed the edges of another table behind the Punks trying to steady herself. Dink saw this and got up, diving at her underarms and thrust the four fingers of each hand up into the girl’s ticklish hollows. The girl was a goner at this point and let go, falling on top of Mouse who continued to savagely tickle her sensitive bare sole with galloping fingers. Dink laughed as she also tumbled but managed to keep her fingers inside the hostess’ ticklish underarms.
The patrons didn’t know what to do but the cook had come out and told another waitress to call the police. The Punks knew that they had limited time now but they continued to hold the waitress tightly and tickle her horribly ticklish armpits and ribs. John unbuttoned the bottom of her sleeveless blouse and exposed her belly button. There he tickled around and through this sensitive area bringing the waitress into a higher realm of agonized tickling. She screamed and squealed in laughter, tugging and pulling to no avail. She tried to pull her tight tummy up and away from his persistent tickling but was unable.
Mouse, who was on the floor tickling the young hostess saw the waitress’ feet and grabbed an ankle and started to tickle her as Dink continued to roll around the ground with the hostess, fingers wedged tightly under her arms, wriggling them in the soft yet limited space. The hostess was squealing in laughter and trying to reach Dink’s tickling fingers but getting weaker by the minute. Her sleeveless dress made her underarms deliciously accessible.
Meanwhile, the waitress, upon now feeling her bare foot tickled by an unseen attacker fell against the table staining her white blouse with ketchup. She sobbed as she laughed.
The cook came over to try and stop the attack.
"Don’t be a hero," Jake said, standing on his seat and knocking the cook back with a strong and firmly planted right hook into the man’s jaw.
"Let’s get outa here!" Jake yelled. "Come on!" He said as he pried Andy off the waitress’ ribs.
The Punks climbed over the fallen bodies and food as they walked to the door. Andy looked at a pretty girl, barely 13, sitting by her mother with a look of horror on her face. He stamped his foot in her direction and yelled "Tickle tickle!" laughing as she screamed and huddled against her frightened mother’s arm.
Mouse was the last to leave because he couldn’t stop staring at the hostess’ ticklish feet. Then he looked at the waitress and muttered, "Huh! Ragdolled ya, didn’t we?" Then he was outside with the rest.
End of Part One
If only all punks were into tickling. 
