The Bizarro Starter Kit
Author: Carlton Mellick Iii; Jeremy Robert Johnson; John Edward Lawson; D. Harlan Wilson; Steve Beard; Vincent W. Sakowski; Bruce Taylor; Kevin L. Donihe; Andre Duza; Gina Ranalli
Date: 2006-04-18 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Fantasy; Anthologies; Humour; Science Fiction
Description: There's a new genre rising from the underground. Its name: BIZARRO. For years, readers have been asking for a category of fiction dedicated to the weird, crazy, cult side of storytelling that has become a staple in the film industry (with directors such as David Lynch, Takashi Miike, Tim Burton, and Lloyd Kaufman) but has been largely ignored in the literary world, until now. The Bizarro Starter Kit features short novels and story collections by ten of the leading authors in the bizarro genre: D. Harlan Wilson, Carlton Mellick III, Jeremy Robert Johnson, Kevin L Donihe, Gina Ranalli, Andre Duz
Publisher: Eraserhead Press

The

STARTER KIT

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE BIZARRO GENRE

BIZARRO BOOKS

Portland * Seattle * Baltimore

www.bizarrogenre.org

BIZARRO BOOKS

205 NE BRYANT

PORTLAND, OR 97211

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ISBN: 1-933929-00-6

Copright © 2006 by D. Harlan Wilson, Carlton Mellick III, Jeremy Robert Johnson, Kevin L Donihe, Gina Ranalli, Andre Duza, Vincent Sakowski, Steve Beard, John Edward Lawson, and Bruce Taylor.

Cover art copyright © 2006 by Carlton Mellick III Interior art page 130 copyright © 2006 by Silverfish Edited by: Team Bizarro

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Printed in the USA.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Defining Bizarro . . . 5

D. Harlan Wilson . . . 6

At the Funeral . . . 7

Cops & Bodybuilders . . . 8

Hairware, Inc. . . . 9

The Man with the Thick Black Spectacles . . . 13

Classroom Dynamics . . . 16

Digging for Adults . . . 23

Carlton Mellick III . . . 26

The Baby Jesus Butt Plug . . . 27

Jeremy Robert Johnson . . . 42

Extinction Journals . . . 43

Kevin L Donihe . . . 72

The Greatest Fucking Moment In Sports . . . 73

Gina Ranalli . . . 100

Suicide Girls in the Afterlife . . . 101

Andre Duza . . . 124

Don’t F(beep)k With The Coloureds . . . 125

Vincent W. Sakowski . . . 146

The Screaming of the Fish . . . 147

Peel and Eat Buffet . . . 148

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Ragnarok . . . 149

Steve Beard . . . 164

Survivor’s Dream . . . 165

John Edward Lawson . . . 188

Truth In Ruins . . . 189

Bruce Taylor . . . 212

The Breath Amidst The Stones . . . 213

A Little Spider Shop Talk . . . 216

Of Tunafish and Galaxies . . . 218

City Streets . . . 222

DEFINING BIZARRO

1. Bizarro, simply put, is the genre of the weird.

2. Bizarro is literature’s equivalent to the cult section at the video store.

3. Like cult movies, Bizarro is sometimes surreal, sometimes goofy, sometimes bloody, and sometimes borderline pornographic.

4. Bizarro often contains a certain cartoon logic that, when applied to the real world, creates an unstable universe where the bizarre becomes the norm and absurdities are made flesh.

5. Bizarro strives not only to be strange, but fascinating, thought-provoking, and, above all, fun to read.

6. Bizarro was created by a group of small press publishers in response to the increasing demand for (good) weird fiction and the increasing number of authors who specialize in it.

7. Bizarro is:

Franz Kafka meets Joe Bob Briggs

Dr. Suess of the post-apocalypse

Japanese animation directed by David Lynch 8. For more information on the bizarro genre, visit Bizarro Central at: www.bizarrogenre.org

D. Harlan Wilson

LOCATION:

Bowels of Michigan

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Irrealism

BOOKS BY WILSON:

The Kafka Effekt

Stranger on the Loose

Irrealities

Pseudo-City

Dr. Identity (forthcoming)

DESCRIPTION: Formerly a town crier in an anonymous Welsh village, D.

Harlan Wilson is currently a professor of English at Michigan State University. His fiction is a dark, absurdist, dreamlike exploration of the postcapitalist condition.

INFLUENCES: Franz Kafka, Nikolai Gogol, Jorge Luis Borges, William S.

Burroughs, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Russell Edson, Deleuze & Guattari, Jean Baudrillard, Philip K. Dick, Kurt Vonnegut, Rene Magritte, David Lynch, Albert Camus, Airplane!, Airplane 2!, Nascar enthusiasts, Elvis impersonators, and Ben Affleck.

WEBSITE:

www.dharlanwilson.com

7 AT THE FUNERAL

AT THE FUNERAL

She nods her head.

“Well, I guess the thing unzipped
itself. I guess that’s what happened, isn’t it?” This time my sister doesn’t respond to me. She whispers something into her doll’s ear and giggles.

It

I use my feet to try and stuff The

=s been a week already and the funeral isn’t over yet. For seven days and nights we’ve Deceased back into the body bag, but it been roaming the hallways of Frinkel’s Death doesn’t work, and when I’m about to lay my Emporium whispering in each other
hands on Him, my mother walks into the se-

=s ears,
massaging each other
cret room, scolds my sister and I for being

=s elbows, politely tram-
pling each other as we ransack the hors there, sits down on the bed and places The d

Deceased’s head in her lap. She strokes His

=oeuvre table, which is replenished with a fresh round of fruit punch and cold Swedish curly brown hair. A few seconds later . . . He meatballs at noon and sundown every day.

coughs.

The Emporium’s staff consists of two short,

“Holy moly,” I say.

round men in bird costumes. When they My mother closes her eyes. “No,

=re
not setting out provisions and cleaning up no. That’s just a reflex.”

after us, they wobble around on their big

“Reflex? He’s been dead over a
yellow feet and make bird noises.

week.”

Seven days and nights of walking

My mother begins to massage The
around a funeral home is enough to make Deceased’s neck. The Deceased coughs
anybody tired, and yet nobody seems to be again. Then, purring a little, He mumbles, tired but me. I start asking people why they

“That feels good.”

don

Before I can say anything my

=t sit down for a while, maybe take a nap, but everybody just smacks their lips and mother shakes her head. “Reflexes. It=s all waves me away.

reflexes.”

Annoyed, I decide to look for a bed

I stare at her.

and take a nap myself. I find one in a secret My mother says, “Listen, I have to
room. The bed is king-sized and made out of go. Aunt Kay=s been feeding meatballs to Queen Anne
the spiders and I have to try and convince

=s lace. On the far side of it, my
sister Klarissa is sitting there playing with a her to feed them to herself instead. You two doll.

can stay here, but not for long, okay? Be In the middle of it, The Deceased is
good.” She removes The Deceased’s head laying there dead.

from her lap, gets off the bed and leaves.

The upper half of The Deceased’s

The Deceased flexes His jaw. He
body is hanging out of a black, halfway un-coughs again, and again, and again. He keeps zipped body bag. He isn’t wearing any on coughing until a rotten apple flies out of clothes and His skin is absolutely colorless.

His mouth. It sails across the room and shat-His eyes look like they’re on the verge of ters an antique lamp. Klarissa and I leap off popping out of His head.

the bed as The Deceased starts gesticulatI sit down next to Him and frown at
ing like an angry worm. “Get me outta this Klarissa. “Did you unzip this body bag?”

damn thing,” He says.

She shakes her head.

“I don=t think that’s such a good

“You’re telling me you didn’t unzip
idea,” I say. Klarissa adds, “We might get in this body bag? Is that what you’re telling trouble.” Then, under her breath: “Is this a me?”

reflex, too?”

I purse my lips.

D. HARLAN WILSON 8

The Deceased gives us a dirty look.

shoulders and screams in our ears, we won’t

“Fine. I’ll get out myself. And I’ll never for-open our eyes.

give you two for being so crummy to me.”

The Deceased sighs. Then, having

Klarissa and I glance at each other.

nothing else to do, He crawls onto the bed After a brief struggle, The Deceased man-and back into the body bag, and zips Himself ages to unzip the body bag the rest of the up as best He can.

way. He climbs out of it. He stretches His wiry, naked limbs, rearranges His genitals, and strides out of the secret room without a word. Klarissa and I watch Him go.

Then we leap back onto the bed and
fall asleep on either side of the open body COPS &
bag . . .

Out in the hallways The Deceased

BODYBUILDERS
approaches the attendants of the funeral one at a time. He taps them on the shoulders and asks if they can spare some clothes and if it’s not too much trouble a meatball and a cup of fruit punch. “I’m very cold and undernour-ished,” He says, eyes fixed on his toes. Ev-A bodybuilder in a purple spandex G-string erybody frowns and pretends they don’t snuck into my home and started to pose. His understand Him, except for my Aunt Kay, tan seemed to have been painted onto his who, in response to His plea, spits a mouth-skin, and his muscles seemed to twitch and ful of tobacco juice on Him and then shoots flex of their own volition. His grin was as up into the ceiling on a thread of spidersilk white as the image of God.

attached to the back of her neck. The De-I reached underneath the couch
ceased breaks down and cries. My grandfa-cushion I was sitting on. Pulled out a crow-ther threatens to have Him hanged. “We’ll bar. “I’ll teach you to invade a man=s pri-string you up right here and won’t even think vacy,” I exclaimed, and made like I was going twice about it!” he twangs. The Deceased to swing at him. He didn’t flinch. He went on snarls at him. My grandfather signals the posing, turning his broad back to me and Emporium’s two bird men and they all chase tightening up his gluteus maximus.

The Deceased back to the secret room and Impressed, I couldn’t help making a
tell Him not to come out again unless He wants comment. “Nice gluts,” I said. The body-to die.

builder thanked me, straightened out one of

“I’m already dead,” says The De-
his arms and exhibited a sublime tricep ceased as my grandfather slams the door on muscle. I made a frog face. “That’s pretty His face.

nice, too. But could you leave please? My Klarissa and I don’t wake up. The
wife will be home soon and if she sees us Deceased shuffles over to the bed. He stares here together she might get suspicious. Any-at us and thinks about what He should do.

way you’re breaking the law. You can’t just Should He kill us? Should He maim us? Or sneak into somebody=s house, start posing should He leave us alone? Since He dislikes and expect everything to be all right. Please us so much, the most sensible thing to do go.”

would be to kill us. But He can’t make up His The bodybuilder shook his head.

mind. He tries to wake us and ask us what He

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that. Once I start should do. No luck—we’re sleeping like dead posing, there’s no stopping me.” He placed things. No matter how hard He pokes our

9 HAIRWARE, INC.

a foot out in front of him and mockingly jiggled his profound thigh muscles back and forth.

HAIRWARE, INC.

“I may take five now and then to shoot up an anabolic cocktail and fix myself a protein shake, but otherwise, you’re stuck with me.

You’re stuck with me for a long, long time.”

I called the bodybuilder an asshole.

One day I woke up and decided it was time to Then I called 911. “You’re going to jail for get a job. “Jobs are delicious.” I smacked what you’ve done.” The bodybuilder
my lips.

shrugged. The shrug was as much a pose as I rolled over and went back to sleep.

it was a gesture of indifference.

Later I woke up again.

In light of the severity of the crime I After taking a shower, bleaching my
reported on the phone, the police didn’t teeth, sitting on the toilet, drinking my morn-bother knocking on my door when they aring coffee, eating my morning hard-boiled rived. They simply crashed through my door egg, reading an out-of-date newspaper, and like a stampede of psychotic oxen. There allowing Good Sense to sink Its teeth into were three of them, each equipped with a me, I realized that a job might not be the best bushy handlebar mustache, each wearing two course of action. Not a regular job anyway.

articles of clothing: a ten-gallon police hat I decided to start my own business.

and a purple spandex G-string. Their tans Having no business experience, I
seemed to have been painted onto their skin, wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Best sleep and their muscles seemed to twitch and flex on it, I told myself.

of their own volition. Their grins were as I had a dream about a room full of
white as the image of God.

naked fetuses squirming on the pavement in

“What seems to be the problem
silence . . . I woke up again and scrambled here, sir?” asked the cop in charge, and struck into the bathroom. I inspected my face in the a pose. It was an impressive Front Double mirror, one cheek at a time.

Bicep pose. Following his lead, the rest of

“Adios,” I said to each of my side-
the cops also struck it.

burns and then mindfully cut them off with a I said, “This bodybuilder is an in-straight razor. I primped their bristled bodies truder. Take him away.”

with a fine-toothed comb, sprinkled a little

“We weren’t talking to you,” replied
aftershave on them, and tied leashes to their the cop in charge. He and his colleagues necks.

synchronously shifted into an equally im-I left.

pressive Side Chest pose. “We were talking The street was full of men in capes,
to the bodybuilder.”

top hats and Lone Ranger masks. A few of Confused, I glanced at the body-the men accidentally stomped on my side-builder. He nodded at me. “This man is in-burns as I walked them to the nearest fire hospitable,” he said. “Take him away.”

hydrant. By the time I reached the fire hy-The cops made belittling,
drant, the sideburns were very flat-looking. I sniggering comments about my less than rock did my best to make them look presentable hard body as they frisked me, cuffed me, and again.

led me out to the squad car . . .

I climbed on top of the fire hydrant.

“Pets for sale,” I announced. I struck a pose that conveyed an aura of relaxed confidence.

Nobody paid attention to me.

I said, “Bargain prices guaranteed.”

D. HARLAN WILSON 10

Bodies froze, ears pricked up, irises

. . .

opened . . . A gaggle of cape-wearers con-I walked away with $350. Not a bad
verged on me and started bidding on the side-day’s work. Business was really starting to burns. “Five dollars!” one of them spat.

take off.

Another exclaimed, “I’ll give you a hog, a I spent $300 on a prostitute and gave
cow, and two wiggers for the both of them!”

her a $35 tip. I used what was left to buy Not being a big fan of the barter system, I another hot dog, pickle and dirty magazine made approving frog faces only at the men from a kiosk.

who offered me money.

As I lunched and read, I realized that I ended up letting the sideburns go

I needed to hire somebody to manage my for $40 apiece. The buyer wanted to pay me money; so far I had been less than frugal with an I.O.U. I demanded cash. He gave me with my earnings. Either that, or sell enough a $100 bill and told me to keep the change.

products so as to not have to worry about There was no end to my excitement.

how much of my earnings I spent.

A Cheshire permagrin overwhelmed my face My armpits, I thought. And my
as I raced to a bar and spent $90 on over-pubic region . . .

priced martinis and scotches. I used what But I was no whore. Those hairy
was left to buy a hot dog, a pickle and a dirty places were not meant to be shaved and sold magazine from a kiosk.

as silly, loveable companions.

A homeless man raised an eyebrow

A nap would surely clear my mind
at me as I stumbled over to his cardboard box and help me figure out what to do. I took and puked in it. I apologized and gave him one.

an I.O.U. for the cleaning bill.

I dreamt of a room full of grouchy

I went back home, toppled into bed,
fetuses wearing dirty diapers and five o’clock slept, dreamt, woke up, winced at my hang-shadows . . .

over, swallowed a handful of aspirin, guzzled I woke up. An idea was sitting in
a gallon of tap water, went back to sleep, the waiting room of my mind. It greeted me dreamt, woke up, stared at the ceiling, blinked, with a wet kiss.

got out of bed, took a shower, bleached my I waited until the sun went down
teeth, sat on the toilet, ate a hard-boiled egg, and the city was crawling with shadows. I read an out-of-date newspaper . . .

became one of the shadows.

I didn’t say “Adios” to my eye-

Bums, vagrants, tramps, gypsies,
brows and mustache before slicing them off.

hobos, nomads, vagabonds, itinerants—I This time I didn’t even have to tan-started out with them. As they lay sawing talize potential buyers with a guarantee. The logs in their respective boxes, trash cans, park moment I set foot on the street, dragging the benches, curbs, subway stations, alleyways, three pieces of facial hair behind me by their fire escapes and roofs, I snuck up on them respective leashes, I was besieged by wisp-and relinquished their faces of any and all ing capes. As I haggled and dickered and embellishments, which mostly consisted of quibbled over prices, I spotted the man who unkempt unibrows and nappy, dusty beards.

had purchased my right sideburn out of the A garbage bag full of booty hang-corner of my eyes. He was leaning up against ing over my shoulder, I climbed down every a lamppost across the street, petting and chimney that would accommodate my creep-whispering babytalk to the hairpiece.

ing body and stole a wide variety of facial The mustache sold for considerably
hair from a wide variety of apartment owners more than the eyebrows, despite the fact that as they snored the night away. I did this all three hairpieces were more or less the same until my bag was absolutely stuffed. Then I size and accompanied by sizeable handlebars skulked home, got drunk, went to sleep,

11 HAIRWARE, INC.

dreamt, woke up, went back to sleep, dreamt, I removed ten more pets from my
woke up, lay in bed, got out of bed, took a garbage bag and positioned them on the shower, bleached my teeth . . .

counter. I attached them to leashes and ar-Later I set up a lemonade stand in
ranged the leashes in such a way that they the city center.

were accessible to passersby who may or Village idiots gathered in the city
may not want to take them on a trial walk.

center daily to perform a cirque d’idéotie of

“Pets,” I repeated.

feats and wonders that ranged from nude tra-Still no response. There were too
peze artistry to Elvis impersonations to many distractions. Apparently good idiocy ultraviolent, gladiator-like battle royals. It garnered more public interest than a good was a prime location for any business. There commodity. The battle royal was the biggest was always a healthy crowd of consumers distraction of all. It was taking place in an looking for diversions from being oppressed oversized boxing ring on the far side of the by the spectacle of the village idiots’ idiocy.

city center. Inside of the ring village idiots It was a hot day. Muggy, too. Surely were punching one another with brass knuck-consumers would be looking for something les, machinegunning one another with uzis, to quench their thirst.

cutting off one another’s heads with samurai In addition to thirst-quenchers, I
swords. Blood and viscera erupted out of sold pets.

the ring in a soaking volcanic bouquet as The stand was an assemblage of
heads bounced like basketballs into the crowd cardboard boxes I had stitched together with of onlookers surrounding it. I couldn’t com-coat hangers to look like a kiosk. On top I pete with the mayhem.

painted the title of my business:

There was a village idiot not far from my place of business who had a zipper that HAIRWARE, INC.

ran from the top of his forehead to the butt of his chin. He was entertaining a circle of chil-I placed a sweating, refreshing-look-
dren by repeatedly opening and closing the ing pitcher of lemonade on the counter of my zipper and exposing them to his skull. Some makeshift kiosk. Next to it I placed a pair of of the children were crying and calling out sharp lambchop sideburns and a Fu Manchu.

for their mothers. Others merely stared and I stroked the hairpieces with a pinky finger, blinked.

combed their hides with a toothbrush . . .

I hung up a sign that read: OUT

“Pets for sale at bargain prices,” I

FOR LUNCH. I walked over to the village announced, tantalizing the public right off idiot, pardoned myself, glanced down at the the bat.

children, smiled, grabbed the idiot by the neck Nobody minded me. It was the usual
and strangled him to death. It didn’t take throng of men in capes and top hats. But long. The idiot didn’t even put up a fight—
there were some wearing colorful zoot and he stood there with a bored expression on goodbody suits, and a motley few were
his face, waiting to turn purple and die.

dressed up in stonewashed Mexican tuxedos.

The bored look dissolved into a

The village idiots, if they weren’t flying blank look and the idiot collapsed. I turned through the air naked as torn open clams, to the children and said, “Well then. Wasn’t exhibited bright white disco outfits with gi-that exciting? Hello. My name is blah blah ant collars that flared out over hairy inverted blah. Can I interest any of you youngsters in chests. The idiots weren’t doing anything a pet?”

special. Nothing out of the ordinary any-The children who had been crying
way. But clearly they had more appeal than and calling for their mothers began to stare me.

and blink at me. The children who had been

D. HARLAN WILSON 12
staring and blinking began to cry and call for the hairware stayed in formation and didn’t their mothers.

flinch. I calmly, repeatedly checked my watch

“There there,” I told them. “There
to ensure that I would not miss taking the there, there there . . .”

nap I had scheduled for later that afternoon.

It was at this point that a drove of

“We know who you are, and we
irate, bald-faced freaks stormed the city cen-want them back,” the leader of the mob fiter.

nally trumpeted. He had a bald, fat head and There were hundreds of them, all
was wearing a nineteenth century Murdstone from different walks of life, from the highest suit with a frilled white shirt, long chocolate caliber of bourgeois yuppies to the lowliest tails and knee-high equestrian boots. His pieces of crumpled up white trash. Specta-tone was both assertive and tentative. He tors and village idiots alike threw their arms waited for me to say something. I checked over their heads and emitted high-pitched my watch again. Gaining confidence, he shrieks as they poured into the city center shouted, “I said we want them back! Give like a swarm of killer bees, annihilating ev-them to us, sir! Those appendages belong eryone and everything that lay in their path.

to us, sir!”

A pastiche of bodies, body parts and entrails The hairware began to growl. A
bloomed into the blue sky in slow motion . . .

handful of goatees barked. They had been It didn’t take long for the mob to
relinquished from the faces that once bound spot the objects responsible for their mania.

them, yet they continued to be treated like Since I had made their acquain-extremities by their former masters, like parts tance, the hairware had been acting rather of the faces rather than individual, capable lethargic. They had in fact shown no evi-entities. Additionally, it was obvious that dence of being functional organisms. Now, they had been mistreated. Very few pieces of however, they leapt to attention, vaulting out hairware were properly groomed, a number of the garbage bag and quickly lining up in of sideburns had dandruff and lice, many of front of me like a regiment of British soldiers.

the mustaches had chunks of vegetable soup Beards and goatees filled out the front ranks hidden in their bushy depths, and a few while sideburns and eyebrows brought up beards had been moonlighting as bird’s nests.

the rear. Behind it all, mustaches flowed back They were less than pleased. And they were and forth as if riding on horses.

clearly unwilling to return home. As pets The mob froze. Everybody did.

and commodities, at least they had a chance Even the mangled and the dismembered victo manifest authentic identities.

tims of the mob’s lunacy stopped moaning The mob could see that the hairware
and twitching and groping for their lost limbs.

didn’t want anything to do with them anyI cocked my head. The entire population of more. They still felt entitled to the hairware.

the city center was pointing its attention in The leader said to me, “Call them off. Tell my direction.

them to lay still. What’s ours is ours. Do The village idiots frowned.

you think this is funny? Our faces look like The spectators stared at me indif-deserts of vast eternity. Be a gentleman and ferently.

return us our property. Otherwise we will be The mob stared at me intensely.

inclined to take them from you. You may also There was a long silence during
expect us to flog you and perform distasteful which the village idiots’ frowns deepened, public sex acts on you. Am I clear? Do as I the spectators’ blank expressions persisted, say.”

and the eyes of the mob grew wider and wider The rest of the mob nodded at me in
as their chins slowly rose higher and higher dark affirmation of their leader’s will.

in the air. Except for the roving mustaches, I had seen what people who have

13 THE MAN IN THE THICK BLACK SPECTACLES
had their hairware stolen could do to other jumpsuits climbed out of manholes and sol-people, but I had not yet seen what the emnly began to clean up the mess with in-hairware itself could do. I sized up both par-dustrial brooms and waterhoses.

ties, wondering whether it would be in my I sighed.

best interests to consent to the mob or stand I picked up the bag, slung it over
behind my product.

my shoulder.

I decided to stand behind my prod-

I walked home. Distressed. I hadn’t
uct.

sold a single pet. My pockets were empty.

I said, “I don’t want any trouble.

No money to buy any fun, let alone to buy I’m just a businessman. I’m only trying to something to eat and read.

make a living. There’s no harm in that. I Things were much simpler when I
suggest you go away. Go home and grow was a small businessman, I told myself. Big new hairware. I can’t even see fit to sell you business is the pits.

back this batch for a bargain price in light of Best sleep on it . . .

how poorly you treated it before I confis-This time, the fetuses were in better
cated it from you. You have my answer.”

moods. Their diapers were clean, and they There was an obscene pause . . .

had all shaved . . .

“So be it,” seethed the leader. He
raised an arm over his head and discharged a shrill Indian warcry . . . The warcry lasted for over three minutes. As it elapsed, the members of the mob stood there patiently gnash-ing their teeth, fists clenched at their sides.

THE MAN IN THE

Shortly after the first minute of the
warcry, the village idiots and spectators grew THICK BLACK
bored. If they were wounded, they went to the hospital. If they weren’t wounded, they SPECTACLES
went home or to the nearest sandwich ven-dor.

Shortly after the second minute of
the warcry, I grew bored. I also grew anxious, realizing it was time to take my nap yet I was nowhere near a comfortable bed.

Before opening the door and entering the Shortly after the third minute of the
conference room, the man in the thick black warcry, the hairware grew bored.

spectacles removed a wad of chewing gum It attacked.

from his mouth and, after glancing in every The usual macabre exhibition un-imaginable direction, stuck it into an unas-folded—hot gore sprayed the ceiling of the suming, seemingly clean crack in the wall.

sky like an abstract drip painting as bodies He would retrieve the gum from the crack were ripped apart as if hurled en masse into a later, after the meeting, which would take no gigantic meat grinder. I was surprised by more and no less than five minutes. He knew how swiftly and efficiently they took apart this for three reasons:

their enemies.

When it was over, the hairware re-

1. This morning the man
treated to the garbage bag. They filed into it in the cubicle next door
in organized ranks, leaving large piles of had told him so.

steaming carnage in their wake.

Eight foot janitors wearing neon

D. HARLAN WILSON 14

2. There was a neon bill-

Eyeing the gum, he ground his teeth
board hanging from the
and stroked his brow. He sighed. He closed ceiling of the office that
the door and looked back over his right shoul-read:

der, his left shoulder, his right shoulder. Then he looked between his legs, underneath his MEETING TODAY
shoes . . .

5 MINUTES LONG

Hardly satisfied, but more anxious

NO MORE, NO LESS
now about hesitating and being late for the meeting than abandoning the gum, the man in the thick black spectacles walked in at last, 3. Of the countless meet-closing the door behind him slowly, guard-ings he had attended be-
edly, without a sound, pulling his beaklike fore, he could not remem-nose inside just as the door clicked shut.

ber one of them being

Immediately the man in the silver
more or less than five min-
handlebar mustache unfolded his appendutes.

ages and snuck out from behind the water cooler. Giggling, he crept over to the crack in So there was no reason why this meeting the wall. He stretched out his long neck, should be any different, and no reason why rolled out his tongue and began to lap at the the man in the thick black spectacles should gum as a thirsty dog might lap at a bowl of be worried.

water.

And yet he was worried. Five min-

At the same time the man in the neon
utes was five minutes, after all.

zoot suit wormed his way up from out of the He placed a fingernail between his
soil in the pot that contained the office’s larg-teeth and began to chew on it. What if, say, est rubber plant, using the branches of the a fly landed on the gum while he was gone?

plant for leverage, but still, this worming took He would have no way of knowing what the a while, and by the time he was free of the fly had done to the gum in his absence. For soil and had dusted himself off, the man in all he knew, the fly would crap on it, meaning the silver handlebar mustache was fully en-that the man in the thick black spectacles, in gaged, his tongue lapping at high speed. The the not-too-distant future, might very well man in the neon zoot suit would have to wait be chewing on fly dung. This was not a pretty his turn. Being the impatient sort, he couldn’t thought so he tried not to think it, or to think stop himself from cursing, albeit he did so in thoughts like it. He couldn’t allow himself an undertone. But after a while the man in to. To allow himself to think that way would the flamingo pink top hat fell through a ceil-be distracting, and this meeting, while short, ing tile with a crash and at least the man in was, like all of the other meetings, an impor-the neon zoot suit had some company now.

tant one. It required that he be sharp as a He stopped cursing . . . until the man in the tack.

flamingo pink top hat started cursing, first Removing the fingernail from his
because he had fallen, second because of teeth, he opened the door . . . and hesitated, the man in the silver handlebar mustache, unable to help himself, despite himself.

who was taking too long, far too long, who Five minutes, he thought. Some-was hogging the wad of chewing gum all too times one minute seems like an eternity, es-himself!

pecially when you’re thinking about that Not a moment passed before the
minute. It’s one thing to handle one minute, man in the neon zoot suit joined his estranged or rather, one eternity. But can I handle five colleague in blasphemous harmony. “Why of them?

not give us a go, you filthy bastard?” they

15 THE MAN IN THE THICK BLACK SPECTACLES
bitched. The man in the silver handlebar overturned beetle. Then he pointed an an-mustache promptly sucked his tongue back gry warning finger at the man in the silver into his mouth, stood upright and about-handlebar mustache, but all that man did was faced. To his aggressors he replied, “If one whistle a quiet tune and feign a reverie. This wants something, all one has to do is ask.

irked the man in the neon zoot suit. Not That’s all one has to do.”

enough to lead his one-track mind astray, The sarcasm in the man in the silver
though; he just pressed a finger to one nos-handlebar mustache’s tone of voice was fla-tril and out the other nostril blasted out an grant enough but neither the man in the neon ornery little snot ball and then he opened up zoot suit nor the man in the flamingo pink top his shark mouth and turned and made for the hat had ever cared enough about sarcasm to gum that the man in the thick black spec-be able to detect it, even if it slapped them tacles had stuck right there in the crack in the across both cheeks. Muttering hasty thank wall . . . but too late, too late. The door to the yous under their breath, they attacked the conference room was being opened up,
crack in the wall at the same time, smacked slowly, guardedly, without a sound, and in a into each other and collapsed to the floor.

flash the man in the silver handlebar mus-They got to their feet and blinked. Following tache folded himself up behind the water a brief, woozy exchange, they played rock-cooler again, and the man in the flamingo paper-scissors to see who between them got pink top hat both rallied from the backhand to lick the gum first.

and leapt back up into the ceiling, replacing The man in the flamingo pink top
the tile he had fallen through with a fresh hat won.

one. So the man in the neon zoot suit was all

“Balls!” exclaimed the loser; he
alone. And when the man in the thick black ripped the peacock’s feather out of his tando spectacles emerged, it was he and no other hat and stomped on it as the victor, with the that would be to blame, despite his innocence.

tip of a sharp tongue, began stabbing at the For while the man in the neon zoot suit had gum, again and again, growing more excit-certainly wanted to lick the gum, and would able and outrageous with each snakelike stab.

have licked it if he could have—and the gum The man in the silver handlebar mustache, had clearly been licked, a forensics expert now leaning up against the wall with arms wasn’t needed to figure that out—the truth crossed, sniggered, then began moving his of the matter was: he had not licked anything.

tongue around the insides of his mouth so At this point the man in the neon
that his cheeks poked out. He smacked his zoot suit asked himself three simple ques-lips, too, each time glaring derisively at the tions. He would have asked himself more, man in the neon zoot suit out of the corners but time wouldn’t permit it.

of his eyes.

Finally the man in the neon zoot suit

1. What is to become of
had had enough. Being twice as tall and me once I get caught?

twice as strong as the man in the flamingo pink top hat and the man in the silver handle-2. Will the man in the thick
bar mustache combined, but always hesitant black spectacles attack me
to resort to his brawn until the last straw had or give me the opportunity
been drawn, which it had, which it most defi-to explain myself?

nitely had—he backhanded the man in the flamingo pink top hat away from the wall and 3. Given the opportunity,
sent him sliding down the hallway on his how will I explain myself?

spine, his arms and legs and sharp tongue waving in the air like the extremities of an The man in the neon zoot suit was about to

D. HARLAN WILSON 16
ask himself a fourth question, but something overcame him, something that, when he re-CLASSROOM
flected on it later during a water cooler conversation with the man in the silver handle-DYNAMICS
bar mustache and the man in the flamingo pink top hat, he described as an “impulsive burst of energy” that allowed him to spring up and across the hallway, dive back down into the soil of the rubber plant and cover himself over just enough so that nobody Situated between floors 863 and 924 of the would take note of his stealth. “It was a bril-Ameliabedelia Spacescraper are the offices liant move,” he bragged.

and classrooms of Pseudofolliculitis State

“And yet quite unnecessary,”

University. Roughly 20,000 students attend smiled the man in the silver handlebar mus-the university per year, and exactly 200 pro-tache.

fessors teach there. Most of these profes-The man in the flamingo pink top
sors are more concerned with their scholarly hat added, “Yes. Quite unnecessary.”

output than they are with pedagogy. Most The man in the neon zoot suit said,
of them, in fact, could care less about their

“I don=t get it.”

students’ intellectual well-being, preoccupied The man in the flamingo pink top
as they are with churning out criticism and hat, who had seen everything through a theory that absolutely nobody (including the mouse hole in the ceiling, told him. “As it so professors themselves) reads and that has happened, the man in the thick black spec-no bearing whatsoever on the social, politi-tacles, after slipping out the door that led cal, cultural or economic condition of into the conference room, was apparently so Pseudofolliculitis City. Fortunately, not all preoccupied he forgot all about his gum. He of the professors at PSU practice this brand stood there in the hallway a moment, ner-of absurdity. Dr. Bobby Lee Beebody, for vously fingering an ear lobe and flexing his instance, cares so much about his students jowls. Then he spent some time making these that he can barely sleep at night. He worries sickly croaking noises. I suspected he was about their intellect. He worries about their either about to faint or have a heart attack emotional disposition. The thought of one and die, but just as this suspicion crept into of his students being depressed or saddened my mind he bleated like a sheep that’s been depresses and saddens him. Even if they are sat upon by a fat man and then, finally, he irretrievably idiotic.

scurried off, down the hallway, talking to him-One day Dr. Beebody decided to
self in a worried voice. And that’s that.”

start hugging his students hello and

“That’s that,” repeated the man in
goodbye.

the neon zoot suit in a dull whisper, then He waited for them at the door of
turned with a quick jerk, like a man that wants his classroom with a friendly smile on his to be alone with his dread.

face and his arms wide open. As the students trickled in, he wrapped his arms around them and gave each of them a warm, loving squeeze. He did the same thing after class as they trickled out. There were no sexual undertones to these hugs, and at no time did his hands slip out of place when he was hugging one of his more attractive lady students and grab or spank a piece of ass. Not that

17 CLASSROOM DYNAMICS
most of his lady students would have minded.

physique and the old school fashion state-Dr. Beebody was a tall, dark, handsome drink ment exhibited by all of PSU’s deans. For of water. He had an aquiline face, bright white additional effect, he had also surgically re-teeth, immaculately groomed obsidian hair constructed his face in the graven image of and a keen fashion sense. He was the com-James Dean.

plete antithesis of his PSU colleagues, who, The two men stared at each other
for the most part, looked and smelled some-across the dean’s untidy desk for half a minute thing like giant balls of tumbleweed. Still, of silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable si-there were a number of his students who were lence. It wasn’t a comfortable one either. In less than excited about being hugged by their the background was a Muzak rendition of a professor, especially the frat boys. Dr.

Daryl Hall & John Oats ballad.

Beebody embraced them and they stood

“Hello,” Dr. Beebody finally said.

there as if something uninvited had just been

“Hello,” Dean Dingleblazer replied.

shoved up their asses—frozen stiff, eyes Both men spoke in dull monotones—the only wide, lips twisted, arms flush against their way plaquedemics are allowed to speak to sides as they breathed in the scent of his one another according to The Official PSU
stylish cologne. Every now and then a stu-Faculty & Administrator Rulebook. “Per-dent would try to sneak past the professor sonality” can only be exhibited in or near the while he was hugging somebody else, but he classroom and in select public zones.

always managed to get his hands on the

“Stop hugging your students,” said
would-be escape artist. If it was before class, the dean squarely.

he would simply waltz over to the student’s

“Why?” said Dr. Beebody.

desk, lean over and give him his due, whis-

“Do I really need to justify that quespering things in his ear like “It’s alright” and tion with an answer? That question doesn’t

“I know, I know” and “Everything’s going to deserve an answer.”

be okay.” If it was after class, he would chase

“Maybe it doesn’t deserve one. But
the students down the hallway until he it wants one. All questions want answers.”

caught them. Once he chased a frat boy half-

“What about rhetorical questions?”

way across campus, from floor 864 to 892,

“Them, too. They just won’t admit
and when he finally caught him, he hugged it.”

him so tightly and for so long that the little A bitter, annoyed expression tried
bastard passed out and died in his arms. It to weasel its way onto Dean Dingleblazer’s was a devastating blow, a terrible tragedy.

face, but he nipped it in the bud before it had Dr. Beebody was just trying to be nice. The a chance to flourish so as not to break the last thing he wanted to do was kill a student Law. “Please refrain from that sort of non-that didn’t deserve it. But accidents happen.

sense, sir. Please make an effort to not bring And anyway it is a professor’s right to exter-that sort of assholery to this table. Now then.

minate a student whenever he wishes. In the You’re freaking out your students. Stop hug-meantime he would grieve the frat boy’s pass-ging them. Leave them be. Don’t touch them.

ing and continue to administer as many hugs Don’t lay a finger on them. Am I being per-to his students as possible, making sure not fectly clear?”

to squeeze their fragile bodies with an excess Dr. Beebody nodded his blank face.

of verve and tenderheartedness.

The nod did not signify obedience. It signi-Killing a student is one thing. But
fied a simple acknowledgment of a piece of hugging one? That’s quite another. It wasn’t information that had been conveyed to him.

long before Dr. Beebody found himself sit-

“I see,” was his response. Ten seconds of ting in front of Dean Dingleblazer.

dead air followed.

The dean exhibited the pot-bellied

The professor said, “The thing is, I

D. HARLAN WILSON 18
think my students need hugs. They don’t and if they spotted it, professors had every work very hard and most of them are com-right to murder the guilty (or, possibly, not plete morons. But that doesn’t mean they guilty) party in any way he or she saw fit.

don’t need a little sensitivity and, dare I say,

“Right,” said the professor. He
love. In fact, I think giving them hugs will folded his arms behind his back and walked make them more inclined to transcend their out from behind the podium. “Right,” he said idiocy and take at least a moderate interest in again. “Well. Well then. Let’s get right to it, cultivating their mongoloid intellects. My shall we? Okay then. Yesterday we were students need help, and I’m in a position to discussing the psychodynamics of Hitler’s help them. That’s the score. I’ve got hugs to desire for his young niece to squat over and give, Dean Dingleblazer, and I aim to give urinate on him. Let’s begin today by think-them.”

ing about this enchanting act of perversion The dean stared vacantly at the pro-in Lacanian terms. I am particularly inter-fessor. “You’re fired.”

ested in the way in which the phallus mani-

“Really?”

fests itself here. Who can explain to me what

“If you hug another student, yes,
constitutes the phallus according to Lacan?”

really. That’s the end of this retarded con-None of the students raised their
versation. Please get out of my sight. Please hands.

do that, sir.”

“Anyone? Can anyone tell me how

Dr. Beebody ruminatively twitched

Lacan defines the phallus?”

his lips. He nodded and said “I see” again, The students blinked at him.

obediently this time. He puckered up his lips, Dr. Beebody stroked his square
widened his eyes, said “Well then,” stood chin. He buried his face in his hand and, with up, cleared his throat, glanced absent-his thumb and middle finger, stroked his mindedly around the office, smiled pleasantly, temples. He stroked them for over half a said “Goodbye,” nodded again, and left.

minute, praying to God that somebody would Later that day, in Dr. Beebody’s NH
speak up of their own volition. Nobody did.

(Novels about Hitler) 410E course . . .

So: “Mr. Bitchslapper? Care to fill us in?” He

“Good afternoon, studentry,” announced the released his face from his hand and stared professor from behind his podium. He spoke pointedly at the student.

in a detached voice, his chin titled up a notch.

Pendleton Bitchslapper III (a.k.a.

“Thank you for showing up. You may have PB3) was one of six frat boys in NH 410E. A noticed that, on your way into our classroom ninth-year senior at PSU, he was president this afternoon, you did not receive your usual of the Phi Gamma Dipcup fraternity, the proud warm greeting. It has been brought to my owner of a 1.8 gradepoint average, and a attention that said warm greetings are, in so pothead extraordinaire; he had been high for many words, neither well-received, nor pro-so long, in fact, that his eyes has devolved ductive on an emotional level. Whereas I into two small Xs that seemed to have been tend to disagree with this notion in every carved into his bloated head.

respect, I have no choice but to respect and When Dr. Beebody asked his ques-acknowledge it in order to avoid being tion, PB3 had of course not been listening.

skidrowed. Hence there will be no more of He had been daydreaming about having an this touchy-feely hoo-ha. FYI.”

orgy with the harem of sorority girls he kept Dr. Beebody’s students blinked at
as slaves in his bathroom closet. Dr. Beebody him. A few of the frat boys sighed in relief, repeated himself. “Excuse me? Mr.

albeit guardedly. To sigh too conspicuously Bitchslapper? Answer the question if you during a class was an indication of boredom, please.”

no matter what the sigh actually indicated, PB3 snapped out of his daydream.

19 CLASSROOM DYNAMICS

“What question?” His X-eyes cringed like Nothing. He cleared it again. Nothing.

sphincters.

“Boy,” he said. “I despise calling

“Wrong answer.” In one fluid mo-
on people. I wish somebody would just an-tion the professor reached inside of his pitch swer the question so I don’t have to call on black zoot suit, removed a large throwing star, one of you. Why won’t somebody just raise wound it up and winged it at PB3. The their hand? That would make me happy. It weapon nailed the frat boy in the eye. The might make you happy, too, if you give it a eye exploded in a gruesome potpourri of try. So. Who wants to be happy?”

blood, brains and bong resin. PB3 screamed No response at first. The students
uncontrollably in his seat, his body twitch-sat there with forearms and hands flat on their ing and gesticulating, then abruptly clammed desks and eyes locked on their laps. The up and died. The killing took place in slow professor unleashed a series of long, melo-motion except for when the throwing star was dramatic sighs. Then a hand rose into the air.

just about to strike PB3 in the eye, at which The hand contained long, thin fingers and point things slipped into ultraslow motion.

belonged to Ms. Gretchen Blase, an aver-After the killing, a hulking janitor in a neon age-looking young woman who wore aver-orange jumpsuit crawled out of a trap door in age-looking outfits and hairdos and was, the back of the room, picked up and stuffed generally speaking, an average student. Her PB3’s corpse in a trash bag, and disappeared fingers trembled in fear. Dr. Beebody wanted back into the trap door.

to walk over to those fingers and hug them Dr. Beebody closed his eyes and
with his hand, assuring them that everything rubbed them with a thumb and forefinger. He would be all right if only Ms. Blase managed sighed dramatically. To say the least, he to respond to the question that had been wasn’t a big fan of killing his students, deposed to the class without making a com-spite their being allergic to being educated.

plete ass out of herself. “Ah!” he exclaimed.

But the Law was the Law, and if a student

“Ms. Blase! That’s a good thing, raising that wasn’t holding up his or her end of the bar-hand of yours. Please tell the class what’s gain, it was incumbent upon all PSU
on your mind.”

plaquedemics to do away with them, ideally Ms. Blase slowly lowered her hand.

without apprehension or remorse. Dr.

She used her pinky finger to push her not Beebody almost always experienced appre-unfashionable (but not entirely fashionable) hension and remorse, but he never let on to spectacles up her forgetful nose. In a voice his colleagues that he did. Still, his colleagues that was not too loud yet not too soft, she knew he was a big softy. After all, he had said, “For Lacan, the phallus is s-s-slippery.

murdered fewer students at PSU than any I mean, it’s not a fixed thing. I mean, it has other plaquedemic in his department.

the, uh, power to change. Uhm. To change He stopped rubbing his eyes.

by itself.”

“Right,” he said. “Now then. Where were Dr. Beebody’s made a satisfied frog
we? Yes. Lacan. The phallus. Who has the face. “Fine, Ms. Blase. That’s just fine. That answer? It’s not a difficult question if you’re wasn’t so hard, was it? Lacan’s phallus has willing to not be a difficult person. How does the power to change by itself. Yes indeed.

Lacan define the phallus?”

Now that you’ve set the scene for us, we can His students were stone sculptures.

begin to flesh this matter out. You’re a good On average they witnessed five, six deaths a person, Ms. Blase. I’m not just saying that.

day. They were no strangers to death, but Actually I am just saying that, because you’re that didn’t mean they wanted to be death’s more than a good person. You’re a great friends.

person. A spectacular person. I love you. I Dr. Beebody cleared his throat.

love you madly. And I will continue to love

D. HARLAN WILSON 20
you until the end of time, if that’s all right people nowadays? Love is an outmoded
with you.”

concept. That’s one of the reasons young Ms. Blase smiled a quick, confused
people are such imbeciles, in my opinion.

smile.

Nobody loves them. Nobody loves them, I Throughout the class, Dr. Beebody
say.”

told a number of other students he loved Dean Dingleblazer resisted the temp-them. He told a few of them that he was in tation to flex his jaw. He reached into a big love with them. Some didn’t even respond tin can of lard sitting on his desk and scooped intelligently to a question; the professor just out a handful. As he dutifully ran it through thought they looked sad, so every now and his lustrous hair, he spoke to the professor in then he would point at them at random and a perfectly candid, perfectly sedated voice.

announce, “I am in love with you, Mr. or Ms.

“Dr. Beebody, I hope you can hear me. It So-and-so.” And when the class was finally doesn’t matter if anybody loves your stu-over, he stood by the door with his arms dents. What matters is that you’re acting folded behind his back and told each indi-like a fucking weirdo. Students don’t want vidual student he loved them as they passed their professors telling them they love them.

him by. This behavior flooded over into his They want their professors to treat them like other classes and lasted two weeks before the pieces of rotten meat they are. You know he was sitting across a desk from the visage this, Dr. Beebody. I don’t understand why of James Dean again. In the background was you’re attempting to disrupt the system. I a Muzak rendition of a Quiet Riot ballad.

imagine it stems from personal problems. But

“Hello,” monotoned Dr. Beebody.

that’s none of my concern.” Having spread

“Hello,” monotoned Dean
the handful of lard across the entirety of his Dingleblazer.

hairdo, the dean removed an oversized comb

“Is everything all right?”

from his desk drawer and began to brush his

“No, it’s not.”

hairdo into place with long, slow strokes.

“Is there a problem?”

“Get your shit together, sir. This is your last

“Yes, there is.”

chance. I realize you have tenure, but as you

“Really?”

and every other plaquedemic at PSU knows,

“Yes, really.”

tenure doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. Its

“Really, you say. Well. I hope it’s
purpose isn’t to provide security, it’s to pro-nothing serious. Serious problems are often vide the illusion of security, and while all pro-problematic. I wonder what it is. Does it fessors are aware of this, all professors natu-have anything to do with me?”

rally disavow it in order to maintain a rela-The dean glared at the professor
tively congenial disposition. Point of fact: if with blank eyes. “Quit telling your students I so desire, I can dismiss you at the drop of a you love them, goddamn it.”

derby hat. You’re not a bad educator. I

“What? I don’t know what you’re
wouldn’t go so far as to call you a good one, talking about.”

but you’re not a bad one. You need to deal

“Yes you do. Quit it.”

with this infantile emotional crisis of yours

“Quit what?”

and put it to sleep. No more hugging, no The dean glared at him again. The
more I love yous. No more emotional out-professor glared back, nibbling on his lip.

pourings of any kind.” The dean paused to Finally the professor said, “Why can’t I tell apply another helping of lard to his hairdo.

my students I love them? I’m just trying to This time he combed it in with more flair and make them feel good. What’s the harm in enthusiasm. When he spoke again, however, that? Most of my students probably never it was in the same anesthetized tone. “Bot-hear anybody say they love them. Who loves tom line: you have issues, Dr. Beebody. Is-

21 CLASSROOM DYNAMICS
sues that need to be worked out. The best State University was shrouded in darkness; course of action you could take, in my opin-a black cloud of towerfog had wrapped itself ion, is to go on a minor killing spree. Weed around the upper portion of the Ameliabedelia out every last sub-par student under your Spacescraper. Dr. Bobby Lee Beebody gazed liege. I know there are a number of sub-par listlessly out a restroom window at the dark-students in your classes that continue to live ness, admiring the flashes of electricity that and breath, not to mention that you own the periodically sparked up. He thought he saw lowest murder rate in the department. End the visage of his frozen, screaming face in that, if you please. I promise you you’ll feel one of these electric flashes. Then he real-a little better. Additionally, it’s about time ized that he was not looking out the window, you produced a piece of worthwhile writing.

but in the mirror . . .

If I’m not mistaken, the last thing you pub-

. . . Dr. Beebody walked down the
lished was some short story in some obscure hallway to his IS (Introduction to Scatology) magazine published by some middle-aged 220 course in slow motion. He was wearing a wacko who lives in his parent’s basement.

pinstripe gangster suit, a fedora with a wide What was the name of it? It doesn’t matter, it brim, and a plastic press-on handlebar mus-was atrocious and embarrassing. You need tache. He walked with the simulated grace to write something that matters, and that isn’t and purpose of a dandy. In one hand he atrocious and embarrassing. You are, after carried a black briefcase, in the other a black all, a representative of this university. Start Tommy gun. The students that passed by acting like one. Fiction is the stuff of village him either made an effort not to look at him or idiots. Write a piece of decent literary criti-looked at him with wide, trembling eyes. The cism, for once, and become a productive music playing in the background was a
member of society. Do it, or get lost. What souped-up, techno version of Tom Jones’

do you think?” The question was both in Delilah. It was playing so loud, the reference to the directive and to the glisten-Ameliabedelia Spacescraper quaked from ing pompadour that was now sitting on top head to toe . . .

of Dean Dingleblazer’s head like a crouch-The scene slipped from slowtime
ing, well-groomed vulture.

into realtime as Dr. Beebody emerged into Dr. Beebody blinked innocently at
his classroom. As always before class be-the hairdo. He smiled. He nodded. He gan, his students were acting like a bunch of smacked his lips. He said, “Well.” He mental patients. Most of them were bitching smacked his lips again. He nodded again.

at each other at the top of their lungs about He smiled again. He blinked innocently at various trivialities. A few of them were stand-the hairdo again.

ing on top of their desks impersonating syphi-He rose out of his chair, cleared his
litic apes. Others systematically banged their throat, tipped his head, cocked his head, heads against the classroom’s whitewalls.

cracked his neck, scratched his overlip, made Two took turns slapping each other across a shrugging gesture, freeze-framed the ges-the face. When the professor walked in, ture for three seconds, waved his finger in however, everybody shaped up, shut up, the air, said “Very well,” said “Goodbye then,”

dove into their seats, sat up and stared nodded, nodded again, nodded again, and straight ahead. Dr. Beebody was all busi-left.

ness. He didn’t even look at his students Dean Dingleblazer shook his head
out of his eye corners as he goose-stepped and returned to the copy of People!!! maga-over to a podium and situated himself be-zine he had been reading before Dr. Beebody hind it.

had interrupted him.

“What’s up his ass?” the yuppie

The next day, Pseudofolliculitis
mouthed in silence to the skaterat sitting next

D. HARLAN WILSON 22
to him. Too scared-stiff to acknowledge him, in disgust, some twitched psychopathically, the skaterat pretended that she didn’t hear but they all kept their composure, and they him. She pushed out her pierced lips and all kept their seats. “Good morning,
rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if experienc-studentry. I apologize for the seemingly off-ing a deep thought.

the-cuff murders, but lately I haven’t been The estranged yuppie mouthed,
feeling so hot. It seems that I’ve got a kind

“Can you hear me?”

of a problem. The problem is, well . . . you.

“I can read lips, Nancy boy,” in-

More specifically, the problem is that you’re toned Dr. Beebody, and aimed a stern, willful a bunch of retards, and I don’t understand gaze at the troublemaker. Unlike the smaller you dumbasses. That’s the problem, in a NH 410E, IS 220 was a seminar course that nutshell. Please don’t take it the wrong way.

accommodated 150 students and the profes-There is no doubt in my mind that each and sor knew very few of their names. He gener-every one of you is a worthless douche bag ally identified and addressed them in terms and always will be, but that’s not to say that of their social image. Whenever he called on I don’t like you all very much. I do like you, somebody to answer a question, for instance, and I want you to be happy. That’s all. That’s he would point at that somebody and say all I wanted to say, for the most part. Actu-things like “Can you fill us in, wigger?” or ally I wanted to say a lot more. But what’s

“How about it, butch lesbian?” or “Would the point? All words do is confuse people.

the piece of white trash sitting in the back The more words that come out of your mouth, row be so kind as to give us an answer?”

the more you are apt to cause a miscommuni-The classroom darkened and an
cation. People should stop talking to each unseen spotlight fell on the yuppie like an other, I think. The world would be a much anvil from the sky. He winced. He glanced in saner place to live in, I think. Well then. I every direction at high speed. “I’m sorry!”

guess that’s all for today. Any questions?”

he exclaimed.

The professor raised an eyebrow.

The professor shrugged. “It’s too

Most of his students stared at their laps, but late for that. Die, scum.” He dropped his some raised their hands. One student’s arm briefcase on the floor, pointed the Tommy writhed like an electrified snake as she went, gun at the yuppie and fired a round of shots

“Me! Me! Me!”

in slow motion. The yuppie was shredded to Dr. Beebody ignored them. “Okay
pieces by the gunfire. So was the hillbilly then,” he whispered. He picked the Tommy sitting behind him. Blood splashed all over gun back up, inspected it briefly, sniffed, the students sitting in their vicinity as if pursed his lips, blinked, smiled a crooked thrown at them out of large buckets. Sound smile, blinked again, sniffed again, cleared of slung mud and choking gasps . . .

his throat, said “Yes indeed,” clicked his The spotlight slowly grew in size
tongue, sighed, and fired.

until the classroom was entirely illuminated

. . . realtime slipped into slowtime
again. The janitor appeared, cleaned up the slipped into fasttime slipped into slowtime mess, disappeared.

slipped into . . .

“Oops,” said Dr. Beebody in refer-

Later, as the janitor busied himself
ence to the accidental murder of the hillbilly.

with a mop, a waterhose and a chainsaw, Dr.

He shrugged again. “Oh well. That’s the Beebody removed a pen and a piece of paper breaks, I suppose.” He carefully placed the from his briefcase. He placed the paper on smoking Tommy gun on top of his podium the podium, clicked the pen open, and stared and folded his arms behind his back. At least cockeyed at the ceiling for a moment while ten of his students had hot gore dripping chewing on his tongue. Then he began to down their faces; a few of them dry-heaved write.

23 DIGGING FOR ADULTS

“The postmodern body is always-
care of the children, they made a communal already a desiring-machine produced and decision to bury themselves underground in controlled by the schizophrenic mediascape hopes that, after a while, the children would that encompasses it,” he wrote . . .

get the hint that nobody liked them and go away. So far the endeavor was ineffective.

Not only were the children not going away, they persisted in trying to find the adults and dig them out of the ground. The adults DIGGING FOR
were frustrated. But they had promised themselves to stay put for at least a week, dreaming of and praying for a neighborhood that ADULTS
was not subject to the cries and whines and whimpers and demands and threats and ma-ligns and freakery and demonism and pathology of Young Life.

The ground beneath them was very

A little boy clicked his jaw. He did it to annoy soft and brown. They had dug up over two a little girl. He was in love with her. She had feet of earth a piece, but they hadn=t uncov-pretty red hair, nice skin, and the freckles on ered any adults yet. They would dig for a her nose . . . well, he wanted to lick them off little while longer and then move to another her face. He sensed the perverse nature of spot.

this desire, but he was too young and unfa-Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!

miliar with the character of his impulses to Eventually the little girl said some-think twice about the desire: one time was thing to the little boy. She didn’t want to say enough, and then the thought was gone . . .

something to him, but his jaw was driving As he continued to click his jaw, he
her up the wall.

could almost taste those freckles. He had to

“Stop doing that,” she said. “It
have them in his mouth right now! But he bothers me very much. You’re a very bother-couldn’t just walk up to his love and start some person, do you know that?”

lapping at her nose like an excited puppy. He

“What?” replied the little boy, play-
had to get her to fall in love with him first.

ing dumb. He clicked his jaw especially loud, And the best way for a little boy to get a little so loud the group of children digging for girl to fall in love with him is to make her hate adults on the other side of the merry-go-him by annoying the crap out of her.

round heard it. They stopped digging and Click! went his jaw. Click! Click!

looked in his direction with dazed and curi-Click! His mouth opened wider and wider ous expressions, as if they had just woken each time he did it, and drool began to flow up from being knocked unconscious.

down his chin.

The little girl looked at him with an

The little girl pretended he didn’t
embittered expression, as if somebody had exist.

just dunked her head in a pot of garlic water.

The little boy pretended that she

She sat back on her knees and put her tiny wasn’t pretending he didn’t exist, and went fists on her hipless hips. “Stop that, I said.

on clicking and drooling.

Stop making that noise with your mouth. It’s Crouched down on their knees, the
distracting me. I’m trying to concentrate. I’m two children were digging for adults in the trying to find my mom and dad so I can ask soil of the neighborhood playground. The them if I can stay up past my bedtime. How adults in the neighborhood had disappeared am I supposed to do that with you doing a few days ago; sick of always having to take what you’re doing? You’re drooling all over

D. HARLAN WILSON 24
the place, too. You’re gross. You’re ugly.

idiotic, but he wasn’t young and idiotic Go somewhere else. I was here first.”

enough to not know that saying you love

“I was here second,” the little boy
somebody and saying you hate them means responded matter-of-factly, not looking up the same thing. His plan had worked. He at her, continuing to dig, drool and click.

could now lick her freckles without feeling

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

guilty about it. Just a few more louder-than-

“Nothing.”

hell clicks to make sure his lover genuinely

“It means something. Nothing
hated him, and wasn’t just saying that to make means nothing.”

him behave . . .

“Except nothing.”

The little girl stood up and threw

“What?”

her fists down at her sides. “I’m going over

“Nothing. It means I was here sec-
there. You stay here. Don’t follow me, or I’ll ond and you were here first and it doesn’t scream. I hope you die!” She waited for a matter one way or the other, okay?”

response. Didn’t get one. She stomped away.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get what that Proud of himself, the little boy snick-means.”

ered under his breath. He would give the

“That=s because you’re a girl and
little girl a minute or two before disobeying girls don’t get anything. Dig your hole, her command and allowing true love to run whyncha?” Click!

its course. He scooped another handful of

“Oh!” said the little girl. “Oh! Oh!

dirt out of his hole.

Oh!” She wanted to say something clever to And exposed the face of an adult.

the little boy, something that would make him The face pretended to be asleep, but he knew feel as retarded as she felt right now, but she otherwise: it was the face of his mother and couldn’t find the words. So she said “Oh!”

she always pretended to be asleep. Ever one more time.

since his father left them and moved to Gary,

“Stop saying ‘Oh’,” said the little

Indiana . . .

boy. “It’s really starting to bug me and I’d

“I know you=re faking it,” he said.

appreciate it if you’d shut up. Thank you.”

No reply.

A deranged, wide-eyed glare over-

He clicked his jaw once . . . twice . .

came the little girl’s face. How dare that creep!

. a third time . . .

Her lips began to twitch with rage. They got The eyes of his mother opened.

to twitching so intensely that the little boy They were red, worn, sickly eyes that looked could actually hear them.

like they had been crying for years. “Keep it

“You’re lips are making a funny
up young man,” she said, “and your jaw will sound,” he said. “Tell them to knock it off.”

fall off. It’ll fall right off of your face. Then The lips pinched together. A long,
what the hell will you do?”

tense pause followed . . . Then the little girl The little boy shrugged.

calmly leaned over, as if she was going to

“Don’t shrug at me. Listen to me. I
whisper a friendly secret into the little boy’s want you to stop acting up and mind your ear, and yelled, “I HATE YOUR GUTS,
goddamn manners. Do you understand?”

FREAK!!!” When she yelled, the kids over The little boy shook his head no.

by the merry-go-round glanced at her. She

“Yes you do. You understand me
cast an evil glance back at them and said, perfectly. Now be a good boy and bury me.

“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, NERDS!!!”

Bury me, and don’t ever try to dig me up Being nerds, the kids obeyed.

again. Pack a bag and move to a different The little boy smiled. The little girl country, too.”

had told him she hated him— that meant she The little boy blinked at his mother.

loved him. He may have been young and She blinked back at him.

25 DIGGING FOR ADULTS

Then: Click!

Maddened, his mother ordered him
to go to his room. He refused. She told him to get a handkerchief and wipe the drool off of his face. He refused. She called him a bastard. He called her a bitch. They continued to bicker until a ball of dirt fell in her mouth and she choked on it. Her face convulsed, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

The little boy knocked on his
mother’s forehead. “Anybody home?” he asked. But he knew the answer to that question.

He pushed all of the dirt he had dug
up back into the hole, then stood and patted it down with his feet. When he was finished, he stared down at the grave and worried, for a fleeting moment, about his own mortality.

But then the moment was gone . . .

The dizziness of freedom washed
over the little boy as he quietly slunk towards the little girl, who was digging another hole, this one beneath the colorful bulk of a tall spiral slide.

CARLTON MELLICK III

BOOKS BY MELLICK:

Satan Burger

Electric Jesus Corpse

Sunset With a Beard

Razor Wire Pubic Hair

Teeth and Tongue Landscape

Steel Breakfast Era

The Baby Jesus Butt Plug

Fishy-fleshed

The Menstruating Mall

Ocean of Lard (w/ Kevin L Donihe)

Punk Land

Sex and Death in Television Town

LOCATION:

Sea of the Patchwork Cats

Portland, OR

The Haunted Vagina

War Slut (forthcoming)

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Ugly Heaven (forthcoming)

Avant Punk

DESCRIPTION: Carlton Mellick III writes trashy child-like novels set in surreal versions of modern or future day Earth, with an emphasis on nightmarish absurdities, punk perversions, and social satire.

INTERESTS: sideburns, razor sausage, Japanese punk, vodka, Jesus porn, zombies, retard music, bald tattooed girls, hamburger sculptures, Live Action Role Players, and Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

INFLUENCES: Dr. Suess, Kathy Acker, H. R. Giger, Jan Svankmajer, Kurt Vonnegut, Brothers Quay, Shinya Tsukamoto, David Lynch, Franz Kafka, John Waters, Roald Dahl, William Burroughs, Russell Edson, Luis Bunuel, Kathe Koja, Mr. T, Japanese cult movies, and Troma movies.

WEBSITE:

www.avantpunk.com

27 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG

THE
mouths dropped open in shock and their eyebrows curled in anger. They know what you’re up to. They know you’re planning on BABY JESUS
taking the baby of God home to put him in your butt. That’s why most people get them BUTT PLUG
through baby jesus breeders. It’s cheaper and more private.

Mary was the one to find an ad in the newspaper for a litter of baby jesuses. She ruffled the paper excitedly in my face, screaming CHAPTER ONE

“Let’s get a baby jesus! Let’s get a baby jesus!”

I groaned with horse hair. All year

We adopted a baby jesus only a few months she had been wanting to get a pet baby. She ago and it has already grown accustomed to didn’t want to get a baby version of either of our butt holes. Normally it takes close to a us, though. She wanted a baby version of year before a baby jesus will go fully inside somebody famous.

of its owner’s rectum, but ours can do it on I meek-responded, “W-why do you
command. Mary—my current wife who has want to get a baby jesus for anyway? D-do sausage-colored hair and a tattoo of a fa-you want people to know we put things in mous basketball player on her right eyeball—
our butts?”

calls it a super baby jesus because of this.

“But they’re FREE!” Mary

But the ad in the newspaper said nothing screamed. “And I’m sick to death of borrow-about him having super powers at all. I don’t ing the neighbor’s baby jesus all the time!”

think he would have been given away for

“W-why can’t we just get a normal
free if he did. Super baby jesuses are worth a pet baby like we agreed?” I asked. “What fortune!

happened to that litter of john lennon babies The ad was placed by an elderly
that your boss was selling?”

couple giving away a litter of baby jesuses Mary crossed her arms pouty-faced.

to anyone who could provide them with a

“They weren’t full-breeds. They were john good home. And when they said “a good lennon/andy warhol mixes. But they looked home” all they really meant was they didn’t more like andy warhol/ulysses s. grant want to give them to anyone who would stick mixes.”

them in their butts. But that was no surprise

“Well, w-what about the elle
to us. We were well aware that most older fitzgerald baby that your sister was giving members of the community believe it is so-away?” I ask.

cially unacceptable to use the baby jesus as

“Do you know how old that baby
a butt plug. They always shout “Jesus is the is? She’s had it for ten years! It’s ready to son of God, not an anal probe!” to people at collapse.”

the adult shops downtown. We decided not

“How long do elle fitzgerald babies
to buy a baby jesus at an adult shop. They live?”

charge way too much and it can be quite

“Ten years if you’re lucky.”

embarrassing to walk out of the store hold-

“But baby jesuses only live to be
ing a wiggle-crying baby jesus in your arms, eight years.”

trying to keep it quiet inside of its plastic

“I don’t care,” Mary cried. “You’ve
bag. Everyone stares at you in disgust, their been promising me a baby all year and I want one now!”

CARLTON MELLICK III 28

“Well, I guess it would be okay,” I
large breasts lined down its ribcage. The told her. “But we shouldn’t go around tell-other baby jesuses were fighting each other ing everyone we have a baby jesus. They’re to suck the nipples.

just going to think we use it for a butt plug. I

“Well, which one is the father?”

can’t handle people calling me names. Maybe Mary asked.

we can tell them it’s just a baby version of

“The father’s dead,” the old woman
me.”

responded with a painted on eyebrow. “He Mary smiled and kissed her arm
bit one of the neighbor’s kids and had to be lightning-fast at me. “Yeah, we can do that! I put to sleep.”

think it’ll work! . . . But you know jesuses

“I thought jesuses were pretty mel-
perform miracles at unpredictable times. He’ll low babies,” I say to the old woman.

give us away if he starts walking on water in

“Baby jesuses are a strange breed.

the middle of a dinner party. Or what about Sometimes they are very affectionate dar-how he raises the dead all the time. What lings and other times they can be nasty.”

happens if he raises a bunch of people from

“That’s too bad you had to put him
the dead when we have guests over? We’ll to sleep,” Mary said. “Was he cremated?”

have zombies running around the living room

“No, my husband wanted him
eating people’s heads!”

stuffed. It was our first baby, so we were I touch her shoulder lightly. “Oh,
pretty attached. Once we get it back form the I’ll make sure to lock him in the bedroom when taxidermist, we will put him over there by the guests are over.”

fireplace.”

“Maybe we can also get its vocal

“Oh, that will be a lovely place for
chords removed so it won’t disturb us with it!” Mary said with a big cherry-flavored its crying all the time . . .”

smile.

I nod my head in agreement.

“So do you want a boy or a girl?”

asked the old woman.

“They all look alike,” I said. “H-
how can you tell them apart?”

CHAPTER TWO

“From their belly buttons,” the
woman said, picking one of the babies up by its leg. “See this one is a boy because it has We got him that same day, met with the old a frog-shaped belly button. If it were a girl, woman on the other side of town. She looked the belly button would be nose-shaped.”

almost younger than Mary, but she was over

“I don’t understand,” I told her.

a hundred years old. I could tell by the way

“How do they reproduce?”

she was dressed and the style of her copper

“Well, they lick each other’s belly
hair.

buttons until the female’s nose-shaped belly Inside the woman’s kitchen, the
button flares its nostrils and the male’s frog-baby jesuses crawled over each other like shaped belly button opens its mouth and re-greasy blubberroaches, squeaking and bit-leases several sperm-like creatures that look ing at each other.

kind of like wolf spiders.”

“Which one’s the mother?” Mary

“That’s disgusting,” I told her.

asked.

“Well, nature can be disgusting

The old woman pointed to the baby
sometimes.”

jesus lying in the center of the baby pile.

“Let’s get a boy!” Mary screamed.

“That’s the mother, the one with the swollen

“I always wanted a baby boy.”

teets.”

“Well,” said the woman, “they are

We looked at a baby jesus with six
all baby boys in a sense.”

29 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG

“I don’t care,” Mary said. “I’d rather CHAPTER THREE
have a male baby boy than a female baby boy!”

“J-just don’t touch his belly but-

Once we got home, we immediately took turns ton,” I told Mary. “I don’t want any wolf inserting the baby jesus into each other’s spiders in the house.”

rectums. And then we fucked on the top Mary picked the one she wanted
shelf in our bedroom closet, Mary’s back and wrapped it up in a blue blanket. Her face grinding into all the dusty boxes of clothes was brighter than it was the day we married.

and cobwebs, my butt cheeks smacking

“One more thing,” said the old
against the ceiling. And with each thrashing woman. “You’re not like those weirdos who movement, I felt the unbelievably refreshing use baby jesuses for sex, are you?”

pain of the butt plug/son of God as it Mary and I looked at each other.

squeezed against the interior walls of my def-My left eye twitched a little.

ecation hole. And as I came, I thought about

“No, we hate those people,” Mary
robots made out of wood and soil traveling said.

across the garbage landscape of central

“Yeah, those people are perverts,”

Wyoming.

my words rattled out.

We lay still for some quiet moments

“Well, I hope not,” said the old
up there in the closet. Mary shifted her hips woman. “You know what will happen if you a little to prevent a high heeled shoe from mistreat them don’t you?”

digging out her lower back.

Mary kissed the baby on the fore-

“What are you thinking about?”

head.

Mary’s voice came from the shadows.

“God will punish you,” she contin-

“. . . Robots,” I answered.

ued. “God doesn’t stand for people making a mockery of his son just because he is in the shape of a baby. If you stick this child in your butt, you’ll damn yourself to hell.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“Don’t worry,” Mary said to the old
woman, holding the infant tight to her chest.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about.

When we removed the baby jesus from my There are all kinds of horrible people in the butt hole, he was covered in blood. At first, world these days. It just makes me sick to I thought it was my own blood because it think of what they are capable of! I can’t was streaming down my legs for several min-believe that some people actually have the utes after he was removed. But then we no-nerve to use the holy powers of the messiah ticed something different about its appear-on anal expeditions! Sometimes I can’t even ance. Looking closely, we noticed the baby sleep at night.”

jesus was nailed to a tiny cross.

The young-looking old woman nod-

“What is this?” Mary cried.

ded in agreement at Mary. You could tell by

“A crucifix,” I said. “He must have
the look in her eyes that she was thinking crucified himself while in my butthole.”

Mary would be a great mother to that baby

“Ohhh, how cute!” Mary said. “His
jesus. Mary would provide it with a very-first crucifying!”

very good home.

Mary smiled with a stupid dazed
face. She wrapped her arm around me and put her head on my shoulder.

“Let’s name him Bobby,” she said.

“Y-yeah,” I replied. “Bobby is a g-

CARLTON MELLICK III 30
good name for a baby jesus.”

ily!” Mary screamed.

“Well, why didn’t we go down to
the copy shop and get ourselves a real child, one that would actually make something of CHAPTER FIVE
itself?”

Mary didn’t say anything. Her
eyes and face were burning red. She couldn’t That was the only time lil’ Bobby ever cruci-talk. I waited for a response, but didn’t get fied himself. And nothing seemed out of the even a glance in my direction.

ordinary with him at all until yesterday, when Once she calmed down, Mary

I noticed a small wooden doorknob growing turned the doorknob on Bobby’s nipple and out of the skin above his left nipple.

opened him up, causing two things: One, it

“What is it?” Mary whisper-asked,
turned a light on from inside of the baby wearing a blue plastic-wrap dress and a self-jesus, quite like the opening of a refrigerator created black eye.

door. And two, music began tinkering out of

“It’s a doorknob,” I told her, look-
its chest, quite like the opening of a music ing down at the sleeping pet baby.

box.

“It looks like a normal growth to

We bit each other’s lips when we
me,” she whispered. “I mean, doorknobs are saw his insides. There weren’t any internal supposed to grow on doors not babies.”

organs at all. Not a lung, a heart, or even

“It must be some kind of mutant
bones. It’s insides seemed to be made of baby jesus.”

wood rather than meat. And the only object We watched the sleeping baby with
occupying the empty space inside of our pet cardboard faces, unsure what to make of it.

baby was a tiny plastic ballerina, spinning in circles to the metallic harmony.

“W-w-what is this?” I screamed at

Mary, blood dribbling from my lip into her CHAPTER SIX
mouth.

“A music box,” she replied with a
big happy bloody smile.

Later that night, we noticed the growth was now a full-grown doorknob.

“What should we do?” Mary asked.

“Should we call the vet?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“No,” I screamed at her. “What if
people see us with a baby jesus? Th-they’ll spread rumors!”

Before we went to sleep:

“Well, we have to take him to the

“Do you think baby jesuses have
vet sometimes. What if this is serious?”

souls?” Mary asked in a green voice.

Bobby cooed and gurgled and

“I don’t know.”

played with the knob on its breast.

“Do you think they go to Heaven?

“I told you it was a bad idea to get a Do you think God uses them for butt plugs baby jesus.”

too?”

“You promised me a baby!”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you even want a pet

She was smiling in bed, the blan-
baby? They’re useless pets and hardly worth kets cuddled all the way to her chin.

the hassle.”

“Mary?” I whispered.

“I wanted us to be more like a fam-

“Yes?” she whispered back, still in

31 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG
her excited voice.

Back to the present . . .

“I’m scared to death of it,” I told
her.

“Scared of what?”

“Of the baby jesus.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“What?”she screamed, throwing
the blanket off of her.

“How can it still be alive without

I have been avoiding the baby jesus all day any insides?” I cried.

today. It’s my day off and I was supposed to Now I was cuddling the covers up
be spending it in relaxation, but I am scared to my chin.

to death of that unnatural thing. Mary went

“How dare you say that about my
to her sister’s house and left me alone with son!” Mary screamed.

Bobby. “If anything happens to it, I’ll kill

“It’s not your son, it’s the son of
you,” Mary said to me on her way out. But man-made clones of God’s son.”

all I can think about doing is breaking its

“How can you say he’s scary, he’s
head open with a rock. I don’t want to take sooo cute!”

care if it. I don’t want anything to do with it.

“Cute? It has a ballerina instead of

It’s been crawling after me all after-
a heart. Do you think that’s normal?”

noon, making horrible gurgle-noises at me. I

“Ballerinas are sooo pretty!” Mary
think it’s trying to get inside my butt hole.

screamed.

At this thought, I look down at the

“I know they’re pretty, but it’s just
baby jesus and see a little evil smile on its not natural. That baby jesus is some kind of face, thinking of doing something terrible to mutant freak.”

me. I dash across the rubber-tiled floor and

“You’re not taking my baby away
lock myself in the bedroom. My head is leak-from me!” Mary screamed. “It’s not a freak ing pieces of brain instead of sweat. I pull on just because it has a music box instead of a second pair of pants and strap on a thick internal organs! You never wear matching rawhide cowboy belt, tightening it two socks. That’s pretty weird. But I never call notches smaller than usual, and I tuck the you a freak!”

pants into a pair of garden boots.

“I do that because it’s good luck,” I

That better work.

told her.

When I turn around, the baby jesus

“Well, maybe our baby jesus has a
appears behind me with a crooked head. Its music box chest because it’s good luck.”

eyeballs have mutated into balls of blood-

“You don’t understand me at all do
red and razor-sharp wires grow out of its skull.

you?”

It makes some squeaking sounds and then

“You’ll understand me when I knock
jerk-crawls up the door and onto the ceiling your lights out!”

above me. It just looks down and drops a

“Look,” my voice went calm. “It just
line of drool into my nose.

seems a little funny to me, that’s all.”

I scream/stumble-flee from the room,

“I’m not talking to you anymore,”

hearing the creature’s chest open and tinker she said, turning out the light and wrapping music fill the room. At that moment I recog-the blanket around her head.

nize the tune is that Christmas song, “Oh

“I’m sorry . . .” I said in the dark.

Holy Night,” which Mary once sang in

“Go to sleep,” she hissed, shoving
church a long-long time ago. It’s been awhile my knees out of the way with the back of her since either of us have been to church . . .

heel.

CARLTON MELLICK III 32

When Mary gets home, she finds me hiding CHAPTER TEN
under the kitchen sink with wet circles on my knees and elbows.

“What are you doing?” Mary asks,

I leave for work lightning-fast: rip some bouncing the creature in her arms.

clothes on my body, eat a bruised apple out-

“It’s evil,” I tell her. “That thing is side the front door as I pull on my shoes, like the devil!”

wash my face with acid water on the bus ride

“What are you talking about?”

to Nomax.

Mary says, kissing the baby on its wiry head Nomax is a data entry company lo-and stepping away from me.

cated in an eight story building at the edge of town. It is the seventh largest data entry company in Seattle. I take the elevator all the way up to the second floor and take my seat CHAPTER NINE
in the forty-third row of cubicles.

Papers are piled out of the inbox,
stacked higher than the monitor. Green lemon I spend the entire evening avoiding the baby bugs are eating the dirt off of my keyboard, jesus. Mary is playing marbles with it. They smiling and waving at me. I brush them away are somewhere in the living room under a and begin working. For the first five hours of shadeless lamp. She has its belly open and work, I copy a stack of paper into the comis singing the words to Oh Holy Night with puter. The papers read “Nomax is the sev-the tinker music and patting the tiny balle-enth best data entry company in Seattle” over rina on the head. The tinker music is not as and over again. Normally, I only do this data lively as it was before. The gears seem rusted, entry work for two hours a day, but I need to creating a zombie-machine sound.

catch up for taking yesterday off.

“Mary?” I call from a safe place.

“Hey Joe, try to finish this for me

She turns to me with a wrinkled face,
by lunch, okay?” My smooth-featured man-and gives me an eyeing of disgust. The baby ager says, dropping a stack of papers on my jesus also turns to me and angry-stares with desk.

beady black eyes. The skin on the pet baby The assignment is important, obvi-seems to be turning crusty-green. It is be-ously. I look it over and see that I have to coming mold-rotten.

hold the “Q” button down on my keyboard I shiver wire spiders through my
for 90 minutes and then switch to the “K”

hairs and my voice comes out cracked, “W-button and hold it down for 120 minutes.

we need to talk.”

After I am finished, I save it in a file and send Mary ignores me, turns back to
it back to my manager.

clacking marbles, kisses the little ballerina I go to lunch with my work-friends,
inside her pet demon baby.

Peaceful and Hairy.

I walk away and go to bed, curl up

Nomax, like many other companies,
into a deep blue dream.

does not allow us to leave the building until When Mary finally enters the room
after the day is over. Nor do they allow any at three in the morning, I can hear her from outside food inside the office. So for lunch inside my head. I look out of my brain at her.

the only choice we have is to eat in the com-When she crawls into the covers, I immedi-pany cafeteria, where the food quality is worse ately sense the muffled tinker music issuing than fast food, but the prices are higher than from between her legs . . .

the best restaurant in town. In fact, half of our daily income goes to lunch.

Unless you let yourself starve, as

33 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG

Peaceful and I do. We just drink loads of tap CHAPTER ELEVEN
water and sometimes swallow pieces of nap-kins. Hairy always buys lunch, though. He thinks food is what makes life enjoyable. He’d After lunch, I find my cubicle has been over-rather spend all his money on it than not have run with thousands of green lemon bugs, it at all.

crawling over each other and biting each

“So how was your day off, Joe?”

other’s limbs off. I try sitting down and wip-Hairy asks between greasy bites.

ing them away, but there are too many of

“Not that good,” I tell him.

them. I stand up and tell them to go away,

“Yeah.” He chuckles to himself.

but green lemon bugs are the most disobedi-

“Well, it’ll be a long time before you get anent of pests.

other one.”

My manager pats me on the back,

“I don’t know why you take your
admiring the insects devouring my work sta-days off anyway,” Peaceful says. “I mean, if tion.

you work through them you get time and a

“Excellent, Joe,” he tells me. “Ex-
quarter! Don’t you want the extra money?”

cellent, excellent work.”

“Yeah,” Hairy says. “Think about

I turn to the smooth-featured man
it. If you work through all four vacation days, and stutter-nod.

you’ll get a free day of pay every year! How

“There’s a call for you on the sev-
can you beat that?”

enth floor,” he says. “Why don’t you go

“I think I’d rather get extra money
take that.”

from ditching lunch rather than giving up my My eyebrows curl. “Where on the
days off.”

seventh floor?”

“You need to grow up,” Hairy tells

“Where do you think?” The man-
me.

agers face sinks downward, upset with my

“So how’s Mary doing?” Peaceful
question. He returns to his office.

asks.

I’ve never been on any floors higher

“She’s okay,” I tell him. “She
than the second. There’s never been a need doesn’t talk to me anymore. All she ever to. The company prefers that employees does is play with our pet baby.”

move very little while in the building. It is

“You actually got her one of those
rare to see anyone get on the elevator at all.

pet babies?” Hairy said with his angry beard.

In the elevator:

“That’s pure immaturity!”

A woman with purple lipstick and

“Yeah, Joe,” Peaceful says. “In this
plumpcurls is outside the elevator, staring at day and age, there’s no room for babies.

me.

We’re born into this world as full grown

“I’ll get the next one,” she says,
adults. There’s no time to be children let wiggling her nose hairs.

alone raise children.”

I always see this woman near the

“I know, I know,” I tell them with my
elevator, but I’ve never seen her get on. As if face in my fingers.

she has work to do on another floor but hesi-

“You’re such a wimp, Joe,” Hairy
tates to go anywhere.

says. “Why can’t you just stand up to her I half-smile at her as the glass doors for a change?”

slide shut. She continues to stare at me

“I know, I know.”

through the glass as the elevator goes up-up.

CARLTON MELLICK III 34

THIRD FLOOR:

SIXTH FLOOR:

A more populated version of the second floor.

The elevator light buzzes dim. There doesn’t As cluttered as a toy box. Cubicles are stacked seem to be electricity this high up in the build-on top of each other in all directions, all the ing. The sixth floor doesn’t have any lights way to the ceiling. Some people are forced to at all. No windows to let the sun in. The stand on shoulders to reach their monitors.

room is flooded with a blackish-green fluid.

Others are lying on the ground underneath It is about four feet deep. I can look into the desks at feet level, getting kicked in the face liquid through the glass door, but it is not by accident sometimes. One man’s computer very clear. There is bubbling porcupine move-station is nailed to the ceiling and they have ment in the distance.

him strapped into his chair as he types upside-down. He half-waves at me as I pass by, trying to smile but his face is too blood-SEVENTH FLOOR:

rushed to make pleasant expressions.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors swing open.

FOURTH FLOOR:

This floor is very quiet. It looks
similar to a library, an intricate maze of records A chaos of wires and computer panels. I see and filings. A little girl of about ten years a few technicians wearing full body protec-steps out of a nearby office to me.

tive suits, as if they are working with radia-

“Hello, Joe,” she says to me. “I’ve
tion. The room is split by giant circuit boards been expecting you.”

and engines. It seems as if the room is one The girl has short black hair and
big computer and the men are inside of it.

purple eyes, wearing a silvery dress with There is no sound coming from within. Per-leather straps.

haps they are working in a vacuum. They

“Who are you?” I ask the girl.

stare at me through haunting google-masks.

“I’m Tia Ki,” she says, quick-bow-
ing. “The vice-president of Nomax. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

FIFTH FLOOR:

“No, I haven’t . . .”

She takes me by the hand and leads

A white-white room. No walls or cubicles.

me down a hallway of filing cabinets and Unlimited space. There doesn’t seem to be shelves.

electricity here. The room is lit by candles.

“But you’re only a child . . .” I tell Papers are scattered across the field of car-her.

peting like ghosts. Is it abandoned? No,

“I’m 243 years old,” she says. “How
over there at the end of the room there is an old are you?”

old woman in a tiny desk, sleeping. And over

“I’ve b-been alive for eight years . .

there are two children running in circles with

. How can you be 243? I thought life expect-toy airplanes chasing each other. Children?

ancy was 150 years at best.”

Aren’t children only in movies and televi-

“150 years applies only to adult
sion shows these days? Aren’t they extinct?

bodies. But they say children can live for I get on my knees and press my face to the five to seven hundred years. Nobody knows glass to see if they really are children, but for sure, though. A child has yet to die of old they disappear into the background.

age. We could very well live forever.”

“But you’re just a little girl. Surely a child brain is not capable of understanding

35 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG
the world as adult brains do.”

here . . . this is how all business is conducted.

“All the leaders in the world hap-

There is nothing unprofessional about it.”

pen to be children,” she tells me with an an-I shake my head at her.

noyed tone. “We are the oldest and there-She says, “I know better than you.

fore the wisest.”

I am the vice president. Now get this doll

“Why was I sent here?” I ask her.

ready to marry!”

“They said I had a call, but I don’t underI turn and walk away from her. “I
stand.”

need to talk to my manager about this.”

“I told them to send me a new assis-

I run through the maze of cabinets
tant. The last one I had was inadequate and and slip into the office by the elevator—
had to be let go immediately. You are his There is a naked man tied to a chair
replacement.”

in here, wearing leather bondage gear with a

“My manager said nothing about
gagball in his mouth. He is overweight and this. He just said I have a phone call.”

similar to a doll with a mustache. He also has

“Yes, there is a phone call for you in superglue holding his eyebrows together.

my office. But first we have to do some quick

“I need to use the phone,” I tell him, business.”

wheeling him into an office closet filled with

“I’m not sure if I’m the right person
fairy costumes and closing the door.

for this j-job . . .”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nonsense,” the girl tells me.

the little girl screams at me from the doorway, She takes me to the end of the cabi-holding the two dolls in her hands like pis-net maze to a large room. Inside I discover a tols.

city of dolls and dollhouses, toy buildings

“I’m going to complain to my man-
designed to match the neighborhood.

ager about this,” I tell her. “I am declining The little girl picks up two dolls
this position.”

from a pedestal and holds them to me. “This

“You don’t have a choice,” the girl
one is me and this doll is going to be you. It shrieks.

was my old assistant’s but we can get it modi-I pick up the phone and hit a blink-
fied to look more like you. For now we’ll just ing button:

have to pretend.”

There is heavy breathing on the

“What is all this?” I ask the girl.

other end . . .

“It is important business. You are

“Hello?” My voice echoes.

the boy and I am the girl. Now hurry up.

“Hello?”

Every afternoon at 2:00 we get married at the There is a scattering sound and then
church and we are almost late for the cera sobbing voice.

emony.”

“Joe?”

She kisses my doll with her doll.

It is Mary. She is crying and her

“They are in love,” she says, smil-
voice is cracky.

ing.

“Mary?”

“This is insane,” I tell her.

“You were right,” she tells me. “The

“You should see the CEO of the
baby is . . . It’s trying to kill me.”

company’s train set! It is even more insane

“Hang up that phone this instant,
than this!”

young man!” the girl screams, tugging on

“This is d-disgusting,” I tell her,
the phone chord.

squeezing fists and inching away from her.

I grab her by the back of the neck

“This is a professional company, not a play-and squeeze it hard. She shrieks at me as I ground.”

shove her out of the office and lock the door.

“This is how we conduct business

Back to the phone: “Mary?”

CARLTON MELLICK III 36

No answer.

sent to my home address as quick as pos-

“Mary? What’s happening?”

sible.”

“Joe . . . I’ve been hiding here all

The woman says it’ll be quicker to
afternoon. I think it knows where I am. I make both male and female copies, because think it’s playing with me.”

they have separate machines for each gen-

“Mary, just hold on. I’m coming
der. I agree. With my credit, I can afford to with help.”

buy nine plus delivery to my house.

The little girl screams through the

“I want them to have my full
door. I see her red face pressed up against memory,” I tell her.

the glass, whine-crying.

She puts me on hold so they can

“I’m calling the police on you!” the
scan my brain through the phone. It has a girl screams.

funny electric feeling and poppy sound. It is

“I’m calling them first,” I tell her.

almost as if they are sucking the brain out of I go back to the phone, “Mary?”

my head.

No answer.

“Mary?”

I hear some gurgling baby noises
before I hang up the phone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Go ahead and call the police,” the
little girl screams, slamming the dolls against the door. “Do you think they’ll believe a low When the bus finally gets me home, I can tell class eight-year-old like yourself over a 243
the clones have already arrived. The door year old little girl that is vice-president of has been forced open, windows broken into, Nomax?”

and there is a body with its guts torn out on

“I’m not the one with a man tied up
my front lawn.

in my closet,” I tell her.

The neighbors do not seem to care.

“He’s nothing but a cockroach,” the

They go on watering their flowers, walking girl screams.

their dogs, waving at passersby on the side-A burst of whines wail out of the
walks . . .

girl and she smashes her face against the Upon entering the house, I am trans-office door. I see an explosion of blood spray ported to another world.

across the glass of the door and the girl stops The interior of my home is now a
screaming. Her body crumbles to the floor.

giant museum of fleshy electric walls, skel-When I look through the window, I
etal patterns creeping the ceiling. Crab and see the girl has a ripped and swelling face.

snail shells have replaced the floor tiles. Ev-Blood and meat are in pools beneath her. She erything has been stretched and distorted must have a concussion.

into an insecty alien landscape. But I can

“I don’t have time for the police,” I
still tell it is my home. I know that the living tell the girl. “I need to get help elsewhere.”

room is through the passage straight ahead I pick up the phone and dial an in-of me, and the kitchen and hallway to the formation number. They slowly put me
bedrooms are to my sides.

through to the closest copy shop in the neigh-Another dead clone, a female, lies
borhood.

on the ground at my feet. The front of her

“I need as many male c-copies of
torso has been torn off. I can’t recognize myself that my credit can afford,” I tell the any resemblance to me.

female employee on the other end.

I go straight ahead towards the liv-

“It is for emergency reasons . . . A
ing room. The passageway is a giant ribcage, one-day expiration will be fine. I need them and I feel as if I’ve been swallowed into a

37 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG
whale-like creature. The path opens into the CHAPTER THIRTEEN
living room, a long auditorium. It is made of giant fire-beetle shells and steel icicles.

I choke on my breath as I see some-

I hear some screams. They come from where one seated on the tar-wiry couch. It is sitting my kitchen should be. I step away from my with its back to me, watching bubbling metal wife and run in the direction of the kitchen.

liquid swirl-dance on a mirror-like object Entering a twisted room of melted counters which used to be the television set. By the and devices, where a crowd of clones have color of its hair, I can tell it is not a clone of gathered. Some of them are holding knives myself. It must be Mary. But I get a strange and forks and pointing them at each other.

feeling when I look at the back of her head.

“What’s going on?” I ask the cop-

She seems to be enjoying the television ca-ies of me.

sually, like nothing is wrong with the appearI get dizzy as they look back to me.

ance of the house.

They are like mirrors that can walk and talk.

“Mary?” I call to her.

“There you are!” says a male clone.

She ignores me.

“We need to get out of here!”

I step through the muddy floor and

His voice is strange, unfamiliar. Do
reach out to her. A noise like popping/crackI really sound like that? Do I really move so ing bones echoes through the room.

mechanically?

“Mary?”

Something is wrong. I examine the

I grab her hard and shake her. Her
situation.

hair slips out of her head, piling on her shoul-

. . .

ders. A plastic-smooth white skull.

Not all of the people in my kitchen

“Mary!” I race around to her front
are clones. Many of them look like . . .

and collapse to my knees as I see her face.

“Z-zombies!” screams a female

It is gone. Her face is blank. It is copy of me, running out of the kitchen.

smooth like her bald scalp. The only facial There are two male copies and one
feature still attached to her is the left ear.

female copy. One male and the female are Everything else is as smooth as an egg, but naked, but the other still has its orange wrap-made of flesh.

ping provided by the copy shop. The rest of

“Mary . . .” sobs burn my voice.

the people in the kitchen are ex-clones. They

“W-what did it do to you?”

are ripped apart, bloody. Mutilated versions I rub her ear. It is the only part of of myself. Intestines drip out of their bellies her body I can still recognize. I lick my finger and drag on the floor as they stagger toward and rub it through its curves.

us.

“I love you, Mary,” I tell her.

The clothed male drags me away,

I turn the ear like a door and open
screaming, “The b-baby jesus killed them and her face. There isn’t a brain inside. Only a then raised them from the dead! They are tiny plastic ballerina spinning in circles to mindless undead flesh-eating jesus stinker music, to Oh Holy Night.

slaves!”

Before I can cry—my neck bubbling

We race down the spidery hallway
with red pain—I notice the little ballerina’s of gray flesh and metals, the corpses sham-face is Mary’s. Her beautiful features have bling after us. We dump ourselves into the been transferred from her real head to the master bedroom and slam a greasy lard door, little plastic music box figurine. So besides pushing bookshelves in front of it. Zombie holding back just my tears, my anger, I now arms squeeze through the flesh-door and seize have to hold back a loving smile . . .

hold of the naked copy of me.

My eyes curl backwards as I see

CARLTON MELLICK III 38
the clone torn to shreds by the creatures.

demon baby. I have nothing else to live for.

His chest opens up, his neck twists, popping We go back to barricading the door.

bones. I am so flabby and out of shape. I The female uses butcher knives to cut the look disgusting naked.

zombie hands off. She stabs one through the fingers with a fork, pinning it to the side of the shelves.

“What are we going to do?” the fe-

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
male screams, slicing the door.

But I was just about to ask her the
same question.

“It killed her,” cries the female clone, crying thin tears. “My sweet Mary is dead.”

I almost feel offended when I hear
the female me say this. It was my Mary, not CHAPTER FIFTEEN
hers. I can hardly tell the woman is a copy of me. She is totally unfamiliar. I see her hair color and birthmarks are the same as mine, We are lying on the lizard bed together. Play-but she is still different. She is so much bet-ing cards. Solitaire. The female has put on ter looking than me. Her body is like mine, Mary’s blue pajamas and has her hair greased not at all muscular, but she carries her flab in back. She doesn’t fit very well in Mary’s a sexy way. Her breasts are large with weight, clothes. Her boobs are too big for them. Her nipples darker and wider than mine. She is flabby belly hangs out as we nervously move also a little shorter and doesn’t have my thick the cards.

ugly neck.

“Maybe we should make our move

“How come you’re naked?” I ask
soon,” says the male. “We’re just going to my clone.

end up falling asleep at this rate.”

She stops crying. “I was hiding in

“Yeah, maybe we should,” I tell him.

the pantry with that copy.” She points to the We continue playing cards.

dead clone on the sludgy floor, rubbing her tears. “I don’t know why . . . we started fucking. We only have one day to live, that is if the zombies and demonic baby jesus CHAPTER SIXTEEN
don’t kill us sooner. We decided to make the most of our time.”

The remaining male is hitting the

I awake to a commotion of yells and growl-zombie hands with a barbell that has a large ing. The two clones are up in the closet, weight attached to the top. He breaks their screaming at me to wake up. I look up at arms and fingers against the book shelf and them.

door.

“What’s going on?”

“Your goal in life was to save Mary!”

They don’t have any clothes on.

I tell her. “That’s how you were supposed to Probably in the middle of masturbating/mas-make the most of your time!”

turbating.

She begins to break into tears again.

“Behind you!” they cry.

“Now your life’s goal is to avenge

I feel a claw-hand caress the back
her death. That creature has g-got to die.”

of my neck. Then it tightens its grip, a sharp She nods her head at me, under-lightning-pain, digging fingernails into my stands me completely. She knows that I will flesh. A splash of blood sprays out of me as also be spending my last breath killing the the zombie cuts the side of my neck. The

39 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG
pain becomes dull. I look down and see my wonder what her name is . . .

chest and arms and the bed sheets are cov-Her motions are slow, rubbing me
ered in blood. The zombie version of me eats inside her in places that make my nerves coo.

into the back of my neck. Again, I can hardly The weight of her breasts smothering me as I feel this. I fall against the bed and become come, ejaculating into her, and my member like a dream. My jugular has been cut. I pulsates in a way that brings her into orgasm.

watch my clones up in the closet as they The female collapses on top of me, her cheek screw each other. They glance down at me a resting on my forehead.

few times, but are more interested in having I watch the zombie on the bed. It
orgasms. I begin to admire the stitchwork of ignores us, more interested in eating the the blanket I am lying on as my conscious-clone.

ness wanders away from me.

“That’s me he’s eating,” I tell her.

“The zombie is you too,” she says.

“So am I.”

“No . . .” I tell her. “I mean . . . That CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
clone is me. I remember being on the bed and getting attacked from behind. I remember it killing me.”

I awake in the closet with a warm body

“That’s impossible,” she whispers.

pressed against me. A woman.

“You have been up here with me.”

“Mary . . .”

“No, I think somehow my mind

Breasts squeezed hard against my
transferred to this clone after I died.”

chest and my penis inside of her.

“You are not a clone,” she tells me.

When my brain clears, I discover

“You are the original. He was the clone.”

that Mary isn’t on top of me. We are in the I’ll take her word for it. I don’t un-shadows, but I can tell that it is my clone derstand how anything happens anymore, fucking me and not my wife. I turn my head but I don’t have time to argue with logic.

to look around. I am up on the top shelf in

“It’s time to kill that thing,” she tells the closet. Boxes of dusty clothes and high-me.

heeled shoes are stabbing into my back. My I nod my head in the shadows.

clone’s butt cheeks are smacking against the ceiling. But she is trying to screw quietly, slowly. My hands squeeze her fleshy ass, and my knuckles grind into the ceiling as she CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
pumps up and down.

I look out of the closet to see a zom-
bie eating a copy of me on the bed over there.

We are both shaking. The sweat on our bodI watch it ripping flesh from his body, slurp-ies is turning ice cold. The female takes her ing skin from his neck. It gazes up at me and knives from the adjacent shelf and lets me snarls.

have one. Then we drop down to the floor.

But I don’t want to stop fucking. I

The female leads. She walks casually out of am almost ready to come. Her hole is much the room. Her ass is so wet it is shiny as it bigger than Mary’s, deeper, with long flaps moves, approaching the zombie who is gnaw-of skin. She has a variety of fluids dribbling ing on the clone’s leg muscles.

out of her, different colors and textures it

“Let’s go,” she says, and we charge
seems. Sliding against me. She knows ex-the zombie. I run to jump on its back, but the actly how I like it. She knows what I’m think-female beats me to it. The zombie screams ing. Mary never knew what I was thinking. I and thrashes at her, but she is holding it

CARLTON MELLICK III 40
down. We stab at its head, but the knives nails it through the baby’s hand into the wall.

won’t penetrate the skull. I plunge my knife She steps away from it. The tiny
into its neck, the weak spot, remembering how corpse hanging on the wall, dangling by its easy my neck was torn apart with fingernails.

hand. Then she takes my knife away from me The blade goes all the way through. The and spikes it through the baby’s other hand.

zombie’s growl-noises stop as I cut through She steps away from it again.

the voice box. I force it up and down, ripping We watch it in silence. Standing
the hole larger. And I saw at the neck, blood here, expecting the crucified body to do some-sprinkling our naked flesh, covering our legs, thing. But it just hangs there. Bleeding. It our breasts, arms, stomach.

looks pretty dead. Crucifying must kill de-The woman pulls the creature by
monic baby jesuses like silver bullets kill vi-the hair, scratching the neck muscles in such cious werewolves.

a way that the edge of the knife pops right

“I’m going to rip that fucking balle-
through the front of its throat. And the fe-rina from its chest,” I tell her.

male me is able to rip its head from its shoul-I approach it quickly and turn the
ders.

knob on its torso.

When it stops moving, we shift away

Intestines and internal organs pile
from the bed. I can hear zombies in the hall-out of the little door, sliding down the wall.

way. They are still growling out there, but I There isn’t a ballerina inside. It doesn’t play am getting used to them being there. They any music.

are like white noise.

“We’ll never be able to kill all of
them,” I tell her, but she isn’t listening.

She is in a paralyzed stare at the

CHAPTER NINETEEN
dead zombie.

“What is it?” I ask her.

She grabs my arm and constricts it,

I wake up naked on the bathroom floor cov-pointing at the zombie’s ass.

ered in peach goo. I rub the sticky substance The baby jesus’s face is squeezing
between my fingers as my head clears. It is out of his asshole. The little baby head is the remains of the female clone. I remember deformed, its eyes crooked, making gurgling going to sleep on the bathroom tile with her baby noises as it emerges.

wrapped around me—me wrapped around

When it opens its mouth, snotty
myself. She must have expired in her sleep, strings extend from its lips. And when it melted down to muck as temporary clones giggles, the female screams and stabs her are designed to do.

butcher knife through the baby’s head and Stepping into the bedroom, the bod-leaps away.

ies here have also dissolved to a peach film It is silent.

covering the sheets. The baby jesus is no We stare at it lying there with the
longer hanging from the walls, but its little butcher knife hanging halfway out of its face.

innards are still piled on the floor over there.

It doesn’t move. Frozen with its

The bedroom door has been torn open, but crooked eyes split by the blade.

there is only silence in the hallway. The house The woman steps forward and rehas returned to its natural appearance, but it trieves the knife in its head, pulls on it. But hardly feels like home.

the pet baby comes with knife. It slips out of My bare feet squish into the sticky
the zombie’s rectum, stuck to the blade. She peach substance in the hallway where the screams at it and slams the baby against the zombie clones had melted down. I don’t wipe wall. Forces the knife out of its head and it off, sticky goo between my toes, sham-

41 THE BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG
bling through the hallway.

I freeze.

Listening.

I can hear tinker music coming from
the kitchen.

Oh Holy Night.

I don’t bother going back to the
bedroom to get a butcher knife. I am too worn and tired to fight if the baby jesus is still alive and wants to kill me. I will let it do what it wants.

Staggering into the kitchen, I see

Mary standing there. She is holding the corpse of her pet baby in her hands, cradling it. Her hair and features are still missing, smooth like a flesh-egg, and her head-door is open to the little ballerina and the tinkering music.

Mary has her shirt unbuttoned,
pressing jesus’s mouth against her breast.

She rocks the tiny dead baby in her arms to the music, comforting it.

“Mary?” I step to her.

The music in her head stops. She
stops moving.

I approach her, put my hand on her
shoulder, caress her neck. She turns to me.

The tiny ballerina face—her face—stares longingly at me.

“I’m sorry . . .” the tiny plastic head says to me.

She wraps her free arm around my
waist and hugs me tight to her. And I press my mouth through her skull door and kiss the tiny ballerina inside.

She says, “Once Bobby resurrects,
we can be a family again.”

I nod at her.

We sit down on the living room
couch and hold each other, gaze out of the window, waiting for the infant between us to wake up from death. After a couple of days, it begins to smell. The flies are getting to it.

The sun is setting in the wrong direction.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON

LOCATION:

Portland, OR

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Tweeker Lit

(aka Crackhouse Rhapsodies)

BOOKS BY JOHNSON:

Angel Dust Apocalypse

Siren Promised (w/ Alan M. Clark)

Extinction Journals

Skullcrack City (forthcoming). “A dazzling writer...”

- Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club

DESCRIPTION: JRJ writes freakish (and often experimental) cross-genre stories about people, or people-like things, or thing-like people. These are stories with teeth and tentacles and purple fingernails with glitter on them. And inevitably, despite JRJ's protestations, someone in these stories is always ingesting a shit-ton of drugs and "wyling out." JRJ's fiction is high in cathartic strangeness but low in poly-unsaturated fats.

INTERESTS: Anthropology, chemistry, parasites, forensics, physics,-isms, evolution, lucid dreaming, non-ironic humor hats, high fantasy metal, running, Burning Man, sharks (particularly the still-existent carcharodon megalodon), not being eaten by sharks.

INFLUENCES: Ellroy, Rand, Selby, Wallace, Burroughs, Vonnegut, Welsh, Williams, Palahniuk, Barker, King, Cronenberg, Miike, Romero, Lovecraft, Jodorowsky, Dali, Bosch, Methylchloroisothiazolinone, Thompson, Noe, Hafiz.

WEBSITE:

www.jeremyrobertjohnson.com

43 EXTINCTION JOURNALS

EXTINCTION
insects. How cracked is your mind at this point? Are you even sure you’re alive? I mean, we’re talking full-fledged nuclear war JOURNALS
here. You absolutely should not be alive.

It’s ridiculous. How do you know that you weren’t vaporized in the first blast? That’s more likely. And this is some sort of nasty purgatory that you’ll be forever condemned to, all alone, stuck in this ugly place with CHAPTER ONE
your ludicrous bug suit…

“Shut up.” It felt better to Dean,
saying it out loud. Quieted the ugly part of The cockroaches took several hours to eat his brain for a moment at least.

the President.

Dean was pretty sure that he was

That much Dean was sure of. His
alive. He couldn’t imagine a metaphysical buggy business suit had a severe appetite.

plane where he’d feel so damn hungry.

Anything else - life/reality/desire - came I need to pee. There’s no way they across secondary and suspect.

kept urination in the afterlife.

Although Dean was fairly positive Dean was also pretty sure that the
that World War III had begun.

world, or at least his continent, was getting Extent of the carnage- Unknown.

darker and heading towards deep-sea black.

Nations involved- Unknown.

It was already beyond dusk at what was prob-Survivors he was aware of- One.

ably three in the afternoon. Nuclear winter was spreading its ashy chill through the air, There were two, originally. The President fed onward by black smoke and blazing
had been alive when Dean found him out nouveau-palace pyres in the distance. Fat here by the base of the Washington Monu-flakes of glowing grey floated in the air.

ment. The guy was nearly catatonic, pacing Dean shivered and tried to move the
a small circle, slack-jawed, but breathing. Still, heft of his weight into the radiant heat com-he never had a chance. When a man in a suit ing from the bodies of the cockroaches be-made of cockroaches meets a man in a suit neath him. There were tiny pores in the suit’s made of Twinkies- well, that’s about as easy fabric at each point where he’d delicately as subtraction gets.

sewn each roach’s thorax to the outfit. He As scenarios go, Dean branded this
imagined heat seeping through, but didn’t one Capital L Lonely. He’d choked out the really feel it.

President as an act of mercy, to save the man Dean received little comfort or con-the sensation of being eaten alive. That solation. But he didn’t demand those things meant that at present Dean had not a soul to either. The suit kept him alive here at catas-talk to.

trophe central and Dean felt guilty for want-He tried to address the suit.

ing more.

“Hey, roaches. Are you guys full

Relax. Let the suit take the lead.

yet?”

Let instinct kick in. They’ve had millions of Nothing. Or maybe they thought it
years of training. They’re ready for this.

rude to respond while eating.

But why are they eating so much?

Instead, Dean’s Fear, that nagging

They never needed this much food before.

voice that he thought he’d snuffed out by Dean blanched. This level of con-surviving the bombing, decided to chip in.

sumption was totally un-natural. He’d Yeah, that’s reasonable. Talk to the guessed they’d stop feeding when they fin-

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 44
ished with the toasted yellow sugar cakes nuclear arsenal earlier that day. Cockroach the President had been coated in.

jaws chewing away at the kingly lips which Back when Dean had lived in the
had once taunted foreign dignitaries and slums of DC, as he was creating the suit, he’d charmed the breadbasket into submission woken many evenings and found the crea-with phrase like, “HOO BOY, and good morn-tures nibbling at the dead skin around his ing to you!”

eyelashes and fingernails, but he’d never Despite the largely unappetizing
seen them go after new, wet meat like this.

sounds of insect consumption beneath him, What, he wondered, had he strapped onto Dean felt a low grumble in his own gut.

his body?

Will they let me eat? Do they have Maybe they’ll turn right around
to get their fill before I can find something when they’re done with El Presidente here for myself?

and they’ll keep on eating. Could you fight He pushed down on the cold, dirty
them off Dean? The leader of the free world ground with his bare hands, again regretting couldn’t stop them. What makes you think his oversight during the design phase. His you could? You think these roaches know cockroach suit, completed with the addition you? That they give a petty shit about you of blast goggles, an oxygen tank and mask, a and your continued existence? They’re fill-skull-topper crash helmet, and foil-lined tan ing up Dean. They’ll eat you slow…

work boots, was totally lacking the crucial

“Fuck that fuck that fuck that.”

support that a pair of nice woolly gloves Dean had to say this out loud, and quickly, could provide. Dean cursed himself and pic-to clear his mental slate. With nowhere to go tured surging blast rads sneaking into his the Fear could run rampant if he didn’t run heart via his exposed fingertips. He felt containment.

gamma ray death in the grit beneath his The rolling sheet of hunger Dean
tightly-groomed nails.

had clothed himself inside of just kept eat-You won’t make it a day, Dean-o.

ing. It took in a million tiny bits of once stately You’re probably dead anyway, right? This matter and processed President in its guts.

is your hell, Dean. You’ll be here, right here, Could they taste the man’s power,
forever. You’ll keep getting hungrier and Dean wondered, like an Iroquois swallowing hungrier while the radiation makes you his enemy’s heart? A fool’s question, but he puke your guts out and you’ll feel had little to do but think and adjust while his every…last…second…

handcrafted cockroach suit stayed true to its

“Quiet!”

sole purpose- Survival.

Dean shifted his legs against the

Here, amid the ash of the freshly
tugging movements of the roaches on their destroyed capital, hunkered over an ever-prey and managed to get the toes of his boots thinner corpse in the shadow of a blackened planted firmly behind him. Now all he had to obelisk, Dean’s suit was fueling up for po-do was push up and away from the ground tential famine/war/voyage. The legion of and hope he could break the masticating grip bugs sewn into the front of his suit jacket of the ravenous bugs sewn to his suit.

and pants clung tight to the supine body of Jaw clenched tight/teeth squeaking
the recently deceased world leader, forcing with stress/thin muscles pumping at max out-Dean into a sort of lover’s embrace with a put. Still, no give. The thick cloister of bugs man he’d once feared and despised more than that covered Dean’s chest had dug deep into any other. And there were so many mouths the corpse. Dean could tell from the stink of to feed. A multitude of mandibles denuding half-digested lobster bisque that the bugs bone, sucking skin off of the fingers that had had breached the President’s belly. Worse, presumably launched the first volley of the smell only made him hungrier.

45 EXTINCTION JOURNALS

Cannibal. Beast.

light pain of an oncoming hunger headache

“Shut it shut it shut it.”

made mostly unimportant by the stranger Dean readied himself again, flatten-sensation of being in motion while in the pro-ing his hands, fingers wide, anxious to assert cess of waking.

his own need to survive. He and the roaches Dean opened his eyes and rubbed
had to learn to live together. If not in total accumulated ash from his blast goggles. The symbiosis, then through equal shows of suit was moving, quickly, away from some-force- a delicate balance between Dean and thing. He couldn’t shake the God-like sensa-his meticulously crafted attire.

tion he got when the roaches carried him They’d be a team, damn it.

across the ground.

Dean pushed, exhaling sharply,

Overlord Dean. The Great One To
goggles fogging up with exertion, sweat pool-Which We Cling. The Mighty Passenger.

ing at his lower back.

Dean would have been more amused

Come on. We can take the body by his invented titles had he not noticed what with us. I just need to get some food in my the suit was fleeing from.

belly and you greedy little fuckers can re-A thick bank of radioactive fog was
turn to your meal. Just let go…

rolling in behind them, moving in the new Dean pushed and felt a shift. He
alien currents created by a global weather realized that his full-force push-up had only system blown topsy-turvy. It had a reddish served to elevate him and the body stuck to tint at its edges that read cancer/mutation/
him, just before he realized his shaking right organ-sloughing. Dean imagined each of the hand was edging into a patch of blood-spat-nuclear droplets must be nearly frozen inside tered Twinkie filling.

the fog. The temperature was cold enough Quick as a thought Dean’s hand slid
to sap the heat from his fingers and face.

out from under his newly acquired girth, and Thirty-five degrees and dropping, easy.

he thudded back to the ground. The weight But the roaches could handle the
of the landing was enough to compress a sort of deep level radiation that filled the fog.

stale breath through the lungs of the

Were they moving in order to try and pre-President’s body.

serve him? Ridiculous. So they must have And Dean would swear, to his last
exhausted their food source and were just day, that the impact of his weight on the moving towards the next step. A dark place President’s chest forced a final “HOO BOY!”

to hide. A place to nestle in and lay eggs.

from the dead man’s half-eaten lips.

Should I just let them keep leading It was upon hearing this final and
me along? The way they’d treated their last desperate State of the Union Address that meal… if I don’t take over now they’ll never Dean allowed exhaustion, un-sated hunger let me eat. They’ll just keep moving and and shock to overcome him.

consuming. Hell, with it this dark outside, He rested deeply, cradled by a suit
they won’t even feel a need to hide. This is that slept in shifts and fed each of its mem-their world now. I’ve got to show them I bers a royal feast.

deserve a place in it.

This was the first day of the end of

Carefully, so as not to crush any of
human existence.

the suit’s communal members, he lowered his heels to the ground and then got his feet beneath him. Within seconds he was stand-CHAPTER TWO
ing, lightheaded and waiting for the blood to catch up. The few Madagascar cockroaches he’d sown to his pants, amid all the Germans Deep belly grumbles/acidic clenching. The and Smokybrowns, jostled at the disturbance

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 46
and let loose with high-pitched hissing.

they did the job to the Nth degree. The view

“Come on you guys. Take it easy.”

triggered Fear.

Dean ignored their susurrant com-

Last man standing, Dean-o. Look
plaint. He respected the suit, but now it was at the world you’ve inherited. All the noth-time for the suit to respect him. He felt the ing you could ever want. You’re either stuck roaches’ legs bicycling in the chill wind, seek-in this till the end of time or…

ing purchase, trying to stay on target with

“Enough. No.”

wherever they’d been headed.

It was night-time. Maybe. Or the

Maybe I should let them take over.

sky born debris had completely blocked out They got me through the overpressure of the the sunlight. Regardless, still-flaming build-blast. They got me through the radiation, ings were the remaining source of illumina-so far. They found food instantly in a dead tion. Dean figured anything that depended landscape. They’re almost happy, it seems.

on photosynthesis was torched or starving Vibrating. Thriving. Do I have that same at top speed in the blackout.

instinct?

He couldn’t assess his distance

I have to. No choice. Assess the from the ground zero hypocenter but he situation.

guessed he was within fifty miles of an ac-Dean ignored the motions of his suit,
tual strike.

took a few breaths from his oxygen mask to That’s good, Dean. Pretend you
try and clear the chemical taste from his throat, know what’s going on. Pretend you aren’t a and realized that he really should have man coated in cockroaches and that you hooked up a gas mask instead of his portable can make sense of the world. But remember breather unit.

that if the world makes sense, you’re dead.

But he couldn’t subject himself to

Are you dead?

that level of suffering. Dean had a severe The black clouds above rolled over
aversion to having his entire face enclosed each other with super-natural momentum, in rubber; an extraordinarily rough time with colliding and setting off electrical storms that a dominatrix in Iceland had forced him to for-flashed wide but never struck the ground.

ever swear off such devices. He could barely There were few high points left to arc through.

even tolerate the tiny respirator.

Dean felt strangely honored as a

Now, though, he couldn’t help won-
witness. For all he knew, his were the last der about what this tainted air was already human eyes taking in a vision that royally doing to his lungs. And he thanked the col-outranked Mt. St. Helens or Pinatubo, and lective gods for whatever miracle had pre-surely even went beyond what the first vented the small oxygen tank on his back people to emerge from tunnel shelters at from exploding when the first bomb sent out Nagasaki saw.

its terrible heat-wave.

Don’t drift. Think. Take action.

I can’t fucking believe I’m still

He ran down research, looking for a
alive.

plan. He spoke the details aloud to his suit, It was quickly becoming a mantra,
and hoped that somehow they were paying but a useless one which distracted him from attention. Teamwork would remain crucial.

the act of actually living.

“Okay, guys, here’s what we’re look-

He shook away the thought, sur-
ing at. Assuming bombs haven’t hit every veyed his surroundings.

single inch of the U.S., we might be able to Black rubble. Fire. Ash. Nothing
clear the fallout ground track by heading out remotely human or animal in any direction.

30 miles past the central explosion. Rain and Whatever bombs were employed- fission/
fog this close to the blast will jack the fallout fusion/gun-triggered/dirty bombs/H-bombs-up to intolerable levels. If we can find a safe

47 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
place for now, and hole up for three to five him- at least the females- to survive for two weeks, then our travel options should open hundred days or so. As long as they had wide. The radiation will drop by then. De-food and water they’d get by. Perhaps, within contamination requires things we don’t have-that time span, the Earth would find some flowing water/backhoes/man-power. We’re new equilibrium in its atmosphere and Dean going to have to soak up some rads no mat-could survive without his living fabric.

ter what. Not that you guys are worried about What the hell kind of plan is that?

that.”

Did I even believe, deep down, that this suit No response.

would have actually kept me alive? Maybe Were you expecting one, Dean-o?

it was just something to do to keep the Fear Are you that gone?

away until I died. Like old folks playing But Dean didn’t expect any re-bridge.

sponse. What he didn’t tell his Fear, what he No. Somehow I knew this would
didn’t want to say or even think, really, was work.

that the loneliness was already making him And I lived. I’m living. Now I have feel sad in a way that was dangerous. Dean to keep things that way.

had never spent much time talking to people Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about
in the months just prior, but there’d been the ever-worsening nuclear winter growling some interaction each day. The mailman. Fast around him. He dropped the roach edifica-food clerks. Small vestiges of human inter-tion because he was a bit confused on the action. Faces that reacted. Voices that whole issue.

weren’t his.

Best I only speak to them in a con-Dean continued to lay out the game
fident tone, or not at all.

plan.

Back in the Seventies nuclear win-

“We can access emergency drink-
ter had been declared humankind’s endgame ing water by filtering contaminated H20
by Sagan and the Soviets. But in the Eight-through more than ten inches of dirt. But ies Thompson and Schneider played that off that dirt had better be from below the topsoil, as Cold War propaganda. So the weather which is toxic in and of itself right now. Ac-was either headed towards the colder and cess to a supply of potassium iodide could darker spectrum, or was hitting its worst and mitigate some of the effects of the radiation soon to wane. Better to error on the side of on me, not that you guys care about that.”

Sagan and hook up some Arctic gear in case He almost hoped for a response to
the temperature went negative. Easier to strip that last part. Some sign from the roaches that stuff off if it turned out that the long-that they did indeed give a shit. But there lasting dinosaur-and-human-ending nuclear was nothing.

winter was just a big Russian bluff.

“The top new symptoms on my

Food. Dean’s main mission until his
watch list will be-nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, belly became quiet, and something he fig-cataracts, and hair loss.”

ured his pals would like to hear about.

Of course, Dean’s constant expo-

“Listen up, guys. Assuming not
sure to the cockroaches and their profusion everything was vaporized, there should be of pathogens meant he was often riddled with enough in warehouses and stocks to feed the first three symptoms, but if they got much the entire U.S. for sixty to ninety days. The worse than usual….

rest of the world will be worse off. Maybe And what about the suit itself?

thirty three days of food before they run out.”

Dean decided to skip talking to them about And will they be able to get to the U.S. at these details.

that point? Would they be coming for your He’d expected the roaches sewn to
food, Dean, those starving pirate citizens

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 48
from small countries deemed Not Worth under a sun-lamp. He knew he was wasted if Bombing but still dependent on the global his thirst outgrew his hunger.

infrastructure for grub?

Water. Food. Now.

He shook off the doubts and tried

No one to talk to. Nothing to see
to inject his voice with renewed poise.

but burning buildings, gutted cracking skel-

“What about cows? There should
eton structures that might once have held be cows around. Somewhere. A non-irradi-sustenance.

ated bovine could supply us with food, milk Depression hit quick, ran through
or even an extra layer of leather protection.”

Dean’s whole body like a low-grade fever that Not, Dean realized, that he would
only served to slow him further as he slogged know how the hell to go about starting that onward.

process. He’d never touched a cow that So. You lived. What now? Why
wasn’t already sectioned and shrink-
keep going? Daddy Dean Sr.’s money wrapped.

doesn’t matter any more, you little trust fund There was never enough time to
bitch. You don’t really know how to sur-learn the tools needed for surviving the vive. What were the odds your numb-nuts apocalypse. Too many ways for a planet to roach suit experiment would have worked?

go rotten.

Why do you deserve to keep going when Dean laid out a plan. And as plans
millions just died? You manage to survive a go, it was on the lackluster end of things.

nuclear blast, and kill the President, the man The problem- he’d spent so much time think-you thought had a personal hard-on for your ing and chatting up the roaches that his hun-death. In one day you conquered both your ger had crept full force into his brain.

greatest fears. Victory was yours, right? And Now all he and his belly could co-now you’ll die because you didn’t think to herently put together was the following: pack a loaf of bread and some bottled water Get Food.

in that suit. You’re letting a bunch of shit-sucking insects dictate the flow of your life.

Dean asserted himself. He trekked on foot, Shall I go on?

away from the blast center and the noxious Water. All Dean wanted was some
red fog bank that seemed to keep rolling in-water. He was cold, but if he stepped closer land. His fingers went numb. He wished he to the smoldering buildings his lips cracked hadn’t sewn the pockets shut on his jacket and his thirst grew. It was a head-fucker.

and pants, but had needed to in order to en-You don’t have any reasons to stay sure every inch of his outfit was roach-ready.

alive. The man who kept you going- the His headache pushed inward, its
man who gave you something to fight own fog rolling through the crags of his cer-against- is turning into plastered pellets of ebellum.

roach shit all around you. What are you He cursed the extra weight of the
going to do? Find a woman? Re-populate oxygen tank on his back. He junked it.

the Earth? You never really liked people He’d adapt to the new air like he’d
before. Empathized maybe, but never really adapted to the roaches. He’d press his lim-felt any communal love. Women wouldn’t its. Couldn’t stomach that mask anyway. It talk to you before, Dean. You think you’ll conjured up flashes of too-long ball-gagged be a big charmer now, Roach Man?

seconds at the hands of his Icelandic ex-mis-One foot in front of the other.

tress. The smell of vomit trapped between Twelve slow, slogging miles. The edge of skin and rubber. A pressure behind the eyes.

the city. What was the city. What would His mouth tasted of the burning
now be referred to euphemistically as a “site.”

tenements that flanked him, of dried cat shit There- the empty field that bordered

49 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
the suburban intersection. A small tin shed.

the pudding-tinted water down his throat Not black. Not burning.

before he remembered.

You’ll be like them soon. The

Shit. They need water too.

roaches. Just living. Thoughtless. You’ll Dean hesitated. Felt the water rush-be sterilized. Your guts will blacken. The ing through his body, his headache already end of you. But they’ll breed. They’ll keep distant. Those terrible voices quieted. He going. And you’ll be dragged with them to thought about how much better he’d feel with the end, shoving carrion and rotten plants the rest of that water running down his gul-into your mouth if they’ll let you.

let. Thought about how the suit had denied Finally, a vision. Might be an oasis.

him even a hint of food when it had access.

Dean stumbled forward and gently

No, that’s not right. Maybe if I give crouched before the shapes that leaned them water now, they’ll learn. They didn’t against the western side of the building. The survive this many years without being able nagging voice in his head fell away as he to quickly adapt to new scenarios. Maybe I bent down beside the tiny metal shed and can establish trust.

picked up the sealed jar of water and single As silly as the thought felt in his
pre-packed cup of chocolate pudding.

head, it also had a weird ring of truth. Lions and hyenas learned to share in their own brutal environment. Maybe even the bug’s cut-CHAPTER THREE
throat existence didn’t have to be all or nothing.

Dean realized that hand feeding was

Pudding beats sex, big time. Of course, hav-not an option. To find a way to apply water ing had little sex, most of it running the gamut to each of those tiny mouths would be ri-from earnest/mediocre to awkward/ugly, Dean diculous even if he had the time/energy/pa-found this comparison easy to make.

tience. This was never a problem before. The He tried to eat slow, to let the tiny
suit had always fed solo, safely stored within chocolate heavens loll on his tongue before a lock-box in Dean’s rat-trap apartment. He gulping the gel down, but it wasn’t easy.

wasn’t sure how to hydrate them in the It’s just so…goddamned…GOOD!

present since he didn’t dare remove the outHe nearly choked on a runny cocoa
fit. They were absorbing who knows how dollop when he tried to pull a breath through much radiation right now, shielding Dean’s his nose while swallowing. But he held the fragile skin and organs from invisible rays.

cough. Kept the pudding in his mouth. Ev-How would they get the water if I
ery little drop of it. He licked the last bits wasn’t here?

from his unwashed fingers and ushered un-With that thought, Dean walked into
told levels of bacteria into his gut. He knew the small hollow tin structure and gently it. He just couldn’t stop himself.

poured the remaining water out on the con-Then he had to rinse it down.

crete floor. Luckily it was poorly laid and the Get some water in my system. Get
water puddled at a concavity in the center of my head on straight.

the cement.

The Fear seemed to be gone, chased

Dean eased himself onto the
away by sugar to the brain and Dean’s new ground, lying prone.

sense that he was truly alive and breathing.

“Drink up, little guys.”

Somehow I’m… here.

They took to it like pros, the most

He unscrewed the lid of the Mason
robust sections of the suit contorting to the jar, which gave a satisfying pop as its seal puddle first and siphoning up their own tiny ruptured. He already had three quarters of portions of liquid life.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 50

Dean’s right arm was drinking from
gan to fluctuate in size and his stomach the pool. He peered upward at the ramshackle threatened to surrender its precious pudding.

lid on the structure and noticed that it was Because, as Dean looked skyward,
starting to lift up, as if a wind was catching he saw a great chariot of fire and aboard that beneath it. The hairs on his neck popped chariot, the shape of something like a man.

rigid.

Trumpets sounded, a terrible multi-

The shack’s lid raised and slapped
tude of them, a great shrieking air raid that back down twice, shaking the whole build-threatened to cave Dean’s eardrums had he ing.

Then it simply disappeared. No tear-
not shielded them with chocolate-streaked ing away at creaky hinges and rusty nails.

hands.

The thing was just gone. Dean’s skin ran The chariot, and the shape it car-wild over spasming muscles.

ried, were headed straight for him. Bearing Another blast? A second volley?

down at top-speed. The figure in the chariot Who was left to launch this one? Was New was definitely humanoid, with a head, two Zealand armed? Did the Maoris have mis-arms, and a torso, but the skin shimmered siles, half-etched with tribal paint, striking with silver and hints of the full spectrum. The down on U.S. soil?

thing had but one great eye at the center of No. There was no heat this time.

its head.

No terrible pressure.

Dean felt no heat from the chariot

The roaches had stopped drinking.

but noted that the roaches coating him were They began to crawl, frantically, out of the frantically trying to escape to anywhere, to shed and into the open field. They did circles, be free of that brilliant light.

unsure of where to go, Dean riding their agi-Then the chariot halted, perhaps
tated wave.

fifty feet from where Dean stood with his Dean had seen this type of motion
mouth agape.

in roaches before, prior to figuring out how Then the chariot just disappeared.

to rig his apartment with UV lights. The bugs Gone. Poof. Like the top of the tin shed.

were steeped in negative phototropism, it was That was when Dean decided to
a key to their continued existence. Allowed turn and run. Anything that can make matter them to function out of sight of their preda-disappear- majestic though it may be- was tors.

dangerous.

And what they were doing now was

“HALT!”

exactly what they used to do when he’d ar-Dean halted. That voice- part in-rive home and switch on the overhead lamps.

sect/part trumpet/part his father’s.

But where was the light coming

He turned to face the creature.

from? All Dean could see was the steady It hovered there for a moment, where
wavering light of fires succumbing to the inits burning chariot had stood, and then creasing chill of nuclear winter.

floated slowly towards the ground before Dean pushed off of the ground and

Dean.

stood up, halting the flight of the cockroaches Dean nearly lost his legs. His teeth
against his better judgment. He had to figure squeaked against each other. Sweat popped out what they were running from. What if it along his forehead. But he stood strong-was an airplane? Something else? Another falling now meant the roaches would con-survivor?

tinue their frantic escape.

Dean craned his neck and pushed

The shape landed just three feet
his blast goggles up into his hairline to make from Dean, and though it didn’t radiate heat, sure he could see as well as possible.

Dean suspected that the ground beneath the It was then that Dean’s pupils be-thing would have ignited had it not already

51 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
been charred clean.

this surface.

Thunder rolled in the purple/black

The thing emitted a low, nearly sub-
clouds above them.

sonic noise and the roach suit seemed to dive The thing stared through Dean with
into a comatose state. The feelers and legs its one huge eye.

stopped their incessant clawing at the air.

Dean surveyed the creature. It re-

Eight long tendrils of light unfurled
turned the same. From what Dean was see-from the creature’s back, straightening them-ing he could think of only a few words.

selves out in direct opposition of each other, Ergot. Mycotoxin.

their points forming a perfect circle behind it.

Whatever was in that pudding, it’s Dean had been without God, with-driven me mad. Is there grain in pudding?

out wonder, for years since Daddy Dean Sr.

Could it go bad all sealed up like that? Was had passed, but he was about to weep when the pudding full of gamma rays?

the creature spoke. It had no mouth. Rather, Have I finally snapped?

the voice, that voice, appeared directly in He remembered the rough times af-Dean’s head asking:

ter his father had passed away in a brutal

“Where did everybody go?”

deer/Slurpee straw/airbag-related auto acci-Dean was unsure how to respond,
dent. Dean had chased a new life then, or if he even should. Was this a test? What thought he could find it through drugs and revelations were about to occur?

rituals and chants and smoke ceremonies.

“Where did everybody go?”

Instead he’d only found Fear, the same cold The creature wanted a response.

gut feeling that had inspired him to build his But surely something this wondrous would cockroach suit.

already know the answer.

But in all his travels, all those long

“No. I don’t know what’s going on.

nights of the soul, chasing demons on the Something has changed. Today was sup-dirt floor of some shaman’s hut, he’d never posed to be the time of my manifestation.”

seen anything this wondrous.

“Your manifestation? I’m sorry, I’m

The creature stood at the same
just so…”

height as Dean, the exact same, although this

“You don’t have to use your mouth
felt like an illusion to induce comfort. It had to communicate right now. I can speak in-the limbs of a human, although Dean could side of your mind, but cannot see through it perceive no joints. It appeared, in fact, to be as much as I need to. Please open it up to me.

liquid, with a skin of entirely separated transI’m going to emit a frequency, and once you lucent scales floating over the shifting ed-do the same, we’ll have an open line.”

dies and rivers and storming oceans of its Dean had no idea how to “emit a
surface. Each scale cycled through the spec-frequency” but the creature began to vibrate trum, every color that Dean’s eyes could per-and a low humming noise came from its cenceive. He felt as if his brain was learning to ter. It rattled through Dean’s bones and he interpret new shades with each second, col-found himself humming until his throat was ors without names. A painter, Dean thought, producing the same tone.

would be in tears right now.

“There” the thing said, “We’re in

At the center of the thing’s chest a
line with each other now. I can tell from your thin pink light shone through the scales as colors that you are confused. So much grey.”

they whirled from torso to limb to face to Dean had experienced the huckster-back.

ism of aura reading before. He began to think The great eye regarded Dean with-of ergotism and bad pudding again. Nothing out any clear emotion. Human facial expres-was making sense.

sions would, Dean knew, appear petty across

“I can help you,” said the thing.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 52

“First, I’ll share my wisdom, then I’ll ask for someone else around here that I can talk to?

yours. Does this sound okay?”

This is much easier if I can speak in your Dean nodded Yes inside of his head
mathematics. I mean, I know you people un-and kept humming.

derstand this. All I am is a gradually amassed A thin purple lid dropped over the
energy force that your being created. I don’t creature’s color-shifting eye and it began to exist beyond the scope of the power that al-tremble. A lower hum rattled through Dean’s ready runs through your body.”

ribcage, and he feared his heart might col-

“My body?”

lapse. The pressure continued to build and

“Yes, your body. The infinite spaces
then there was a thumping sound and the in between the atoms that compose you, and creature’s knowledge came pouring into the matter itself.”

Dean’s mind. Dean struggled against the flow

“I’m really lost now. Are you sure
and tried to hum back questions when he you’re making sense? Maybe we’re hum-was lost.

ming at different frequencies or something…

“The creatures of this planet have
hold up… no that hum sounds about right.

called me down to unite them. They have Listen, I’ve had a really rough day and I think abandoned their earliest forms of energy maybe I got a hold of some bad pudding and transmittal, what some call religion. The disI’m hoping you can just amplify your powers parate forms of energy they’ve since adapted and give me all this knowledge at once, in a and harnessed have fractured the colors that way that encapsulates it so that I fully un-float around their sphere.”

derstand.”

“Sphere. You mean Earth?”

“That’s not how it works. Unearned

“Yes, you could call it that. These
realization does nothing to shift the colors.

new energy systems ran thick with dark cur-There were supposed to be billions of you rents and were quickly poisoned. Even once when I arrived. The collective unconscious noble ideas collapsed under structure and would have ignited, all religions would have hierarchy and the presence of the human fallen. Time as you know it would have identity. Possession. Power. Control. Life ceased its passage and all human matter was bridled. The focus was shifted towards would have lost its identity and returned to the individual bits of matter that made up its source, where a new lifeform would have this sphere.”

been created, one properly coded for contin-

“Bits of matter. You mean the living
ued existence and evolution.”

things.”

“The Rapture?”

“Sort of. But most of those things

“We were going to allow you to call
stayed pure. The parts of the sphere that it that. Your belief gave that concept power.

called themselves ‘I’ were the source of the And all the energy systems, even those that poison. But something inside their replica-did not espouse it, found the idea enchant-tive code recognized the sickness and began ing, so it would have been very effective.

to create me.”

Those with the slightest vibration of the old

“So humankind’s DNA recognized
energy at their core would have floated up that religious systems were pulling the spe-and merged with me, bathed in my energy.

cies further and further away from some Any others would have softly ceased to ex-lifeforce that drives our existence?”

ist, floating away in a warm surge of white

“Well, sort of. How much do you
light.”

know about super-strings? Whorls? Vortex

“So what now?”

derivatives?”

“Exactly. I’m lost. I exist, and am

“Oh, god, nothing at all.”

present, so something of the old belief must

“Okay, that doesn’t help. Is there
still exist. Something on this sphere, other

53 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
than you, is alive and believes that I should

“Probably. When the bombs started
be.”

dropping, I think people forgot all of the dark

“So, are you going to wash me away
systems that might once have ruled over in soft light now?”

them. And I think, for a moment, they found

“No. Everything has changed. I
their way back into the old energies.”

must adapt. Which means I need your help.

“You mean they were all praying

Please tell me, where did everybody go?”

before they died?”

“They’re dead. All of them, so far

“Not exactly. Sort of. It’s not really as I know. The President was still alive a prayer. It’s this state the mind goes into when while ago, but my suit ate him. It’s really it knows it’s about to die. There’s a lot of hard to explain.”

power there.”

“I have nowhere else to go. Neither

“But it was too late?”

do you. You may have noticed I’ve halted

“From what you’ve told me, yes.”

time.”

“Shit…”

Dean had wondered why the

Time must have started to flow
roaches were so still.

again. Dean felt the bite of hot tears in his

“Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

eyes.

Dean let loose what he knew

“Does that make you sad?”

through a series of modulated hums. He

“I guess. I get this feeling when I
waxed as poetic as he could about the Cold think about people dying. Mostly, I just feel War, the Iraq wars, Sierra Leone, the fall of bad that they’re so sad about it happening.

Russia, nuclear proliferation, his country’s And that sadness is strong. I’m afraid of it.

tyrannical hillbilly puppet leader, Wal-Mart, So what I do is ignore them and just focus on peak oil, the internet, pandemics, suburban staying alive. Because as long as I’m here, sprawl, the ultimate fallibility of the as long as I’m living and fighting off death, President’s Twinkie suit (although Dean ad-then I feel alright…I don’t ever want to feel mired it in theory), colonialism, plastics, ura-as sad as those people.”

nium, fast food, and global conflict. But when

“But death is natural. It’s part of
he got to the end of the story it felt like the how your particular energy stays in exist-whole thing was a colossal waste of time be-ence.”

cause the punchline, no matter what, was

“Yeah, people always say that, but
this:

lions eating people is natural, too, and I’d

…and then we killed ourselves.

chew my way through a room full of boiled Which, Dean felt, was a terribly
shit to avoid ever ending up in the jaws of down way to end his story.

some giant cat, even for a second.”

The creature agreed. It shook its

“You still don’t understand.”

beautiful mono-orbital head and retracted the

“No, you don’t understand. I’m
long whips of light that had extended from here and I’m alive and that’s the one thing its back.

I’ve ever known for sure since I started breath-

“So what” Dean asked, “are you
ing. I understand just fine.”

going to do now?”

The creature sighed, and began to

“I’m not sure. Without your spe-
turn.

cies, I doubt I’ll exist much longer. I’ll prob-

“You’re going then?”

ably just fade back into the ether. The worst

“Of course. No reason to stay here.

part is, I think I know why I was finally called You’re dead already.”

down, why the energy was strong enough to

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be like that.

bring about a change.”

Maybe I can learn from you. Will you at least

“Will I understand it if you tell me?”

tell me your name?”

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 54

“Had I needed a name during my
ground as the roaches took turns feeding on time here, you would have called me
the regurgitated confection.

Yahmuhwesu.”

I hope they hurry up. We need to

“That’s a terrible name.”

keep moving inland.

“I thought so, too. It’s not my fault It had to be a coincidence, but as
you’ve got an ugly language. But it would Dean had the thought he felt the bugs behave worked. The floating horseless fire neath him pick up their pace, shuffling chariot wasn’t my idea either. But according quicker through their arcane feeding system.

to the vibrations from the hive mind, it would Weird. I must be in shock. First I’m have been the most impressive way to ap-talking to some sort of scaly god, now I’m pear.”

imagining that roaches can read my mind.

“Probably. Can I ask where you’re

Pregnant. What could that have
going?”

meant?

“Sure. I can still feel a pull here, so Then Dean realized what

I’m going to look for other humans. If I find Yahmuhwesu was talking about.

another, perhaps something will come of it.

The roaches. They’d been attached

If not….”

to the suit for a few weeks now. Long enough

“Well then, Yahmuhwesu, goodbye.

for some of them to reproduce. Especially Wish me luck.”

the German ones. They didn’t even need sex

“Despite knowing better, I will.”

to breed.

His feet lifted from the black floor of When choosing the different types
the Earth, floating just inches above it.

of roaches for his suit, Dean had put them

“And by the way, Dean, I thought
through a rigorous series of survival tests.

you might find this amusing. For a man with The Smokybrowns and Orientals had done such a singular obsession with death, you well, extraordinary paragons of genetics re-are hugely pregnant.”

ally. But the Blatella germanica was in a class of its own.

He’d cut the head off of a German

CHAPTER FOUR
and watched it navigate through tubes back to its preferred spot by the baseboard mold-ing in the corner of his bathroom.

Pudding doesn’t taste as good on the way Then he took the headless roach
back up.

and put it in an airtight jar so see how long it Dean noted this as he wiped a string
would keep going. Ten days later the de-of bilious chocolate drool from his lower lip capitated juggernaut was not only in motion, and surveyed the sad pool of snack treat that but had sprouted an egg case from its abdo-sat beneath him in the charred soil.

men.

Pregnant? What the hell is he talk-A week later there were thirty
ing about? You can’t just tell a man he’s nymphs in the jar. They looked healthy. And pregnant and then disappear from existence full, since they’d eaten their headless mother.

like that. It’s too much.

Right then Dean had made the

Dean couldn’t fathom the idea of
choice. His suit was going to be seventy licking up the pudding off the ground, so he percent German. It upped his odds. You just eased himself into a supine position and let couldn’t kill the damn things.

the suit have at it. They deserved a little Dean slid his goggles down and
sugar. God knows what being frozen in time cleared them of deposited ash. He tilted his did to the poor things.

head forward. He lifted his right arm off of Dean’s body rotated slowly over the
the ground, anxious to see if any of his

55 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
roaches were reproducing.

It was a waste. His internal atlas was non-Yahmuhwesu was right. Dean
existent. His last score on a geography test-wasn’t just pregnant, he was completely cov-Mrs. Beeman’s class, 5th grade- was a D mi-ered in life. An egg case for almost every nus.

German. Even the ones he could have sworn Even if the road signs weren’t blazed
were male a week ago.

or shattered, Dean would barely have known Shit. That’s a lot of extra mouths to where he was. Sense of place wasn’t part of feed.

his make-up. But he felt that the best plan Dean gave himself a week, maybe
was to keep moving inland. Pick a major road two before they hatched.

and stick with it. Keep walking.

And what if they think of you as

The upside being that sleep didn’t
their headless mother, Dean-o?

halt his progress. When he was on the Shit.

ground- snoring, twitching through his REM

He should have thought of this.

state- the bugs kept moving. They were reNew sweat surfaced in a sheen across his lentless in their drive.

body. He was back to the same old agenda, Dean was awakened once, by the
the Find Food and Water routine, but now it sensation of his crash helmet sliding against was doubly important. He had babies to feed.

a surface with more yield than the roadway Thousands of tiny new bellies to fill, along he was used to being dragged along while with his now empty gut.

resting. The roaches had veered off into a I can’t just sit here. The clock is field- they’d hit farm territory just hours be-ticking. I’ve got to get moving. And NOW!

fore- and found the crispy remains of what With that thought, quick and urgent
might have been a baby goat. Dean man-as it came, the suit abandoned the remains of aged to tear off a chunk of it and sequester it its pudding and began to crawl west, towards to the wide top of his left boot. He’d need to the heartland. Dean couldn’t help but ac-wash it off before he could eat it. Couldn’t knowledge this second instance of collusion just dive in like his insectile friends. If he got between his desires and the actions of the desperate he guessed he could just peel roaches surrounding him.

away most of the outside of the meat and And while this fact made him
maw down its center. Maybe the fallout strangely proud, something at the back of didn’t get in that deep.

his mind recoiled. Because communication The temperature seemed to have
was a two way road, and roaches must cer-leveled out around a chilly forty-or-so de-tainly have desires of their own.

grees. It pulled the moisture from Dean’s face and hands and left his skin feeling tight and chapped. He guessed his face was stuck CHAPTER FIVE
in a sort of permanent grimace. A charming look, he was certain.

Thirst was always nagging him. He

Time played tricks. Could be decompress-made do with the occasional thin puddle of ing. Could be redacting. Dean had no watch, water that either hadn’t been vaporized or and day and night were old memories. Kid had resettled, and once he found a decent stuff. The new grown up reality was this: batch, maybe a gallon, still tucked inside a darkness/food/water/fire. Stay moving.

fractured chunk of irrigation pipe. With noth-Primal shit.

ing to contain it in he was forced to gulp Days passed. At least, what felt like down what he could and make sure the
days. Dean tried to calculate mileage, to fig-roaches took the rest.

ure a way to gauge time by distance traveled.

I could always eat some of the bugs

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 56
if I got too hungry. I’m sure there’s some a valuable find. There, inside a half-melted water in their bodies, and they’d understand.

tackle-box, Dean found a pair of thick gloves They’d be eating each other right now if my with leather across the palms and the finger sewing job didn’t have them all in assigned tips cut off. It was a blessing, and for a few seating.

hours Dean felt a renewed sense of vigor. He But the thought felt wrong. Muti-was semi-equipped, alive, and heading
nous. They were working together now, or places.

at least it seemed like it. He’d stopped short But the further he went the more he
of giving them each names, but he felt an realized his efforts might be pointless no attachment to the bugs. They understood matter which direction he hiked. As insane him. They shared his motto: Do Not Die.

as it seemed, no one else was alive.

No. They’d survive this together.

The global imaging satellites and

But why?

tiny computer chips guiding the missiles that Dean was giving up whatever mar-hit America had done a flawless job. Every ginal hope he’d had of finding either a rich time Dean reached some new urban center food source, other living beings, or both.

he was confronted by fresh blast craters.

When he traveled through cities, or what-Instead of clearing the radioactivity he’d tried ever was left of them, he was able to acquire to leave behind, he was charging into new a few things. A sturdy hiking backpack from ellipses of damage, places that would take the remaining third of a ravaged outdoor much more than weeks to be livable again.

store. A thick plastic bottle for water. Rem-And whenever Dean dared venture into
nants of cloth and thin tinder wood (usually buildings or homes in search of life he was partially burnt) to make torches for lighting greeted by the same thing:

the way as the un-natural winter worsened.

Death. Unrestrained and absolute.

He’d edged around a still-flaming gas-tank Exposed finger-bones pointing ac-crater and found a small fridge with three diet cusations at the sky.

sodas inside. It was hideous shit but Dean Baby replicas composed of ash,
knew he couldn’t afford to be picky right now.

mouths still open in a cry.

He used one of the diet sodas to clean the The bodies of a man and his dog
radiation from his stashed chunk of toasty fused together, skin and fur melded. Nobody goat meat. If the cola could remove the rust wanted to die alone.

from airplane parts, it ought to be able to deal WWIII was less a war than it was a
with a little nuclear waste.

singular event. A final reckoning for a race It was not fine dining, nowhere near sick of waiting for the next pandemic to clean pudding-good, but Dean wolfed it down and things up. And since Dean never saw any kept moving. He couldn’t wear the backpack sign of invasion, or even recon, he guessed for fear of disturbing his suit, so he tied it to that most of the other countries were now his waist with a length of twine and let it drag sitting in the same smoking squalor.

behind him, whether walking on foot or trav-Each new region was the same. Cru-
eling by roach. The pack was pretty sturdy cial buildings, city centers, food stores- all and helped him keep his motley assortment dusted. He had much better chances of proof goods in one place. And if it started to fall ductive forage at the outskirts of cities, and apart Dean figured he could use the sewing then it was back into the blackness and the skills he’d learned constructing his outfit to road to the next noxious burg.

fix it.

It was during this seemingly time-

Finally- at the borders of a suburb
less stretch of travel that Dean started to find Dean had named Humvington for its sheer them. The other ones like Dean.

numbers of blazed-out SUV frames- he made He understood the zeitgeist, and

57 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
how the media had allowed the entire planet with cataracts and the smell on the body was to experience the same set of stimuli. So Dean bad meat incarnate. But the chest was rising shouldn’t have been so surprised that oth-and falling ever so faintly.

ers would have tried to protect themselves Could be my eyes fooling me. A
like he had.

flashback from that bad pudding.

But their ideas- their suits- were so

Dean squatted in closer to the man’s
bad. Crackpot, really. At least Dean’s knowl-body and noticed how loose and wrinkled edge of entomology, passed down from his his face was. He’d never seen skin so Ivy League father, had given him some vi-rumpled, like one of those fancy dogs they able theory to work on. And he had to as-put in motivational posters at work.

sume that the President’s Twinkie suit was Dean gently pressed the middle and
based on top-level Pentagon science that forefinger of his left hand against the man’s didn’t quite hit the right calculations. But neck to check for a pulse.

these poor folks, they’d just been guessing.

It was this motion that caused the

Styrofoam man had surrounded
man’s face to slide off of his head.

himself with customized chunks of beverage Not only that, the man changed col-coolers. Most of the enterprise had melted ors. His first wrinkled face was stark white.

right into the guy’s skin. Hadn’t he ever tried His new face was light brown. The same to cook some sweet-and-sour soup leftovers cataract-coated eyes peered out at the heavy in the microwave?

sky.

The cinder block guy had a better

As if from the shock of losing his
idea, but it appeared that the pneumatics that first face, he stopped breathing.

were supposed to give him mobility had God damn it! I finally find some-burned out in the first wave of fire. Dean had one and now they’re gone.

crawled up on the suit to check and con-Dean couldn’t take it. Everyone
firmed that the man had died of heat expo-he’d met since the bomb dropped was either sure and dehydration. Without being able to dead or potentially imaginary.

move he’d spent his last days trapped inside Maybe it’s not too late.

a concrete wall, right there in the middle of Unsure of what exactly he was do-the street.

ing, Dean attempted to perform CPR. But his The lady Dean found who was
hands kept slipping from side to side and it wearing two leather aprons and steel-toed was hard to center over the man’s chest. This work boots on each of her four appendages?

man’s surface was so loose….

He couldn’t even force that to make a lick of He must be wearing someone else’s
sense. But she appeared to have died from entire skin!

exposure. She was missing great swaths of Dean ripped open the man’s shirt.

her hair and was face down in a pool of black Dean freaked. Stitches up the center of the and red that was probably a portion of her abdomen and chest. Industrial floss or fish-lungs.

ing line, Dean couldn’t tell. Skin dry and This was the response of the popu-puckered at the puncture points. Horror-lace. Madness in the face of madness.

show shit.

Dean found one man who was ac-

Dean tugged at the sutures/got a
tually breathing, although it didn’t look like finger hold/got them to slip loose. He laid that’d be going on much longer. His body back dead white skin and uncovered brown was laid out in a splayed X in the yard of a slicked with blood and Vaseline. Tried to smoldering duplex, next to the melted pink swipe the goop off the guy’s chest. Suc-remains of a lawn flamingo coated in grey ceeded. Started compressions without the ash. The man’s eyes had gone milky white slippage.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 58

Dean wished he had paddles.

do you know if they got our president? Is Wished he could just yell “Clear” and shock there somebody out there with rescue plans, this guy back into the world of the living.

working on rebuilding.”

The compressions weren’t doing

Dean realized the real answer to this
much. Dean moved north and started blow-question might just shock Wendell right back ing breath into the man’s mouth, fighting back into the grave so he opted for a simple out.

the nausea induced by the smell of lung cor-

“The president’s gone. There are
ruption.

no plans that I know of.”

A hand at Dean’s forehead, push-

“Wish you had better news, but I
ing up and away. A moan. He was trying to can’t say I’m going to miss that stupid cracker speak.

motherfucker. Hell, I figure he’s a big part of

“…the fuck are you doing, man? Get
why I’m laid out here right now.”

up off me!”

“Yeah…hey, you called him a

“What? Okay, just stay calm.”

‘cracker.’ Do you hate white people? Did

“Tell me to stay calm. I’m just lying you think the ‘white devil’ would live through here in my yard and you think you can mothe bombing? Is that why you’re wearing lest my ass. That’s fucked up, man. Fucked this guy’s skin?”

up. For real.”

“What skin? You mean my Mojo?

“I wasn’t molesting you. You had Oh, no, that’s got nothin’ to do with color.

stopped breathing. I was doing CPR.”

I’ve had plenty of white friends and now

“Seriously?”

they’re just as dead as anybody. No, my

“Yeah.”

Mojo is all about good luck. See, my friend

“Well, alright then. I’ve been con-

Peter, he lives…pardon, used to live… three fused. Didn’t mean to snap at you, man. I’m blocks down from my house and I swear he not feeling right. Haven’t been for a couple was the luckiest motherfucker I ever met.

of days. Name’s Wendell.”

Never saw a lotto ticket he didn’t recoup on.

Wendell strained to raise his left

Lucked into not one but two boats at the hand, still coated in dead pale skin. Dean expo raffle last year. The odds were always took the hand, felt slippage.

in his favor.”

“I’m Dean. Wendell, I think you

“So you skinned him?”

might be very sick.”

“Patience, man. Don’t jump ahead.

“No shit, genius. You a doctor? Part You got somewhere to be?”

of a rescue team?”

“Not really, I guess.”

“No. I’m just a guy.”

“What about food or drink? You

“Just a guy, huh? Maybe you can
got somethin’ for me? Might as well ask since tell me what’s going on. I mean, I know the you busted in and interrupted the flow of my bombs dropped, I was ready for that, with story.”

my mojo and all… but do you know if the

“I’ve got a couple of packets of fruit whole U.S. got hit? Is there someplace we snacks and two diet sodas.”

could get to better than this joint?”

“Diet soda? Goddamn! That gunk

“I don’t know much, Wendell. I
is terrible for you. Full of aspartame. You know I’ve been traveling for a couple of days know the guys that work with that stuff have and haven’t seen anything but destruction.

to wear biohazard suits?”

I was starting to lose hope, but now I’ve

“I hadn’t heard that, Wendell. Do
found you and I guess that’s a good sign.

you want one? It’s all I’ve got.”

Maybe there are more people like us who

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I’m pretty
survived the first wave.”

parched. I’d probably still take you up on it

“What about…hey… what about…

if all you had to offer was a bucket of cat

59 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
piss.”

something they’d wanted in about forever. I Dean cracked a can. That pop and
had a little flip-out gator knife on my belt.

hiss of released carbonation was comforting And, uh, I guess I jumped right into the same somehow. Familiar. An old sound from what pile of crazy they’d been rolling around in.

now felt like a whole different age.

The rest I’m sure you can figure.”

He handed the can to Wendell.

Another nod from Dean.

“Thanks, man.” As Wendell was

“But the thing I should have
bringing it towards his lips, the soda slipped thought of was that things had changed.

from his hand and hit the ground rolling. Dean We’d entered our end-times. The rules were snagged it and tipped it back upright, trying different. They had to be. Otherwise Peter’s to save whatever he could.

lucky streak would have continued and I

“See, Dean, my goddamn Mojo ain’t
never would have known any better. So I worth a barbecued shit. It’s too lose. I should have figured that all that good luck thought Peter and I were about the same size, was gone, and never tried to wear it over me.

but I guess he wore slimming clothes. Maybe I wished this thing…” Wendell pinched at his good luck always made him look skinnier the dead face that lay next to him, a thick fold than he really was. Who knows?”

of it in his fingers, “would protect me, but it Dean helped Wendell tip the soda
didn’t. It wasn’t really the Mojo I’d hoped can to his lips. He took a deep slug and for. It was just some dead asshole’s skin.

winced.

And now… now I’m dyin’ in it.”

“Hurts going down. Can’t be

There were tears in Wendell’s
good.”

cloudy blind eyes. Dean wanted to give him Dean didn’t offer any solace. He
a hug, but the roaches hadn’t eaten in a while, was amazed this guy was talking at all.

and the last time he’d wrapped his arms

“Okay, back to my story. The deal
around someone they’d been eaten whole.

is, Peter’s got more luck than sense. And his Call it a non-option.

one big mistake, I guess, was thinking he’d The best Dean could do was take
be lucky enough to get away with fucking off his gloves and hold the man’s hand. But my wife, Gladys. But maybe something in not for long. This man would die soon, and his good fortune shifted. I don’t know. And Dean didn’t want to be around for that.

this is about a week and a half back, when So, as Wendell’s breath slowed and
the news got all crazy and the President dishe seemed to float into some layer of sleep, appeared and nobody would answer any

Dean released the man’s hand. Then he let questions for nobody about what was going the roaches hit the ground and begin their on. You remember that feeling in the air?

steady westward crawl, leaving all forms of Like we were all dead for sure? Like it was bad mojo behind them.

just a matter of time?”

Dean nodded.

“Well, I think that feeling made some

CHAPTER SIX
people do the things they always wanted to.

So Peter, who’d always had an eye for my wife- I mean, I’d seen him looking at her at Three more days- maybe four- passed. Dean church no less- he decided it was his time to and his suit made good time. In another, less take a poke at her. And I caught ‘em, right in nuclear world this whole ambulatory cloth-the middle of their rutting, under the laundry ing thing might have sold great to people line in the back yard. They were biting each who wanted to conserve fuel. The ASPCA other, and…um… smacking each other. Pull-and PETA would have complained, sure. That ing hair and shit. You could tell this was was what they did. But the rest of the world

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 60
didn’t give a damn about insects. Get them way with echolocation. Interplanetary spe-past their initial revulsion, make it look pretty lunkers will find me and call me a won-and clean, and you’ve got a best-seller.

drously adaptive creature. Look at how he During his travel Dean acquired two
works in concert with the roaches that sur-loaves of rye bread, one jar pureed vegetable round him!

baby food, one scarf with the words “Winter That was the other thing bothering

Fun” embroidered on it, three gallons unfil-Dean. When he wasn’t fighting off a sense tered water in various containers, and one of weary resignation and trying to chase away overall sense of crushing ennui.

the self-destructive worries that paralyzed To keep busy and clear his mind he
him, he found himself experimenting with the handled a lot of the footwork himself and seemingly stronger link between his desires periodically checked his suit for birth-signs.

and the actions of the suit.

So far the host of egg cases adorning him He could make patches of the outfit
remained in gestation, but they looked darker.

skitter faster than others. He executed circles Soon the nymphs would be here, demanding and vertical rolls. He could choose which sustenance.

group of clustered mouths would drink from He kept the “Winter Fun” scarf
his carefully poured puddles of water. Most wrapped- very lightly- around his face and disturbing, he found that if he concentrated crossed his fingers. He had to keep breath-hard enough he could get them to twirl their ing but guessed that the air quality around feelers in clockwise or counter-clockwise di-him would petrify even coal miners.

rections. The sensation that ran through his So far, though, there were no signs
mind when this occurred wasn’t anything he of the cellular corruption that had taken Boot recognized. It was a thin, high-pitched buzz-Lady and Wendell to their graves.

ing and he could swear he felt it in his bones A day ago he’d woken from his
and at the spot where skull and spine met. It sleep to the sound of flowing water. He’d made his skin itch a bit, but it wasn’t totally popped up quickly enough to run down to unpleasant. In fact, the sensation was se-the river’s edge and fill the containers he’d ductively mind-clearing. No more doubt. No amassed in his backpack.

more concerns over the meaning of being Could have been the Ohio River.

alive.

Could have been the Mississippi. He cursed It was the feeling of being alive, and his D minus geography skills and wished he nothing else. Existence without thought.

knew. But since then he’d been heading Dean tried not to engage in this sort
south, probably a few hundred yards from of thing too often, but there was little else to the river at any time. It seemed crazy to abando, especially when he took feeding breaks.

don a water source, but it also seemed crazy No TV’s to watch. No magazines to flip to stay still when they were certainly in a through while noshing down veggie mush dead zone. Besides, if he made it to the gulf on rye.

perhaps he could find a boat and head south It was after one of these enchant-to a less ravaged continent. Who would ing culinary pit stops that Dean noticed the bomb Peru? Somebody who hated llamas?

tiny moving lights in the distance.

The clouds overhead remained black as ever, They were slight at best, damn near micro-but also seemed to emit a low luminescence scopic from this far away, moving across his that coated Dean’s path like filthy moonlight.

path in the direction of the river. Each of Maybe his sight was just adjusting.

them was uniform distance from the other Any longer in the dark like this and and moving at a quick pace.

I’ll be pure white with pink eyes, finding my Dean closed the distance, slowed

61 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
slightly by the water-heavy bag he was tow-

“So what do I do now?”

ing.

“Stand up. Slowly. Then take a few

The closer he got, the more familiar
very wide steps back from the forager’s trail.

the motions of the lights seemed. Like some-They’ll no longer perceive you as a threat.”

thing from one of Daddy Dean Sr.’s bug docu-Dean did as he was told. His knees
mentaries. They had to be glowing insects felt loose and shaky with each step he took, of some sort. No other animals moved that but soon he was ten feet from the steadily low or that orderly.

marching troop of leaf-bearing ants and their When Dean was within inches of
protectors.

the line of shuffling light he crouched down

“Good. That was good. You got
and removed his goggles to try and see more too close.”

clearly.

She sounded exasperated. How

What the hell is this?

much danger had he been in? What the hell As hard as Dean focused his eyes,
was going on?

all he could see were tiny sections of leaves, Dean turned to face the woman.

each with a faint sort of phosphorescence.

Holy shit…now the ants are swarm-

Then he felt the buzzing at the tip of ing her…they’re everywhere…

his spine. He honed in on it, cultivated the

“What can I do? How should I help
sensation until he picked up its tone.

you?”

Fear. He could feel the roaches’ legs Dean ran over to his back pack and
twitching a hundred yard dash through the fumbled for the zipper.

cold, damp air.

I’ll get my water and douse her with A glow to his left. Before he could
it. I’ll wash those little fuckers away.

turn his head- a voice. Female.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Don’t move. The bugs are pan-

Her voice was now perfectly calm. Post-sex icked because you are surrounded. There mellow. Almost amused.

are thousands of soldiers on every side you.”

“I can get them off of you. Hold on

“Soldiers? Where?”

just a second…” his hands were shaking but

“Look down.”

he had a grip on the zipper now. “I’ve got Dean tilted his head towards the
something that can save you.”

ground. There, aided by the glow coming He felt her glow coming towards
from the woman, he could see them. Ants.

him. Caught graceful strides from his periph-Big ones, thick enough to make a popping ery.

noise if stepped upon. An armada of them,

“My dear man, I’m not looking for a
crawling over each other, maintaining a tight savior.” The voice was confident, with a hint circle around the space he was crouched in.

of laughter behind it.

“If you reach out to touch the for-

Dean let go of the zipper and looked
agers you will be swarmed by soldiers. This up at her. She had a thin hand outstretched is what they do. This is all they do. I can try in his direction. It was free of ants but had a to stop them but their instinct will likely rule coat of… something… over it. The rest of out whatever control I have.”

her was covered in ants of various shapes Dean believed her. There was an
and sizes, hundreds of thousands of them earnest and concerned tone to her voice that shuttling around, touching each others an-reminded him of the time his father warned tennae, carrying bits of shining wet plant him not to get too close to his prize bombar-matter.

dier beetle. He’ll blind you without a She was, aside from the ants, en-thought, Dean. That’s what his father had tirely nude.

said.

“I’m Mave,” she said. “Now you.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 62

Who exactly the hell are you? And where tried not to look, they didn’t appear to hover did you get that fabulous suit?”

around the folds of her vagina.

She walked carefully and avoided
resting her limbs against her body. Didn’t CHAPTER SEVEN
want to crush any of the Acromyrmex.

Couldn’t stand the lemony smell they made when they died.

She had a place of her own, a tattered tarp Here, at her new garden, the ground
lean-to backed by a portion of white picket burst upward with miniature rolling hills.

fence. Where she rested, it used to be the

“The rest of the colony. They can
backyard garden of some family that no produce a certain amount of fungus on my longer existed.

skin- my perspiration actually seems to speed She said she’d always wanted a
its growth, which was unexpected- but it re-white picket fence. Corny, but true.

ally requires a more total darkness to pro-Dean had shaken off his initial shock
duce the gongylidia. That’s the key part of and introduced himself back at the roadway.

their harvest. The stuff they feed to the ba-He’d told her a very abridged version of his bies.”

own story-omitting the appearance of

At the mention of the word “babies”

Yahmuhwesu, who he still believed might Dean felt a sudden need to inspect his suit.

have been a hallucination- as they walked So far, so stagnant. The tiny eggs remained back to her current digs. She had questions whole. Thank goodness.

along the way.

“Oh, that’s right.” Mave smiled,

“Twinkies?” and
watching him. “You’re the pregnant one!

“Goat marinated in diet soda! That

Yahmuhwesu told me about you.”

tasted hideous, right?” and

“Pardon me?”

“The guy really thought Styrofoam

“Yahmuhwesu. The collective un-
would work?” and
consciousness guy. Fiery chariot and all

“Did you check Wendell to see if he
that… Oh, come on. Don’t make that face. I wasn’t wearing a couple more layers of skin?

know you know exactly who I’m talking about.

Maybe there was a Mexican or Asian guy He met you before he appeared in front of deeper down?” and

Terry and I. But when he spoke with us he

“Do you know how close you just
figured you’d die before you ever had a came to being killed?”

chance to give birth.”

And she smiled every time she

Dean tasted vomit and goat in his
questioned him.

mouth. This was too much all at once. His How can she be so happy at a time
shock must have shown on his face because like this? Isn’t she afraid the ants will get Mave had furrowed her brow.

inside her mouth.

“Shit. It’s a bitch to take in this sort Dean knew she wasn’t. Whatever
of info, isn’t it? And here I am just dumping rudimentary mental link he’d founded be-it all over you… sorry. Listen, when he met tween himself and the roaches, she blew that you he taught you how to do that humming out of the water. The ants- she called them trick, right? The tonal language. If you can Acromyrmex or leafcutters as if the names lock into my tone I think we might be able to were interchangeable- never crossed her lips.

communicate better. Something about the They never scuttled into her eyes. They did nature of speaking like that that cuts out a lot crawl through her shoulder length black hair, of the filters.”

but didn’t mat it with the bright fungus they She didn’t wait for him to respond.

were growing on her skin. And although he She simply straightened her spine, closed her

63 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
eyes, and started humming.

create by thinking at them, trying to commu-The sound was lullaby-beautiful.

nicate. But now it’s just… there. It’s very Dean couldn’t help but move closer to it.

quiet. And it makes me itch.”

He started to hum in return, closing

“And, Dean, you’re not dead.

his eyes and listening as hard as he could, You’re not dead. Didn’t you wonder why trying to find the exact range in which she Wendell’s lungs had ruptured but you’re able was vibrating.

to traipse around drinking atomic water and He hit it. They locked in. Their eyes sleeping in ash? I think you, and me, and popped open. He took in grey pupils with Terry, we’d all be goners right now if we flecks of gold in them. Her eyes were gor-hadn’t been visited. Sure, that suit may have geous. He couldn’t look away.

helped you survive the blast by some ridicu-Is she even human?

lous miracle, but it can’t be only that.”

“Of course I’m human.”

“You think Yahmuhwesu did some-

“Oh, yeah. You’re in my thoughts
thing to us?”

now.” He blushed, heat blooming across his

“Look at me, Dean. I wasn’t born
face.

the world’s biggest walking anthill. This is

“And you’re in my thoughts, too.

something fresh, something I woke to just as And since we don’t have too much time, we Yahmuhwesu disappeared. He definitely need to start figuring things out.”

made this happen. You may have grown up

“Wait. Why don’t we have time?”

with comic books, Dean, but in real life you’ve

“I’ll get to that. Soon. But for now got to know that gamma rays toast people.

I just need to know that we’re thinking in line They vomit until they taste their guts. It’s with each other so we can make the right terrible. So if the nuclear explosion didn’t do plan.”

this, I can guarantee our vanishing deity did.

Thunder cracked in the dust-heap

There are no other feasible answers. It’s an clouds above.

Occam’s Razor scenario… Do you know

“Mave, have you noticed that this
what I used to do, Dean?”

process seems to stir up the clouds?”

“Ballet?” It wasn’t an intentional

“Uh-huh. I wonder if lightning will
compliment. Dean had never been that
strike us if we stay like this for too long…

smooth. But he had noticed how strong and Doesn’t matter. Stay with me here. I’ve got a sleek her legs looked. Spring-loaded.

couple of things to tell you.

“No, not ballet. I was never that

“First- Yahmuhwesu is real, or at
coordinated. I was an entomologist, just like least, he’s as real as anything else on this your father. Just like Terry. And I’d devoted planet. He- at least I think it’s a he- visited my life to these ants. Acromyrmex. The you. He visited Terry and I. And I’d imagine leafcutters. They’re truly beautiful creatures, that if anyone else managed to live through easily the pinnacle of social and technologi-this ridiculous nuclear fuck-up,
cal expression in ants. That’s what I said in Yahmuhwesu’s visited them too. And I think, my papers when I was working out of U of as far as gods go, that Yahmuhwesu is a bit M. Cultivated my own nest mounds using a on the crazy side. Or at least, he’s confused.

queen and fungi shipped up from the

So he’s playing with us. I’m sure you’ve Guanacaste province of Coast Rica.

noticed some changes in yourself recently.”

“I watched that queen every day

“Yeah, I have. The roaches have
and saw how hard she worked to grow a cul-been listening to me. To my thoughts. Do-ture. Tending to the fungus and her eggs.

ing what I want. And I think I’m listening to Aerating soil. Creating a whole new world them a smidgen too. There’s this buzzing on her own. It was the most incredible thing sound at the back of my head that I used to I’d ever seen, and I felt something then, some-

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 64
thing far beyond myself. It faded, but when

“but now I’m also this colony. My mind con-I saw Yahmuhwesu appear it came back
tains their hive mind.

again, and fierce. And whatever that feeling

“What I don’t understand, yet, is
was, he filled me up with it, to the brim. Ev-what this new fungus is, or why it glows, or erything seemed clearer, the
why it grows so goddamned fast. Even a interconnectedness of all life, matter, energy, hint of it on the jaw of a forager will instantly everything. He told me I had a new purpose attach itself to a cutting. That’s why the frag-here, among my ‘subjects.’ That was the ments you saw crossing the road were al-word he used. And when I woke up from ready bright.

whatever fugue I was in, I had become the

“This fungus didn’t originate with
new queen.

any of the queens inside; they came to me

“I could feel them in my brain. Call-
with nothing other than their instinct. So… I ing to me. Like that buzz you describe. Only think the new fungus is coming from me. But it didn’t make me itch. It made me… wet. I I don’t know how, so I’ve been holed up here could feel waves rolling through my belly. I to try and study it. Some of the ponds and got gooseflesh. My breath ran short. Pant-riverbanks near here have vital plant life right ing. I buckled twice on the way to the lab at the edge of the water. We need it to really and the nest. Because I could hear them.

make the colony grow.”

They were still alive. The university’s lab

“We?”

was underground and somehow intact. And

“Yes, I told you that I’m their queen.

they needed me. I didn’t even think of how I guess I’m using the royal we. And we’re I’d abandoned Terry back at the shelter.”

the ones who need your help.”

“Wait, who is this Terry guy? You

He looked at her then, this strange
were with him when Yahmuhwesu appeared new woman and her legion of tiny ants and to you?”

her grey/gold eyes. The leafcutters were

“Yeah, but I need to finish telling
everywhere on her now, most holding little you about these ants. I think it’s important, glowing slivers of plant matter that swayed somehow, that you understand them. Be-in the winds and gave her an appearance of cause they are part of me now. They have profound life, of a majesty that made him want been ever since I managed to crawl my way to serve her despite the buzz at the base of through the rubble and get access to the nest his head that was screaming “Run- we can mound.”

survive best alone.”

She related the rest of it then, how

“What am I supposed to do?”

she’d dug down through the soil and found

“That what I’m not quite sure of. I
the existing mother queen and swallowed her know that we can’t stay here much longer, whole. How the future mother queens-fledg-though I’d like to.”

ling tribe-bearers who were meant to eventu-

“Picket fence?”

ally carry eggs and fungal spores outward to

“Yeah. That and the nest. But the
start new nests- had all crawled to her then, plant life here was scarce to begin with, and running up her legs, crawling inside of her we’ve already processed most of what re-and resting against the walls of her uterus, mains in the area. Plus, I think Terry might triggering orgasms that left her shaking for find us.”

hours. And after that the rest of the tribe had

“Why is that bad?”

filed out- tiny food workers/minimas/forag-

“Terry was an entomologist too,
ers/soldiers- each finding their place on her before the bombs hit and made everyone’s body and immediately starting to do their jobs job titles obsolete. That’s how I knew him.

however they could.

We both worked out of the university. We

“I’m still me. Still Mave,” she said, were lovers in a purely pragmatic way. We

65 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
understood the need. The pheromones.

eyes was. This was dire. The leafcutter ants

“He was renting an old house in the
that covered her were frantic, almost disor-suburbs south of campus. It was Cold War ganized in their movements.

equipped- bomb shelter in the back yard. We

“Dean, if Terry does unearth a
screwed down there for kicks. He wore a gas Nomamyrmex colony they’ll be starving.”

mask. We passed out holding each other in

“So they’ll eat Terry?”

an army cot and didn’t wake up until we felt

“If we’re lucky. But, assuming he’s
the concussion of the first bomb exploding.

still conscious by then, they’ll know what he Total dumb luck that we lived.

knows. That there is a veritable smorgas-

“Then, when we crawled out a few
bord waiting for them in the basement of the days later, there was a glowing god waiting U of M lab. And when they don’t find them for us. Terry could barely handle the shock there they’ll be able to follow our scent trail.”

of all of it. He was crying one second, furi-

“They eat leafcutters?”

ous the next. Unstable. Then Yahmuhwesu

“For centuries the Acromyrmex has
hummed his way into our heads and changed been the favorite food of the army ant. Par-us. I haven’t seen Terry since.

ticularly the queens. They’ll sacrifice thou-

“That’s why I’m afraid. Because if
sands of their fighters in battle to get a good Yahmuhwesu affected Terry the same way chance at a fat, juicy mother ant. They’ll he did with us, then right now Terry is hunt-drag her, still living, all the way back to their ing down a hive of his own.”

tunnels, and then slowly pull the eggs from

“More leafcutters?”

her body and eat them until she collapses

“I wish. Terry’s bug of choice was
and dies. She is consumed last. A victory the Nomamyrmex, Dean. Army ants.”

feast.”

“That’s bad?”

Dean saw Mave recoil at this, felt a

“It’s terrible. If he manages to find scared tremor enter the cross-tuned vibra-a hive in nature there will be millions of them.

tions relaying thought between the two of And if his mind is as fragile as I believe it to them.

be then Terry will become an instrument of

“Dean, I am the Acromyrmex now. I the hive instead of the other way around.”

and the colony might be all that is left of us

“You don’t think he could control
on Earth. And if we can’t find a way to move them?”

from this place soon, we’ll be eaten alive.”

“I don’t think he’d even try. He was
always so clinical. His brain wasn’t equipped for this sort of metaphysical shift. I grew up CHAPTER EIGHT
with hippies in a commune and started meditating with my imaginary friends when I was four years old. I’ve always desired a more The long stretch of internal communication mystical reality, despite my chosen field of had wiped them out but left them wary. Ex-work.

hausted, they shuffled over to the fence and

“And you, your single-minded drive
agreed to sleep in shifts before figuring out to stay alive appears to usurp any need for how they could travel.

reality.

Dean lay near Mave in the lean-to

“But Terry, his brain probably split
for a few hours, watching the sleepless march in two the moment that first bomb dropped of the ants as they moved over her and trav-and he realized he wasn’t ever going to have eled back and forth to their garden nest. She a cup of Starbucks coffee again.”

had been right about the beauty of the crea-Dean wanted to laugh, for a moment,
tures. While Dean admired the tenacity and but he saw how serious the look in Mave’s strength of the cockroach, they lacked the

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 66
grace and civility and immense complexity More likely to find some sort of plant life that made observing the leafcutter such a there. Get far enough west and Mave knew pleasure.

of a place where there might be safety. A The roaches knew how to stay
military liaison to the university had once alive, but for what? He tried to cut the ques-been sweet on her and spilled post-coital tion off in his mind, knowing the sense of secrets to impress, including the general lo-existential dread that was sure to follow any cation of a military stronghold they’d built attempted answer.

out of a natural cave system.

Dean’s father had built up a life for

The place was supposed to have
himself. He had done much more than sim-some degree of sustainability. Which meant ply “get by.” An esteemed figure in his field.

flowing water and clean air. Which could Research papers published in all the right mean weapons with which a person or per-magazines. A loving son who helped him sons could effectively stave off an invasion through his years as a young widower. But of army ants. Which might mean a self-con-in the end a ridiculous auto accident took his tained bio-system that she and Dean could life. His papers and ideas were replaced by adapt their insectile selves to.

newer ones that failed to credit him. His son flipped out and traveled the world squander-Travel time was a bitch.

ing the money the father had saved up for They tried to drag part of the
years. No, Daddy Dean Sr. had existed for Acromyrmex nest behind them on top of her nothing. And now the last of his bloodline old lean-to tarp. That meant slow-going.

was surrounded by semi-empathic roaches That meant frenzied waste workers cleaning and trapped in a wasteland, lying next to a out dead ants/collapsed tunnels/reduced fungus-coated woman with exotic ants in her gongylidia output. That meant confused for-womb.

agers hunting dead land for any plant life at Actually, Dean thought, his dad
all, coming back with empty, ashy mandibles.

might have been really intrigued by that last The fungus across Mave’s skin began to lose part, but it wasn’t what you necessarily its luster without new plant life to culture on.

hoped for when you had a kid.

The crumbs and trash they tried to adhere to After a while Mave opened her eyes
her made her look diseased.

(those eyes) and within seconds Dean al-The new queen was upset. Dean
lowed himself to drift into a shallow sleep.

would hear her humming, but not in a fre-He dreamed- army ants marching/
quency he could even try to reach. He his face consumed by baby roaches/Terry guessed she was calming the colony; asking chewing his way through Mave’s vagina. He them to endure. He knew the sound of her woke screaming. Mave placed her hand on excited his roaches. Their cerci swayed to his forehead, the smell of her fungus rich and the sound.

almost sweet near his nose. He calmed. He He watched Mave’s movements, the
caught another hour of shut eye. This time sway of her hips, the way her feet seemed to real slumber.

keep moving without real exertion.

But at waking the dreams still chilled For some reason her beauty pitched
him. They lingered. From the look in her him double lonely. She would never have a eyes, she’d somehow shared his fear.

guy like Dean, would she? He considered They hit the road within hours.

running ahead, leaving the queen and her Travel time moved on the following
dying colony and heading west to the Pa-agenda:

cific by himself. She’d only slow him down, Head back north, then west when
maybe even bring a horde of ravenous ants the river branches. Stay close to the water.

with huge jaws his way.

67 EXTINCTION JOURNALS

He could be free. A lone wolf. He’d
photosynthesis during the
finally tattoo his knuckles with his motto, four blackout. Anything that had a
letters across each fist:

harsh time with UV light before

DONOTDIE
would really feel the burn. Ge-

But was that all he really felt now?

netic defects galore. Polar ice

He wasn’t sure. Those grey/gold eyes kept caps would melt. Continental
him unstable.

flooding. The greenhouse ef-

Maybe we could spend the rest of
fect in fast fast forward. Even
our time together. Maybe we can find some sea life would go stagnant, ex-place with a white picket fence and forty cept for those weird things that
acres out back for nesting.

live off of gas vents at the bot-

So for now Dean kept things left
tom of the Marianas Trench.

foot/right foot/repeat and followed the queen 3. As much as he would welcome
of the dying leafcutters along the river.

a bit of light, it freaked his suit
out and ravaged the
leafcutter’s fungus. They’d

CHAPTER NINE
both be in even more of a pinch
with the sun blazing overhead.

However, he was enjoying the in-

“It’s getting warmer, don’t you think?

creased sensation of warmth in the air, slight Brighter, too.”

though it was. He laid back against the gentle Mave had demanded they sit by the
slope of the riverbank and watched the can-river for a while to let her ants search for cerous clouds churn overhead. He thought, some plant life and harvest proteins from their even at this distance from her, that he could collapsing nest.

smell Mave’s fungus. It calmed him. He re-Dean thought she was right about
laxed his neck, allowing his crash helmet to the warmth. He hadn’t worn his “Winter Fun”

sink its heft into the ground. His shoulders scarf for the last fifteen miles or so. He’d dropped.

guessed he was heating up from exertion-The sound of the river water run-
dragging a backpack full of water and a tarp ning seaward formed a constant white noise full of dirt was a gut-buster- but maybe Mave soundtrack. He let himself float with it, pic-was on point.

tured himself as a drop of water, incapable of He hoped she wasn’t correct for a death, unknowing, yet immensely important few reasons:

and powerful.

1.

Dean was sure the cold was all

He closed his eyes and let his head
that’d kept the now fantastic
tip over in Mave’s direction.

number of eggs on his suit from

The smell of her was sort of like lav-
hatching. Currently he and
ender mixed with fresh coffee. It invigorated Mave were located nowhere
as much as it soothed. Were there spores of near a worthy stash of baby
it, he wondered, working their way into his roach food.

brain right now? He hoped so.

2.

The Nuclear Summer theory-

She was sovereign. Let him join her

Following nuclear winter the
subjects, enthralled.

ozone layer and stratosphere
are effectively destroyed. UV

Two sensations:

light would torch any remain-

Movement without control.

ing territory that wasn’t already

The scent of lemons and hot metal.

turned to desert by the lack of

The smell of ruptured ants.

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 68

Dean opened his eyes, instantly

The language of survival.

awake. He was no longer on the riverbank.

It was a sound for animals. It en-

The roaches were moving at full-out speed, sured a thriving planet. It was old and pow-autonomous of his control, heading towards erful and he was sure that a hint of that au-a nearby copse of charred tree stumps.

dible pattern echoed inside of every atom of A scream in the distance, explosive,
his body.

and then suddenly cut off.

But it wasn’t anything Dean wanted

Mave.

to listen to anymore.

Dean forced his hands and feet to

There was something stronger
the ground, churning up hardened earth, working through his mind now. A brighter leaving tracks. The roaches were not stop-sound at the front of his head. A siren’s call.

ping. Whatever they had sensed, they

Her spores really did get into my
wanted to get as far away as possible.

brain.

Go with them, Dean! The roaches

Dean tuned into the sound. It felt
got you this far. You can keep living.

nearly as ancient as the desire to run, to live You can survive.

at all costs. But this sound had a beauty to Their pace never flagged. Now they
it. A nobility.

were just feet from a low hiding spot.

And as he found the right tone in

Another shriek. Crunching sounds
his throat to harmonize there was only one that rolled Dean’s stomach even at this dis-word at the front of his thoughts:

tance.

Fight.

You know what’s happening, Dean.

It’s Terry. He’s found you. He’s found Mave.

He could smell her and the colony on the But he wants to eat her first. A big fat juicy poison wind. Sweet fungus. Acidic death.

mama ant. Now is your only chance to run!

Adrenaline. Pain.

The suit kept crawling, more cau-

There was another smell in the air,
tious now, looking for a way to crest the next and whether he was pulling it into his mind hill without being seen by anything down via his own nose or the roaches receptors he below.

was unsure.

Dean dug his heels in harder but

It was the smell of hunger. Des-
couldn’t get traction.

peration.

Shit shit shit! Mave’s dying. Stop Dean charged toward it face first,
this. Do something.

his own feet pushing him onward, workman’s Dean began to hum. He focused
boots rubbing his feet raw.

his thoughts on the tight space at the back Go in without hesitation. Strike
of his skull and tried to bring the sound as first and then don’t stop until she’s safe.

close as he could to the buzz that flourished He held in a roar, though it raged at
there.

the inside of his chest. He let its energy carry The roaches began to slow. He let
him faster.

the hum drop to a low drone at the back of There- two hundred yards south. A
his throat. The hive mind buzz locked in.

man stood over Mave. Watching her face we are scared we are scared preda-twist in agony. Her body was covered in tor scared predator scared distance dark moving black shapes, thick ropes of them, distance quiet scared escape
orderly lines of assault tearing away at her distancehidehidehidehidehideprotecthide face/belly/legs.

Dean didn’t hear actual words, but

Nomamyrmex was on the march.

this was the message he received in a lan-Dean screamed then, hoping the
guage older than any man had ever created.

sound would somehow distract even the

69 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
bugs which were eating away at Mave.

on him for days.

The man- it had to be Terry- rotated

“Listen, Terry, I know you’re in there to face the sound. He looked right at Dean.

somewhere. I know you’re scared. I know One of his eyes was missing. His nose was they are hurting you and you’re confused also absent, replaced by a jagged black tri-and the whole world seems wrong right now, angle bisected by exposed bone.

but if you can push to the front of your brain Despite these obvious deformities,
and take control you can stop this. They’re Dean could tell the man was smiling.

just ants.”

Why would he be smili

“Quiet!”

The earth fell out from beneath

With that Dean noticed the black

Dean and he felt something long and sharp surge cresting over the lip of the makeshift bore through his right leg before he even pit. Thousands- no, hundreds of thousands realized he wasn’t running anymore.

of them. Thick fingertip-sized ants with bulbous split red-horned heads, each meaty half

“We’re diggers. You cah see that ow. It only as big as two whole leafcutters. Their jaw took us a few hours to displace over six musculature visible from feet away.

meters of dirt alog this ehtire perimeter. Quite Pain is coming, and it will not be astoudeeg, really.”

brief. If nuclear fallout couldn’t kill me how Terry had approached the pit. The
long will it take these ants to end it?

noseless fuck.

Then he heard the sound. A new

“We couldit fide as mady sharp
tone, from up above. Weak, but coming from sticks as we’d hoped for, but you do what Mave.

you cad with what you’ve got, right? Guess She’s still alive.

we’ve lucked out that you hit that particular He felt, instinctively, that he must
spike as square as you did. Providess.”

try and match her sound.

Dean said nothing. What good

The first wave of ants was on him.

would rage do now? He surveyed his sur-At his earlobes. Sinking their mandibles into roundings. Narrow dark rift marked by a mil-the roaches that covered him. Tearing away lion ant trails. A chunk of fractured tree at his fingertips. Trying to get into his fresh branch jammed through his upper thigh, a wound.

few slaughtered roaches hanging from its tip.

He cleared his throat. He pulled in

Wound not bleeding too badly. Must have as much air as he could. Ants bit into his missed the femoral.

lower lip, sought the meat of his tongue.

“She told us your name is Dee.”

From the bottom of his lungs Dean

“It’s Dean.”

let out his matching tone. It found hers. The

“That’s what I said. I caht quite
sounds merged and became a terrible bellow.

make all the sowds I used to. I must admit This was a call to war. Dean felt it in that we were quite huggry on the trip to fide his bones.

the Acromyrmex. We had to eat pieces of my There was a crackling noise- the
face. Other parts too.”

sound of thousands of dry distended roach At that Terry’s remaining eye went
eggs tearing open at once.

wide with fear. Absolute panic.

Dean’s delivery day was here.

He emitted a cough, a bark of a low

Within seconds he was the proud father to a tone. His eye snapped back to empty.

seething multitude. The tiny nymphs were His human brain is still trying to too small to be crushed in the huge jaws of assert itself. Jesus, he’s scared. He’s so the Nomamyrmex, over whom they flowed
scared, the poor bastard. Those ants are heedlessly.

inside of his mind and they’ve been feeding They washed up out of the trench,

JEREMY ROBERT JOHNSON 70
a hungry flood with one target.

CHAPTER TEN

Dean stood up, shaking loose hun-
dreds of army ants from his frame. His right leg held. A thick cast of roach nymphs had This is the way Dean looked at it, much later: formed around it, bearing the weight of his One day you go to bed happy. The
broken limb.

next day your dad dies. In a stupid, stupid He kept his mind focused on Terry.

way.

On Terry’s face. Those open holes.

And maybe you give up on the

Roaches adored dark wet places like
world. Maybe the world forgets you ever that.

existed and you’re okay with that. Because Terry turned to run. The nymphs
you’re alive. Not dead. Not anywhere near were already halfway up his legs. He made it that sadness again.

one stride before the babies had covered his Things are easier alone. Nothing to
good eye and were piling in to his blasted lose = no loss.

orbit.

But what if you die? Isn’t that the Terry opened his mouth to scream
biggest loss of them all? You’re the only one but the only sound Dean could pick up was who will ever truly know you were even alive.

the rustle of tiny roaches rubbing against So you protect yourself, with a nod
each other on their way down the man’s to the esteemed Malcolm X, by any means throat.

necessary.

Dean looked away. He hoped they’d

But Malcolm, at the moment he’d
kill him soon. He’d tried to focus the nymphs’

said that, probably never guessed one of movement towards Terry’s brain but he wasn’t those means would be covering yourself in sure how long it would take them to chew nasty, nasty insects.

through to grey matter.

Probably never even came near be-

There was a man inside there some-
ing a thought in his head.

where. Confused. Violated. Alone.

His loss. Because he’s dead now.

Shit.

And you, you just keep living, no matter what Dean couldn’t take it anymore. His
the world throws at you. Nuclear weapons, suit helped him crawl up out of the pit and crazy presidents, toxic fallout, man-made over to Terry’s twitching body.

gods with nothing better to do than alter the Dean shoved one of his gloves in
genetic code of the remaining humans on his own mouth. He bit down. He made a Earth.

two-fisted grab for the sharpened branch that Fucking army ants.

was rammed through his leg. Twisted left.

Oh, and loneliness. Lots of loneli-

Twisted right. Wailed through a mouthful of ness. You always have to fight that one. But wool and leather. Bit down again. Gripped maybe everybody does.

tight. Pulled up and away. Scoped the point At least that was a problem when
of the stick, dripping his own blood, bits of you were human.

roach still stuck to it.

But that’s not exactly the case any-

And then he swung that same spear
more, is it?

down into Terry’s empty eye socket as hard as he possibly could.

Back up.

Start again.

One day you fall asleep happy. Next
to a river under a dark sky. Then you wake up and everything has changed. Including you. You changed so much that for the first

71 EXTINCTION JOURNALS
time you actually risk your life.

Earth has gone Death Valley for the time beFor what?

ing. Trying to figure out how this miracu-Love? It’s as good a word as any.

lous woman managed to drag your nearly It’ll do.

dead/coma patient ass all the way out west And you’ve gone so crazy with this
to these secret caves. But you accept it all feeling, call it love, that you find yourself in after a while.

an absurd situation, humming and moaning You might explore your new home.

at telepathic bugs and killing brainwashed Filters. Generators. Tunnels and tunnels and entomologists.

tunnels. You guess one of them might run I know.

right to the center of the Earth, but you never It sounds silly.

find that particular path.

But it feels important at the time. So The woman you love, her favorite
important that you nearly die from blood loss place is the sustainable eco-sphere. She can lying there in a desolate field next to a corpse even farm there, next to her ants. But they do filled with baby roaches.

a pretty great job without her.

Again, you fall asleep. Or perhaps

All those rooms- the ones that were
you pass out from blood loss. But you’re supposed to house the soldiers and U.S. of-happy. Not totally happy, but feeling like ficials who weren’t ready when the bombs now maybe your life was really a life. Some-hit- they start filling up with the glowing fun-thing more than rote respiration for as sus-gal tufts the ants produce. Aside from that tained a period as possible.

it’s dark down there, wherever you want it to Then you wake up and everything
be.

has changed so goddamned much you think you’re in heaven.

One day (or night-who can tell down here?) But you’re not dead, and neither is
you fall asleep lonely. Then you wake up the she. The one you love. Sure, her original next morning and the woman you love is on right arm is missing (eaten by army ants you top of you. She’s lifting her hips and putting guess), but it appears that some enterprising you inside of her and making every other leafcutter ants have assembled her a new one Best Moment of Your Life seem pretty pale.

out of radiant fungus.

And when she’s done and you’re done you These same enterprising bugs have
hold each other tight and watch as three lu-healed up your sundry cuts and wounds and minous Acromyrmex queens emerge from
even staved off the infection in your leg with between her legs and crawl up to her belly.

a Streptomyces bacteria that lives on their Their wings dry. They shiver/
skin.

shake/touch antennae.

A woman once told you these were

They take flight.

the best ants on Earth. You now believe her You can tell that they’re headed to

100%.

the surface- nuclear summer bound.

As great as those ants are, you

Their movement through the air is
might miss your cockroaches.

heavy with theft.

“I’ve set them free,” she tells you.

This makes the woman you love cry.

“They’re up there doing what they’re meant But she is smiling through the tears.

to do. Making babies and eating death and Beaming, really.

putting nutrients back into the soil for when For she believes, as you do, that
the nuclear summer passes and things can she has just given birth to the first strange grow again.”

children of that terrible new sun.

It’s a lot to absorb at once. Losing
your friends like that. Finding out the whole

KEVIN L DONIHE

(aka Sir Edwin Walri IV)

LOCATION:

Kingsport, TN

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Walronian Fiction

BOOKS BY DONIHE:

Shall We Gather At The Garden?

Ocean of Lard (w/ Carlton Mellick III) The Greatest Fucking Moment In Sports

Grape City

House of Houses

Voluptuous Sunrise (forthcoming)

Bugaboo (forthcoming)

The Bonville Bones (forthcoming)

The Flappy Parts (forthcoming)

Fuck Apocalypse (forthcoming)

DESCRIPTION: Kevin L Donihe often writes about things that explode or come apart in big and/or freakish ways. Circus midgets may or may not appear in his books. A feeling of agape love may or may not manifest as a consequence of reading the work of Mr. Donihe.

INTERESTS: Walruses (walri), reading, writing, fine cheeses, alien mind beams, agape love, antiques, silent/weird/awful movies, travel, mountains, the woods, Lionel Richie.

INFLUENCES: Pugnacious Jones.

WEBSITE:

www.myspace.com/kevindonihe

73 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

THE
he put a dramatic death soliloquy into its mouth.

In his early teens, after he built

GREATEST
up the courage to experiment with gasoline, Oscar realized that a sardine can full of gas FUCKING
wouldn’t explode when lit, and so he drew terminal baths, usually for snails, as their pro-MOMENT IN
tective slime evaporated gradually and, for a short time, offered a buffer from the flames.

Eventually, Oscar grew to hate him-

SPORTS
self for the things he’d done, especially after digging a series of grave-pits in which he left fuzzy caterpillars to rot, covering the hole with a twig roof and mud so they smothered and baked rather than being crushed by dirt, and some survived for weeks before finally Who is Oscar Legbo? :

turning into thick and smelly goop.

One night, after stirring a particularly Renowned Insectarian, role model, and now deep and noxious pit, he felt caterpillar souls 7-time winner of the Tour de Saucisse-scrape at him as he tried to sleep, wiggling Dommages, Oscar Legbo is the reigning king beneath his covers and begging for surcease.

of the sport of competitive bicycle racing; The next morning, when he contemplated his popularity stretches across most, if not the food he ate, he imagined heat-softened all, demographic lines. It is even rumored that corpses were layered inside it and, when he a particular terrorist admires Oscar Legbo and stirred his potatoes, a familiar decomposition has posters of him plastered upon the walls smell arose from them.

of his cave.

Oscar threw his food away and
vomited, off and on, for almost an hour.

In the end, it had been fuzzy caterpil-Something to Know About Legbo:

lars that inaugurated his transformation, but they were no different from the bagworms, the As a child, Oscar enjoyed killing bugs in bor-slugs, the rolly pollies, and other insects he’d derline psychotic ways. If ever there was a murdered. To kill any bug, he realized, was Hitler-figure amongst the bug kingdom, it was unacceptable, if not a crime.

surely Mr. Legbo. He filled bb guns with ball It was after reaching this epiphany
bugs (otherwise known as “rolly pollies’) and at age 19 that he devoted his life to the sport shot them into snails. He also peeled bag-of competitive bicycle racing. At first, it was worms from their cocoons and held their lower a simple diversion that kept him from doing bodies with leaves intended to mimic bathtubs.

what he sometimes still wanted to do, but, Often, he would construct off-the-cuff mono-with the constant aid and support of Coach logues and pretend the bagworms were say-Fernardo de Papa, racing supplanted killing ing these things, usually before getting a thorn bugs as the crux of his day-to-day existence.

rammed through their heads as though

To this day, Oscar wears a uniform
they’d been murdered by a jilted lover, like that features a five-pointed star, and upon each some character out of a mystery novel, or by point sits a different bug: a camel cricket, a an assailant, like the unfortunate Frenchman caterpillar, a bagworm, a katydid, and a June from the painting.

bug. Below them, a lone snail coils around a If a bagworm survived long enough,
sprig of ivy. He also wears a pair of floppy

KEVIN L DONIHE 74
antennae while racing, and last year added a Coach de Papa cracked his whip
dark spot on his uniform right above his heart.

against Oscar’s naked back.

It, of course, signifies a bb pellet

“Faster! You’re a dolphin, not a wound.

manatee for Christ’s sake!”

“Yes, Coach de Papa! I am a dol-
phin!”

Preparation for the 89th Annual Tour de

“Not Coach de Papa! King Nep-

Saucisse-Dommages:

tune!”

“Yes, Neptune!”

Oscar pedaled with not one, but two

Coach de Papa threw a conch shell
cinderblocks strapped beneath his feet. His at his head. “King! King Neptune!”

hands were wrapped in barbed wire and, just

“Yes, King! King Neptune!”

for added effect, handcuffed to the handle-He cracked the whip again. “You
bar. He wore nothing but an antique loin-only need to say ‘king’ once!”

cloth that Coach de Papa had personally cho-Oscar trudged on. Fifteen miles had
sen for him.

passed, but thirty-five more loomed ahead.

The coach had outfits, too – a se-

He hung his head briefly, an attempt to cen-ries of costumes that accompanied seven alter and relax himself. Bringing his gaze down ternating dioramas that were hoisted atop a to the road, he saw a bug – a large, black high school homecoming float, which was beetle with pinchers – less than a foot away, then tied to the rear of Legbo’s bike.

crawling into the path of his bike.

Coach de Papa was known for his

He turned the handlebar sharply,
unusual training techniques. Some days, sparing the bug. Oscar let out a sigh, but then he was a chariot racer, and Oscar his me-heard a loud creak behind him. He turned to chanical, wheel-legged horse. Other days see the float, tilted at a 45-degree angle and he was Satan himself, and Oscar just an-keeling fast. Atop it, Coach de Papa struggled other lost soul forced to serve a master.

to maintain his balance.

Today, however, he was King Neptune, re-It pained Oscar to see such a great
plete with trident and flowing sea foam green man stumble; he straightened the path of his cape, though he still wore the same little red bike, but the float continued to lean, Coach de running shorts that he’d worn, nonstop, for Papa clutching the Styrofoam representation the last twenty years. He also braided his beard of a mermaid until it broke in two. Then he for the occasion and wove a small starfish tumbled out onto the road, and the float fell into its center. Life-sized plastic dolphins, atop him.

positioned to look as though they were leap-Oscar jumped off the bike and slid
ing from the sea, bracketed Coach de Papa.

out of the cinderblock shoes. Still, he dragged Oscar was likewise a dolphin – a
the bicycle behind him. Coach de Papa had sleek, aquatic slave – and would remain so for the only keys to the handcuffs.

eight-to-twelve more hours. Sometimes Coach He ran to the overturned float but
de Papa demanded that he create dolphin couldn’t make himself look to the side of it.

sounds, and, if they sounded phony, would Coach de Papa had never fallen before; Os-lash him with his ever-present whip.

car didn’t even know the man could fall. Fi-Legbo International paid for the nally, he looked, and, at that moment, had to costumes, the dioramas, and the float. The make himself breathe.

company didn’t mind because Coach de

Coach de Papa’s legs were pinned

Papa’s excesses inspired results.

by the float and his trident – which was real

“I am Neptune!” he roared. “How
and not a prop – had impaled him straight dare you not give me 100%!”

through the chest.

75 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

Oscar leaned over his body. “Coach
and it appeared as though Legbo would as de Papa?”

well – until he didn’t. Medical professionals

“Oscar.” He coughed up a blood-
viewed his recovery as miraculous, but Os-gout.

car neither confirmed nor denied the super-

“Don’t talk.” Oscar tilted Coach de
natural. His reply: “What happens, happens.”

Papa’s back in an effort to remove the tri-He took to the stage, and the press
dent.

corps fell onto each other, a mound of writh-He scowled. “Please don’t do that.”

ing humanity.

“Quiet, coach. If you just let me—”

“Oscar! Oscar!” one shouted. “How

“Don’t touch the goddamn trident!

do you feel about racing so soon after the When you wiggle it, it hurts like a fucker!”

death of your long-time coach, Fernardo de

“Sorry Coach de Papa, but there has

Papa?”

to be something I can do!”

Oscar spent a moment in thought.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I loved my coach – loved him like no other

“Please, just let me do something!”

man – and his loss hangs heavy on me, but

“Oscar,” he finally said, his voice a
he would have been very disappointed had I groan, another blood-bubble in his mouth.

failed to race today.”

“Just – just tell me one thing, okay?”

“And is it true that you caused his

“Anything!”

death?”

“Why did you do this?”

“It was an accident, a horrible, hor-

“I – I did it for the bug, Coach. It
rible accident.” He exhaled slowly. “But, in would have been crushed!”

the end, Coach de Papa died so that another Coach de Papa gritted his teeth.

might live.”

“What the fuck, Oscar.”

“By ‘another’ do you mean a bug?”

“I didn’t know that this would hap-

“Yes. Specifically, I mean a big black pen! I never meant to hurt you. I – I love you, beetle.”

Coach de Papa!” Then Oscar had to turn An elderly reporter stood: “What’s
away; he couldn’t stand the way his coach your opinion of the German rider, Helmut stared at him.

Starb?”

“I mean, really. What the—”

Oscar’s bottom lip twitched. “I’d

And then he was gone.

rather not talk about Helmet, thank you very much.”

“But he’s your strongest competi-

The Press Room, Just Before the Race: tor; some commentators have predicted his victory.”

Oscar was attired in bright, skin-tight racing Now his left eye twitched. “Yes. Yes,
gear, his hair slicked back and his teeth finely I know this.”

scrubbed with tiny loofah brushes just min-

“Surely, you want to say something utes before by a team of handlers. His body about such a bright and rising young—”

was lean and taunt, and reporters – male and

“I said I’d rather not talk about
female – oogled his physic for longer than him! Next question, please!”

necessary, amazed to find no indications that That reporter sat and another stood:

the Ebola virus had traveled through his sys-

“If you win today, whom will you do it for?

tem the summer beforehand. He had been God? Country? Family? Coach de Papa?”

the first to survive the disease, encountered He did not hesitate. “I do this not
on a wild safari tour with two young Ameri-for God, or country, or family, or even Coach can men, both of whom had pledged to a de Papa, though I love him more than the last fraternity. They died horrible, painful deaths, three combined.” He slammed his fist against

KEVIN L DONIHE 76
the podium. “No! I do it for bugs!”

“I don’t imagine it’ll happen again, at least His passion shot across the room
not today.”

and made all the journalists in attendance He continued his answer as report-buckle, hitch, and waver in their seats, or fall ers dusted off their clothes and rose slowly from them and do what Oscar now thought from the floor:

of as the electric salmon across the floor.

“But yes, I am aware of our society’s

He didn’t know why this happened at every indifference to bugs. And maybe they’re press conference since his return from Af-right. Maybe a bug’s death doesn’t matter, rica. It had concerned him at first, but he not in the long run, but this is my personal didn’t mind now. He found their display weird battle, so let me wage it in the way I see fit.”

but touching, and it stroked his ego.

Another reporter: “And what was it

One, an Asian reporter, finally re-
that made you believe the way you do? Was covered enough to speak, though she re-it some grand epiphany, and, if so, what was mained in a supine position:

the nature of this epiphany?”

“Do you realize, Mr. Legbo, that

“You know my story; I’ve never
most Americans willfully and without re-been less than honest with you. I used to be morse kill as many bugs as possible on a an evil, evil man who did evil, evil things to given day, and that there’s a certain fetish bugs, but I don’t want to say any more than that involves the stomping of insects by nu-that because I know children – millions and bile women for voyeuristic, sexual pleasure?”

millions of them – are watching right now.”

“Yes, I am aware of these things,

“Do you ever think you’re being too
and it irks me to no end. People can have hard on yourself?”

whatever quirks and kinks they want, but

“No. This burden is mine to carry,
leave the fucking bugs out of it!”

so I carry it.” Oscar drew in a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, and exhaled slowly.

“But it is a sweet, sweet burden, indeed.”

Intersplice:

“And why is it sweet?”

The Office of Standards and Practices:

“Without it, I would have commit-
ted suicide long ago. My guilt was strong,

“He didn’t just fucking say fucking, did he?”

but my love and my sense of duty were stron-The man nodded.

ger, and they brought me back. Once this

“Run the eight-second delay!”

happened, I realized that love and a sense

“Already on it.”

of duty can bring anyone and anything back, if both are pursued with the right heart.”

“And that’s why we love you!”

Press ( cont. ):

screamed a man on fire in the back row. Yet another fan – doused head-to-toe in gasoline The press lady cowered in the corner, her

– had slipped into a press conference with hands over her face. Oscar looked down, rec-the desire to self-immolate.

ognized her fear, and, in an instant, came back Oscar left the podium. He didn’t even
to himself.

realize he had done so until he was standing

“Oh, sorry.”

by the man, his hand atop a flaming shoul-The woman did not – could not –
der.

respond.

“Self-immolation is not recom-

“When I get worked up about bugs,
mended, sir.”

I sometimes black out.” Oscar smoothed At that moment, the fire receded.

creases in his racing uniform, drew in a series The man looked at his hands and slid them of deep breaths, and returned to the podium.

down his face. There was no charred or

77 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
bloody skin.

Legbo’s Pre-Race Ritual:

“Wait,” he said. “Shouldn’t I be
dead?”

Oscar dressed for the press conference, but

“Probably, but why are you fussing
couldn’t perform his pre-race ritual with when you’re not?”

clothes on, so he lost them.

The man did not reply, at least not

First, he touched the plushy, stuffed
audibly. He nodded his head back and forth, ladybug that crouched on his dresser. He’d too lost in Legbo’s eyes to notice the angry-named it Charley. On the road, he slept with looking men who stalked up behind him.

it. At home, it had a permanent place on his sofa, joining him each night to watch TV after a long day of practice. Oscar’s eyes rolled back

* * * *
into his head as he made contact with the thing, feeling as though an electric pulse had been Once the fan had been escorted away by armed transmitted through the stuffed bug and into security, the barrage of questions surged him.

anew.

His synapses now prepared for the

One: “How did you touch him?”

experience, he contorted himself into the lo-Another: “Are your hands coated
tus position and, with his index finger, touched in fire retardant?”

his nasal chakra. An old Hindu had told him A third: “Are you the second com-that nasal charkas didn’t exist, but that man ing?”

was a fool. How could they not exist when he Oscar shook his head. “Sometimes
was touching his own and feeling it radiate I don’t know what I’m going to do until I do through all the subtle pathways of his body?

it or what’s going to happen until it happens.

When the time was right, Oscar re-

It’s the power of agape love working through cited his customary incantation: “June Bug!

me, and, hopefully, it shall soon work through June Bug! Skitterbug! Ra! Atman! Ra!”

you, too.”

At that moment, all the bug souls

A reporter piped up from the sec-
he had ever freed from Earthly bodies envel-ond row: “And how will that be done?”

oped him, stretching outward from his core in

“This win – this monumental and
a massive spiral. They stared at him without historic win – will return the love that’s now approval and without dismay. Then they be-missing on this planet. These words may gan to spin, emitting colors and lights until, sound like candy and rainbows to you, but with a sound like a vacuum, they were sucked such is the intended nature of my working.”

into his body where the memory of their He took a hearty chug from a water glass.

Earthly pain and hate could fuel him for the

“And how do you know that this –
race.

uh – working will work?”

When the ritual was over, Oscar re-

Oscar smiled winsomely. “Because
laxed in a corpse-pose until he’d be late at you love me, and because I love you.”

the starting line if he didn’t get up and get Parts of the room erupted in ap-dressed.

plause. Two or three more people went up in He slipped back into his racing uni-flames.

form and placed the floppy antennae – an

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must
item he only wore from racing, as it func-prepare for the race.”

tioned as a special receptor – on his head.

Oscar then looked into the mirror and gave himself a grin. It was now time, time to go out and show the world what it meant to love.

KEVIN L DONIHE 78

At the Starting Line:

smear on the road.

Another rider – a too-thin French-

Oscar allowed his body to fuse with the bi-man with a spiky unibrow who Oscar some-cycle as he awaited the starting gun. He imag-times saw alongside Helmut and Decker –
ined flesh becoming steel and steel becom-smirked, but said nothing. Oscar remembered ing flesh until there was no real separation neither his first nor his last name, and didn’t between the two.

care if he ever found them out.

He was returned to himself by the

“I can’t believe it,” Helmut said, and words of a Belgian bastard whose name was both the Belgian and the Frenchman turned Decker Something. Oscar couldn’t remem-at the sound of his voice. “An ant!”

ber his last. Decker was red-haired and Oscar couldn’t take it anymore.

stockier than most riders and had a tattoo of

“Bug killing motherfuckers!” he screamed to a bicycle stretched across his face, with his an international audience of millions, as there eyes serving as the center of the wheels.

was no eight-second delay.

“Nice antennae, Oscar,” he said. “Know where I can get a pair?”

Oscar admired Decker’s devotion to

The Race Begins:

the sport, but was tired of his taunting, school-bully ways. “Oh, go to hell,” he whis-It had taken him a while to calm down, up pered under his breath.

until the moment the starting gun fired. Fi-Helmut Starb, future racing cham-
nally, his hands were able to become vices pion and friend of the Belgian, snickered.

and his legs pumping pistons. Sometimes, Oscar turned and scowled; he hated even he imagined his penis was likewise a piston, looking at him. His nose was reminiscent of a but that was too distracting to visualize dur-bratwurst and his stringy hair of a pile of ing important races.

sauerkraut that hung out over a wrinkly brown The terrain was so familiar that he
skullcap. Oscar didn’t know what purpose could negotiate it with his eyes closed. Ev-the skullcap served, or what it was supposed ery bend and every curve were like the supple to signify, if anything.

contours of the women he could never quite

“Hey, Oscar,” he said. “Look at the
convince himself to touch. The bitches – the bottom of my shoe!”

evil, horrible bitches! His mind screamed.

Then Helmut showed him his sole

Oh God, I love them still!

where a large grasshopper was smashed yet Oscar forced himself to snap out of
twitching. Oscar felt sympathetic pain, and it; he looked up at the sky. It was overcast, then irrational, all-encompassing rage. He gray, and threatening, and the air around him imagined ramming an oversized thorn into was chilly.

the man’s head, shooting his unresponsive Perhaps the weather wouldn’t
body into that of another bug killer via can-change for the worse, but change seemed non, or dumping him down a personal death-inevitable. Though he had raced in less than pit, sealing it, and then stirring his muck after favorable conditions, those races hadn’t a few months had elapsed.

been 48-hours removed from the death of his

“You like this, no?” Helmut then
coach. Usually, he was able to toss distrac-looked to his left. “Oh, a cricket, too!”

tions aside and get into – if not become – the

“Don’t you—”

race. Today, however, felt different and Helmut smashed the cricket, grind-wrong.

ing it into the pavement with his heel for a Maybe that Helmut bastard really
few more seconds than necessary. When fin-had what it took to become champion. Maybe ished, he raked his shoe clean, leaving a black it was time for him to retire, anyway.

79 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

Maybe it was past time.

road in front of him.

He made himself snap out of it again.

At first, he thought it was a bunch of Oscar Legbo was a winner, is a winner, and loose gravel; perhaps some had slid down shall be a winner, he thought , and applied from the opposing hill during the last rain-pressure to the radial axle bar.

storm. Then he noticed that the things moved, skittering around on the ground like . . . like

. . .

Another Thing to Know About Legbo: Bugs.

Oscar ground his bike to a halt just

The part to which Legbo had applied presin time. He looked out over the mess of writh-sure was not a ‘radial axle bar’ – bicycles ing insect life before him – crickets and rolly don’t have such a part.

pollies and katydids and June bugs and fire-During his early training, he called
flies and praying mantises; there were far too the axle a dum-dum and spokes ree-dees. He many – in terms of both number and variety –
had equally nonsensical names for all the to have gotten there on their own volition, and other parts, too. Oscar’s immaturity drove the fireflies and June bugs had all had their Coach de Papa to the brink of madness, but wings clipped.

he suffered through it, for he knew he had a He jumped off his bike and leaned it
racing prodigy on his hands.

against an incline on the side of the road, As Oscar got older – in his late 20s –
scowling as he thought of Helmut, Decker he started calling parts like the steering sys-the Belgian, and the Frenchman. He didn’t tem ‘radial axle bars,’ thus trading in a few (but suspect the other riders had anything to do not all) of the baby sounds for names he imag-with this, as they weren’t assholes, at least ined were more sophisticated and scientific-not to his face.

sounding. Still, he refused to call any of the

“I’ll save you, my babies!” he
parts by – or even learn – their actual names.

shouted, picking up a handful of bugs and This is a tightly kept secret no one
placing them, facing away from the road, in but Oscar and those closest to him – and, of the grass. “I won’t let bad wheels crush you!”

course, the CEO of Legbo International –

But they kept returning, like the
know.

pavement had been sprinkled with pheromones.

“No!” he shrieked. “Don’t go back

The Race Continues:

there! Bad bugs! Bad bugs!”

Oscar heard the sound of approach-

Earlier, it had appeared as though the sky ing bicycles and looked up.

might crack open, but things had changed.

Helmut waved at him. “See you at

The temperature had risen, becoming warm the finish line, Oscar!” As he passed, he made without being hot, and, for the last ten or so sure to smash as many bugs as possible.

miles, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky.

“Rot in Hell!” Oscar screamed, shak-

Maybe these were good omens.

ing his fist until he could not longer see Oscar felt silly for having worried.

Helmut.

Helmut didn’t stand a chance, and Coach de Then Decker the Belgian and the

Papa – God bless him – was surely smiling smirking Frenchman passed him, followed, down upon this race, beaming with post-in time, by all the other riders in the 89th an-mortem pride.

nual Tour de Saucisse-Dommages.

Perhaps, Oscar thought, it was he And Oscar wove in and out of traf-who cleared the skies…

fic; saving as many insects as he could and Then he noticed something in the
screaming while others were crushed.

KEVIN L DONIHE 80

In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

upset the members of our audience. You know many of them have adopted Oscar’s non-vio-Anchorlady Jane ( clutches a handful of palent stance toward bugs.

pers from which she is clearly not reading): For the first time in the history of his involve-Anchorman Tim (comes to himself): Forget ment with the Tour de Saucisse-Dommages, about them! And forget about the bugs, too!

Oscar Legbo is dead last.

Get your head in the race, Oscar, before you lose it!

Anchorman Tim ( takes a quick gulp from a coffee cup emblazoned with Oscar Legbo’s head): This is a sad moment for America.

Helmut Starb:

Oscar, listen to your fans when we say, “lay off the bugs, just lay off them.”

Helmut had the strength and dedication to defeat Legbo; he knew this. The stars just Anchorlady Jane: Everybody needs a mis-hadn’t aligned yet. But he was sick of wait-sion, Tim. It’s what makes life worth living.

ing on them, so he paid his cousin 100 Euro to collect a bunch of bugs and dump them on Anchorman Tim ( flushes red): But not if it the raceway.

costs him the race! Look, I respect and ad-Besides, it was time – past time –
mire Oscar’s dedication. Hell, I even quit for Oscar to fall. In the past, even he had stomping bugs for a year because of him!

liked Lebgo, but now saw him for what he was: just another glory hog. And to what Anchorlady Jane: Why don’t we take a look end? Bugs? Helmut scoffed at insects. They at what went wrong?

were pansy; they were gay. The walri, however, were different.

( Cut to pre-recorded video of Oscar dodg-Helmut was a proud walri-man.

ing bikes and leaping to the ground, sav-He knew the plural of walrus was ing bugs or shrieking like a girl when they walruses, but he nevertheless thought and splatter at his feet.)

said walri. Though grammatically incorrect, he felt that the word better encapsulated their Anchorman Tim: See what I mean? That’s spirit. Walri were big and strong and had large just pathetic! ( He gets up and looks about brown phalluses and even larger ivory tusks.

the studio, first beneath the desk, then on At times, he went out to his patio late at night the walls, then on the floor. Finally, after and made sensual walri mating sounds; fuck almost a minute, he arises with something a bunch of neighbors.

in his hand.) Hah! Found one.

He wore the walri-skin skullcap to
get in touch with the most admirable walri Anchorlady Jane: Found what, Tim?

qualities: their toughness, their steadfast-ness, and, most of all, their ability to sur-Anchorman Tim: A bug, Jane. ( He brings it vive in harsh, arctic conditions. There was over to the camera, so close now that his face also something vaguely mystical about
fills the frame. Then he takes the bug and them, something that made it seem as
smashes its guts across the lens. ) See that, though they knew something that humans Oscar? See the first bug I’ve killed in a frickin’

did not. Helmut felt on the verge of groking year? ( His gaze becomes distant.) This is my this something, and it would only be a matter sacrifice to you.

of time until the mysteries of the walri were revealed in full. He didn’t feel their spirits Anchorlady Jane: Now, Tim, we don’t want to surge through his skullcap, though; he wasn’t

81 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
a bona fide kook like Legbo.

to go.

When not riding bicycles, Helmut

He closed his eyes, blanked his
rode walri at the aquarium in his hometown, mind, and imagined himself far away from the ostensibly for the amusement of children, but race, perhaps on some enchanted isle, danc-really for his own. At times, he considered ing with human-sized rolly pollies amongst sneaking in late at night to have carnal rela-daffodils and lady slippers as bugs of vari-tions with one or more walri, but all the walri ous types and sizes looked on. Here, they no at the aquarium were male, and he was het-longer cared that they had been murdered, erosexual.

for this was a place far beyond caring.

The Belgian understood his singu-

He continued to live in this world
lar passion, and so Helmut converted him, until he sensed the presence of another. He made him a Walrite. He’d given him a skull-opened his eyes and saw that he now raced cap identical to his own and led him through beside Helmut. Still, he did not exit the Zen an elaborate initiation ceremony involving a state, just its accompanying world.

dagger and a golden chalice brimming with

“Take a look at this, Oscar Bugbo!”

walri semen. He had accepted this offering, Helmut shouted. “It’s part of a collection I’ve but Helmut was disappointed to see Decker had since I was eight!”

not wearing the skullcap at the starting line; Oscar turned to him, but he did not
he had told him to put it on, but not before scowl or shout. Such things were impossible meditating for at least an hour beforehand.

in the Zen state. He just looked at and The Frenchman was more stubborn
through Helmut, seeing him for the sick, than Decker; he refused to even partake from sad, and desperate little man that he was.

the cup or carve the image of The Grand Tusk Oscar would have laughed, had laughter it-into his chest. Helmut wasn’t ready to let him self been possible.

back down, not yet anyway. He would just Helmut reached into a fanny pack
have to take things slowly with Pierre, just as tied around his hips and brought out a hand-he would have to take things slowly with the ful of dry bugs, their bodies still skewered on world once his popularity eclipsed that of pins. Then he threw them, most of the bugs Legbo, thus paving the way for the Age of either missing or rebounding from Oscar. Oth-Walri to begin.

ers, however, stuck to his racing suit.

Helmut laughed, thinking Oscar
might shriek or flail his arms and lose control On Mile 18 of the Tour de Saucisse-
of the bike, but these poor, abused corpses

Dommages:

served as fuel. In the Zen state, he was more receptive to their spirit energy, still clinging Oscar realized that the last bike had passed to long dead and dried husks. They radiated him. The bugs were in no further danger, but through him in hard, steady currents and, he was in danger of losing the race.

soon, Oscar perceived these currents as in-There was only one thing to do.

separable from his body. He then flew like an He got onto his bicycle and pre-insect himself, through the wind, leaving the pared to enter the Zen state, or what he liked German clutching a handful of dead and now to call the nobody-can-touch-me-not-even-useless bugs.

myself state. It was a dimension he discovered, accidentally, during his third running of the Tour de Saucisse-Dommages. In it, time In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

and space became meaningless, and, if he gave himself utterly to the moment, then that Anchorman Tim: This just in: there has been a moment would carry him anywhere he needed dramatic change in lead position at the 89th

KEVIN L DONIHE 82

Annual Tour de Saucisse-Dommages.

The rolly pollie looked sad, but

Oscar knew that it understood.

( Cut to a playback of Oscar Legbo overtaking He turned to face his audience: “Bye

Helmut Starb, which is superimposed over the fireflies,” he said.

image of a flapping American flag.)

“Bye.”

“Bye June Bugs, katydids, and ci-

Anchorlady Jane: It’s amazing that Oscar cadas!”

Legbo can go from last to first place in such They said the same thing as the fire-short time, but this man is no stranger to flies.

breaking the odds.

After everyone had said their
goodbyes, the insects and the world they Anchorman Tim: My god! ( His eyes roll back inhabited began to waver. When the scene into his head.) Think how well endowed this faded, it did not do so into black, but into a guy must be!

backdrop of squiggly, multi-colored fractals.

Once they were gone, Oscar would be back Anchorlady Jane: Yes, Tim, he must truly have in his old world.

a python down there, but Helmut Starb – said The last fractal fizzled out thirty secto be Oscar’s biggest competition – is still onds later, and a black blur leapt into the road 100% in the race, as are Belgium’s Decker in front of him.

Rasmussen and France’s Pierre LaChaise.

Anchorman Tim ( says beneath his breath): Helmut Starb:

Damn foreigners.

Helmut saw the black blob, too, but saw it for what it was: a man in a ninja suit who jumped In Dreams:

from dense shrubbery lining the road and chopped off Oscar Legbo’s head.

Augmented by swirling bug spirits, the dream He almost fell from his bike, think-world now enveloped him fully. Whether ing that, perhaps, the ninja would go after Helmut was still throwing his bug collection him next. Though over 50 feet away, he was at him, Oscar didn’t know, and didn’t care.

the closest rider to Legbo.

In this world, the rolly pollie suddenly But the assailant didn’t as much as
paused its exotic, Eastern-flavored dance and look at him, and disappeared quickly into the pressed itself firmly against Oscar’s torso.

shrubs.

Its seemingly hundreds of tiny, almost thread-Helmut also bore witness to the
like legs pulled down his zipper.

aftermath. Oscar remained astride his bike, It was time for the happy ending.

his neck shooting a fountain of red high into But, Oscar realized, there would be
the air. It was vile, disgusting, and Helmet no time for the usual coda. Zen-ing out was felt sick right down to his core. He wanted to perfect when a quick burst was needed, but vomit, but knew that he couldn’t – every-not when his physical attributes and condi-thing would become slippery and he would tioning were enough to see him through. He wreck – so he held it in.

sensed this was now the case, and it was As he waited for his gorge to settle,
unwise to take advantage of so precious a Helmut came to a certain realization. He smiled blessing.

at that moment, though he still wanted to He broke the embrace. “I’m sorry
throw up.

baby, but this’ll have to wait. I’ve got a Tour to win.”

83 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

pening, Tim.

Anchorlady Jane: What you are seeing is Anchorman Tim: The only thing you ever real.

remember is who you had to blow to get this job! ( He composes himself. ) Sorry about that, (Cut from the anchor to the replay of Oscar folks. I’m a diehard Oscar Legbo fan, so this Legbo’s decapitation. A man in a ninja suit is a very trying time. At any rate, I have been jumps into the road and strikes at Lebgo with informed that the President is making a state-a sword. His head flies off his shoulders and ment. We will now go live to that.

hits a small Ukrainian boy in the crowd.

Though he is fazed but unhurt, his mother (Cut to the President. He sits in a chair in invokes a curse from her tribal god, but no the oval office, looking slightly disheveled, one hears it. Pandemonium erupts as a like someone has awoken him from a nap.) blood geyser shoots from Oscar Legbo’s neck stump, the flow of it so strong and red that it President: Today, the sports world – and would be beautiful overlaid against the af-America as a whole – experienced a tragedy ternoon sky had it not come from a person.

beyond compare. No words I say will console you; I understand this. ( The president Anchorlady Jane (voice-over): Oscar Legbo, leans in closer to the camera.) But please – I America’s golden boy of professional bi-beg of you – do not allow this one act of cycle racing, is dead.

cowardice to serve as a catalyst for American-on-Ninja violence. I speak from experience ( The decapitation replay ends – after loop-when I say that most ninjas are good, caring ing over for six times, three of those six times people who do what they do out of an
in slow motion; cut back to the studio.) overarching sense of loyalty, honor, and decency. Again, please do not riot against or in Anchorman Tim: Oh my fucking god, Jane!

any way harm these treasured members of our That blood geyser was pumping from his neck national community. Thank you for listen-like crazy! It didn’t look like it would ever ing, America; my heart travels out to you to-end!

day.

Anchorlady Jane: I don’t think you’re sup-

( Cut back to the news desk at Channel Five.) posed to take our Lord’s name in vain or say

‘fucking,’ on the airwaves, Tim. ( Eyes widen. ) Anchorlady Jane: I didn’t realize we had ninjas Oh fuck, now I said it!

in our community. But, if we do, I stand by our President in saying please – citizens of ( A voice off-stage, perhaps that of a stage-America – do not harm them or torch their hand who has just fallen from a ladder or residences or businesses. What we need plugged something into a wall socket while now is healing, not more pain.

standing in a puddle: “Fuck!”) Anchorman Tim: I say let them burn.

Anchorman Tim: This is worse than the time North Korea dumped loads of nuclear waste ( An assistant – who is also a Lebgo fan and, off the San Franciscan coast and laughed in fact, wears a Legbo shirt – rushes into and screamed taunting, homophobic insults camera range. He whispers into the to those who lived in the vicinity.

anchorman’s ears; Tim’s eyes widen.) Anchorlady Jane: I don’t remember that hap-Anchorman Tim ( to assistant): What? He’s

KEVIN L DONIHE 84
still going? Oh my God…

* * * *

Ninja:

I walk through the woods until I can no longer hear the sounds of chaos; I find myself at a Before his head can strike the pavement, I’m in stream. It looks inviting, so I sit at its bank, surrounding woods, away from the gaze and drinking water and contemplating what I’ve energy of the crowd, though I still hear the done.

sounds of chaos – screams and shouts and It is a singularly pleasant environ-sirens. I hate such noises, but they are con-ment, but I wish I could sit by Legbo instead.

stant companions in my line of work.

It’s only the density of the crowd that makes I am a ninja, my body sleek and well
this impossible. Even in his present condi-oiled. Though I function as a killing machine, tion, we could converse, as I’m sure his head I do not despise my prey; I respect and honor still lives. Such is the magic of my blade.

them. Once dispatched, their blood becomes Once, I sat and talked with a noble
my own and, as it flows through my veins, farmer for over an hour after his decapita-strangers become brothers.

tion. We became friends, and I told him about My target was Oscar Legbo. I had
my life and he told me about his. In the end, I to track him and slaughter him like a beast of hated to see the fire go out of his eyes and burden. Perhaps, in a different life, I might hated even more the fact that it was my sword have met this man over a bowl of miso soup that had snuffed it, but that is the way of (brown not red) where we’d chat for a while, things.

and, if we were both into it, smoke heycheeba, With lingering heartache, I trace in
the ninja equivalent of herb. Such was not to my mind the events that brought me here be. Rather, my sword separated his head today. I realize, with some confusion, that I swiftly and painlessly from his body. Such is don’t even know who had ordered me to as-the blessing – and the power and precision –
sassinate Oscar Legbo. I just remember be-of my blade.

ing led into a room and forced into a chair, a But something uncharacteristic
big sturdy one with a carved wolf’s head on happened today. Right before I struck, things the top. Another man was there, too, my went fuzzy all the sudden. The ground felt nameless and faceless benefactor. He leaned like rubber beneath my feet and there was into me, his countenance still lost in shadow, this little buzzer that went off in my head, and and said: “Do you or don’t you?”

it just wouldn’t quit. It was like I had a com-

“I do,” was my response. I remem-
puter up there, something electrical that ber this clearly now, though I don’t think I churned away and made me think things that was wearing the same clothes or – and this I didn’t want thought.

may sound weird – the same face when I said

“Do it!” an angry voice screamed it.

inside my skull. “Do it now!”

No matter. There’s really nothing to

I refused – a ninja does things when
gain in thinking about the past, but I do it he wants – but then what felt like angry, long-anyway. Though ninja, I am also human, so I nailed hands took hold of me, first via my get sentimental at times, or sad. But I never brain, then via my nut sack.

get lost in these emotions; I just suck it up

“Okay, okay!” I head-screamed. “I’ll
and do what I have to do, and now my spirit do it now!”

and the spirit of Oscar Legbo have bonded.

The buzzing faded as I lept from the

We are one, and I will honor his constant crowd and into the roadway. Then I let my presence as it trails me through this life of sword grow wings and fly.

shadows.

85 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

Inside Oscar’s severed head:

must pull away from it because it’s far too distracting, and there’s no time for distracI am severed; I am severed and I am dead. I tions.

am a deadhead. Leghead dead. Bohead Leg.

My eyes close. In darkness, I am

Wait. That’s not right. That’s not
able to hone my concentration, and I con-what (who?) I am. Not at all. I am Osdead centrate so hard that veins would have prob-BoLego. Or is it Deadleg Bo or, perhaps, just ably burst had blood flowed through them Leghead?

still. Once I feel ready, I grab hold of my es-No, none of those seem right. I am . .

sence and project it in eddies so as to locate

. I am . . . I am . . . Oscar Legbo. Yes. I am Oscar the rest of me.

Legbo – bicycle racer extraordinaire and Yes! Yes, I think I’ve found it! But
friend to bugs everywhere – and someone no, it’s just another racer, the Belgian bas-has just decapitated me, ruining both my race tard with bugs on his shoes. I shiver upon and my working. It’s odd that I’m worrying realization and break the connection quickly.

about such things when I’m dead. You’d think Finally, I feel myself: the unique presence of I might have something else on my mind, a moving body without a head.

namely nothing.

I latch onto myself just in time. If I’d But, nevertheless, something is on stayed in the dead zone (or was it the zone-my mind. I’m not entirely sure that it’s pos-before-the-dead-zone?) any longer my body sible, but, if I can get back in control of my-would have lost its ingrained memory of the self, I might just be able to finish this race, road. Now, I do not worry about such things and maybe even the working, too; I have to happening. I can even feel my legs, pumping focus on the here and now, and make myself away. I sense them in a mode that’s different win. It doesn’t matter how many tours I’ve from ordinary perception, but it’s perception completed in the past; if I can’t finish this just the same. Then, I focus on my hands one, then I’m a failure. My body is superb and and make pale, almost bloodless fingers conditioned, and it knows every twist, turn, clutch the dee-da tighter.

and bend of this course, but it can’t go on I suddenly feel confident, more con-forever without a guide.

fident than I have in ages. I can overcome At the moment, I see only the land-any adversity; I just gotta get my head in the scape in front of me tilted at an extreme angle, race. That’s what Coach de Papa always told but maybe, if I put all my energy into it, I can me. It won’t be easy, being decapitated and reach out to and control my body. A kindly all, but I’m up for the challenge – always up old monk taught me how to do this with other for the challenge.

bodies once, during one of my travels to Ti-If it can be done, then Oscar Legbo
bet. It was difficult at first; I just stared for can do it.

hours at the darkness behind my eyelids as my instructor chanted indecipherable words in the background – but, finally, I was able to Helmut Starb:

see, and able to hone in on what I saw, so much so that I was able to spy upon Coach Helmut’s bliss became confusion. Oscar’s body de Papa bathing at home, thousands of miles refused to fall from the bike, and – weirder still away. As he sat there, unaware of my scrutiny,

– his feet refused to stop manipulating the I made his hands wash his lower body, slowly pedals.

and with small circular motions that he He wondered how he would have
seemed to enjoy. He was very clean by the reacted if it’d been his head instead of Oscar’s.

time I finished with him.

Would he have kept going like a trooper or No. I’m getting lost in the past. I
shat his pants and fell to the road, twitching

KEVIN L DONIHE 86
and dead?

I cup my face into my hands; I want

This made him hate Oscar all the
to live. Still, Hiri-kuku provides the noblest more.

way out for a ninja, and all flesh – I remind He drew in a few deep breaths, but
myself – must rot away eventually.

they did nothing to calm him. He had to slow Hiri-kuku is accomplished by cram-down, to process everything that he’d seen ming three large sweet potatoes down ones and was seeing. No rider was close to him throat until one chokes to death. Too bad I yet; he remained comfortably in second place, don’t have sweet potatoes handy, but my and Oscar had to fall sometime before the fin-socks are orange and perhaps they’ll suffice.

ish line; the race had over 40 miles to go.

Too bad they’re only two of them; guess I’ll The slower pace did relax him some-also have to use my underwear.

what, and it helped to be further away from I bend down, and, with a heavy yet

Oscar, to not see the blood geyser, his ragged willing heart, remove my black ninja slippers neck, and the little sprig of spine that and pull off my bright orange tube socks.

sprouted from it.

Bright orange tube socks?

Soon, he heard the whizzz of an ap-I stare at them, again confused.

proaching bike. Someone was gaining on Shouldn’t I be wearing sleek and silky ninja him. He turned around and saw that it was stockings? But these socks have different col-Decker, who slowed down as he approached ored bands printed around their tops, like some-Helmut.

thing an 80s kid would wear.

“Oh God!” Decker shouted, look-

No matter. I rip them from my feet
ing at Oscar, who was, from his perspective, and stuff them, reeking, into my mouth. ( Are a red-spurting dot. “What happened?”

ninja feet supposed to reek? Fuck it.) Then I

“Some ninja guy cut off Oscar
remove my sleek ninja pants and see that I’m Legbo’s head!”

wearing tighty whities beneath them, and that

“A ninja guy?”

my legs and thighs are flabby and pasty, like Helmut nodded.

those of an overweight, thirty-something

“Then why’s Oscar still in the race?”

American.

“Fuck if I know!”

But why would I have this sword

Decker turned around to face the
and mask if I were not a ninja? I didn’t see road and pumped his legs faster. Helmut did other people dressed up today. It’s certainly likewise, but the Belgian still managed to slip not Halloween.

ahead of him.

My head starts buzzing again.

I don’t think I like that guy any-

When the voice speaks, it’s positively more, Helmut thought.

screaming.

“Ninjas don’t know about Hallow-
een, you dumb ass.”

Ninja:

I spit the socks from my mouth.

“Shut up!”

I lose myself in birdsongs and the sound of

“It’s a western thing.”

the gently babbling stream – then my

“I know! I know!”

goddamned head starts buzzing again: “You

“So, if you know this, then you also must commit Hiri-kuku!” The voice shouts.

know there’s no way you’re a ninja from 16th

“Do it now!”

century Japan.”

“What!” I say, aloud this time. “That

“Fuck you, fuck you, I am a ninja!

wasn’t part of the agreement!”

Fuck you!”

“Oh, yes it was. You just don’t re-

I run behind a tree and beat my head
member.”

upon nurturing and life-giving ground. When

87 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
the voices finally stop, my forehead is lacer-winning this year’s Tour de Saucisse-ated and there are twigs in my mask.

Dommages?

Woman: He’ll win. I have faith in Oscar, and In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

think he’ll do America proud next year, too.

Anchorlady Jane: If you are just joining us, Jake Dallas: You think he’ll be in next year’s Oscar Legbo has not only again proved his race, too?

stamina and virility by racing without a head, but has also provided the world with a truly Woman: Yes.

unique and amazing moment in sports.

Jake Dallas ( approaches a middle-aged man Anchorman Tim: Amazing is not the word. Try in a ball cap and wife-beater): And how about ball-staggering, Jane.

you, sir? Do you think Oscar Legbo still has what it takes to win?

Anchorlady Jane: Why don’t I just stick with amazing? At any rate, what was once naMan ( speaks while c rushing a beer can tional mourning has become national hope.

against his crotch): Whew fuckin’ hoo! A-If Oscar Legbo manages to pull through, not frikin’merica baby!

only will he win his eighth Tour de Saucisse-Dommages, but he’ll also become the first Jake Dallas: I guess that means yes. ( He faces rider to do so while decapitated.

the camera.) So, as you can see, the American public believes Oscar Legbo has what it Anchorman Tim: Keep in mind that he has takes to win this race – and perhaps future over twenty miles to go before he reaches races – even without a head.

the finish line.

(Cut from Jake Dallas to live shot of the Anchorlady Jane: If past performance is any Tour de Saucisse-Dommages . Oscar’s body indicator, then Oscar Legbo should have no is seen, pumping the pedals and controlling problem.

the handlebar in such a way that if one were to put a sheet of paper on the television Anchorman Tim ( bites his bottom lip): But where his head used to be and ignore all the he had a frickin’ head then, woman! Sheesh!

blood on his clothes and bike, one would ( Draws in a deep, calming breath.) But if think that things were still par for the anyone is capable of pulling off such a feat, course.)

it’s Oscar Legbo.

Anchorlady Jane (voice-over): The blood gey-Anchorlady Jane: And now we go to roving ser is still flowing, I had no idea a man could reporter Jake Dallas for another edition of The have that much gore in him, but I no longer Word on the Street.

see it as a disgusting thing. I now think of it as a red Fountain of Freedom.

( Cuts to a heavyset young man, standing with a microphone on the corner of a busy Anchorman Tim (voice-over): That’s very city street.)

touching, Jane. I’m sorry I said all those bad things about you earlier.

Jake Dallas: Thank you, Jane. ( He approaches a smart looking woman in a business suit.) (Live feed ends.)

What do you think Oscar’s chances are of

KEVIN L DONIHE 88

Helmut Starb:

burst into flames.

Walri Power Go! He thought, and allowed the strength of the Odobenus rosmarus to Ninja:

become his own. Helmut pedaled harder and harder until he was right on Decker’s tail.

I’ve never felt lower or more dejected in my But, as it so happened, he didn’t
life – but I am Ninja; this I must believe. It’s need the extra get-up-and-go because Decker the core of my being, my Upbranahamanan, had slowed down considerably. Once neck-my uppermost soul. Evidence to the con-and-neck with Oscar, he now trailed him by trary shall not sway me. I don’t care if a million at least twenty feet.

screaming cops descend upon me in

Helmut swerved to his left, maneu-

Messerschmitt fashion and have me locked vering his bike so that it traveled alongside in a padded room where I receive Thorazine the Belgian’s. He shouted: “I don’t care if and enemas for the remainder of my days.

you or I win, just as long as one of us beats These things are mayanamanana, illusion.

Legbo! It’s now or—”

Sweet and green Japanese fields will always Helmut froze. Decker sported the
be my home, but even they too are illusion.

largest boner he had ever seen.

The only thing that is real is me…

“What the – what the hell are you

… and I am Ninja.

thinking about?”

The Belgian didn’t respond imme-
diately. His eyes didn’t even seem to be look-Inside Oscar’s severed head:

ing at anything in this world, though they were focused on the red geyser still shootI feel someone try to pick up my head and, ing miraculously from Legbo’s neck stump.

judging from the sound of rustling plastic,

“Oh god! Oh god, it’s so beautiful!”

put it in a bag. I don’t know if it’s a paramedic

“What? That’s giving you a hard-or a souvenir seeker, and I don’t care either on?” Helmut crinkled his nose; a fan of way.

Oscar’s blood had gotten on the man’s pants.

“Leave me alone! I’m fucking try-

“It’s not sexy, it’s disgusting. And you’re a ing to concentrate here!” I manage to groan, sick fuck, Decker.”

the sound like water gurgling through a leaf-

“No, not it,” he moaned. “Look into clogged drain.

it and see!”

The man runs away, screaming.

“Excuse me?”

That particular distraction is gone,

“The things – the beautiful twisty but another follows, and it’s far more difficult golden spirals of eternal agape love! See to ignore or brush off. The bugs have re-them!”

turned; I imagine that they are huge and I am

“Eternal agape what?”

tiny, and I am lost in their world. Once again,

“LOVE!” Decker screamed, eyes I am connected to a body, but, if I could, I’d bulging so far that Helmut feared they might wish it away. Angry souls surround it, bite at shoot out and hit him. Then he noticed thin it, stomp-tickle it with bristly feet.

wisps of smoke rising both from Decker’s ears

“Please stop,” I shout at them.

and from his slightly parted mouth.

“Please leave me alone and let me do what I

“Are you okay?” Helmut shouted,
have to do!”

his confusion making him say the first thing

“You didn’t leave us alone, Mr.

that came to mind. “Do you need an antacid Legbo,” they say, their voice a collective one, or something?”

high-pitched and nearly sonic. “So why Instead of replying, the Belgian
should we leave you alone?”

89 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

“Haven’t I done enough? Haven’t I

“Yes, Coach de Papa, I know.”

atoned?”

“But you were always stubborn, and

“You can never atone, not in our
you marched to the sound of your own drum, eyes, eyes which once saw and enjoyed the for good or for ill.” His eyes sparkle. “And world, but no longer.”

that’s why I always admired you, even if that

“I need to win. That’s all I ask of
admiration was begrudging at times.”

you. Let me win this race, please.”

“But I killed you, Coach de Papa.”

“That’s not possible. You belong

“I don’t worry about that anymore.”

to us, and it’s only fitting that you do.”

I look down at my imaginary feet.

“But I wear your image on my uni-

“You seemed so angry before you died.”

form! My severed head has plastic antennae

“You’re sure as shit I was angry. I
stuck to it! Don’t these things count?”

didn’t want to be messed with, not then. You

“No.”

could have talked to me, that would have Rage like I hadn’t felt in years builds been fine, but you had to go and mess with up inside. “Well, fuck you, then! I was silly the trident.”

for loving you, for caring that I killed you!

“But I couldn’t just watch you die.”

You’re just bugs for Christ’s sake! I’m going

“Would you want someone mess-
to win this race and I’m going to do it with-ing with a trident if every time he touched it out you!”

your entire body rippled with pain?”

The bug spirits waver and hitch as

“No, Coach de Papa. I wouldn’t, and
though their forms have become quicksilver I’m sorry.”

on a hot city street. When they are gone,

“I know you’re sorry; you have a

Coach de Papa appears before me, glisten-good heart.” Coach de Papa offers a thin ing. Shirtless, he wears the same tiny pair of smile. “Come to think of it, you remind me of red running shorts that I’ve grown to know myself at your age, only less gay.”

and love. His look is rugged, and a mousI feel as though someone has
tache stretches across the entirety of his aged punched me. “What!”

yet joyful face.

Coach de Papa moves in closer and

Still, his eyes seem far off: “Oscar, I lays a big, thick hand down on my imaginary am so proud.”

shoulder. “Be true to yourself, Oscar.”

I can barely speak. “Coach – Coach

“I – I don’t know what to say, Papa.”

de Papa is that you?”

“Perhaps this the best – if not only

“Of course, Oscar.”

– time to figure out what to say.” Coach de

“But you’re dead.”

Papa shakes his head. “You can be the world’s

“And you – for all intents and pur-
greatest bicycle racer and be gay at the same poses – are, too.”

time, you know.”

He has a point. “But why are you

Events that I had forgotten sud-
here? And why are you proud?”

denly flood back and, once the pieces come

“Because you finally got off your
together, they make sense: The times I’d bug kick, that’s why. I wish you knew how watch Coach de Papa from the corner of my much it pained me to see such a talented man eye in the changing room, the day I pantsed live his life with such a silly, silly burden. You him playfully, but really wanted to see if he went far in that life, but you could have gone wore anything beneath his shorts (which he farther had you been free.” Coach de Papa didn’t), and the fact that I masturbated to his pauses to flex, his seventy-six year old body picture not once but twice.

firm and taunt. “Too bad you had to lose

“Yes, Papa,” I finally say. “Yes, I
your head before you realized this, but that’s see. And while I don’t admit that I was gay, I the way the world works sometimes.”

admit that I was gay for you.”

KEVIN L DONIHE 90

“That’s enough for me, Oscar. Good

The buzz that accompanies this voice
boy.” He rakes his hands across my imagi-no longer bothers me, for I now know what I nary chest and shakes away sweat. “That’s have to do, and have come to terms with it. I what I’ve always wanted to hear.”

delay no longer. I pick up my tube socks from

“It is?”

the ground without dusting them. I put them

“Yes, now stop obsessing. Clear
in my mouth, along with my briefs, but can-your mind and do what needs to be done.

not swallow these things enough to choke.

Focus. Get your head in the race. Okay?”

I must use a stick, so I take one from

“I will, Coach de Papa.”

the ground beside me and ram it against the

“Win for me. Fuck a bunch of bugs.”

wad in my throat until my hands are raw and

“I will, on both counts.”

bloody. The briefs remain stuck to the back He turns away. “I gotta go now. My
of my throat, but the socks, I imagine, are far time here is through.”

enough down to get the job done. My skin is

“Okay, but it was good seeing you
sweaty; I cannot breathe, and my heart races.

again.”

Ninja training had covered Hiri-kuku, but it

“You, too.”

did nothing to prepare me for the actual expe-

“Goodbye, Coach.”

rience.

“Goodbye, Oscar.” He smiles –

I must relax; I cannot freak out.

widely and warmly, just the way I remember –

Once again, my head buzzes: “A
and then he’s gone.

ninja does not use the term ‘freak out’.”

Suddenly, I’m back on the ground,

“Shut up!” I think-scream. “I’m try-
eyes closed and focusing again on the race.

ing to die here!”

I feel that the antennae have slid from my The voice falls mercifully silent. I col-head, and it’s a good thing.

lapse into a carpet of leaves. Bringing my My head is in the race like never
hands to my face, I see that they are blue.

before.

When I bring them down, a great vortex spins before me, growing wider by the second.

I say in my head: Oh sweet

Helmut Starb:

Brumahumananan , or whatever god Ninjas worship – provided I am, in fact, a ninja and Helmut fell back and made sure not to stare not some overweight thirty-nine year old directly into the red fountain spurting from trucker named Joe – protect me as I pass Oscar’s neck. If the Belgian could spontane-from this world and enter the next!

ously combust, then he figured the same But then the pain goes away. The
could happen to him.

world for which I’d prayed opens before me, Pierre LaChaise, the Frenchman,
and it no longer matters whether I’m a ninja took advantage of this opportunity and or not. All that matters is that I visualize my-passed Helmut without a backwards glance.

self amongst the corky, twisty trees of the At that moment, he decided he
orient, thinking, oddly enough, of a particu-didn’t much like that guy anymore, either.

larly tasty hamburger I’d eaten at a Tulsa, Oklahoma rest stop in 1992.

Ninja:

Inside Oscar’s severed head:

The voice in my head: We’re really happy that you feel good about yourself and all, Just when I think I’m going to make it, a pleas-but it’s time for Hiri-kuku now. Please, do not ant haze washes over my brain. It’s tempting, keep us waiting.

and I want to fall headlong into it, but I must

91 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
hold out. I haven’t gone this far just to stop.

may, in fact, be dead. Unless something I didn’t beat the bugs and express undying major happens, Oscar Legbo will surely win love for my dead coach to fall before reach-the last stage of the Tour de Saucisse-ing the finish.

Dommages.

But I can no longer feel my legs,
and can only barely feel my hands. I see them Anchorman Tim: Yes! Go, Legbo, go!

with my mind’s eye, still confidently pumping away and gripping, but don’t know how long they can maintain such efficiency without Meanwhile, as all this is taking place: 100% of my essence there to guide them.

Focusing on my body is now use-

The CEO of Legbo International paced less, so I pan my gaze out in front of me, to across an oak and marble boardroom as he the road as it unfurls. I’m familiar with this rethought his global strategy. Two other men stretch as I’m familiar with all stretches along were in attendance, seated at a long, rectan-the Tour de Saucisse-Dommages. There’s gular table in an otherwise empty room.

only a mile to go, give or take, but that up-

“I want to ask you” – the CEO
start Frenchman is neck-and-neck with me.

stopped pacing – “if it’s possible to effec-It’s almost as though he senses my
tively market a headless role model.”

scrutiny as he turns to my body and extends A sycophant: “I don’t see why not.”

his middle finger while laughing. Has he no

“Won’t the T-shirts appear distaste-
respect for the dead?

ful?”

“Perhaps, but I’ve heard that kids
go for gore.”

In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

“Really?”

The sycophant nodded.

Anchorlady Jane: I’ve just received word that The CEO resumed pacing. “Of
a rider – #4, Pierre LaChaise from Catrombeau, course, we’ll have to revise our action figure France – is gaining on Oscar and may just line, too. And we’ll have to do more than just take the lead.

remove their heads. Something else needs to be done, something that will give them extra Anchorman Tim (s lams fists on desk until added oomph.”

knuckles bleed): Goddamn that asshole! I

“Excuse me, sir, but could they have
hope he breaks his neck!

super squirting action?”

The CEO spent a few moments in

(Cut to live news-feed from the Tour de thought. Then: “I love that idea.”

Saucisse-Dommages. Pierre LaChaise vies The third wheel: “And you’d need
with Oscar Legbo for the lead. He smirks the liquid inside to be red, of course.”

confidently as he taunts Legbo, but that con-

“Of course,” the sycophant replied.

fident look turns to one of sudden terror. His

“Do you think we’re idiots?”

eyes grow wide and a pained expression

“No sir. I do most certainly not think spreads across his face. Then he collapses

– under any set of possible circumstances –
against the handlebars. Seconds later, the that anyone in this room today is an idiot.”

bicycle goes over a ravine, immediately af-The CEO leered. “Are you sure
ter which the scene cuts back to the news about that?”

desk.)

“Yes, sir!”

The sycophant turned to the other

Anchorlady Jane: It appears as though Pierre man. “Personally, I’m not so sure.”

LaChaise has suffered a heart attack and The CEO laughed.

KEVIN L DONIHE 92

The third wheel sulked.

And so I do, but, again, it fails to
work; my tongue just isn’t long enough.

The buzzing is now so loud I fear I

Ninja:

might go deaf. “We hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you give us no choice. For failI come to and realize what I’d seen wasn’t ing three times, you must be punished.”

ninja heaven at all. I was just suffering from I steel myself, apprehensive yet
delusions brought on by panic and a lack of nevertheless ready to accept the punishment, oxygen. Also, the socks and briefs have for I know, in my broken ninja heart, that I slipped from my throat and out of my mouth deserve whatever I get.

before they could choke me to death.

The shouted commands begin:

My head starts buzzing, louder than

“Bop yourself in the head!”

ever. “What kind of fucking ninja are you?

I bop myself in the head.

You can’t even commit hiri-kuku!”

“Stick your fingers in your eyes!”

I get up, slowly. “I – I’m sorry. I am I stick my fingers in my eyes.

a bad ninja and, through my failings, have

“Say you’re a stupid, fairy pansy
brought a great and everlasting shame down muthafucka!”

upon my head.”

“I am a stupid, fairy pansy

“You can say that again.”

muthafucka.”

I say that again; then sigh and bend

Another voice, usually there’s only
down to retrieve my clothing. I put the socks one: “Stop it! Now you’re just playing with and underwear back on, unnerved to feel their him.”

wet stickiness against my skin, but they’re

“Sorry. Where was I?”

all I’ve got, so they must suffice. Then I slip

“You were punishing me, sir.”

the bottom half of my ninja gear back on, but

“Yes, yes. That’s right. Well, we’re wearing it feels wrong, as I may no longer be finished with that.”

worthy of the honor.

“Now that I’ve been punished, can

“You’re not, so hold your breath

I go on with my life and not commit hiri-until you die.”

kuku?”

There is too much inner feedback

“No,” the voice again roars. “Comfor me to hear them the first time: “What?”

mit hiri-kuku! How many times do we have to

“I said hold your breath until you
fucking say it?”

die!”

I don’t know what to do, so I look

I try this, but each time my heart
around for things that, if used correctly, might starts racing and my face starts turning blue, prove deadly. First, I try to drown myself in I exhale with a gush.

the creek, but it’s the same as holding my

“You’re not supposed to start
breath; each time it starts to hurt, I stop. Then, breathing again! That’s the whole point!”

I poke at myself with a stick for fifteen min-

“But it hurts if I don’t breathe!”

utes, but it does nothing but irritate my skin.

“Of course it hurts! It’s supposed to Later, I find a long, green garden snake and kill you, you dumb ass.”

try to strangle myself with it, but it bites me

“Please, give me another way out!”

and I scream and the thing slithers away.

“Okay, then. Why don’t you swal-

I try everything in the woods, but
low your tongue?”

nothing there will kill me, or maybe it’s that

“But that is a very dishonorable way everything around me is lethal, but I just don’t for a ninja to die! It will bring shame not only have the balls to make anything be lethal.

to me, but to my entire community!”

“You’re fucking hopeless; do you

“Do it anyway!”

know that?”

93 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I know.”

certain, the prospect of making it all the way no longer guaranteed. Everything is dark and fuzzy before it goes over to gray, then black.

In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

Anchorlady Jane ( unfastens the top two but-Helmut Starb:

tons on her blouse): Well, it looks like I’ve come down with Legbo Fever tonight.

Fuck it. If I spontaneously combust or fall of a cliff, just fuck it. I’ll win this race if it kills Anchorman Tim: That doesn’t make you spe-me.

cial, Jane. The whole country has Legbo Fe-Helmut concentrated on his skull-
ver.

cap and there found the strength to pump the pedals with pinnipedal power – (At that Anchorlady Jane ( quickly refastens the top moment, he reminded himself that he should two buttons on her blouse): You might be have the phrase ‘pinnipedal power’ trade-right, Tim. At any rate, this is a glorious day marked as quickly as possible) – and, in a for America.

matter of seconds, caught sight of Legbo.

“You’re mine, bugfucker!” He

Anchorman Tim: Better than Christmas, the moved in to usurp the lead, so close now that Fourth of July, and a good Tijuana lay, all Oscar’s blood splashed on him, turning his wrapped into one.

white and blue racing uniform red. Helmut found himself enjoying, if not luxuriating in, Anchorlady Jane: I wouldn’t know about the hot and sticky warmth, and wondering if Tijuana lays, but—
this made him a freak.

But the sensation, he soon discov-

Anchorman Tim (appears as though he might ered, wasn’t erotic at all. The blood was do-be masturbating behind his desk): Take a ing something to him – perhaps on a molecu-look at this! Can you believe it, Jane? Oh lar level – and reminding him of the time he shit! Oh holy shit! Yes! Yes! It looks like Os-dropped acid at college in Frankfurt.

car Lego is just seconds away from winning Maybe, he thought, I should let his eighth Tour de Saucisse-Dommages!

Oscar win.

Then: What am I thinking?

And then: Oscar deserves it; Oscar Inside Oscar’s severed head:

is great and bugs are great. Better than walri.

I feel bad for what happened to the French-Finally: No they’re not – but they man. He was an asshole, but didn’t deserve are! Oh God, they are!

to die. I didn’t even know that I could do Against his will, Helmut looked
that. I just projected my anger at him – in the deeply into the Fountain of Freedom, past the most dark, horrible and drippy corpse-like apparent and into the real. What he saw form I could muster – and hoped he might scrubbed his mind, and he could only think, sense the presence and feel a vague sense of it’s love; it’s all love over and over again.

unease. I didn’t expect that he would actu-Physically, his hair stood on end; his walri ally see the thought-form and die.

skullcap tumbled off his scalp, and his phal-But oh well…

lus extended so fast and furiously that the With the Frenchman gone, the end is
boner snapped his tiny Euro briefs.

in sight. Ordinarily, I’d feel very comfortable Something bubbled inside him; he
at this point in the race, but now I feel less broke into a sweat that was first hot then

KEVIN L DONIHE 94
cold. Helmut couldn’t see his ears, but he now. Coach de Papa, Coach de Papa – for-knew smoke rose from them. If he didn’t regive me for my blindness, and, most of all, lease energy soon he would combust, so he forgive me for killing you when I should have jumped off the bike and tore a hole in his squashed the bug.

racing uniform right over the crotch. Then he His voice returns, booming in my
got facedown on the road, arched his back, head: “I forgive you, son.”

and, with his right hand – and in front of an He called me ‘son.’ I can die now. I
audience of millions – saved himself from a can die. I die.

fiery demise.

Where am I?

No one at the race or in the viewing
audience paid much attention, however. All eyes were turned to Legbo, his Fountain of The Outpouring:

Freedom shooting higher than ever as he crossed the finish line in first place.

( So many reports and updates have come into the studio since Oscar’s victory that Anchorman Tim has had no time to cel-Inside Oscar’s severed head:

ebrate. Stagehands constantly cycle by the desk, throwing small white notes onto it.

I sense that I have crossed the finish line, The surface is covered, but they throw still but have no way of knowing this. Also, I more. Both anchors scramble to keep up with have no way of knowing how much time has the influx, but are drowning.) passed, for the void that now wants me seems timeless. No matter. Such things are no longer Anchorlady Jane ( passes out briefly, unable in my realm of concern. I’ve done what I to withstand the volume of reports, updates, needed to get done; now I can rest.

and newsflashes).

At the very last second, my percep-
tion returns, like a personal slideshow that Anchorman Tim ( pauses to catch his breath): I’m able to tune into from afar. My headless This is truly the greatest fucking moment in corpse is now being carried, held aloft by sports.

countless loving hands.

I also sense that my working has

Anchorlady Jane ( lifts head briefly to read been successful; I feel a presence around me from a note, and then drops it again): Yes, now, one that I’ve never felt outside the medi-Tim. People are spontaneously combust-
tative state. Still, I don’t know how long the ing. Fire is everywhere, but the fire is said working can be sustained without me around to be beautiful beyond words.

to guide and nurture it; I fear it will fade as I do, but maybe a taste of agape love is all the Anchorman Tim: And for every person on fire world needs to satiate itself..

there is another masturbating in public, but no I want to smile, but cannot. I
one cares because even the police are doing couldn’t have asked for a better scene with it.

which to end my life, so I allow my inner eyes to close. As my mind begins to unfurl, I again Anchorlady Jane ( arises for the long haul scream out to the only man I have ever loved.

and picks up a report littered with pie charts Coach de Papa, Coach de Papa, be
and diagrams): And it is predicted that, my guru and infuse meaning into my soul. In twenty years from now, Oscar will be the le-my last thought, as a gift to you, I will think of gal name of approximately 876,040,530 people a dee-da as a handlebar. That was another worldwide.

thing you always wanted, and I know this

95 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS

Anchorman Tim: Also, the CDC has declared can’t fight it!

Legbo Fever to be the first ever epidemic of joy.

(Nevertheless, they continue to fight for another minute, after which time they finally Anchorlady Jane (picks up yet another note, give in to the moment. Violent seizures rock appearing to have been rendered in orange their bodies; their eyes roll in ecstasy. Min-crayon): A litter of alien atomic kittens (or utes pass before Anchorman Tim and AAK, for short) was discovered wrapped up Anchorlady Jane regain consciousness.

in a basket near Hyde Park today. It is un-When they do, their eyes look different, glassy.) known whether these creatures were alive or dead at the time of their discovery. We will Anchorlady Jane ( turns to Anchorman Tim): I keep you updated as to how this story de-want you inside me.

velops.

Anchorman Tim: You’re already there.

Anchorman Tim ( is handed another sheet of paper, but this time the stagehand shoves it Anchorlady Jane: Am I?

directly in his face, like it’s very, very important and must be read now): This just in: Anchorman Tim: Yes.

there is no more war; there is no more famine, and the dead are no longer dead. Rejoice, Anchorlady Jane: And have I always been America; your loved ones return!

there – ( pupils dilate suddenly) – coiling inside your soul?

Anchorlady Jane ( receives her own urgent message and reads it on-air): Crackbabies Anchorman Tim: Yes.

are no longer crackbabies!

Anchorlady Jane ( looks at her hands): Am I Anchorman Tim: The national debt has van-tripping out?

ished!

Anchorman Tim: Relax. Just go with the flow.

Anchorlady Jane: And hospitals and mortuar-ies have closed down!

Anchorlady Jane: Am I going to die, Tim?

Anchorman Tim ( sweeps notes to the floor Anchorman Tim: No Jane, you’re going to and gets atop the desk and rends his cloth-live.

ing): There is nothing but love, shooting, spurting gouts of effervescent love, cover-Anchorlady Jane ( goes with the flow): I am ing the nation – in love.

Love, Tim.

(Anchorman Tim and Anchorlady Jane lose Anchorman Tim: And I am Love, Jane.

focus. They dart their eyes about the studio and swat their arms around in the air as ( They lift their hands and touch their palms though fending off something that the view-together and stare into each other’s eyes.) ing audience cannot see. )

Anchormanlady Timjane: We now are Linked; Anchorlady Jane: It’s too big, too big and we are United; we are One. God is with us.

righteous. I can’t let it into my body!

We are with God. God is with us. We are with God.

Anchorman Tim: It’s too strong, Jane! You

KEVIN L DONIHE 96

(They repeat these two lines twenty-five times In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

before saying anything new.)

Anchorman Tim ( sits with his head on the desk Anchorladyman Janetim: It is void that I see; and his fingers laced in his hair, down from it is Nirvana. We are here. Radiate with us.

his sudden agape love high and feeling very Radiate with our splendor.

hung over. Just seconds earlier he had been animated, coming out of his love trance and ( They babble for fifteen minutes before falling spraying various fluids all over the news-silent. With vacant expressions, they stare at room and the people in it. When he finally and into the camera for another fifteen, speaks, his voice sounds lifeless): It’s now sometimes reaching arms out as though to official; Oscar Lebgo is completely and ut-touch something. No one in the studio cares, terly dead.

nor does anyone in the home audience, either, because they’re all doing the same thing.) Anchorlady Jane ( feels separation anxiety due to her sudden soul-split with Tim, but maintains composure for the camera’s sake, The Ultimate End:

though her bra still hangs half-on/half-off the desk): That’s true, and it’s also been re-The crowd at the finish line carried Oscar’s ported that numerous fights have broken out body for nearly ten minutes, hooting,
amongst the crowd at the Tour de Saucisse-hollering, and enveloped by the sheer joy Dommages. It is uncertain at this moment that was Legbo. They imagined they carried whether fatalities are involved, but I’ve been him not atop the ground, but in space, atop a told that these skirmishes are especially brutal blanket of exploding, Technicolor stars. By and involve most, if not all, of the spectators.

the time they dropped him by the winner’s platform, the hallucinations had ended, and Anchorman Tim: Whoop de shit.

the red Fountain of Freedom had gone dry.

Still, the press corps gathered
around a now garland and tinsel draped Back in the Boardroom:

Legbo, often having their pictures made with him or contorting his body into suggestive

“Damn it! Damn it all!” The CEO of Legbo In-or alluring poses. Someone else shook a bottle ternational reached into a desk drawer and of champagne, opened it, and, in the spirit of removed a box of capsules. “I never thought it celebration, sprayed its contents all over would come to this.” He turned to the syco-Legbo. Yet another approached Oscar and phant. “Give one capsule to every worker here rubbed his hands up and down his cold chest today, and then take one yourself.”

and, in an entirely different spirit, groped The sycophant arose from his chair

Legbo’s package repeatedly. No one stopped and gave a salute. “Yes, sir!”

the man from doing this, so quite a few oth-

“Good. Now take the box; do what
ers soon joined in.

you have to do.”

“Speech! Speech!” someone said.

The sycophant disappeared quickly

But Oscar made no speech.

from the office, box in hand.

Everyone waited for him to get up,

“And you” – he turned to the third
thinking, perhaps, that he was just tired from wheel – “I want you on corpse detail, and the race, but he never did.

don’t forget to take your pill afterwards.”

When realization set in, hooting and

“Must I?”

hollering turned into lunging and slobber-

“Of course; you know the drill.” The
ing.

CEO smiled. “And I’m taking mine last just to

97 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
make sure you take yours first.”

gualangas – but the absence of decaying flesh tells me this cannot be so.

An ugly, misshapen man passes

Ninja:

close by, though he does not turn in my direction. It takes some time for me to realize As much as I might want to, I cannot stay that this isn’t a man at all, but a woman wear-here. If I cannot die, then I must return home ing a freshly shorn skin suit.

and face the wrath of my community. But then Then a voice interrupts my

I realize that I don’t know where home is or if thoughts, but it’s not in my head: “Hey, ninja-I’m even part of a community.

man,” a young, crew cut guy in an Oscar And what will I do once I get wher-Legbo t-shirt mumbles as he lurches towards ever it is I’m going? What can a one-time me, something hanging from his mouth that ninja do in the real world? Work fast food?

looks suspiciously like a severed penis.

Wash cars? It’s not as though I have money

“Wanna rumble-ahhaha with me?”

to go back to college.

I do not know what this person is

My answer is suddenly clear: I must
talking about, so I say nothing.

become a wanderer; I will have no brothers or He gets closer. Now I see that the
sisters, and a staff will be my constant com-thing is undoubtedly a penis and, judging panion.

by the growing red stain on his pants, it’s his own. “I said, do you want to rumble-ahhaha?”

* * * *

This man won’t leave me alone, so I

humor him: “I’ll gladly rumble-ahhaha with I walk for almost twenty minutes before I again you, provided the taste of my sword is to hear the sounds of chaos. Instead of dying your liking.”

down, the noises have gotten louder.

I look down, and realize that I’ve

As I begin to see the road, I realize
left my sword in the woods. “Fuck,” I say things are hanging from the trees that line it.

under my breath and run away, but barely go I can’t see what they are until I get closer: two steps before encountering another
people dangling without pants, for their pants bunch of crazies. These bastards are all now serve as both ropes and hangman’s
committing variations of hiri-kuku, suc-nooses. A few of the bodies still twitch, cessfully, and in mass numbers. And they though most are still.

aren’t even ninjas, just stupid flabby Ameri-I wonder what caused this, and then
cans and Europeans. I hate them. I hate them hope that whatever did wouldn’t cause the so much.

same to happen to me, especially since I’m My head buzzes: “Face it, you’re
wearing tighty whities and would hate to be just jealous because they can commit hiri-caught dead in them.

kuku and you can’t!”

But I am Ninja; I must be strong; I And it is then that I realize – truly
must ready myself for any possible assault realize – that the voices in my head have al-against me. In preparation, I reach down deep ways been right, and that I do suck – and to locate my chi, but it’s nowhere to be found.

suck hard – as a ninja.

I exit the woods anyway, and then
enter into madness. At first I think monsters are ripping at each other with teeth and hands In the Channel 5 Newsroom:

like claws. Then I realize these monsters possess human forms, which makes me think Anchorlady Jane: And we again go live to they’re zombies – or, as we ninjas call them, reporter Jake Dallas for perhaps the most im-

KEVIN L DONIHE 98
portant segment of The Word on the Street Man #3: For me to have taken you seriously ever.

you would have to have said ‘and need to back the fuck away.’

( Cuts to the same heavyset young man, standing with a microphone on the corner of the Jake Dallas: I’m sorry. Can I – say it again?

same city street.)

Man #3: No, too late! Skidaa hoffa-

Jake Dallas: What do you think our chances nomenklatta! I’m going to rip your heart out are of surviving until tomorrow?

with my teeth! ( Then he does just that.) Man #1: ( Dressed like a TV repairman. ) Slim ( Cut to the news desk at Channel 5.) to none. The Fuck Apocalypse has arrived.

It’s so bad outside now that all we can do is Anchorlady Jane: We hope the best for Jake go inside and fuck.

Dallas.

Jake Dallas: I guess you better get going, Anchorman Tim: Fuck him. ( He leaves his then. Sorry to keep you. ( Turns from the man desk with a lumbering gate.) And fuck ev-and approaches a woman dressed as a bo-erything else for that matter.

hemian poet.) Now, I’d like to ask you that same question.

Anchorlady Jane ( is very confused): Well, I guess the show has to – uh… wait, I’m re-Woman: It’s all death and death and gray ceiving word that people – perhaps hundreds and gray. It’s all thunderstorms, cloudbursts, of them – are throwing things at our down-and rainy days.

town office.

Jake Dallas: Indeed, and how about you, sir?

(A blood-leaking stagehand staggers up to Jane and hands her a note before collaps-Man #2: (dressed like a total retard): We’re ing.)

totally plungered, dude.

Anchorlady Jane: Oh, my God, if what I’m read-Jake Dallas: And you? ( Turns to a man dressed ing is true, then that man Jake interviewed was head to toe in entrails. Otherwise, he is na-right. The Fuck Apocalypse has arrived as ked.)

people – if I can even call them that – throw severed human heads and various other Man #3: Skidee-haha! Skidau alpo-freshly carved parts at our downtown office.

mennyhanah! Skidoo delap-nahanaha! ( He Please stop doing this. Please stop rioting. No attempts to lick Jake Dallas, his hands leav-sports figure is worth a single life lost. I’d ing deep red stains on the reporter’s suit as even say no god is worth it. Please stop. There he clutches it.)

have been reports of cannibalism. Don’t do this. Please go home now; tend to your fami-Jake Dallas: Please, you’re upsetting me, and lies. ( Her eyes widen and her mouth becomes need to back away.

a wide O.) Oh my God, Tim!

Man #3 ( rediscovers his human tongue): You (Anchorman Tim is presently off camera, bit-didn’t say ‘the fuck.’

ing an unresponsive stagehand. Then he chows down, ripping away and then con-Jake Dallas: Excuse me?

suming half the man’s face in a single bite.

Tim notices her attention and lunges in her

99 THE GREATEST FUCKING MOMENT IN SPORTS
direction, a piece of gristle hanging over become America’s new symbol, one that our his bottom lip.)

beautiful dead and dying nation can get behind as it takes that great and final leap into Anchorlady Jane (Spoken off camera, while the Forever Beyond.

running): And now we go live to an emer-Ladies and gentleman, I’ve said all
gency address from the President!

that I can say, and now must leave you. ( President removes a small caliber revolver from ( Cut to the President, again sitting in a chair his coat and blows his brains out on national in the oval office. He too appears to have TV.)

something hanging over his lip.) ( Cut back to the newsroom, but there’s no President: Oh Glory Hallelujanamarah – or one there, and the camera is slightly askew.) however you people out there say it – we, as a nation, have gone from the heights of expectation to the heights of sorrow to the heights of joy and back again in a single day.

Oh God-Narharmarhar – this is too much for us, myself included, to take.

My Fellow Americans, we have
long feared its arrival, but Apocalypse Fuck is finally here.

Intersplice: The Office of Standards and Practices
would do something, provided people there weren’t busy fucking and/or killing each other.

President ( cont.):

Fellow nations, please don’t look down on Americans or America as a whole; you can’t expect us not to break down, to break down and cry, if not scream and rend things, breaking the intact and annihilating the already broken; nor can we be expected not to put things in our mouths or other cavities that were never intended for such ingress, or not to run naked and screaming through the dark and sticky passageways of a night that will never end.

I’m sorry – so terribly sorry – but
there’s no magic pill to swallow that will return us to our previous state. It is a paradise lost. And so – beginning with this proclamation – Oscar Legbo supplants the eagle to

gina ranalli

LOCATION:

Seattle, WA

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Chunky Absurd

BOOKS BY RANALLI:

Chemical Gardens

Suicide Girls in the Afterlife

13 Thorns (w/ Gus Fink) – forthcoming

DESCRIPTION: Gina’s stories are absurd and bizarre, with a twist of the dark side. She will take you down some unexpected roads and leave you in the dust, crying for your mother. Sometimes there is a fair amount of swearing and that kind of shit in her books. Well…more than sometimes. Her stories might piss some people off. In fact, she hopes they do.

INTERESTS: environmentalism, feminism, eco-warriors, animal rights, vegan-ism, metal and punk bands, guitars, Halloween, zombies, skulls, horror flicks, tattoos, stacking books so high around the room that they are a crushing hazard.

INFLUENCES: Tim Burton, Jackson Pollock, Kerouac, Vonnegut, Rosa Parks, Dorothy Parker, Basquiat, Kurt Cobain, trazodone dreams, lava lamps, lots of caffeine.

WEBSITE:

www.myspace.com/ginaranalli

101 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

SUICIDE GIRLS

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE AFTERLIFE “Upsy daisy.”

I ignore the male voice, comfortable
in my slumber.

“Ms. Pogue Eldridge,” the voice an-
nounces loudly. “Your immediate presence at the Sterling Hotel is humbly requested.”

CHAPTER ONE

It’s daylight now and all around me
the forest still sputters here and there, happy in its afterglow.

Tramping through the electric forest on a

“We need to get you out of there,”

rainy night is suicide.

says the man gripping my arm. He’s an older All around me, tin-foil trees glow
guy—sixties perhaps—handsome and
silver-white, lightning branches scratching dressed in an immaculate white suit that the belly of the black sky which thunder-matches his hair and trimmed beard exactly.

purrs its pleasure and promises a newborn

“Have to get you checked in.”

baby downpour.

“Am I dead?” I ask.

Still, the night birds are unfazed by

“You’re dead weight, I can tell you
the threatening weather. Back and forth, they that.” He continues pulling at me.

sing static to each other and occasionally I

“I don’t feel cold. I’m dead right?”

get a glimpse of their comet eyes gazing down He pauses in his struggle. “What
at me as I pass.

do you think?”

I’m searching for the river of ice. I

I shrug. “I hope so. I tried to kill
increase my pace, knowing that the instant myself last night.”

rain begins to fall, I’m fried. The entire forest Ignoring the statement, he straight-will connect to itself and become a web of ens up, crosses his arms and clucks disap-electricity, impossible to move through with-provingly. “Suicides are a classless bunch.

out catching more than a friendly volt.

Now, get yourself out of that ice. We don’t Tuning out the cacophony of the
have all day.”

woods and listening beneath it, I at last hear Without thinking about it, I obey
the clunk clunk clunk of the river. Almost him, climbing out of the river and standing there.

on top of it, facing him.

Already, I can feel my hair coming

“That’s better,” he says. “Now, al-
alive, sizzling on my head and reaching for low me to introduce myself. My name is the sky. Moving too fast to avoid a low Salvadore. I will be your escort to the Ster-branch, my shoulder grazes it and I yelp as a ling Hotel and I suggest we get a move on.

jolt shoots all the way down my arm to my You have a reservation.”

fingertips.

“I do?”

Fuck.

“You do.” He offers me his arm.

My foot catches on a Brain tree,

“Shall we?”

some of its skeletal roots dancing blurs above the river and I am airborne, grasping the long-est vine and flying out over the ice just as the forest goes super-nova and I burn blind.

GINA RANALLI 102

CHAPTER THREE

“Get me checked in, I know, but…”

I look at the wall of white and then back at him. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Salvadore leads me through the electric for-

“There’s nothing to tell. Now, come.

est until I’m completely disoriented. East, Look, we’re almost there.”

west? I don’t know, and Salvadore isn’t say-We come to the top of a hill and and
ing. Behind us lays a vast white emptiness, a I see a blinding light bouncing off the tall new canvas without borders. No left, no right.

buildings of a great city.

No up, no down. Just white nothing, snug

“Welcome to the Virgin City,
up to our backs.

Pogue,” Salvadore says. “Spectacular, isn’t My heart stammers. “What the
it?”

hell…what’s going on?”

Nodding, it takes a moment for the

Indifferent, Salvadore reaches into
name of the place to register with me. When an inner pocket of his pristine white jacket it does, I look at him. “Did you say Virgin and pulls out a small roll of candy. He pops City?”

one into his mouth and offers me the roll.

“I did. You’ve heard of it?” He

“Life Saver?”

seems stunned.

I stare at him.

“No…but why virgin? Is that one He shakes the candy. “It’s green,”

of the prerequisites for getting into heaven?

he says temptingly. “Fungus flavor.”

Because if it is, you definitely brought me to

“Salvadore, where did the road go?”

the wrong place. I haven’t been a—”

Deciding he’d like the green candy

He hushes me by holding up his
for himself, he deftly flips it from the roll and hand and shaking his head. “It’s nothing like into his mouth before returning the Life Sav-that. Look.”

ers to his pocket.

My eyes follow his pointing finger

“Salvadore?”

to the sky, to the sun, which it turns out, isn’t

“Now is all there is,” he tells me with a sun at all but the gentle smiling face of the a small smile. “It’s best not to give it much Virgin Mary. She is gazing down at us with a thought. Just come along. We need to get pleased expression beneath her baby-blue you checked in.”

shawl, nodding her approval and giving me a We resume our journey but I’ve
wink.

only gone five or six steps when I sneak a Salvadore raises a hand and waves
glance back and see the white again. Fasci-to her, nudging me to do the same. I do and nated, I turn around and retrace my steps, her grin becomes wider, all teeth, white and peering into the nothing for some sense blinding.

of… something. There’s a moment when I I look away, blotches of light danc-think I see movement in there, in the nothing, ing on my retinas. “Damn,” I say. “She sure and I stop, straining my eyes. And then I see is bright.”

it again, a flickering flash, white on purest

“She’s happy to see you,”

white and I reach out my hand, wanting to Salvadore says.

touch the motion despite a sudden and dis-Rubbing my eyes in an attempt to
tinct chill that surrounds me.

see again, I say, “What’s up with this any-

“No!” Salvadore has come up be-
way? I’m not even Catholic.”

side me once more, swatting my hand aside.

Ignoring my question, Salvadore

“You don’t want to do that, Pogue.”

places a hand on my elbow and says, “Come

“Why not? What’s in there?”

on. We have a bus to catch.”

He opens his mouth as if to speak,

“A bus?”

then closes it again. “Come on. We need to—”

103 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

CHAPTER FOUR

Salvadore isn’t listening though.

Instead, he is smiling up at the building before us. As I turn to follow his gaze with my Sure enough, after we descend the hill and own, I notice that it is no longer day but night enter the city, we walk down an impossibly here in the Virgin City. A comfortable, breezy clean street to the corner, where there is a night, late summer or early fall by the feel of bus stop and a bench. Salvadore sits down it.

and pulls a hanky out of an inner jacket pocket And we are no longer alone either.

and blows his nose.

People are everywhere; happy people, every

“Where is everyone?” I ask. I can’t
last one of them. Milling around, talking, help but notice that we are the only people laughing, smoking, joking. Some of them are within sight. And not only are we alone on dressed to the nines while others appear to the street, but neither is there any traffic.

be homeless and in rags. A good number of Absolutely nothing moves anywhere, except them I hear commenting on the beautiful us. Not even a single candy wrapper blows evening, the stars and the moon.

by. “This is kinda creepy,” I say.

Glancing skyward, I once again see

“Maybe they all have the day off,”

the Mother Mary smiling, replacing the moon Salvadore says, returning the hanky to its as she had replaced the sun. Her countenance pocket. I start to reply but the appearance of is more than just the moon though. Peering an immaculate city bus distracts me. It ap-closing at the stars, I can just make out her pears to be brand new, sparkling clean, like blue shawl on each and every one of them. A the buildings themselves.

billion Marys hang above us, twinkling and

“Here we are,” Salvadore says, ris-
joyful and I have to look away quickly, sud-ing from the bench. “That wasn’t too long of denly feeling a bit queasy.

a wait.”

“Overwhelmed?” Salvadore asks,

The bus door hisses open and
placing a hand on my shoulder. Without wait-Salvadore gestures for me to board first. I ing for my response, he continues and ges-climb the steps cautiously, eyeing the black tures at the building before us, “Why don’t female driver with more than a little suspi-we go inside.”

cion. She smiles cheerfully at me as I look For the first time, I focus my atten-around for a coin box that isn’t there.

tion on the grand white structure lit up as if

“No toll,” Salvadore says from be-
for a debutante’s ball. “What is this place?”

hind me. “Just take a seat.”

“This,” Salvadore says, “is the Ster-

I do as I’m told, choosing the first
ling Hotel.”

bench on the left, and slide over to the window. Salvadore sits beside me as the door closes and the bus pulls out onto the deserted street.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Almost there now,” he says.

Frowning, I look from him to the
view outside the window just as the bus is We move through the crowd and begin as-pulling over at what must be the next bus cending the hotel’s two dozen marble stairs stop. Before I can make any reaction whatso-to the revolving glass doors that allow us ever, he has risen from the seat and is exiting access into the elegant building and its beau-the bus again. I leap up, hurrying after him.

tifully refined lobby.

Once more on the sidewalk, I say,

Despite all the bustling outside, the

“Was that even half a block? We could have lobby is relatively calm. A few people are just walked.”

seated on lush white furniture, speaking in

GINA RANALLI 104
soothing tones and smiling and nodding at He does seem like an honest old coot. “Oh, each other.

thank God. I was sick of my life. You have no

“This is too weird for me,” I say,
idea.”

stopping in my tracks. “Why does everyone Rolling his eyes, he says, “Can we
seem so nice?”

get back to business, please?”

Salvadore shrugs. “They’re mostly

“Oh, right. Sure. You were saying
pretty nice, I suppose.”

something about a seminar?”

“Is this the afterlife? A fancy hotel?

“Yes. But never mind that because

Because if it is, I have to tell you, I’m kind of you won’t need to attend it now.”

disappointed.”

“Why not?” For some reason I feel

He stares at me, looking vaguely
slightly jilted.

annoyed. “We have to get you checked in.

Salvadore is starting to look ex-

As I think I mentioned, I have other appoint-tremely distressed and impatient, so I just ments.”

forget my last question and resign myself to

“Are most people happy to find out
let him tell me whatever it is he needs to tell this is the afterlife?” I glance around again.

me. Which turns out to be this: “Both heaven

“I can’t believe they’re happy about it.”

and hell are undergoing some renovations Salvadore sighs. “This isn’t quite
right now. Everyone who’s already there is the afterlife, Pogue.”

fine. But we have nowhere to put up all the

“It’s not?”

newcomers, like yourself. You have to un-

“I’m not supposed to say anything
derstand, both places—but particularly about this. But, frankly, you’re getting on my Hell—are growing in scope and size every nerves. You were supposed to go to the semi-day. So, every few millennia, we have to make nar.”

renovations here and there. Spruce the place

“What seminar?”

up, if you will.”

“The seminar that would explain all

I listen to all this, nodding like I
this to you.” He gestures at our surround-know what he’s talking about. When it seems ings. “This is just where we have to put you like he’s finished, I say, “So, you put every-up for a while. Free of charge, of course.”

one in a hotel?”

“Put me up? What are you talking

“That’s correct, yes.”

about?” I am beginning to suspect that I’m It’s my turn to sigh and I let out a
not actually dead at all. My suicide attempt huge one. “Wow. That’s pretty fucked up.

must have failed and now I’m in some loony-When will the renovations be complete?”

bin, probably imagining all of this. Salvadore He smiles, like he’s finally on familis probably a head shrinker. Unless I’m imag-iar ground again. “Any day now.” He holds ining him too. “I’m not really dead, am I?

out a hand to me. “Shall we get you checked Fuck! I knew I’d manage to screw it up some-in now?”

how.” I stand there shaking my head, disI think about it, regarding his out-
gusted with myself.

stretched hand carefully. “I guess so,” I say

“You’re dead all right,” Salvadore
finally, taking his hand and allowing him to says.

lead me to the front desk where a clerk with a I look at him, skeptical. “You’re just pencil-thin mustache awaits, smiling happily saying that to make me feel better.”

like he has the best job in the world.

He holds up a hand, his thumb and

“Check in,” Salvadore says.

pinky folded down. “Scout’s Honor, Pogue.

“Eldridge, Pogue.”

You are indeed dead.”

The clerk nods and types some-

It takes me a second to decide
thing into his computer. “Ah, yes. Suicide.

whether or not I believe him, but then I smile.

Electrocution was it?”

105 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

Frowning, I say, “What does that

Mr. Mustache. “Another damn fool who
have to do with anything?”

went and offed herself before she’s even old Pencil-mustache’s smile widens.

enough to vote.”

“Only everything,” he says.

“I told you,” Katina says, trying to

“Electrocution,” Salvadore con-
pull free of the woman’s grasp, “I didn’t off firms and Mustache bends down, rummages myself. At least not on purpose.”

beneath the counter for a minute and comes The black woman releases the girl
up with a keycard. “You’ll be on the fifth floor.

and puts her hands on her hips. “Uh huh.

Room 658.”

Did you or did you not stick a needle in your I take the card and look at it. One
arm?”

side has the picture of a hippie guy, grinning Katina looks at the floor and says
and giving the peace sign. I flip it over and nothing.

the other side shows a pouty Goth, wearing

“Uh huh,” the woman continues.

black eyeliner and looking sullen. “Who are

“And did that needle contain enough smack these guys?” I ask.

to drop an elephant or did it not?”

“Well,” Salvadore says. “My job

Again, Katina makes no reply.

here is done. Good luck to you Pogue.” He

“Uh huh,” the woman repeats, turn-
holds out his hand to be shaken.

ing back to the desk. “Suicide.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here?”

“It was an accident!” Katina cries.

I say. “I thought you were my escort.”

Beside me Salvadore shakes his

“I was. And I escorted you. Now, if
head sadly while watching this exchange.

you’ll excuse me—”

“Honey,” the woman says to

“You should at least escort me to

Katina. “There are no accidents. Almost ev-my room,” I interrupt. “That would be the ery-damn-body is a suicide when you get gentlemanly thing to do.”

right down to it. Those are just the rules. You

“Actually, Pogue,” he says. “Truth
smoke and die of lung cancer? The big boy be told, I wasn’t even supposed to be your upstairs says suicide. You eat at McDonald’s escort. I was just filling in for someone else.”

every damn day of your life and your heart I fold my arms across my chest.

turns into a little ball of cement? Suicide. You

“Who?”

get drunk and drive into a tree or turn your Turning around to face the doors,
liver into jelly? Suicide. Don’t matter how long Salvadore points and says, “Her.”

or short it takes people. Fact is, most people I look and see a big black woman
kill themselves and it’s no use arguing about just spinning out of the revolving door. Once it. Like I said, those are the rules.”

inside, she turns to the person behind her, Katina looks at me, her eyes plead-just entering. “Get your scrawny white ass in ing.

here, bitch,” the black woman bellows. “Do I I shrug. “I did it on purpose. Sorry.”

look like I got all day?”

Salvadore clears his throat and ad-

The person she’s yelling at—a teen-
dresses the big black woman. “Ms. Stardust, age girl—looks pissed. She’s dressed like a I’d like to introduce you to Pogue. She was street kid, in ratty clothes that are too big for supposed to be your pick-up.”

her and her hair hangs to her shoulders in

“Is that so?” The woman gives me
long greasy strips.

the once over. “Well, sorry I missed you, The black woman, dressed in a big
sweetheart, but as you can tell I’ve had my purple dress with swirls of green and orange hands full.”

all over it, grabs the teenager by the arm and It’s only when I’m looking at her
starts pulling her over to the check-in counter.

face to face that I notice the Adam’s apple

“This is Katina,” the woman tells
bobbing up and down in her throat. And now

GINA RANALLI 106
that I’m thinking about it, her voice is an oc-Katina says, “So, in other words,
tave or two too low.

the rich people own fucking heaven too?

The fact that she’s really a dude is

What the fuck is up with that? That’s not only of passing interest to me. “Nice to meet right!”

you…uh…Ms. Stardust.”

Ms. Stardust says, “Umm hmm.

“This sucks,” Katina blurts

Death is no fairer than life, sweetheart. Don’t abruptly. “It’s not fair! I have to go to hell for let anybody tell you different.” The she turns killing myself, even though I didn’t really kill to Mustache Man and starts getting Katina myself?”

checked in while Katina and I eye each other

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart,”

with morbid curiosity.

Ms Stardust says, examining her long red

“You really offed yourself then,
fingernails. “I just follow ‘em.”

huh?”

“Hell?” I say, alarmed. I look at

I nod. “But I had my reasons.”

Salvadore.

“No reason is a good enough rea-

“What is she talking about hell for?”

son,” Ms. Stardust says over her shoulder.

He looks down at his watch.

Katina reaches into the pocket of

“Would you look at the time? I can’t believe her gray hoodie and pulls out a pack of gum.

how far behind I’m running!” And before I Juicy Fruit. Thoughtfully, she unwraps a piece can stop him, he walks briskly through the and then offers me the pack. I accept and by lobby and out through the revolving doors.

the time Ms. Stardust has returned her atten-I stare after him, my jaw hanging.

tion to us, we are both merrily chewing away

“That son of a bitch.”

and not talking.

Ms. Stardust barks a laugh. “Honey,

Ms. Stardust hands Katina her
you’re lucky he took time out of his busy keycard. “You’re on the sixth floor. Room schedule to escort you over here. He almost 544.”

never lowers himself for the suicides.”

I pause in my chewing. “I’m on the

“What do you mean?”

fifth floor.”

“Oh, that Salvadore. He usually

Arching an eyebrow at me, Ms.

does the rich white people who died old. Or Stardust says, “Is that right? Honey, I’m sur-sometimes young ones, if they were in tip-prised you’re not on the first or second.”

top condition and had nothing to do with

“Because I killed myself on pur-
their own deaths, which according to the pose?”

rules, amounts to pretty much the same

“That’s right.”

thing.”

“And Katina here killed herself by

“I’m not following you,” I say.

accident, so she gets to be on a higher floor.”

“Look,” Ms. Stardust says, ad-

“Now you’re catching on. And you
dressing both Katina and I. “Pretty much know what? I’d love to stay here and chit-everyone is considered a suicide. The only chat with you lovely girls all night long, but ones who aren’t, are the ones who could af-my shift isn’t over yet and I got more junkies ford to take care of themselves, you see what to claim.”

I’m saying? Rich folks that could go to their Still chewing her gum, Katina asks,
fancy-ass gyms, buy the best organic foods,

“Are you a grim reaper or what?”

get the best medical care. Those are the folks Ms. Stardust puts her hands on her
that are in the luxury suites right this very hips and looks down at Katina, her face minute and those are the folks old Sally es-scrunched into a frown. “Now, why would corts over here. You were just a fluke, honey.”

you want to go insult me like that? Do I look I try to absorb what she’s saying
like a grim reaper to you?”

and can’t quite make it work in my head.

“Well, no, but. How should we know

107 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE
what a grim reaper looks like? It’s not like he slipped a groove. Finally, I say, “I don’t I’ve ever been dead before.”

know. Now you have me curious.”

“Umm hmm,” Ms. Stardust says,

“Me too,” says Katina. “I’m getting
still looking perturbed. “Anyway, you ladies off on your floor.”

enjoy your stay here at the Sterling Hotel. If Ago sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have
you need anything, just dial zero on your told you.”

room phones and Louis over there will see The elevator stops at every floor
that you get it. Okay, then? Good. Bye-bye.”

but no other passengers get on.

Katina and I watch Ms. Stardust

We arrive and leave the fourth floor
sashay across the lobby and out into the without incident and then the elevator night, both of us chewing our gum much lurches violently, causing all three of us to louder than we have to, as if the normal act of lose our balance. Katina and I fall down, but chewing gum will rub off on this extremely Ago is holding onto the rail, obviously ex-strange situation.

pecting it.

Once she’s gone, we look at each

“You could have warned us,” I say,
other and shrug.

getting to my feet.

“Guess I’ll go find my room,” I say.

“No, shit,” Katina agrees, standing

“Yeah, me too.”

up. “I swallowed my gum.”

Together we make our way over to

Ago ignores us and begins trying
the elevators, Katina snapping her gum ev-to pry open the elevator doors with his fin-ery few seconds. I push the up button and gers. He grunts and groans with the effort, the door immediately opens. Inside, a young occasionally swearing under his breath. “Can pale guy stands there, just watching us.

one of you give me a hand?”

I say, “Are you like, the elevator

“Sure,” I go over and start to yank
guy?”

on the doors. A minute later, it budges and

“The elevator guy? No, I’m Ago.”

we can clearly see that we’re stuck between

“Pardon me?” By now Katina and I
floors. Forcing the doors wide enough for a have entered the elevator and the shiny sil-person to be able to squeeze through takes ver door has slid shut.

another few seconds and then I stand back

“That’s my name,” the guy says.

to admire our handy work. “Looks like we’ll

“Ago.”

have to climb up.”

“Ah.”

“Always do,” Ago says and begins

“That’s a pretty stupid name, you
to do exactly that.

ask me,” Katina says.

Outside the elevator, there is noth-

Ago gives her a wounded look, so I
ing to be seen. Just darkness.

quickly say, “Don’t mind her. She’s pissed

“Is the power out on your floor?” I
because they’re saying she’s a suicide.”

ask.

“Pretty much everyone is a suicide,”

“There’s never any power on 4 ½,”

Ago says.

Ago says, hauling himself up and clamber-

“Not me!” Katina snaps her gum
ing into the darkness. Then he disappears angrily and pushes the button for the sixth out of sight, as if the darkness has swallowed floor. “Hey,” she says. “There’s a button here him whole.

that says 4 ½.”

“Ago?” I call. “Where did you go,

“That’s my floor,” Ago says. “You

Ago?”

don’t want to go there.”

As if from very far away, his voice

“Why not?” Katina asks.

drifts down to us. “Just be on your way. This

“Because it doesn’t really exist.”

is no place for you.”

Katina and I both look at Ago as if

Of course this does nothing but

GINA RANALLI 108
make me want to check out floor 4 ½ all the suspect is my ass, but I can’t really be sure.

more. “Give me a boost,” I say to Katina.

It’s more of a mental push than a physical For a second she looks like she may
one and the next thing I know I’m falling protest, then she shrugs and makes a step down into light.

out of her laced hands.

I crash with a grunt and look up to

Using my elbows for leverage, I pull
see Katina looking down at me. “How was myself up and exit the elevator into nothing it?” she asks, snapping a new piece of gum, but thick blackness. I turn around to see the her expression bored.

inside of the elevator, though it is no longer For the second time, I pick myself
directly behind me. It’s a long ways off, a up off the elevator floor and say, “I don’t skinny rectangle of light that seems to be want to talk about it.”

receding even as I watch. “What the hell…”

Katina gives me a snotty look and

“You made a mistake,” Ago says,
says, “What ev. Help me get this stupid door his voice beside my ear now.

closed.”

“How can you stay on this floor?

You should definitely ask to be moved someplace else.”

Ago chuckles. “I wish. But this is

CHAPTER SIX

Purgatory.”

“Purga—wait. What?”

And it’s as if the word being spo-

Together we manage to close the elevator ken aloud has triggered some kind of limbo door and then we’re rising again, but only switch, because my body flattens and
for a few seconds. Then the door whooshes stretches and twists in a way that the human open and we’re looking out into what ap-body is definitely not meant to do. Or maybe pears to be an average hotel hallway.

it’s the darkness that is actually changing

“Fifth floor,” Katina says, watching
shape, but if that’s the case then that would me expectantly.

mean that I have become part of the dark-

“I see that! Don’t you think I see
ness and the thought—in addition to the that?”

ceaseless shape-shifting—suddenly makes Katina waves towards the hall.

me feel like vomiting, which I almost certainly

“Well, fucking go.”

would have done if I’d been able to deterI clear my throat. Take a deep breath.

mine where my stomach was or if it was even Gingerly stick my foot outside the elevator still part of my body.

and test the floor of the hallway. Seems solid,

“Are you guys okay?” Katina. From
so I step out and then turn back just as the very far away. “Guys?”

elevator door is sliding closed. I raise my I try to respond that I’m most defi-hand to wave goodbye to Katina but then nitely not okay but I have no words. I’m not she reaches out, stopping the door from clos-even sure if I have a mouth or vocal cords. I ing. “Fuck this,” she says, getting off the decide that if I ever get out of here, the hotel elevator to stand beside me. “I don’t want to management is going to get an earful. They’ll do this shit alone.”

wish they’d never even heard the name Pogue Who can blame her? She’s just a

Eldritch. Maybe they’ll even realize that this kid after all.

whole Purgatory thing was a bad idea. A very I pull my keycard out of my pocket
bad idea.

and say, “Room 735. That’s funny. I could I’m just starting to compose a letter
have sworn it was a different number before.”

of complaint in my mind when I feel some-

“Isn’t 735 kind of high too?” Katina
thing like a boot plant itself firmly in what I asks. “This place doesn’t seem big enough

109 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE
to have that many rooms.”

Katina is sitting at the table, look-

We consider this for a moment and
ing at a menu. “Are you hungry?” she asks.

then shrug in unison. “Oh, well,” I say, look-

“I’m starving.”

ing up and down the hall. The nearest room Sitting down across from her, I ask,
is numbered 737. “I guess we’re pretty much

“Is there room service?”

here already.”

“Surprisingly, yes. At least accord-

At 735, I slip the keycard into its
ing to this there is, but the menu is kind slot and a little green light flashes. I open the of…uh…sparse.”

door cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

“Give me that.” I lean over and pluck

When I flip the light switch, how-
it from her fingers. Studying the menu, I say ever, the room appears to be completely nor-

“What the hell? ‘ Floors six and lower (ex-mal. A carbon copy of a million other hotel cluding floors one and lower) can choose rooms across the globe.

from a wide variety of our house baked pies, There is a double bed, a floral pas-day or night, free of charge.’ “ Pies? That’s tel bedspread across it, a small desk, a laven-all we get? I was hoping for nice plate of der lounge chair, a little table with two straight-pasta in white sauce.”

backed chairs tucked neatly beneath it. A

“Yeah, and I could go for a nice
closet with a wooden sliding door. A night bloody steak but it looks like we’re SOL.”

table with a white ceramic lamp and that’s it.

Katina leans back in her chair and puts her

“This is so not how I pictured
feet on the table. “Did you look at the kinds Heaven to be,” Katina says.

of pies they have?”

“It’s not Heaven,” I remind her.

I look down at the menu again.

“Heaven is under construction, remember?”

“What’s rock pie?”

“Whatever,” she says, plopping

“Beats me. Probably made with
herself down onto the bed. “I can’t believe rocks, is my guess.”

you don’t even have a mini-bar.”

I get up and go over to the phone

“Yeah,” I say. “That sucks.”

on the nightstand. I dial zero and wait for I go over to the one window in the
someone to pick up. It takes them several room and pull back the pink drapes. Outside, minutes, but when they finally do, I recog-there is a mountain range, gray with snowy nize Mustache Man’s voice right away. “Hi,”

peaks. Quite beautiful, except that it’s movI say. “Yeah, this is room…uh…” I look at ing. Rolling past the window as if it were the Katina and snap my fingers, pointing to the backdrop of a movie. “Shit,” I mutter. “The keycard on the table. She picks it up and says, mountains are moving. How messed up is

“631.”

that?”

Frowning at her, I repeat the num-

Katina comes over and looks out.

ber into the phone. “We’re kind of hungry

“The mountains aren’t moving. We are.”

up here and noticed that the menu says we’re

“Really?” I look closer at the moun-
only allowed to have pies.”

tains. “It doesn’t feel like we’re moving.”

“The pies are excellent, I assure you

She sighs loudly and moves away
madam,” says Mustache Man.

from the window. “Well, we are. The hotel is

“I’m sure they are, but you
flying or some shit.”

know…we’re hungry for something a little I watch for another minute or two
more substantial than pie right now.”

and determine that Katina is correct. Though

“House rules,” he says crisply.

it can’t be felt, the hotel is indeed flying. I

“House rules,” I repeat, trying to
wonder where we are. The Rocky Mountains?

sound indignant.

The Andes? My stomach lurches and I have Katina jumps out of the chair and
to turn away from the window.

barrels over to me, grabbing the phone out

GINA RANALLI 110
of my hand. “Listen, buddy, we think your table, leaning over to listen to the pie. Jane house rules suck, so why don’t you just send 62 dishes out a slice and suddenly the room us the menu that all the rich people on the is filled with loud opera music, a woman bel-upper floors are getting?”

lowing in what I think is Italian.

I sit down on the edge of the bed

“Opera pie,” she says, handing me
and watch as she listens. It seems like she the plate. “It’s quite delicious.”

listens for a long time. Then: “Okay, fine.

Crinkling my nose, I say, “I hate

Whatever. But it better be good.” Then she opera.” If I could, I’d crinkle my ears as well.

slams the phone down into its cradle.

“Guess we should have gotten the

“Fucking wanker,” she says to it.

rock pie after all,” Katina says, taking her

“Are they sending us another
plate.

menu?” I ask.

The pie looks like cherry, but I have

“Nope,” she replies, heading to-
no intention of eating it. It’s giving me a head-wards the bathroom. “He said he was send-ache and I hand it back to Jane 62. “I’m not ing up pie.”

hungry right now,” I say loudly, to be heard Groaning, I flop back on the bed and
over the music.

look at the ceiling. Oddly, it’s covered with Katina decides not to eat it either.

tire tread marks of all shapes and sizes. Thin

“Let’s try to get up to a higher floor and find treads that could have been made by a little some real food,” she suggests.

wagon of some sort, bicycle treads, all the

“Good idea,” I say. I turn to Jane 62.

way up to treads that could have only been

“Will you get this out of here? I really can’t made by an SUV. I make a mention of it to stand opera.”

Katina who lies down beside me and points.

“We also have a nice country pie,”

“I think that one is from a grocery cart,” she she says pleasantly. “Apple flavored and not says. “I used to work in a grocery store.”

quite as loud. Would you like me to bring

“Hmm,” I say.

one up?”

Someone knocks on the door and

“No!” Katina and I say together.

Katina jumps up to answer it. I don’t move.

Jane 62 looks hurt but starts stack-

I’m pretty I don’t want to know who it is, but ing the plates of pie back onto the tray and nevertheless, Katina says, “It’s room service covering them. Immediately, the volume of with our pie.”

the music becomes at least tolerable. “You’ll

“Great,” I say sarcastically.

have a hard time getting to the higher floors,”

“I’ll just put it over here on the

Jane 62 says. “It would be much easier to go table,” says a new female voice.

down than up.”

I sit up to see a strange alien/hu-

“Why is that?” I ask.

man hybrid in a tuxedo shirt and black trou-

“It’s just the rules,” she replies.

sers crossing the room and carrying a silver

“Fuck!” Katina blurts. “I’m so sick
tray with a covered dish, plates, and silver-of hearing about the rules.”

ware on it. She smiles at me, big black alien

“The guests on the upper floors
eyes blinking slowly. “Hi. I’m Jane 62,” she have entitlement issues,” Jane 62 explains.

says with her tiny slit of a mouth. She puts

“Most of them are not very pleasant.”

the tray on the table and uncovers the pie. It

“Rich people,” I say. “Why am I not
looks like a regular pie but it sounds like surprised?”

there’s music coming from it, very faintly.

“I don’t care,” Katina says. “I just

“Is there a Jane 63?” Katina asks.

want to

“Not that I know of,” Jane 62 re-
get out of this room. I’m bored.”

plies, cutting into the pie with a huge knife.

“We could go check out your

I get off the bed and go over to the
room,” I suggest.”

111 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

She nods. “Maybe I’ll have a better

“I have no idea. I don’t even get
menu.”

paid.”

Jane 62 asks what floor Katina’s

For some reason this strikes me as
room is on, then shakes her head. “You can funny and I start laughing. Katina cracks up go up there,” she says to Katina. “You can’t,”

too, but Jane 62 just stands there looking she says to me.

thoughtful.

“That’s retarded,” I say.

The elevator opens and the three of

Katina starts bouncing around. “I’m
us climb in. I push the button for 4 ½ and bored! I don’t care where we go. Let’s just when we get there, we have to pry open the go! ”

doors again.

We follow Jane 62 out into the hall,

“Ago!” I yell into the darkness. “You in me patting my pocket to make sure I have my there?”

keycard on me.

“Get your ass over here,” Katina

Outside my door is a cart filled with
shouts. “We’re having a mutiny!”

covered trays and it sounds like a dozen difI laugh again and together Katina
ferent radio stations playing at once. Jane 62
and I scream for Ago and finally he shows starts pushing the cart down the hall and the himself. He has to crouch down and stick his tangled music starts to recede a bit.

head into the elevator so we can see him.

“Why don’t you come with us?” I

“What kind of mutiny?” he asks.

ask when she pauses at the room next door

“We’re gonna explore the hotel,” I
to mine.

tell him.

She turns back. “Upstairs? I’m not

He seems puzzled. “Why?”

allowed up there either.”

“Why not?” I counter.

“Why not?”

“Well, we might run into Lucy for

“This is my floor,” she says. “We’re
one thing.”

all assigned our floor and we’re not sup-Jane 62 lets out a little gasp that
posed to leave it.”

might be fright.

“That’s bullshit,” I tell her. “Why

“Who the fuck is Lucy?” Katina
would you let anyone tell you what to do like demands.

that? What is this, a prison?”

His face deadly serious, Ago says,

Jane 62 looks uncertain, the gray-

“Lucifer.”

green skin of her forehead wrinkling slightly as though she’s worried. “I have always wanted to see other parts of the hotel.”

“Hey!” Katina says suddenly. “We

CHAPTER SEVEN
should go back to that limbo floor and get that guy too. What was his name again?”

“Ago,” I say.

“Lucifer,” I say. “As in, the devil? That Luci-

“Yeah, him. What do you think?

fer?”

Party in my room?”

“The one and only,” Ago says.

“Sounds good to me.” I look at Jane

“But, from what I heard, it’s best if you don’t 62. “You only live once. Fuck the rules.”

call him the devil to his face. He’s pretty sen-She stays where she is, so I shrug
sitive about it.”

and Katina and I head for the elevator. Just I purse my lips, carefully consideras I’m pushing the button, Jane 62 jogs over ing this new information.

and says, “I hope I don’t get caught.”

Beside me, Katina is laughing. “I’m

“Will you get fired or something?” I
gonna get to meet Satan in the flesh? This is ask.

too awesome! I don’t even believe in him!”

GINA RANALLI 112

“You will soon enough,” Ago says
our little rebellion. Mostly people just give and climbs down into the elevator. “But, what us weird looks and politely refuse. A couple the hell. Purgatory is getting boring anyway.”

times we have doors slammed in our faces. A Clapping him on the back, I say,
few of the guests won’t open their doors at

“Great. One more person for our revolt.”

all, but yell curses at us just the same.

The elevator doors slide shut and I

We go down to the next floor and
push the button for the 6th floor. The box gives find it to be even more raggedy than the prea lurch, jarring us all, but then doesn’t move.

vious one. Here the wallpaper is peeling off

“See?” Jane 62 says. “We’re not al-
the walls and the carpets have stains and lowed up there.”

cigarette burns and the room doors are all

“What about me?” Katina protests.

dirty. The lights in the ceiling fixtures flicker

“My room is on the 6th floor!”

sporadically and on more than one occasion

“You could go up there if we weren’t
we find ourselves in almost complete dark-with you,” Jane 62 explains. “But since we ness.

are, the elevator won’t go any higher.”

Again, we have no luck and pile

“It’s like a built-in security system,”

back into the elevator, both Ago and Jane 62

Ago adds.

becoming increasingly nervous.

“Well, that’s just great,” I say sar-

When the doors open on the next
castically. “Why didn’t you guys tell us this lower floor, we see that it is in even worse before?”

condition than the last. The ceiling leaks and

“We never tried to go up before,”

the hallway is strewn with trash. There’s Jane 62 says. “We just heard that this would shouting coming from behind several of the happen and apparently it’s true.”

doors, as well as the sound of people weep-

“Great,” I say again. “Can we go
ing. I go to knock on the door of room 256
down to the lower floors?”

and the only response I get is something

“Why would you want to go
thrown and smashed against the other side down?” Ago asks, as if it’s the most prepos-of it.

terous idea he’s ever heard.

At the far end of the hall, two guys

I don’t bother answering him and
come running out of a room, one chasing the just start pushing buttons. The elevator other with a huge meat cleaver and scream-comes back to life, lowering us slowly.

ing, “I’ll chop your fucking head off, you

“Oh, shit,” Ago whispers, while Jane
prick!” The first one plows into Katina, al-62 makes that gasping sound again.

most knocking her over and then barrels down

“What’s wrong?” Katina asks them.

the hallway towards me. I flinch as they race

“Scared of a little Beelzebub are you?” She by and then they run into another room, slam-laughs maniacally, pointing and teasing them.

ming the door behind themselves.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a great
idea,” Katina calls out to me.

I open my mouth to agree, but the

CHAPTER EIGHT
door behind me suddenly swings open and I turn to see an older woman standing there in a slinky red robe. She looks somewhat like A second later the elevator comes to a stop Marilyn Monroe, if Marilyn had lived to en-and the doors open onto a floor that doesn’t ter her mid-fifties and drank hard liquor ev-look very different from mine. A little more ery day of her life. She’s smoking a cigarette rundown, but that’s about it. The four of us in one of those long cigarette holders and tromp out and then split up, knocking on looking at me from beneath eyelids painted a doors and trying to get people to join us in ridiculous shade of blue.

113 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

“What’s this you’re yelling about,

“Don’t you want to put something
honey?” she asks, exhaling smoke through else on?” I ask.

her nostrils.

“Nah. This is all I got anyway. What

“Uh…” I hesitate, but then tell her

I was wearing when I did the ole…” She points about what were doing. She listens silently, a long-nailed finger to the side of her head smoking, without expression.

and mimes shooting a gun.

“Sounds like a real gas,” she croaks,

“Suicide, huh?” Katina says.

when I finish. “I ain’t got nothing better to

“There’s a surprise.”

do.”

“Suicide- murder,” Lithia says with By now, the others have joined me
a tone of pride. “That no good bastard had it and are regarding this woman with blatant coming though, I can guarantee you that.”

skepticism.

None of us care to ask her to elabo-

“What’s your name?” I ask, out of
rate, so we just smile and nod and then head politeness.

back towards the elevator, Lithia bringing up She grins at me, showing off her
the rear in her bare feet.

yellowed crooked teeth. “The name’s Lithia, When we get into the elevator,
darlin’. And who might you all be?”

though, we quickly discover that it won’t go I introduce myself and everyone
back up. All the buttons to the upper floor else.

remain dark when we push them.

“Pleased ta meet ya,” she greets

“It’s because of her,” Jane 62 says,
everyone in turn. Then: “Yep, I reckon I’ll pointing at Lithia. “It won’t let us go back up come along for the party. I’m sick to death of with her in here.”

this hellhole. You’re all from above, eh?”

“Well, don’t that beat all,” Lithia

I tell her that Katina and I are, but
says mildly, dragging on her cigarette. Even Jane 62 is sort of an employee of the hotel though she keeps smoking, the cigarette and Ago is from Purgatory.

doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter.

Lithia nods. “Gotta be better than

“What should we do?” I ask no one
this shit. You see where they put me? Only a in particular.

floor or two above Hell, that’s where. Those The elevator suddenly jerks to life,
fucking bastards. I was a Rockette once upon going down.

a time and this is how they treat me! Look at these gams!” She sticks out one of her legs and wiggles it seductively. We all make sounds like we’re impressed but, really, it just CHAPTER NINE
looks like a leg. A little scrawny if anything.

The two guys who were chasing
each other fly out of their room again, this

“Uh oh,” says Jane 62.

time the previous chaser is now the chasee

“We’re fucked,” Ago agrees.

and his meat cleaver is buried deep inside Katina starts laughing yet again and
the back of his head.

everyone looks at her like she’s crazy.

We watch them go by, all of us hor-

“You have a weird sense of humor,”

rified, except for Lithia. “Oh, don’t mind those Ago tells her.

two,” she says. “They’re just playing.”

She makes a face at him, but then

“Maybe we should get off this
bites the inside of her cheek in an attempt to floor,” Jane 62 suggests. “I think I’ve seen quell her giggling.

enough of the lower floors for now.”

The elevator door opens, this time

“Great idea, missy,” Lithia says.

with a strange hissing sound and the scent

“Lead the way. I’m right behind ya.”

that wafts inside is unmistakable.

GINA RANALLI 114

“Oh, man,” Ago says, pinching his

Smells like it too.

nose closed. “Brimstone!”

From inside the elevator, Lithia says, Katina loses her struggle and busts

“Oh yeah. I heard of those dung devils be-out laughing. She’s practically falling over, fore. Never believed they really existed but I she’s so hysterical.

guess they do.” She chuckles dryly, takes a Outside the elevator, the sounds are
drag off her cigarette and then starts hack-not nearly as identifiable as the smell. There ing. She coughs so long and loud that Jane is the sound of screaming, but it’s hard to tell 62 exits the elevator with a disgusted look on if it’s human. Could be animal.

her face. Not an easy accomplishment, con-The hallway in front of us is even
sidering she barely has features.

more dark and gloomy than the floor above From behind a nearby door, some-us was. So dark that you have to squint to one lets out a wrenching scream that makes see anything at all.

us all jump.

“I’m not going out there,” Ago says,

“This is where people get murdered
punching the elevator buttons, trying to get over and over again,” Jane 62 says nervously.

the door to close.

Ago cringes in the corner of the el-

Katina pushes past us, goes out
evator and says, “This hotel blows. I’m glad into the hallway. “This isn’t real,” she yells I’m not paying to stay here.”

at us, grinning like a lunatic. “This can’t be

“Oh, you’re paying sweetheart,”

real! Don’t you guys get it? It’s like…a dream Lithia coughs. “We’re all paying plenty.”

or…”

As if in response to Lithia’s state-

A shadow—moving fast—slams
ment, the elevator begins to shake violently, into her and explodes on impact. At the same bouncing around the two of them still inside.

exact instant, any meager light source out Ago falls down and then scrambles out on there is extinguished.

all fours, his eyes rolling with fear. Lithia Out of all of us, Ago is the one who
seems less alarmed and manages to keep her screams.

balance, stepping out into the hall with the

“What in the name of holy hell was
rest of us, a sour expression on her face.

that?” Lithia asks.

“Piece of shit,” she growls at the

I jump out of the elevator to the place elevator.

where Katina just was, expecting to have to The moment it’s empty, the box
run in either direction, either to avoid some-ceases its shaking and the door slides shut thing or to search for her. Instead, I trip on with a clanking thud. Ago immediately be-something and almost fall. I manage to keep gins punching the up button and says, “Sorry, my balance but from somewhere in the gloom ladies, but even Purgatory is better than on the floor, Katina, yells, “Ouch! Watch this.”

where the fuck you’re walking!”

But the elevator ignores him, refus-

“Sorry,” I say, reaching down to
ing to open, and then it is promptly forgotten where her voice came from, offering her a as a tremendous wind blasts us, blowing our hand up.

hair and reeking of crap. We all turn as one to

“Trust me,” she says. “You don’t
see the dung devil, easily as tall as me, round want to touch me. Oh, fuck, it smells like….it the corner, heading straight towards us.

smells like shit! That thing that hit me was A shit cyclone, splattering the walls
made of shit!”

and everything in its path with feces.

The lights flicker, threaten to go out

“That one is bigger,” Katina shouts,
again, but stay on, at least for the time being.

turning and fleeing in the opposite direction.

Katina struggles to her feet and sure

It doesn’t take the rest of us long to follow enough, she appears to be covered in shit.

suit, bolting down the hall with the dung devil

115 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE
at our heels, stinking of a Hell we never knew before I puke into a slimy trail of shit that existed.

travels up the hall and around the corner.

In the lead, Katina abruptly slams

The path of the dung devil.

to a halt and dashes inside the nearest room, The others are around me a moment
which is, thankfully, unlocked. We all make it later and someone pats my back. I look over inside and slam the door just as the shit my shoulder to see Jane 62 watching me and twister is passing on the other side.

shaking her head. “Humans,” she says. I wait

“Hey, sorry about barging in, man,”

for more but then realize that that is her entire Ago says turning to face the inside of the statement on the subject: just “humans.” Her room. “We were just— aw, fuck!”

face remains expressionless but her tone sad-The room we’ve just jumped blindly
ness and disgust and I can only turn back to into is littered with dead babies…or, rather, the task at hand and continue throwing up pieces of dead babies. A tiny arm here, a foot my guts.

over there, various heads, all in different

“We have to get off this floor,” Ago
stages of decomposition. Baby parts strewn says, sounding a little green himself. Katina over the floor, the bed, the desk. There are is freely weeping now, Lithia supporting her pieces nailed to the walls and ceiling, like with an arm around her waist.

props in some especially gruesome movie.

“There has to be stairs,” Jane 62

The man standing in the center of the room is says. “In one direction or the other.”

naked and holding something in his hands at

“Maybe we should split up and
crotch level, his hips pumping back and forth.

look for them,” Ago suggests.

I blink rapidly, certain that I can’t be

“No!” Katina and I shout at once.

seeing what I think I’m seeing, but Katina’s We exchange a glance and know we’ve both gagging assures me that my eyes are indeed seen all the same horror movies where split-telling the truth: the guy is standing there ting up is never a good idea.

fucking a baby’s head, slamming his dick into Ago looks vaguely annoyed but
the neck stump over and over, his eyes says, “Okay. But either way, we’d better get screwed shut and sweat pouring down his moving before another one of those shit face in rivulets.

storms comes around.”

“Jesus, God,” Lithia whispers and

“They’re the tumbleweeds of Hell,”

Katina starts to scream.

Jane 62 says quietly, almost to herself.

Lithia ignores her and says to Ago,

“Before the lights go out again too.”

“Right.” He looks down the hall, first CHAPTER TEN
one way then the other and finally shrugs.

“Does anyone have a preference?”

I also look in both directions before

The screaming is what breaks the man’s pointing to our right. “So far, the dung devils trance and he opens his bloodshot eyes to have been traveling that way. I’d rather have look at us, and then he adds to the screaming them at our back than run into them headfirst.”

himself. “I can’t stop!” He wails as his hips Everyone agrees that this makes
keep pumping, the muscles of his ass clench-sense, so we start off that way, leaving the ing and unclenching. “I can’t stop! Can’t dead baby fucker’s screams behind us.

stoooop!”

We round the corner and pass a few

I feel my stomach lurch and reach
more doors with weird sounds emanating from behind me to open the door. Dung devil or behind them, but we keep moving until we not, I’m getting out of this nightmare.

see a figure approaching from the opposite I manage to make it into the hallway
direction. The distance and flickering lights

GINA RANALLI 116
make the person hard to make out at first, but heavily. “Not what you were expecting? My it quickly becomes clear that it’s a tall thin pitchfork is in the shop right now.”

male, walking slowly, his face tipped towards I frown. Who would have thought
the floor, apparently watching his shoes.

that Satan would be so snotty?

No ones says anything at first, all

“Wow,” Katina says, fully recov-
of us silently dreading whatever it is that we ered from the sight of dead baby bits. “Damn, might run into next, but the closer we get to you’re fucking hot!”

the approaching man, the less threatening Lucifer looks at her and smiles
he seems until finally he looks up and, see-slightly. I’m suddenly alarmed to see that he ing us, stops.

is actually amazingly handsome, if you can

“Don’t ask me for any favors,” he
get past all the make-up and ridiculous out-says. “Because I’m fresh out.”

fit. He looks like a movie star when he smiles.

Ago and I look at each other warily

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” Luci-
but continue walking with the others behind fer tells Katina. “What’s your name?”

us. “Is this the way to the stairs?” I ask the

“She’s fifteen,” I bark at him, as if he guy.

would care.

He makes an irritated sound. “What

The smile slips off his face and he
the fuck did I just say? Are you fucking deaf?”

regards me with what is obviously dislike.

Now that we’re closer, I can see he’s

“Who are you? Her mother?”

just a skinny Goth guy, dressed in a black Pushing past him, I ask “Is this the
see-through net shirt and black pants. His way to the stairs? We’re in a hurry.”

hair is jet-black and spiked and he’s wearing Lucy laughs bitterly. “In a hurry,
black nail polish.

huh? To go where? To do what? Don’t you We reach him and stop. “There’s
morons get it? You’re stuck here now. With no need to be rude,” I say. “It was just a me!”

question.”

“That’s bullshit,” I say. “They said

The Goth snorts at me, then looks
we couldn’t leave our own floors too, but we over my shoulder at Lithia. “You got another did.”

one of those smokes I could bum?”

Ago gives me a nudge and whis-

“No!” she snaps at him with such
pers, “Knock it off, Pogue. You don’t want to ferociousness that we all look at her. “Why piss him off. He’s the devil, remember?”

don’t you ask one of your minions?” she

“I heard that!” Lucifer pouts. “Oh,
asks him. “Or is there no cancer in Hell?”

screw you guys. This is what I get for trying Puzzled we all turn back to the guy,
to be nice.” He squeezes by everyone and who looks genuinely wounded. And tired.

continues on his way down the hall.

There are sagging gray bags beneath his

“He was trying to be nice?” I won-
eyes, which are emphasized by thick lines of der aloud.

black eyeliner. “Fine.” He waves a dismiss-Katina chases after him, asking, “So,
ive hand. “Fuck you too.”

what do you do for fun around here?”

“Why don’t you introduce yourself

The rest of us give each other wor-
to everyone, Lucy?” Lithia says. “No need ried looks and follow behind the two, watch-to be shy.”

ing as Lucy drapes an arm around Katina’s

“Wait,” I say, looking the skinny
shoulders. “Oh, you know,” he says. “A little guy up and down. “You’re Lucifer? As in…”

of this, a little of that. Want to see my room?”

I stop myself, remembering how he doesn’t

“NO!” I shout, catching up and tug-
like to be called the devil. “As in, er…the ging at Katina’s wrist. “She does not want to dark prince?”

see your room. Come on, Katina. This guy is He makes a face at me and sighs
a loser.”

117 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

“Not to mention the anti-Christ,”

though the hotel is on the moon. Dusty white Lithia adds from behind me.

craters of every shape and size make up what Lucifer lets out a huge sigh, as if
should have been a lush green lawn lit with the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

garden lamps.

“Don’t be jealous. You can come too. All of

“Like the view?” Lucy asks from
you can. Besides, we’re here already.”

behind us. “If not, I can change it.”

A door opens in the wall where be-

“That won’t be necessary,” I say.

fore there was nothing, leading into a room

“We’re not staying. Come on, Katina.”

lit with a warm golden light.

By now Lithia is seated at the little

“Fucking cool!” Katina barges for-
dining table, tapping her cigarette into a crys-ward, completely fearless, and crosses the tal ashtray while Jane 62 and Ago are examin-threshold. My breath catches in my throat, ing framed photographs decorating one wall.

waiting for whatever horrible thing is about

“Is this when you were little?” Ago asks, to happen.

pointing to a random picture.

But nothing does.

Lucifer peers over Ago’s shoulder
and grunts without interest.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I
join them at the wall. Sure enough, there are CHAPTER ELEVEN
photos of a young man who can only be Lucifer, at least how we know him at the moment anyway. “Why are you standing with From the hall, we watch Katina bounce on a your arm around that big worm?” I ask, point-king-size bed, exclaiming, “It’s a water-bed!

ing.

Oh my God, you guys have to see this.” Then

“Ah.” Lucy has wandered into the
she bounces off the bed and disappears from bathroom, but now comes out again, shak-sight.

ing pills into his hand from a brown plastic Smiling innocently, Lucy says,
bottle. “That’s me with my dad.”

“See? Nothing to be afraid of. I know I have

“Your dad? ” Ago balks. “You
a bad reputation, but it’s really quite unde-mean…”

served.”

“Yep. The one and only.” At our dis-

“Whatever you say, pal,” Lithia
gusted faces, he says, “Oh, he takes on what-snorts as she enters the room in search of ever shape amuses him at any given moment.

Katina.

That day it was a giant worm.”

“Don’t go in there!” Ago calls, too

We puzzle over this for a few sec-
late. He gives me a helpless look. “We’re onds until the pills draw my attention. “What screwed now.”

are those?”

“Don’t be such pussies,” Lucifer

He shakes the bottle at me. “Xanax.

says, waving us into the room after him. “I Want one?”

won’t bite.”

“I do!” Katina trots over, holding

Ago, Jane 62 and I stand in the hall,
out her hand.

debating with looks alone until I say, “Well, At my suspicious look, Lucifer says,
fuck it. I’m not leaving Katina in there.”

“Doctor prescribed, I can assure you. Don’t I go inside and find Katina gazing
look so amazed. Is it so shocking that I fight out the window on the far side of the room.

a battle against depression and anxiety just She glances at me and says, “Check this out.”

like everyone else? Do you have even an Joining her, I look out to see the
inkling of what it’s like to be me? Of the pres-moon. Not riding high in the night sky, as sure I am constantly under?” He absently one would expect, but right below us, as hands the bottle to Katina and then moves

GINA RANALLI 118
back next to Ago to gaze at the photos and to say anything. Except for Lithia, that is.

shake his head sadly. “I used to be his favor-She just goes right on snickering to herself.

ite, you know. He used to say I was his most Finally, once Lucy has taken a few
beautiful angel, and I was too.”

more pills, he appears to calm down and gives

“Save the pity party for someone
me a serious look. “You’ll probably have to who’ll fall for it,” I say. I give Katina a wor-ask Jay what you are.”

ried glance, watching her dry swallow a

“Jay?” I raise an eyebrow.

couple pills, but then I shrug it off. She’s

“You know…. Jay!”

already dead. What harm could really come Scratching my head, I open my
to her?

mouth to speak, but Katina interrupts.

Which brings me to a question that

“Jesus!” she blurts. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

has been lingering in my mind since I woke

“You got it, sister,” Lucy says, flop-
up in that river of ice. “Are we ghosts, Lucy?”

ping into an arm chair, his face bored. “But He turns away from the wall of pho-I’d leave out the ‘fucking’ if I were you. You’ll tographs, his expression blank. “I beg your ruin his whole day if you say that to him.”

pardon?”

“Him?” I ask, not knowing if I’m

“We’re either ghosts or zombies,
getting the concept of what they’re talking right? I mean, we are dead, but at the same about. “Who him?” Everyone looks at me time, this feels exactly like being alive.”

like I’m retarded. “Okay, fine. I just wanted to

“I’m not dead,” Jane 62 pipes in.

be sure.”

“At least, I don’t think I am.”

“Where can we find Jay?” Ago asks

“I’m dead,” Lithia says. “Deader
the devil.

than ten day old dog shit is what I am.”

Lucy waves his hand impatiently

“How should I know what you are?”

toward the ceiling. “He’s where he always is, Lucy says. “Do I look like some all-knowing, up there somewhere, where else? He would all-seeing son of fucking God to you?”

never soil his reputation by coming down Lithia makes a clucking sound with
here to visit the damned, even though they her tongue. “Why so snippy, demon beast?

could certainly use an uplifting word or two Sounds like jealousy to me.”

now and then. Much more so than those fat

“Don’t call me that! And I’m not jeal-
old farts sitting pretty in their fucking marble ous of anyone!”

Jacuzzis.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“He’s here?” I ask. “In the hotel?”

“Well, I’m not!”

“Of course! You think he’d miss all

“Stop bickering,” I tell both of them.

this fun?” Lucy laughs dryly at the prospect.

“Shit, it was a simple question. Sorry I as-

“I want to meet Jesus!” Katina ex-
sumed you would know the answer, Lucifer.”

claims excitedly, bouncing up and down on

“He doesn’t know shit,” Lithia
her toes. “Can we? Please?”

says, sneering behind her cloud of smoke.

I look at the others, who all shrug.

“Fuck you!” Lucy snaps. He looks

“I don’t see why not,” I tell her.

furious, but not the kind of furious where

“Sweet,” Katina says. She’s grin-
you’re struggling not to murder someone.

ning from ear to ear until her eyes fall back to The kind of furious where you’re struggling Lucifer sitting in his chair, numbing out on not to cry.

Xanax. “Why don’t you come with us, Lucy?”

“My,” Lithia taunts. “So sensitive.”

Four mouths open, screeching pro-

Lucifer ignores her and snatches his
test, but Lucy sits there calmly, his eyes pill bottle out of Katina’s hands. “Gimmie that.

vaguely amused. He doesn’t speak until we’re I need it more than you do.”

all finished with our objections and then he Several seconds pass, all of us afraid says, “Why, thank you, Katina. I think I will

119 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE
join you. I haven’t seen Jay in quite some the hall we travel and then it finally comes to time, now that I think about it.”

me: the Beach Boys, singing “Wouldn’t It Be

“You’re just trying to spite us,”

Nice.”

Lithia growls at him.

Lucy stops directly in front of the

He gives her his winning smile, his
door where the music is coming from and black, black eyes flashing with mischief.

raps his knuckles against it loudly. He looks

“That’s exactly correct, old woman. Exactly at us and smiles, looks at the unanswered correct.”

door and frowns. He raps again, harder this time. “Open up, Jay. You have visitors.”

The door across the hall opens in-
stead and we all turn to see several nuns CHAPTER TWELVE
peeking out at us. One of them spies Lucy, makes the sign of the cross and hisses something in Latin. Another one immediately be-Lucifer leads our little parade out to the stair-gins singing along with the Beach boys, clap-well that we never would have found on our ping her hands in time with the beat, com-own, simply because it didn’t exist until he pletely oblivious to us.

wanted to climb it.

“That’s the Singing Nun,” Lucy tells

We go up several flights in silence,
us. “The Flying Nun is in there too.”

except for Lithia’s huffing and puffing. When

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I say.

we arrive at a door marked 8th, Lucy swings it

“Swear to God,” he says dramati-open and gestures us all forward. “After you,”

cally.

he says with a little bow.

One of the nuns pushes past the

I’m a little leery—who knows where
other two and joins us in the hall. The sight he could be leading us—but Katina marches of her makes us grimace: blood flows down right through like she owns the place. Like her face, streaming from her bloodshot eyes.

it’s not the devil inviting her through, but a Lucy jerks a thumb at her. “The Bleeding cute misunderstood boy. I suppose, in his Nun.” Then he pounds on the door with his own way, that’s exactly what Lucy is.

fist. “For fuck’s sake, Jay, open the fucking With thinly veiled trepidation, the
door!”

rest of us follow Katina out into the hall and The door opens abruptly and a

I sigh with relief. The place is sparkling and young bearded man peers out at us, followed clean, a lush white carpet that looks as though by a cloud of smoke. I sniff and look at Ago.

it has never been walked on before beneath

“Mary Jane,” I say and try not to laugh.

our feet. Brass lamps with frosted glass

“Jesus!” Ago says, his own nose
globes sit on expensive mahogany tables, wiggling.

glowing bright and welcomingly. From some-

“Hey, how ya doin’, man?” Jesus
where, music is playing and the song sounds smiles cheerily. I notice his eyes are even vaguely familiar but I can’t quite place it.

more bloodshot that those belonging to the

“Come along, my little piggies,”

Bleeding Nun.

Lucy says, starting down the hall. “Follow

“These kindly folks would like to
the big bad wolf.”

have a word with you, Jay.” Lucifer says pa-We oblige, treading quietly, as if
tiently.

we’re trying hard not to disturb the patrons

“No shit?” Jesus looks at us with
of this five-star hotel, lest they discover our his brown cow eyes. “Well, come on in!” He presence and have us thrown out like the steps aside, taking a toke off the joint he’s bums that we are.

holding. As I pass him, I can’t tell if I’m sur-The music swells the further along
prised by the way he’s dressed, or completely

GINA RANALLI 120
unsurprised.

“Ghosts? Zombies? Spirits? None of the He’s wearing worn out leather san-above?”

dals (no surprise), torn dirty jeans (a bit of a Jesus looks around the floor for an
surprise) a tie-dye T-shirt with a big pot leaf ashtray to stub out his roach. Once that is on the front (a pretty big surprise). His shirt accomplished, he looks up at the rest of with is decorated with various pins: smiley faces, those earnest brown eyes and says, “That’s more pot leaves, The Grateful Dead. His a pretty existentialist question. I mean, who wrists are decorated with hemp bracelets and are any of us, right, man? Maybe you’re not around his neck are several long necklaces, even here. Maybe I’m not even here. See what colorful beads glinting in the sunshine of his I’m saying?”

room.

Katina has moved to the window

“Sorry the place is so trashed,
and looks out. “Sunflowers,” she says softly.

guys,” he says once we’re all inside. Even

“An endless field of sunflowers.”

the Bleeding Nun has come in, trailing si-None of us are interested enough
lently behind the nearly-silent Jane 62. Jesus to look out with her. Instead, I look down at starts throwing stuff around the room, clear-Jesus and say, “That’s not really helping, ing off the furniture for us to sit. He tosses Jay.”

clothes, comic books, a dirty pair of sneak-

“Or,” he continues, as though I
ers, empty soda cans, pizza boxes. All of it didn’t speak. “Maybe you’re the whole world.

goes straight into a pile on the floor at the The whole universe. Did you ever think of foot of the bed, which he promptly sits on, that?” He pinches his thumb and index fin-facing the TV. He takes another toke and ger together to signify something very small.

points at the television which is playing a

“Maybe the entire solar system exists only video game. “Mario Kart, guys,” Jesus says in the pupil of your eye.”

smiling, speaking loudly to be heard over the I’m beginning to feel a headache

Beach Boys. “Anyone wanna race?”

coming on and have no idea how to respond Lucifer rolls his eyes. “I told you,
to the son of God when he is spewing such Jay. These people want to ask you some ques-nonsense.

tions.”

“Are you sure you’re Jesus?” Lithia

But Jesus isn’t listening. He’s
asks suspiciously.

started a new game, racing Mario around the Jesus laughs and resumes his game.

track, trying to catch up to Luigi. After a mo-

“This whole thing is starting to get
ment, he says, “Yeah, there’s some cold pizza on my nerves,” Ago says. “I think I liked over on the…the…” He trails off, concen-Purgatory better.”

trating. When his little cartoon car crashes,

“Fuck that,” Katina replies, finally
he laughs like a child and smokes more of his turning away from the window. “If I’m stuck joint.

here, I at least want to be stuck on one of the Lucy clears his throat and says,
higher floors where we can eat something

“They want to know if they’re ghosts or zom-other than opera pie.”

bies, Jay.” He speaks to Jesus as though the Now convinced that our question
guy is a complete idiot and I’m starting to won’t be answered after all, I’m inclined to see why. I think he’s toasted a few of his agree with her. “We may as well see what we brains cells in the last 2,000 years or so.

can see. Evidently, we have nothing but time

“Just say no,” Ago murmurs.

anyway.”

“Jay?” Lucy says, louder. “Can you

“I’m in no rush to get where I’m
please stop doing that for a minute?”

going, if you know what I mean,” Lithia says

“I’m listening,” Jay insists. “Kinda.”

in her cracked voice. “They can be renovat-

“Well, which is it?” Lithia demands.

ing Hell till the cows come home for all I care.”

121 SUICIDE GIRLS IN THE AFTERLIFE

“The renovations are almost fin-
the threshold first, completely astounded.

ished,” Lucy tells her with a smile. “I’m look-The others follow us through and I can hear ing forward to it myself.”

soft gasps behind me. We stare in silence for

“I’ve been hearing that for as long
what feels like an eternity.

as I can remember,” Lithia says, clearly not And then, Lithia’s voice: “What the
intimidated.

hell is this? A joke?”

I say, “So, I assume we still have to

I blink at the vast whiteness of
take the stairs, right?”

where we are. A bright blinding nothing. Ab-

“It’s not as impressive as you think
solute emptiness. When I turn around, I see up there,” Lucifer says. “The lower floors are my companions and not one other thing.

where the fun is at.”

We’re standing on air, it seems, and the door

“I’m sure you would say that, but
we just passed through no longer exists.

why don’t you just humor us for a minute.”

“I told you it was boring,” Lucy

He sighs loudly and pouts out his
says.

lower lip. “Jay should take you. I hate it up

“This is it?” Katina asks. Her voice
there.”

is on the verge of breaking. “This is Heaven, We all look at Jesus, who has just lit where all the fucking good rich white people up another doobie and is stroking his wispy go? What the fuck?”

beard in a thoughtful manner. He shrugs and Everyone begins to talk at once,
says, “I’m down with that.”

except for the Bleeding Nun, who stands silently, the blood on her face the reddest thing I’ve ever seen against all this white.

Suddenly I remember when I first

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
met Salvadore and we began our trek to the Virgin City. When we first emerged from the electric forest—all that white space that crept So, our parade has yet again increased by, up behind us with every step, wiping out the this time by two. Despite an endless stream road, the trees, the sky. Everything.

of complaints, Lucifer has decided to tag I remember staring into that vast
along and he and Katina bring up the rear, white space and struggling to see some-whispering among themselves.

thing—anything—and then I did. I saw some Ago and I follow Jesus up a flight
fleeting movement, too fast, too blurry to of stairs, while Lithia, Jane 62 and the Bleed-identify as anything but a trick of my imagi-ing Nun trail behind us. Jesus begins hum-nation.

ming “Stairway to Heaven,” then laughs up-I saw something because I was try-
roariously at his own joke. The rest of us ing to see something.

chuckle politely but I know the others, like Looking around again, I see the
myself, think the messiah is a major dork as faces of my companions and now they’re all well as a hopeless stoner.

silent, staring at me expectantly. “What?” I Eventually, the stairs end and we all
say.

crowd onto the small landing, watching for

“What?” They all reply at exactly

Jesus to open the door. He places his hand the same time, in one single voice.

on a highly polished gold knob and say, My voice.

“Okay, you guys ready?”

Stumbling back a step, I shake my

There are a lot of groans but I say,
head. “What’s going on?”

“Yep, we’re ready.”

Again, they all repeat my question,

Jesus opens the door with a flour-
all their lips moving simultaneously, all their ish and then steps back. Ago and I pass over voices mine.

GINA RANALLI 122

I look hard at Katina—young
to the beginning, but I don’t know how. Eras-Katina, so much like myself when I was her ing things is not as easy as creating them, age—and watch in fascinated horror as her though I try hard to do exactly that, to no head begins to melt like hot wax, her features avail. I can’t undo what I’ve done.

slipping right off her face and dribbling down The rain is just starting to fall and
her neck and shoulders.

there is a river of ice up ahead. I know be-All of them are melting right before
cause I put it there.

my eyes, each one of them a bubbling mass It seems important that I reach it
of flesh colored goop, their clothes melting before the black sky breaks open and elec-right along with them and puddling on the trocutes me where I stand.

floor of nowhere.

And so I run.

Jesus is the last to go and as I watch, his face doesn’t exactly melt, but morphs into mine. A masculine version of me, but still very clearly me.

“We were all you,” the Jesus me
says. “Every facet of you that ever was.”

“That can’t be,” I say, my voice
undistinguishable from his. “No. No, no.”

Jesus me begins to melt just as the
others did and I quickly turn away, concentrating on the white. I know there is something in all that nothing, something alive and moving and if I just try hard enough I’m sure to see it. If I just concentrate…

My headache worsens but I see
something, a brief flittering of silver light. I screw my eyes shut and open them again, focusing hard on the spot of silver.

The single dot of silver begins to
bloom, spreading out and at first I think it may be a star. But then it grows fingers, long and spidery, reaching up and up and then the whole thing resolves into what is unmistakably a tree.

A sparking electric tree.

Once I’m able to see the tree, the
rest of the forest is easy to create. I think and it is: it’s as simple as that.

I suppose I could have thought up
anything. Maybe a city or a farm. A snowy mountain with a big lodge atop it, smoke curl-ing up out of its stone chimney. A vast blue ocean and a warm welcoming sun.

I don’t know why I created the elec-
tric forest but as soon as it’s completed, I know that I made a mistake.

I know I have to try again, go back

ANDRE DUZA

LOCATION:

Philadelphia, PA

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Brutality Chronic

BOOKS BY DUZA:

Dead Bitch Army

Jesus Freaks (je-'zus fre-ks), n. see ZOMBIE

Necro-Sex Machine (forthcoming)

Dancing and Stabbing (forthcoming)

SuperNigger (forthcoming)

DESCRIPTION: Author of horrific, bizarre, smart, funny, fast-paced fiction.

INTERESTS: Avid bodybuilder and Certified (junior-master level) Instructor of Spirit Fist Kung Fu. Competes in tournaments from time to time. Also studied Boxing, Tae Kwon Do, Chinese Kempo, Street-fighting INFLUENCES: Human behavior, angry childhood, politics, James Baldwin, Marcus Garvey, Poe, Bierce, Sergio Leone, John Carpenter, George Romero, David Cronenberg, George Carlin, Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper, Fantastic Planet, Repo Man, the hood, boarding school, Chang Cheh, Lau Kar Leung, Richard Pryor, Unsolved Mysteries, In Search Of, Eric B. & Rakim, KRS-One, NWA, Gangstarr, Zeppelin, psychedelic rock, Goblin, 70s horror, 70s porn, 80s slasher flicks, Frank Frazetta, Frank Henenlotter, fear of mediocrity, blaxploitation, comic books, lurid detective magazines, old school anime (Speed Racer, Battle of the Planets, Star Blazers), ig’nant-ass niggas.

WEBSITE:

www.houseofduza.com

125 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS

Don’t F(beep)k

She is suddenly startled by someone who enters the room from behind. She turns and sees a distinguished-looking, middle-aged With the
man (Dr. Everhardt) standing there.

Coloureds

CUT TO:

A group of nurses struggle to hold down an elderly man who thrashes in pain on his hospital bed. Heart monitors are beeping. The nurses are talking over each other. The man’s FADE IN:

eyes are rolled back, veins bulging. His body shoots to a rigid arch as the worst pain hits White letters against a black screen: him. He is foaming at the mouth and shaking Generic Films Presents…

his head back and forth in a vain attempt to signal “no.” His screams begin to echo.

DISSOLVE TO:

Narrator: Lifetime Movie Channel presents It is the middle of the night. We open on a a film based on a true story. Crystal Bernard, wide, three-story, Rundbogenstil-style build-Tracey Gold, and Bruce Boxleitner star in…

ing set dead center in the frame. The letters carved into the archway above the large front There is a sudden distortion.

door read: Harrington House Retirement Center.

The narrator’s voice recedes to incoherent mumbling. The frame begins to stutter and Narrator: Someone is killing the residents of tear, then finally melt as if the film is burning.

Harrington House...

Beneath the celluloid surface, words began CUT TO:

to materialize…

A hand wrapped in a latex surgical glove fills the frame, fingers tense and straight. A sec-Three years ago…

ond hand simultaneously pulls the glove at the wrist to work the fingers in.

The winding driveway that led up the hill to the wide, three-story, Rundbogenstil-style Narrator: …someone who promised to care building (the Harrington House Retirement for them.

Center) writhed with activity like a tongue rolling out in effigy of something dead sexy.

CUT TO:

Sirens screeching like mechanized infant calls, amplified by the dark-matter din of night in A nervous-looking woman dressed in office the ‘burbs. Two police cars raced up the long attire is talking on the phone. Fear colors her driveway, which was finger-flecked by
voice.

branches that reached out on both sides from the semi-wooded land between Route 1 be-Nervous-looking woman: I think Dr.

low and the old building at the top of the hill.

Everhardt is experimenting on the residents.

“Private Property, No Trespass” signs dotted the road.

ANDRE DUZA 126

The first two officers at the scene
pamphlet claimed, “to a time when gentility (McMahon and Shields) were already
reigned, when women were ladies and men crouching behind their opened car doors were gentlemen.” Elegant social gatherings when the first backup car roared up, slid side-and theme parties in the style of old Holly-ways, and stopped a few feet from them. Then wood were touted as the norm.

the next ones screeched to a halt right up on

“So, what’s it gonna be this time?”

them.

said McMahon. “Some old fart who forgot Officer McMahon waved his hand
to take his medicine?”

down to signal Officers three (Simmons), four

“An old fart with a gun,” Shields

(Tate), five (Carter), and six (Reilly) to stay added.

the fuck down. The new arrivals crouched in McMahon rolled his eyes.

the open night and assumed defensive posi-

“You have a knack for pointing out
tions behind their cars’ bulk.

the obvious, Shields…”

“So, what’ve we got?” Reilly in-

Though generally an overlooked
quired, hungry for action.

sound, the click of a heavy lock sliding open This was Cloverleaf County after all.

screamed at them from the front door. Bounc-The most that ever happened here was the ing to ready, the officers trained their guns occasional date rape on campus at the colon the sound, following its echo back from lege or a drunken bar fight over a chick be-the air around them to the front door as it tween privileged frat boys.

yawned open and allowed a woman to exit

“Nothing yet,” McMahon re-
before slamming shut.

sponded. “A neighbor phoned in the com-Her hips spoke loudly through the
plaint. Said she heard gunshots while she thigh-length nurse’s uniform that stuck to was out walking her dog.”

her ample curves like white on rice. A

“Spotted some movement in one of

Harrington House crest was stitched just the upstairs windows,” said Shields, point-above her right breast. Her intoxicated state ing with his eyes. “Not sure if it’s our fell upon them secondary to her overall shooter.”

beauty. In fact, it wasn’t until she nearly fell Sporting a knowing grimace,
down the front steps that they noticed her Simmons grumbled, “Nearest house is half a inebriation.

mile from here. What the hell’s she doing It was a miracle that she didn’t fall
walking her dog in front of this place?”

on her face. The move that she performed to

“Looking for trouble… just like ev-
save her balance, like a retarded step and eryone else,” Shields responded.

slide, was the kind of thing that she could

“It was a rhetorical question, man.

have never duplicated no matter how hard Of course she was looking for trouble.”

she tried.

It wasn’t the first time the police had

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

been called to Harrington House. In fact, McMahon called out, sympathetic, yet stern.

they’d been around more than they would

“Is there anyone else inside?”

have liked lately. The old folks had been act-Judging by the look in her eyes, she
ing strange lately, running around naked, was somewhere else entirely (and ridin’ bare-scaring the locals, and playing mean-spirited back on some quality shit).

pranks on each other and the staff.

The police, with their little guns and Harrington House was a place for
flashing lights, were nothing to the toxic god well-to-do retirees. The brochure boasted who violated her sobriety. To her impaired grand ballrooms and suites sporting décor eyes, they were like gnats bouncing around and furnishings from the 1920s and ‘30s.

the beacon of the red and blue orbs, swirling

“Take a trip back to the good old days,” the and stuttering, making colorful tracers.

127 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS

“I said, is there anyone else inside?”

Tate’s first plan–to simply clear his
throat–didn’t even come close to diverting his colleagues attention away from the na-Lulled into calm by her drunkenness, the of-ked, writhing woman.

ficers relaxed their gun-arms, hands loosen-Plan number two–grabbing a blan-
ing their grips. They traded faces to decide who’d approach her. None of them wanted ket from his squad car and approaching her to come off as overeager, even though they with it held out in front of him–only made the all felt the same tingle in their loins. As indi-other officers groan, as if he was killing their rect an opportunity as it might have been, it buzz.

was still an opportunity to secure some But then…

down-the-road-pussy once this chick was all They didn’t notice it all at once, but rehabbed and back in the world.

they all eventually saw it: the impression of The way she began to move her
subdermal arms and hands caressing and em-hips sparked a lurid curiosity in them, well, bracing the nurse and causing her to sway five of them anyway. Married with children, euphorically to their slithering embraces.

Officer Jack Tate was as straight as they come.

Tate, who was the closest to her,

He had even convinced himself that looking was the first to see it. He didn’t want to touch at other women that way was a sin.

her from the get-go, mainly out of disgust The others did everything to get a
and some twisted idea of loyalty to his wife, good look at what was about to happen. Fuck but now he was plain-old scared. They all safety.

were. One or two of the men hinted at raising The nurse writhed as they watched,
their weapons.

their expressions adopting a figurative dog-The rhythm of her dance suggested
pant, their eyes bulging like the fronts of their a slow, seductive, yet animalistic melody; the trousers in testament to dirty, stinkin’ sex skin-deep appendages proffered eerie
vibes.

strings.

Hanging onto visions of hinted-at

The woman turned her back to them
nakedness that enhanced the scene, they and jutted her tight, round ass outward. The gawked like prepubescent boys who were dark valley between well-rounded teardrops tasting real lust for the first time as the nurse of flesh invited ogling eyes to look closer.

let her uniform fall from her shoulders. It Subdermal hands teased the teardrops open caught and lingered at each curve of her S
and let them bounce closed.

dance before eventually landing in a soft heap around her dainty feet.

Disbelief made the officers smile at

When she turned back around, a single blue the extended full-frontal shot that she gave eye, reddened by anger or maybe hatred, them.

glared at the officers in the place of each Tate, who pitied her behavior, shook
nipple. Her navel had stretched into a large his head.

mouth that was grinning deviously and leak-The woman’s body was firm; her
ing saliva from its sepia-toned bottom lip.

torso long with subtle curves; her skin glow-Her head was slumped to the side, her eyes ing sepia, with licks of dark brown around rolled up under her eyelids, mouth hanging her plump nipples and radiating from her wide open. Although she maintained her dance, eyes. They seemed to shine brighter now that her hands tracing her own curves down her she was naked. The look on her face said flat stomach and between her legs; she was

“I’m high as fuck,” yet behind it was solid clearly unconscious.

confidence.

Diverted by the hands and arms and

ANDRE DUZA 128
the moist slurp-snap as the nurse raised her McMahon pulled the trigger and
hand from between her legs, the officers fired into the ground, then lifted his gun and didn’t see what it was that she pulled from fired once more at the woman’s head.

her vagina until it was too late.

Instead of blood, the wound drained

The nurse fired off three shots from
and spurted colors: reds, oranges, yellows, the small handgun before they had time to greens, blues, indigos, and violets. There was react.

blood–real blood–pooling around her abdo-

“In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby,”

men and chest, but from her head there were quipped the mouth in her stomach in a gravely, only colors, thick, frothy, and alive.

Wolfman Jack-like tone. “Donchu know that McMahon and Shields couldn’t

I lu-u-uv you?”

believe what they were seeing. Even as they The first shot caught Tate in the
watched the colorful liquid ooze five feet to throat and passed clean through. He col-the manicured lawn and soak into the dirt, lapsed immediately, clutching his neck and their subconscious minds told them that it gurgling out a brief response as he hit the was impossible, that they must be seeing ground and writhed. The blanket he was hold-things, that maybe they were slipping. Each ing fell over him.

had his reasons for questioning his own san-The remaining officers drew their
ity, and neither of them knew if the other had weapons and fired.

seen the colorful liquid. And they just might Aside from the bang of their revolv-have seen two eyes and a smile float by in ers, the night was quiet enough that the the ooze.

smack-smacking of their bullets punching McMahon was going to play it cool
through the nurse’s silky flesh could be heard until Shields said something. That was the clearly. She didn’t bother to wait for the last safest way. Shields, however, was planning gunshot before she straightened, tipped over to do the same thing.

like fleshy Swiss cheese and hit the ground ugly.

When it was all over, Simmons and

Leaping full-throttle out of the quiet, laugh-Carter ran over to the thrashing lump parter came at them in varied pitches and vol-tially hidden under Tate’s blanket. Simmons umes, suggesting very large and very small paused, knelt down, and pinched back the things lurking inside the building, things that edge of the blanket. He could only look at his didn’t sound at all like people laughing, but partner’s face for a split-second before it over-almost. Whatever they were, they were bust-whelmed him. Tate desperately tried to ing a gut. The sound was flowing from every breathe as he gagged and choked on his own window and doorway along the front of the blood, grabbing at the mangled flesh where building, as if heads with open mouths were his esophagus used to be.

leaning out. It contradicted what the officers Reilly ran to his car and radioed for
saw through the lit windows, which was noth-an ambulance.

ing: a lamp, maybe a dresser, a bed, a few

“Officer down!!!!” he yelled into the
paintings of scenery. They could see a few receiver. “Get an ambulance here. Fast!”

feet into the unlit windows as well. Clearly, McMahon and Shields approached
there was no one there.

the nurse’s body with caution, stepping ten-The officers stiffened. The laughter
tatively, arms held straight, but pointed down had them ready to shoot first and shoot anyin text book, TV-cop style. She lay with her fucking-thing-that-moved. It wasn’t as if back, right shoulder and breast to them,

“What to do when confronted with a gor-twisted in a wildly beautiful pose.

geous woman with eyes for nipples and a She flinched once… twice…

129 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS
mouth in her gut” or “What to do in case of The voices stopped as soon as his
disembodied, inhuman laughter” was in the foot crossed the threshold from the lobby to handbook.

the hallway. Static and pitch-bending

Simmons, however, was beyond all
radiofrequency noise filled the void. And that. Watching his partner gurgle and choke there was one more thing: the smell of fresh and drown in blood left him numb. The laugh-paint. It was a toxic stench, so strong that it ter tickled his inner savage and gave it an stung his eyes. Strange, he thought, but cur-appetite for vengeance.

rently it registered about a 4 on his “give-a-Carter was the first to snap out of
fuck” meter. Finding out who was behind what

“What the fuck!?” and snap right into panic happened to his partner blotted out every-when he realized that they were standing out thing else.

in the open, completely vulnerable to… what-Simmons came to the first two
ever was inside.

rooms and found nothing but an unmade bed

“Everybody take cover!” he yelled.

and a television screen filled with static in The officers scattered. By the time anyone each.

noticed Simmons, he was halfway inside the There were still four more rooms,
main doors.

and the office. He could read the letters on Crouching behind their cars, they
the office door now: Reigert Everhardt, MD.

watched the door slam shut.

Settling into his surroundings, Simmons thought he saw things on the walls all around him, and the ceiling, too–cartoon characters Old cartoon characters reciting trademark smiling down on him. Their smiles shook the phrases was the last thing Simmons expected weight of whatever they were trying to mask.

to hear when he entered the main lobby–

It looked like anger, or maybe disgust.

laughing woodpeckers, smartass wabbits, a The characters were born of com-stressed-out Chihuahua in the middle of a pletely different styles and levels of talent.

meltdown…. It was coming from the door-He recognized a number of them from his lined corridor at the back of the lobby. There youth; back when credits with names like were three rooms on either side, blue light Chuck Jones, Tex Avery, and Hanna-Barbera flickering from the doorways like high beams.

were burned into his mind. Others reminded All the televisions seemed to be on.

him of Ralph Bakshi, John Kricfalusi, and What was going on?

Frank Frazetta–a few favorites from his teen-The long corridor intersected with
age years.

another a few feet from the fifth and sixth They have kids here too, he
rooms. There was an office on the other side, thought. Then he noticed the nudity, both directly ahead. There were letters on the male and female. What kind of fuckin’ place frosted window of the door; some sort of is this?

official title, he guessed. He was too far away A jumble of sounds indicated move-to read it.

ment down the hall. It was coming from the Simmons paid little attention to the
office.

lobby he was standing in. He could not have Snapping into position, his gun
cared less about the antique leather furni-pointed, Simmons called out, “Somebody ture, the Italian chandelier that hung from inn’ere?”

the ceiling, the brown and white murals of He turned his ear to the door and

“roarin’ ‘20s” city life that decorated the walls, listened. The silence spooked him. It wasn’t the wide, winding staircase that snaked up-a dead silence, it was a weird marriage of static, ward to darker places.

emptiness, and feverish pounding.

ANDRE DUZA 131

“Don’t make me have to come in
at the front door by blindly firing. His eyes there after you… whoever you are,” Simmons were stung closed by the paint so he couldn’t warned the eyes peeking out from behind see who it was. And he couldn’t see the the office door.

makeover that the paint was giving him. The They disappeared behind the office
toxic smell burned the inner lining of his nos-door in reaction.

trils. The taste caused him to gag. His gun From his immediate left came a
was big and fat, like a child’s toy. Three bul-voice…

lets literally screamed out and bore down at

“Eh… I don’t think he’s coming out,
the men with determination. From the side bub.”

view, an anime blur indicated just how fast Simmons whipped left and ended
they were moving.

up face to face with the things on the wall.

“Let’s git dat mutherfucker,” the

Only now, he saw frowns; pink lips peeking bullet in the middle said.

out from black faces. It gave him a jolt. He

“Get down!” Carter yelled, and the
backed away and spun to check the wall be-officers scattered.

hind him. Same thing.

The three bullets chased Carter to

“What’s goin’ on in there,
the floor and swarmed around him like angry Simmons? Talk to me, man!” MacMahon said bees. They were frowning and baring teeth.

into the front door.

McMahon, who was the closest to

Simmons suddenly felt ambushed,

Carter, crawled away on his side. Reilly and closed in. Somehow his eyes found their way Shields watched dumbfounded as the first back to the office door. The eyes were back.

bullet tore into Carter’s left hand, which he They were watching him hard.

held in front of him to defend. The others He started to back away when paint
found his arm, shoulder…

from the walls rained down on and around Carter leapt to his feet and batted at him as if an invisible levee had finally been himself with his good hand as he stumbled broached.

and bounced from wall to wall. He ran in circles, screaming bloody murder.

Shields took a chance and fired at

McMahon and Shields fell into the lobby and the animated bullets. He hit Carter instead, right on top of each other. Carter and Reilly three, four, five times.

followed them and planted themselves into

“Shields!” McMahon scolded.

position, their weapons aimed at the “thing”

The animated bullets had just eaten
that coughed and flailed at the air in the middle Carter’s head and were on their way down of the door-lined corridor. From its feet up to his torso and right arm. His body slumped to its waist, it looked like a man wearing police the floor, knees first. He leaned forward and blue.

began to fall.

Simmons? They wondered in uni-

There was nothing left to hit the
son.

ground, only tiny ribbons of flesh and fabric From the waist up, the man was ani-floating where Carter knelt. The three bullets mated–a weird, elongated caricature of Of-disintegrated when they were done ravaging ficer Simmons. Whatever it was that had Carter’s remains.

painted him to look like some bastard
lovechild of Stephen Gammell and Peter Chung was creeping down his body and col-

“Oh my God! What happened to me!?!”

oring the rest of him.

Simmons screamed. He was staring at his Simmons reacted to the commotion
strangely drawn hands. He lifted them to his face and felt both sides of it. His fingers trans-

132 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS
lated the distortion perfectly. To his own ears, kicking and flailing, the street surrounding his voice sounded fine. However, all
an open manhole below her turned pliable.

McMahon, Shields, and Reilly heard was The manhole stretched up from the ground, static and pitch-bending radiofrequency human teeth poking forward until they re-noise coming from his mouth whenever he sembled those of a great white shark. The spoke.

manhole bit down on her waist and tore her They aimed their weapons at him.

in half, then settled back into the street where

“Is that… Simmons?”

it chewed and swallowed with a loud “GULP.”

“Can’t be.”

Simmons was jogging toward them

Realizing that he had fired on his
now, looking over his shoulder at the wall colleagues, Simmons said, “Oh shit! I’m so alongside the stairs.

sorry! I thought… I didn’t know.”

McMahon and the others found

McMahon led the backwards retreat
themselves flabbergasted once again.

toward the door. They stepped blind, hold-Simmons was almost on them when
ing their aim on the Simmons-thing who he tripped and fell into McMahon, who put talked like a bad transistor radio lost between his arms up at the last minute. He braced him-clear signals.

self for the approaching weight, but there

“No guys, wait,” he hurried toward
was only liquid.

them as he spoke. “It’s me. It’s Simmons.”

Simmons had literally splashed all

“Don’t come any closer!”

over McMahon and soaked him to the bone.

McMahon demanded.

“What the hell?!?” McMahon spit

“It’s me, Mac.” Simmons pleaded.

through the harsh-tasting sludge. He

“I swear it is. I don’t know what’s going on squeezed his eyes shut at the burning sen-but the paint… it fell on me and…”

sation and wiped himself feverishly. “Fuck!

“I said don’t come any closer or

What is this shit?”

I’ll…”

He reached out to Shields and Reilly.

“Jesus Christ, Mac!” Shields added.

They quietly backed out of range.

“It looks like Simmons!”

“Shields... Reilly… I can’t see. What

Somewhere in the lobby, a woman
is this stuff? Where’s Simmons, er…”

screamed. Her voice had an otherworldly The paint slithered over
echo.

McMahon’s torso and under his clothing.

The roarin’ ‘20s’ street scene came

“C’mon, guys. Gimme a hand!”

to life on the wall that bordered the stairs. A The paint around his chest began
young blond nurse ran through the two-di-to stretch outward away from his body and mensional crowd of boys in knicker suits, into the shape of a cartoon character from men in pinstripes and bowler hats, ladies in the waist up–a rabbit that was familiar to all tea dresses and beaded gowns. The white of of them.

her nurse’s uniform stuck out in the dull

“Saaay, you need a hand, doc?

brown and white mural that held her. From How’s this?” it said, cocking its arm back her upper right breast, a Harrington House and slapping McMahon off balance with its logo called out in bright red letters.

oversized hand. He felt his jaw shatter and A few of the men in the crowd tried
tasted his own blood swishing around the to grab at her but missed. She continued to inside of his mouth along with a few of his lurch through the pedestrians. Judging from teeth.

the look on her face, she was running for her The rabbit just as quickly sank back
life. She seemed to be getting away until a into the living paint.

lamppost with teeth reached down and

“Ahh,” MacMahon shrieked, rub-
snatched her up by the head. As she dangled,

ANDRE DUZA 133
bing the paint away from his eyes. He opened the cartoons preferred to be called) murdered them to a blur.

five nurses, eleven patients, and five cops.

An infant wearing a fedora tipped

Three years and he still couldn’t shake the to the side and clenching a stogie between images and the voice that reminded him that his teeth emerged on his shoulder. “Or this!”

it was all his fault. He knew that. Boy, did he it said, as it jabbed two tiny hands deep into know it.

McMahon’s eye sockets and retreated into It’s all your fault… The words hurt
the paint.

like a sonofabitch.

McMahon screamed in response to

Could’ve just as easily have been
the pain and pressurized pop as the soft tis-the Coloureds fucking with him, though. You sue splashed from his crushed eyeballs.

wouldn’t believe the kind of shit they pulled.

Blood stole the voice from his throat.

People have the wrong idea about them based The characters continued to come
on what they see on television and in mov-and go, emerging from random spots on his ies. That perpetually pleasant shit was just upper body. “Or this,” each said in a voice as an act.

unique as the styles in which they were con-The Coloureds weren’t bound by
ceived. A devilish cat pulled out McMahon’s the same limits as humans. Unless specifi-tongue and sliced it off with a single, sharp cally integrated into the personalities of the claw; a shovel-jawed clown with Xs for eyes characters by the “artist,” the Coloureds sprayed acid from a flower on his lapel and couldn’t experience feelings like guilt or re-melted McMahon’s face; a yellow, spiky-morse. There was no right or wrong. Some haired kid with an overbite slurped the lique-had good natures and were willing to play by fied flesh with a straw and spit the face fully the rules; however, most of Coloureds were intact (horrified expression and all) onto the downright scary in person. They could bleed, wall.

lose an arm, a leg, even a head, and it didn’t Reilly planted his back against the
mean a thing. The only way that they could wall and froze. Shields took off out the front be killed was if they were erased.

door and kept going. As he watched

Now, there were a number of ways

McMahon do a spiral dance toward the hall-to do such a thing, depending on the me-way, Reilly spotted a set of eyes looking back dium. Fire, turpentine, bleach, or good old-at him from the cracked office door at the fashioned rubber worked against the
other end.

Sketches, who were the slum-dwellers of the cartoon world.

* * *

The Coloureds will tell you that the

art came before the artists. They pointed to Hypnotized by the quick edits and the obtru-the cave paintings to demonstrate that they sive colors that screamed at him from the tele-communicated with early humans. Their num-vision, the burnout formerly known as Dr.

bers were few back then. Through their vi-Reigert Everhardt sat in his shabby, one bed-sual allure, they manipulated inspired espe-room apartment watching the last fucking cially perceptive humans (eventually known thing he ever wanted to watch: cartoons.

as artists) to fashion images, propagating The last three years had been
their species and forming a bond with hu-rough, ducking in and out of boarding houses mans that endures to this day.

and cheap motels. That night at Harrington It wasn’t until 1906, when J. Stuart

House was still fresh in his mind, especially Blackton made the first animated film, that when he closed his eyes. He had seen the the Coloureds started to become a force. A entire thing. He hid behind the door of his minority opinion held that the invention of office and watched as the Coloureds (what the phenakistoscope in 1831 predated Mr.

134 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS

Blackton’s invention. Before that, they were subjects made similar comments.

relegated to communicating through static By the time Everhardt had com-images, with the exception of nighttime pleted lab and field testing of TX-260, project dreams and the waking reveries of the crazy, MK-ULTRA was losing steam.

the religious, and the stoned. Because of their The CIA pulled the plug on the pro-volatile nature, Coloureds rarely interacted gram after a young woman confessed to re-with humans in person. Film and TV were the porters about her part in something called safest ways. “Only for the purposes of edu-Project Midnight Climax. She provided the cation or entertainment” was what the Inter-media with lurid details of sex, drugs, and action Treaty stated, which had been care-espionage. Her claim was that she was paid fully drawn up and deliberated by leaders of by government agents to seduce men, bring both sides long ago. Except at the highest them back to a motel that had been financed level, direct communication between species and outfitted by the CIA, and slip them LSD
was not allowed. The underbelly of Coloured while military officials watched through a two-society (Sketches or Rough-Sketches) pre-way mirror.

ferred it this way. They liked to fuck with Everhardt never knew what hap-humans in traditional ways, such as through pened to the test subjects as the project hallucinogenic drugs. It was the Coloureds ground to a halt. He had a good idea what behind Swiss chemist, Albert Hofmann’s ac-became of them, and he decided to leave it at cidental “trip” in 1943.

that. He didn’t want outright murder on his LSD was known to them as the
hands or his conscience. Sure, he figured,

“master key”; however, mescaline, psilocin TX-260 fried their brains, but at least they and psilocybin, PCP, and ecstasy were popu-were alive.

lar as well, as were a variety of herbs and The CIA forbade Everhardt from tak-preparations from all corners of the globe.

ing anything when he left: not his research Such interactions almost always ended badly, notes; not the remaining TX-260; not even so contact with humans through these means the supplies and personal effects that he was officially illegal.

brought with him to the lab. Fearing that they might one day talk, the government quietly discredited all the scientists and medical per-Everhardt first stumbled upon the
sonnel who worked on the project. A few of world of the Coloureds in 1953 while working them just disappeared.

on project MK-ULTRA (conceived by the

Clandestine Services Department of the United States government to develop mind-Warner Brothers found Everhardt
control drugs) for the CIA at Edgewood Ar-in the early ‘70s. By then, TX-260 had made senal in Maryland. His concoction, TX-260, its way to Hollywood via self-destructive rock which was derived from henbane, was hailed stars and counterculture celebrities like Timo-as “the real super-hallucinogen” after tests thy Leary and Dennis Hopper.

with BZ (quinuclidinyl benzilate) by the Army Warner Brothers was a hotbed of

Chemical Corps tests failed to produce “ac-animation in the ‘60s and ‘70s. Coloureds tionable results.”

who liked to interact with humans would of-TX-260 was so potent that it left the
ten look to the Hollywood production com-user permanently intoxicated and susceptible panies for opportunities, as mixing for the to all kinds of suggestions and hallucino-purposes of entertainment was allowed by genic distortions. “They seem aware of my the Treaty. Disney was the people’s choice, existence,” stated one of the test subjects but they focused mainly on programming while under the affects of the drug; other meant for young children, which required the

ANDRE DUZA 135

Coloureds to tone down their language and the news media big money to float “drug epi-antics. Mickey and the gang never heard the demic” pieces whenever someone reported end of it. The Coloureds who found fame in seeing a “cartoon” walking down the street, the human world by obeying the humans, or shoplifting, or raping their wife, etc…. If performing “clean” for the kids, and foster-that angle didn’t fit, they could always resort ing images for themselves that were just as to suggesting “paranormal phenomena.” The squeaky clean were decried as sellouts by last resort was always an attempt to discredit their peers.

the interlocutor using propaganda and mis-It was seen as a little more respect-
information in the form of “new developable to work for Warner Brothers. Warners ments” or “shocking revelations.”

had their rules and censors, but at least they A new trend was emerging. With-had a knack for infusing adult humor into out a human host, a Coloured could only ex-their animated shorts. It was a formula for ist in the human world for up to 72 hours at a success. The Warners got rich–richer–and time. As a result, Coloureds were making un-the Coloureds got their first taste of semider-the-table deals with ambitious but lim-legitimate fame.

ited B- and C-list celebrities to share bodies The Coloureds took to their status
in a state called “coexistence.” Coexistence and power in the human world in the worst allowed the Coloureds to exist indefinitely, ways. They were always difficult to work with, and for humans, it had a way of reinventing a but now, they were impossible. They saw the person. Or at least it worked wonders for the praise and accommodation lavished upon complexion. And everyone loves an “ani-movie stars and felt that they deserved the mated” personality.

same. Soon, rumors of after-hours parties, You’d know one if you saw one.

where Coloureds and humans could be seen They looked bizarre and sometimes horrific, brazenly drinking, fighting, and fucking to-like “after” photographs that were never go-gether, hit the gossip columns.

ing to end up hung proudly on some plastic The Coloureds got tired of lan-surgeon’s wall. Claims of botched plastic guishing behind the scenes. Some began to surgery were commonly made to cover up resent the fact that the credit for the success the physical marriage of a Coloured and a of their films was always going to the human human.

artists. All over town, tensions simmered.

There was one other way around

Some of the more aggressive Coloureds be-the 72-hour limit. Some Coloureds took to gan to act out. Warner Brothers saw TX-260
robbing graveyards or finding worthy hu-as a possible way of controlling them, or at man candidates and waiting around for them least reining them in. The troublemakers were to die, or in some cases, helping the process well aware of the Treaty. If the Coloureds along. Afterward, they’d use the deceased were willing to break them, they were going human’s body as a shell. But this way was to have to pay.

even easier to detect as the “artificial” look The studio hired Everhardt to over-was undeniable. Everhardt’s list of suspects see their new clandestine operation; Project included:

Toon-Out they called it. (Author’s note: Clandestine operations were big in the ‘60s and 1. Michael, Jermaine, Janet and Latoya Jack-

‘70s.)

son (especially Michael and Latoya)

During its five-year run, Everhardt

2. Joan Rivers
watched the program spiral out of control.

3. The Barbie twins

Coloureds were allowed to pass freely

4. Pricilla Presley
through the human world. The studios paid 5. Melanie Griffith

6. Demi Moore

136 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS

7. Dolly Parton
of the folks had caught on to what Everhardt 8. Lil’ Kim
was doing and what was bringing on the strange and powerful sensations. It was the Legitimate coexistence was like liv-clear stuff. The clear stuff brought the vi-ing on a perpetual high, which was why so sions and made everything alive again. The many celebrities turned to drugs and alcohol clear stuff brought friends and comrades. No to try to hit the brakes on what was termed one was alone when the clear stuff was

“fast living.” Many of those in coexistence around. They had become addicted to the burned out or died young.

companionship. And Everhardt knew. He

Everhardt had seen many of them
knew that the clear stuff made everyone end up as suicides. The program was out of happy, and that’s why he took it away. A plot control, and he wanted out. He knew better to raid the lab to steal the frozen vials made than to go public with what he knew, so he its way around Harrington. Things went back left the studio one afternoon and simply disto normal—that is, until that night when the appeared, like a ghost, into the population.

old folks rose up, and Everhardt went back into hiding.

Everhardt managed to stay under their radar until that night, three years ago at Harrington The burnout formerly known as Dr. Reigert House. They had done a good job of making Everhardt had taken to watching the new girl him look bad, thanks to that TV movie. The across the hall in 203 through the peephole.

movie (a Lifetime Channel hack-job starring Lately, it was the high point of his days, grip-Bruce Boxleitner as Everhardt) painted him ping him like a mini-addiction, all jubilant highs as an out-of-control deviant and drunk.

and terrible lows. It all depended on whether Everhardt was keen on continuing
or not she was there when the sound of light his experiments with TX-260. He figured that footfalls or jingling keys brought him run-the elderly patients would be gullible and ning to the door to look out. Her name was easy to control, so they formed the perfect Christie Douglass, and she was married to a patient population. He’d deal with the moral nervous-looking fellow named Burt or Burke.

ramifications later. Hollywood and the gov-So far, that was all he knew.

ernment taught him how to do that.

When he was feeling especially

Everhardt’s research yielded some
lonely, he liked to think of Christie twisted unexpected results. TX-260 was evolving. It into compromising positions. But that was no longer needed a host mind to act as a only good for five minutes, tops. That was bridge between worlds. It was as if the drug, as long as he could last these days, at least in its liquid form, was a living doorway, able with the furious pumping of his hand and a to stretch and grow and move like a sentient generous glob of petroleum jelly. He’d prob-being.

ably explode at the mere sight of a real, live Of course, the Coloureds were to
woman standing naked before him.

blame. Apparently they had learned to con-But even the thought of that would
trol the liquid. The elderly folks who took the have to wait until the cartoons were over.

drug saw the Coloureds come to them as an-Fucking Coloureds…

gels and demons, as ghosts and imaginary friends. The Coloureds seemed to enjoy the creativity involved in fucking with them.

Hollywood’s latest assassin was a no-talent Everhardt had to put a stop to the
rapper/R&B crooner called Lil’ Zeus. A few experiments. He locked the remaining TX-260
days earlier, Everhardt had rushed to the peepin a freezer and destroyed his notes. But some hole after hearing footsteps, only to see Lil’

ANDRE DUZA 137

Zeus making his way down the hallway, lean-The goon-thing made a vibrating
ing his ear carefully against door after door, hum. Although the words weren’t clear, listening in. Everhardt recognized him from Everhardt could sense a tone of frustration.

TV.

Pointing at the TV with its big, beefy right Lil’ Zeus was one of those guys who
hand, the goon-thing palmed the top of belted out what amounted to sexualized nurs-Everhardt’s head with its left and forced him ery rhymes while trying too hard to frown his to watch.

way into masculine poses. He liked to dance around shirtless trying to pass off his skin-

* * *
and-bone physique as lean muscle. He kept himself greased up and glistening, glossy lips Running through Clifton Heights in broad pursed in pout, Sharpe-rendered beard and daylight probably wasn’t such a good idea sideburns laser-cut to fine edges.

for a falling star of Lil’ Zeus’s caliber.

When Lil’ Zeus was just outside his

Traffic was backed up for half a mile
door, Everhardt held his breath and shrank as cars waited to turn from Springfield Road away. He shut off the lights and sat there (where Zeus was) onto busy Baltimore Pike.

silently watching the sliver of light beneath Eyes snapping out of road hypnosis glazed the front door, hoping to God that Zeus over the small businesses and slant-roofed hadn’t seen him. A pair of feet appeared, dark-houses on either side of the road and the few ening the space. Everhardt could hear breath-people on the sidewalks.

ing through the silence–deep, heavy breaths

“Hey! Aren’t you…” a redheaded
punctuated by a stuttered exhale, suggest-Asian girl said as Zeus bolted past her like a ing arousal or maybe drug withdrawal.

bat outta hell. He was clutching his right arm It was only a matter of time until
in his left hand and holding both close to his Zeus found him. Everhardt had no choice body.

but to ask for help. The Coloureds were the She didn’t seem to notice the blood
closest thing to friends that he ever had.

on his clothing or that he was missing a hand.

Friends or not, a favor from a Coloured came Nobody noticed. Or maybe they did notice at a hefty price. He used to think that watch-and simply blew it off as being part of a video ing cartoons 24/7 was worth it. Currently, he or a movie he was shooting. You never knew was on hour 29. Until the job was done, and with celebrities.

Zeus was out of the picture, Everhardt wasn’t

“Oh my God! It’s Lil’ Zeus!!!” a dif-
going anywhere–not for 43 more hours at ferent female voice cried out.

least.

Zeus glanced over his shoulder. A
late-model SUV….

Thank God!

Everhardt leaned forward and

He expected to see the car he was
arched his back to work out a cramp when running from: an old, black Buick hoopty with large, beefy hands like damp, ice-cold catch-tinted windows and two obese white
ers’ mitts clamped around his biceps and Coloured girls inside. The word on the street pulled him upright in his seat. The goon-thing was that Zeus liked the white women with that stood behind his chair loomed down over the big arses. “Two-toilet-seat big,” he liked him with its smooth face, long, droopy nose, to say. He denied it in the interviews, fearing and dot eyes. He called it a goon-thing be-a backlash from his target demographic of cause it reminded him of those things from young black women.

the old Popeye cartoons that creeped him

“Pictures don’t lie,” his detractors
out when he was a kid.

would say, referring to the tabloid snapshots of Zeus, in disguise, sneaking into cheap

138 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS
motels to get his freak on with pear-shaped senger when the driver leaned back. She white girls.

looked even worse.

“Why not just admit it,” his (white)

Apparently, the disguise (a base-
lawyer suggested. “It’s 2006, for cryin’ out ball cap pulled down in front and a bulky loud. I would think people have moved past jacket) wasn’t working. Or the hundred-dol-that sort of thing. Well… except maybe down lar bills that Zeus used to grease the motel south.”

manager and the maid weren’t enough for

“It ain’t just the south.”

them to keep their fucking mouths shut about

“Okay… the south and… and the
his being in town. The rags probably offered midwest, then.”

them five times that to rat him out. All it took

“I don’t know what planet you’ve
was one sighting, and word was out. Some been livin’ on, homes, but I catch muthafuckas things never changed.

screwfacin’ me just about everywhere.”

Zeus was going to ignore them and

“That’s probably because you lie
keep on walking. He thought about his situ-about it. People hate liars.”

ation. He knew how volatile the Coloureds

“Whatever, man…”

were. Pissing these chicks off might some-Even if the girls weren’t so big, and
how get back to whoever was in charge and sometimes ugly, the fact that they were white fuck up his deal.

was enough to make a lot of the sistas start Zeus looked to see if there was any-hatin’. He didn’t care so much about what one else around, took a deep breath, and everyone else thought.

walked over to the old black hoopty.

“Oh my God, he’s coming over
here,” the driver whimpered.

Big and ugly was an understatement when it The passenger shook with excite-came to the Coloured white girls in the old ment. The car rocked.

black hoopty. Arm and shoulder fat squeezed Zeus squatted and leaned toward
out from the driver’s side window like warm the window.

bread when the car pulled up to him in the

“’Sup, ladies,” he said, forcing a
motel parking lot and the tinted glass hummed smile despite the nervous energy that had open. He had just returned from another fruit-him fidgeting like a crackhead. “It’s ah… nice less search for Dr. Everhardt.

to know I have such… beautiful fans like you From inside the hoopty, a throbbing
two”

beat caused the car to literally expand and The driver was panting. The pas-contract, its outer skin pulsating and lifting senger was just staring.

from its frame and settling back in place. The

“I just love your music,” said the
driver flashed little yellow teeth pointing out first fatty, flagging herself with her hand. “C-of receded gums and hair jutting from her c-can I… Can I touch you?”

nostrils like antennae. It was the most busted Zeus stuck out his hand. She took
smile he’d ever seen. Her skin was a strange hold of it and puckered, her big lips folding shade of Caucasoid: blotchy, with obvious into a wet meat tulip. Her hand dwarfed his brushstrokes, as if she was painted in haste.

own. Her touch was cold and damp, like wet He felt her enthusiasm even before he saw paint. The fumes caused him to squint. He her. It was a feeling that he had grown used held his breath to escape the strong odor, to, like a celebrity sixth sense.

looked away, and awaited the warm–or maybe

“Hey, sexy.” She leaned out the win-
it would be cold–touch of her lips. She was dow and blew him a kiss. Even her voice cooing like a fresh-stuck virgin surfing or-sounded fat.

gasm shockwaves. Coming from the obese Zeus caught a glimpse of the pas-

ANDRE DUZA 139

Coloured bitch, it turned his stomach.

pain, which was so intense that he vomited.

An explosion of sensation caused

Suddenly, he saw the hoopty at the far end Zeus to yank his arm away from her, or at of the alley and took off running again.

least try to. The girl had his arm in her mouth, It was chaos when he hit the street.

pinched between her teeth. She clamped For the first time in his life, Zeus wished that down when he pulled, teeth grinding and slic-he was anonymous, that he was just plain ing through flesh, muscle, and finally bone.

old Kenny Scruggs.

She was growling like a dog as she tore it The blonde woman (wearing an
away.

Eminem T-shirt) who called to Zeus from the Zeus stumbled backwards gasping

SUV had started a chain reaction of mostly and staring in disbelief at the stump. It was, women who leaned from their windows and by no means, a clean break. Flaps of fibrous stepped out of their cars to see the big star.

muscle and sinew drooped from the wound There were horns blaring, girls and grown like heavily textured tongues overlapping women screeching and carrying on as if the each other and spitting blackened red saliva.

mere mention of his name brought them to

“I bet he tastes as good as he
orgasm. Zeus ran for a block and turned down looks,” said the girl in the passenger seat.

a side street, then another, until he lost the

“Ummm-hmmm…” replied the driver,
crowd that was following him.

her cheeks punching outward. Zeus’s sev-Why didn’t I listen to Odell?

ered arm twitched and flexed while she Odell Mitchell was his manager. He
chewed. She finally swallowed enough to was always going on and on about Zeus’s speak coherently: “Even better, gurl.”

safety and preaching to him that all of his Physically, the pain registered as
fast living was ultimately going to catch up extreme cold, radiating up from the stump to with him, but he wouldn’t have believed this the rest of his body. Delirium was challeng-shit. Lil’ Zeus smacked his stump against the ing shock. Zeus fought back the wave of wall behind him over and over, then cradled weird euphoria that he knew would only lead it against his body, stifling his screams and to him passing out.

sucking breath through clenched teeth.

The drainage from the stump slowed

Zeus was crouching in front of a
when he squeezed it with his hand, so he fence that bordered a neighborhood and the grabbed it as hard as he could, turned, and back of a low-rent strip mall. He contemplated ran. His first thoughts concerned how this climbing it. With one good hand, it would be was going to affect his career and how bad difficult, but he was determined to try once (nappy-headed and ashy) he probably
he caught his breath.

looked. Nappy-headed and ashy was right Activity from the front painted a
up there with death to a guy like Zeus.

picture of busy shoppers getting in each

“Where’ya goin’, sexy?” the biter
other’s way in the parking lot. Hovering some-yelled, her voice interrupted by a deep belch where in the back of the noise was a muffled that jumped up from her stomach and sur-beat. Clifton Heights, like many suburbs of prised her. “I thought you said I was beauti-Philly, had lots of cars that spewed out ful.”

muffled hip-hop or some R&B variant mas-querading as hip-hop (the kind of music Zeus produced). Fuzzy speakers and ear-splitting Zeus managed to duck into an alley to wrap volume usually made all the songs sound the stump with a dirty old scarf he found alike, but when he heard the chimes, then the floating in the gutter. It was a bitch to knot church-bell, he knew it was the opening of using his teeth and his one good hand. It his latest album. Next came his voice, speak-stopped the bleeding but brought back the ing softly, supposedly into the answering

140 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS
machine of a girl he had cheated on. The un-small.

original closing line of the message set up The driver had the kind of hairstyle
the following track: “You never know what that would’ve looked better on a black girl.

you’ve got until it’s gone.”

She wore a halter top and low-rider jeans that showed the top of her thong in the back. Her fat ass devoured all but the triangular piece Zeus straddled the fence, one leg dangling at the top, and even that was hard to see. It on either side. On the mall side, his pants was so big that it bubbled over the edge of snagged a broken link. He panicked and her pants all the way around to her exposed tugged on his leg, which only tore the fabric belly and flapped like a dimpled meat-wing and got more of it stuck. He laid down flat on when she moved. Her cleavage heaved and his stomach to keep from falling to either side.

jiggled.

With one good hand, it was hard to maintain The passenger was just plain fat.

his balance. Getting to the top of the fence Her hair was pulled tight into a short, dookie was a struggle in itself. His stump was throb-ponytail that curled under at the tip. She was bing.

wearing a T-shirt that read “Can’t Touch The sound of his own music ech-This” in bold letters and a skirt that barely oed down the corridor between buildings and hid the bottom of her droopy ass, which back to where Zeus laid atop the fence, arch-looked like a bag of wet mud. Broken veins ing his ass in the air to keep his scrotum from and pimples decorated her lumpy thighs.

being crushed under his weight. The music They looked like they could snap a man in suddenly poured into the open space when two with one squeeze.

the black hoopty bled slowly from the mouth

“He’s MINE!” the driver growled.

of the corridor and crept to a stop thirty feet

“I saw him first.”

from him, its outer shell pulsating.

“You just want ‘em all to yourself,”

The sight of the car made Zeus tug
replied the passenger. “Now gimme!”

faster. He struggled. His leg had been cut by They each had Zeus by an arm. The
the fence and was bleeding, but he could driver had the stump. They held him off the hardly notice.

ground between them and tugged on his

The tinted window on the driver’s
body like children fighting over a doll.

side bucked and began to ooze downward.

Zeus was starting to fade. His eyes
were rolled up; his mouth hung open. His

“I think I saw him come this way,” the blonde face barely registered their tugging and twist-SUV-chick squeaked. The pack of rabid fans ing. The SUV-chick in the front of the pack followed her down the corridor. A few of them caught his unfocued eyes and felt instant were screaming as they ran. One was crying terror.

and shaking.

“I’m swear ta God I’m gonna hurt

Dead center in the clearing just be-
you if you don’t let go,” the driver warned.

yond the corridor, the black hoopty sat di-

“Well, I guess we goin’ be fightin’,
agonally with both doors wide open. Zeus’s then, ‘cause I ain’t lettin’ go.”

voice continued to pour from the stereo.

As they continued to tug, Zeus

The SUV-chick was the first to reach
mouthed something to the SUV-chick. He re-the hoopty, the first to see…

peated it over and over.

Two animated fat chicks fighting

The rest of the group had either
over a man–Zeus. They were huge, maybe scattered upon catching sight of the scene seven feet tall, and dressed in ghettofied or just stood there in a daze, trying to figure clothing that looked about three sizes too everything out.

The SUV-chick was shaking her

ANDRE DUZA 141
head “No.” No to the violence; no to the before their shape lost its hold and sent them sight of two giant cartoons; no to Zeus’s splashing to the floor and leaving Everhardt message, which she couldn’t understand; to clean up the wet spot, or spots depending and no to the buckle and fold of his torso as on the level of assistance he requested.

his skeleton broke into pieces underneath His eyes had taken a beating from
his skin.

72-hours worth of cartoon-watching. It had She cupped her hands over her
been so long since he last required their as-mouth and cried for him.

sistance that Everhardt had forgotten just

“D-d-d-don’t l-look at meeee…”

how hard that part of the deal was. Besides, Zeus rasped once more before he broke like a his eyes weren’t what they used to be. He wishbone and split open from his left clavicle tried to stay awake to see the goon-thing down to his right thigh.

and the fat-white Coloured chicks off, but sleep was more persuasive. As a result,

* * *

Everhardt harbored a touch of anxiety. Had they done it? Had they taken care of this Lil’

The burnout formerly known as Dr. Reigert Zeus character?

Everhardt awoke to the sound of his own He checked the living room first. He
breathing. He yawned away his sleep induced was looking for the wet spot, or possibly narcosis and allowed the new day to accept even a body. He told them specifically that him. As usual, the facts fell into place clum-he didn’t want to know what they did to Zeus sily, and with little concern for a sequential or how they did it. But the Coloureds were timeline; the Coloureds, Lil’ Zeus. And, as notorious practical jokers.

usual, it left him lingering on how much he There was nothing in the living
preferred the sleep-stupor to blunt reality–
room. He turned on the TV for some passive until he remembered the time.

listening and moved on to the kitchen, and He looked at the clock on his
bathroom. He was about to declare both nightstand. The LCD display flashed 9:47 am.

empty when he slipped and feel on his ass It was over… The Coloureds’ 72 hours were just outside the bathroom door. He didn’t up.

need to look down at his hands to realize Halle-fucking-luiah!

what the sticky substance that oozed through When working with the Coloureds
his fingers was.

in this capacity, Everhardt generally preferred When he put it together with the
to be there to send them on their way when living, breathing Coloureds (especially the the gig was up. That way he could make sure goon-thing) that he had seen just hours ago, that the deal was honored and, through his the sticky substance seemed to him like blood, own eyes, confirm their departure. Once the their blood. Looking at it that way gave him 72-hour limit was reached, the Coloureds had the creeps.

no choice, but it reassured him to see it for Holding his goo-soaked arms away
himself.

from his body, Everhardt pinched his wet Watching them break down (into a
clothes off and hopped in the shower.

clear, gelatinous goo) was an unsettling ex-The hot water took him to a com-
perience as it was extremely painful for them.

fortable place as he stood under the shower-Sometimes it came out of the blue. They’d be nozzle with his eyes closed. He remained there in the middle of a sentence then, BAM! The until the water ran lukewarm. He would’ve next thing he knew they were screaming and stayed even longer, fumbling with the faucet thrashing about in a way that made the pain to savor every last bit of heat, but he sud-palpable to him. It only lasted a few seconds denly thought of Lil’ Zeus and his comfort level dropped considerably.

142 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS

Everhardt did little things around

ALLEY BEHIND THE BARCLAY SQUARE
the apartment to distract his thoughts while SHOPPING CENTER IN UPPER DARBY, PA.

he listened for a report on Zeus’s death. The A SURVEILLANCE CAMERA MOUNTED
news was good for running that kind of shit ABOVE THE FIRST TRUST BANK CAP-over more important events.

TURED FOOTAGE OF THE MAN, WHO

It suddenly dawned on him that he

ACCORDING TO WITNESSES AT THE
never checked under his bed. That was where SCENE MURDERED THE RAPPER AND
he kept the metal briefcase that contained DISMEMBERED HIS BODY IN BROAD
his remaining vials of TX-260. He had no DAYLIGHT.”

reason to think that it wouldn’t be there, but Everhardt ran into the living room,
he felt compelled to check just the same. His his eyes gunning for the screen even before stash was his lifeline. The years had earned he entered. He got there just in time to see him a dependency, not on the chemical itself, grainy, surveillance footage of himself run-but the safety that the things that dwelt ning from the alley. The version in the foot-within it provided. Sure it came at a price, but age was slightly different, almost
at least he was alive. At least he was alive….

photorealistic, but not quite.

If it came down to it, he could find

Coloureds!

more–the ingredients to make it, that is. It Everhardt had been set up. But by
wouldn’t be easy. First of all, he’d have to who? Hollywood, the Coloureds, themselves?

leave his apartment for an extended period of On the screen, the image of a young
time. That was out of the question. The years blond (the SUV-chick) dressed in an Eminem had earned Everhardt an addiction to

T-shirt.

solitudel, topped off with a fear of crowds

“THE BODY OF 22 YEAR-OLD
and an aversion to people in general.

JACKIE DERBIN WAS ALSO FOUND AT

Everhardt walked into the bedroom,

THE SCENE. DERBIN HAD BEEN SHOT
got down on his knees and lifted the edge of EXECUTIONER STYLE AND STUFFED IN
the bedspread off the floor.

A DUMPSTER.”

The briefcase was gone. And there

The image cut to an old photo of
was something lying in its place; a severed Everhardt dressed in the suit he used to wear head. It was Lil’ Zeus. His eyes were frozen for special (informal) occasions. He only wide open and staring right at him.

owned two at the time. The other one was for Everhardt gasped himself winded
business.

and dropped the spread, his heart pounding

“PHILADELPHIA POLICE HAVE
like elephant footsteps. He waited a few sec-ISSUED AN ALL POINTS BULLETIN FOR
onds and lifted it again. Still no briefcase.

THIS MAN… DR. REIGERT EVERHARDT.”

For a moment, (Oh!) Everhardt tried

That was all Everhardt needed to
to cajole (God!) some forgotten memory of hear before the moment became about keep-moving it to a safer place (No!). But he knew ing himself from loosing control. His blood he hadn’t.

ran cold. He backed away from the television As grizzly a sight as it was, Zeus’s
as the old photo cut to a live witness, a man head was secondary to losing his lifeline. In who looked quite suspect to him, like a fact, it didn’t even faze him… yet. At the Coloured living inside a dead human.

moment, Zeus was a non-factor, until he

“I saw em’ with ma own eyes,” the
heard the newscaster mention his name.

artificial-looking man said. “He came running

“THE HEADLESS BODY OF
outta the alley all covered in blood like he TROUBLED RAPPER, LITTLE ZEUS WAS
was gonna…”

FOUND EARLIER THIS MORNING IN AN

There was a knock at the door, a
stern, confident knock. It sounded as if the

ANDRE DUZA 143
person on the other side had big knuckles hours ago.

that were calloused over.

A bombastic thud shook the door,

“Dr. Everhardt. This is the police.

the frame around it screamed under duress.

Come out with your hands up, or we’ll be Everhardt high-tailed it toward the bedroom.

forced to break down the door.”

Behind him the door flew open and back-Everhardt felt the room close
handed the wall next to it. The wobbly, brass around him and begin to spin. He was nau-knob left an indentation.

seous from the impact of losing his lifeline.

Two officers entered and immedi-

His vision was fuzzy around the edges. The ately began to chase him. The faster of the Coloureds had done this to him. To him…

two men dove for Everhardt’s legs, wrapping After all that he had done to bridge the cul-his arms around them at the ankles and tures. After all the time he’d put into it. After squeezing them together.

everything that had happened to him as a Everhardt had made it to the dresser,
result. He could’ve been a household name.

slid the top drawer open and reached his hand Instead he was a recluse. Not even a recluse, inside before he lost his balance and began but a prisoner.

to fall. The second officer tackled him at the

“We know you’re in there, doctor.

waist on the way down, winding him.

Come out, NOW!”

Everhardt lay motionless, gasping

He pondered opening the door and
for air beneath the two burly husks. His mind trying to reason with the officers. What was scrambled by the second blow, the one would you tell them, he thought, that the car-that momentarily hyper-extended his back.

toons did it. Yeah… Okay… Good luck with

“His hands… Get ‘is hands!” the
that one. Maybe you should just go out there officer at Everhardt’s ankles yelled to the one and let those knuckle draggers put you out who lay directly on top of him, palming his of your misery. What have you got to lose at face into the dirty carpet.

this point?

He grabbed Everhardt’s wrists to

Everhardt was desperate for the ini-
cuff them together and hesitated.

tiative to do… something… anything but There was a needle stuck in the meat
stand there perusing the same places over of Everhardt’s thumb. The syringe was bro-and over hoping that the briefcase might sud-ken in half and it was empty.

denly materialize.

The officer turned Everhardt’s palm

“This is your last chance, doctor.

up and showed it to his partner.

I’m going to give you ‘til the count of three,

“Heroine, PCP?” he questioned.

then we’re coming in. One…”

“Just cuff him,” the other officer

Throughout all his mental babbling,
said. “Well figure it out later.”

Everhardt’s mind kept stopping on the bedroom dresser, like it was trying to tell him something…

Everhardt came out of the daze with little

“Two!” The officer’s voice was rev-
knowledge of how he wound up on the floor, ving up for something big.

handcuffed. The last thing he remembered Everhardt could picture the officer
was the police breaking down the door.

locking into his combat visage. Based on the There was a burning sensation in his right voice he pictured a large man.

palm, a funny taste in his mouth, like paint.

“One! Okay. Do it!”

His hearing was muffled, and filtered through The syringe!!! There was another
his discombobulated brainscape.

syringe. Everhardt had left it under a stack of About five feet in front of him,
folded pants in his dresser drawer after us-painted hands reached up from a colorful ing it to summon the Coloureds 79 and ½
puddle that surrounded one of the officers’s

144 DON’T F(BEEP)K WITH THE COLOUREDS
feet and slowly pulled him down beneath its Wrong.

surface.

He cried out in pain as his shirt be-

“No!” Everhardt belted realizing that
gan to part. It felt as if his was tearing at his he was looking at the remaining TX-260 from own flesh. Apparently the shirt had fused the syringe. “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”

with his skin.

The officer fought valiantly, but

Everhardt moved stealthily toward
there were too many arms. Each one was a the door as the officer dealt with his dilemma.

different size. Some looked as if they be-The officer’s bones began to crack
longed to animals or… something.

and reshape inside of him. He coughed up The other officer had hold of the
what he thought was blood, except it was sinking one’s right hand. Dropping his stance multicolored.

and leaning back, he pulled as hard as he He looked over at the wall where
could. He kept holding on after his partner Everhardt was sitting, then whipped around was completely submerged. The remaining to find him standing just outside the bed-officer’s hand had broken the surface as well.

room, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

“Gaskins! Gaskins!” the officer

The officer reached out to him,
yelled down at the liquid. “Hold on, brother.

“Help meeeeeee…,” he whimpered as he be-I’m coming in.”

gan to morph through a rapid-fire, Tex Avery-The officer took a deep breath,
style shape-shifting montage of characters.

cheeks puffing out, and plunged his face His heavily altered features remained intact down into the puddle to try and locate his throughout each guise as if to verify beyond partner.

a doubt that it was him (the officer) looking Everhardt opened his mouth to
out from each colorful facade.

warn the officer not to do it, but something Everhardt watched the guises come
literally had hold of his tongue. When his and go as he backed away. He saw:

hand brushed against the wall he was

A little girl in a frilly dress singing propped up against, he felt something stick-

“A Trisket a Trasket” as she held a lollipop ing out of his palm. He knew right away what with a sneering face on it.

it was.

A dimwitted hilly-billy in the form

The officer snatched his head from
of a bipedal dog dressed in overalls and sing-beneath the surface of the puddle and fell ing “Oh ma Darlin’”

backwards. His eyes were as big as golf balls.

A caricature of a Chinaman speak-

He looked over at Everhardt as if to relay the ing jibberish in some a mock-Asian dialect.

horrors that he had just seen when he began A Carmen Miranda-esque woman
to choke. He grabbed his throat, climbed to with big, red lips.

his feet and stumbled from wall to wall like a An Al Jolson inspired bulldog in a
pinball.

coat and tails.

A painterly hue suddenly overtook
him from the feet up until his entire body was tainted with artistic embellishment.

The officer’s terror shined through in the eyes Everhardt cried as he watched, not
of each guise. The feeling resonated out to for the officer’s fate, but his own. Using the where Everhardt was standing.

wall for leverage, his back pressed firmly Everhardt turned and ran out the
against it, he slid up to his feet and plucked front door of his apartment and into the hall-the needle from his palm using his index and way. The walls were stained with smoky soot, middle fingers.

scrawled pencil markings and years of neThe officer was tearing at his uni-
glect. For some reason it stood out more now form as if he was still normal underneath it.

than it usually did.

ANDRE DUZA 145

The DING of the elevator gave him
wasn’t so late for work, the frazzled woman incentive. He hurried down the hall and might have decided against entering.

peeked around the corner. All clear. He ran

“Just a second, honey,” the woman
up to the elevator and ducked inside just as said to her daughter as she paused to search the heavy doors were closing.

for the pepper spray that she kept in her Everhardt fell against the rear wall
purse.

and watched the descending numbers light She wrapped her hand around it,
up as the elevator glided down.

kept her arm in her purse and continued.

* * *

The little girl wasn’t even trying to keep up There was a reason why everyone called the with her mother, whose hand she held. As a two blocks between 52nd and 54th Streets, result, her gait was too wide for her short Homeless Row. The streets were narrow, and legs, causing her to bounce, her little head lined on both sides by the backs of restau-flopping.

rants and designer clothing boutiques.

“Look at that guy,” the little girl

Dumpsters outside of each one served as a chuckled at the man with the bracelets who stabilizing wall for the cardboard and dis-stumbled down the block toward them.

carded wood domiciles that decorated the

“Now that’s not nice, honey,” the
undergrowth of refuse. Rickety fire escapes mother replied.

zig-zagged up the surface of the buildings The man suddenly stopped,
and appeared to touch the sky. A sweaty-clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed funk mist lay heavy in the air and stung the his eyes shut.

senses of outsiders. Enough light passed

“I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU
between the buildings and down into the ANYMORE!” he yelled. “YOU’RE ALL
street that impatient folks looking for a short WASTING YOUR TIME!”

cut felt safe enough passing through. When they did, they pinched their noses shut and walked straight down the middle of the street.

Until he opened his eyes, Everhardt hadn’t The residents of Homeless Row didn’t seem noticed the frazzled woman and her daugh-to mind. If they weren’t caught up in some ter. At first he thought they were Coloureds seemingly one-sided conversation with
and took on an aggressive stance in reac-empty air, or sleep, or passed out drunk, or tion. It caused the woman to stop, turn around high, or both, they took it as an opportunity and hurry back to the opening at 42nd Street to solicit money–for something to eat, they with her daughter bobbling in her tightened were fond of saying.

grasp.

As far as the frazzled young worker

The block lit up with sickening color
bee of a woman who entered at 42nd Street as soon as the frazzled woman and her daugh-with a little girl in tow could see, there was ter were out of sight. Now that Everhardt was only one of them up and about–an older man.

himself a gateway, the Coloureds flocked to Aside from his disheveled clothing, he ap-him from the other side. Until he figured out a peared too clean, his features too indicative solution (which he was determined to do) of some underlying brilliance. There was Everhardt dwelt among the homeless, with something dangling from his wrists. It looked whom the Coloureds had a long-standing like snipped chain links leading up to a steel relationship. This way, he didn’t stand out.

bracelet. The man was pointing and cursing at the dark crevices all around him. If she

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI

LOCATION:

Saskatoon, SK, Canada

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Blender Fiction

BOOKS BY SAKOWSKI:

Some Things Are Better Left Unplugged

The Hack Chronicles

Not Quite One of the Boys

Misadventures in a Thumbnail Universe

DESCRIPTION: Vincent writes blender fiction (slipstream with a darker, sharper, jagged edge) that tends to be humorous, satirical, and filled with irony. Often there are dream-like logistics, but everyone’s awake and suffering just the same…

whether or not they’re enjoying their suffering is another matter entirely.

INTERESTS: Music and movies. Art and plays. Trying to avoid a meaningless life and death. Playing guitar, bass, and the mandolin (Vincent used to be in the band The NPO Conspiracy). Archaeology. Games. Rappelling, zip-lining, and being held upside-down 100 feet off the ground despite the fact that he suffers from a severe case of acrophobia (Vincent is a big believer in irony and stupidity).

INFLUENCES: Vincent is more inspired by music than books. Then art, such as H.R. Giger and Salvador Dali. Then writers like William S. Burroughs, Philip K. Dick, James Douglas Morrison, and Lou Reed. All those and so much more.

PLAYS PRODUCED: The Progression of the Psychopath (a comedy), History Has Been Cancelled Today, Cain: A Mystery (The Prologue and Interlude), The Exchange, The Arena, The Puzzle In The Box, Where is God?

WEBSITE:

www.myspace.com/vincentsakowski

147 THE SCREAMING OF THE FISH

THE SCREAMING you sometime?”

And: “Do you want me to feed your
fish while you’re away?”

OF THE FISH

It didn’t matter who was doing the
shouting, and it didn’t matter what they were shouting out. Or if his two fish could speak and they could tell him all about the unpleasantness of bouncing around in the bowl swimming for their lives and how his knee joints I once had a friend who had a fish-bowl for a were getting rubbed raw and how he was brain. So needless to say, he had a rather developing shin splints and if he wasn’t care-large head. But he carried it well—powerful ful how—
neck muscles built up over the years—and None of this would matter because
he carried it with pride.

he wasn’t much of a listener. In fact, he He changed the water regularly—
couldn’t hear anything at all—no ears. He he liked to keep it fresh. But he also lost a lot only felt the pressure of their voices…the of it, since he was an avid jogger. Despite his pressure of the sounds…and the pressure strength and poise, sometimes that water said enough. And he was quite happy not to bounced right out of there. He never worried know any more than that.

about it though, or complained about the Until the day he died.

loss. The water kept him cool inside and out.

My friend died while jogging, of

There wasn’t anything he could do about course. He tripped over somebody’s Chihua-the evaporation, but he always carried a full hua, which happened to get off of its leash.

water bottle just to be safe.

So even though the dog was barking, and The two goldfish in the bowl didn’t
the owner was trying to call it back and seem to be too crazy about him jogging ev-shouting at my friend at the same time—and ery day—with all of the rocks from the bot-even I was foolishly trying to warn him—my tom getting stirred up, swishing around and friend didn’t hear a word, he only felt the scraping their sides. Way too many scars sudden agonizing pressure from all around.

over the years, but what could they say?

It caught him totally unaware, confusing him.

My friend kept them well-fed, and

So he tripped over the Chihuahua, and he they certainly got their exercise. And even fell, and man did those fish fly!

though they were stuck in a small home, they Just as the fish-bowl shattered on
got to see a lot of the sights. Especially since the sidewalk, the Chihuahua scurried over to my friend liked to jog a new route everyday if the flying fishes and it snapped one right out he could. He enjoyed new scenes himself.

of the air. The dog quickly chewed that gold-Folks thought he was a pretty
fish, likely hoping to get to the other one strange sight, and since he passed some new before it got too dirty on the sidewalk; not people each day, word about him traveled that the dog still wouldn’t eat it anyway, mind fast. So, he was often sought after, and al-you. The second goldfish laid there flopping though there was little he could do about around in its own small way, gasping, gills video cameras and photographers, he never contracting, watching its schoolmate being granted an interview. Neither did he pay any gobbled up. What else could it do?

attention to the occasional rude person who Without wasting another moment, I
would call such lame remarks as:

scrambled over to the second goldfish. I

“I see you have a little water on the
popped it in my mouth, hoping that the mois-brain today, buddy.”

ture would keep it alive, until I could squeeze And: “You mind if I go fishing with
it into my friend’s water bottle, or into a glass

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 148
of water, or a fountain, or—but it was still Pleasure is.

flopping around in my mouth—so much so Now Suit surveys the rest: soft, full-that I accidentally (or perhaps instinctively?) figure—just curvaceous enough, but well swallowed it.

muscled underneath. All natural. Almost As the goldfish digested, I got a
shocking in its rarity. Skin as pale as Suit’s is real taste of my friend’s memories…his tanned. Powder dry as he is slick. But like life…particularly before he met me. And al-him: plastic, elastic. Covered in film. Literally.

though I’m not sure if I understand him any Gray-brown reels wound tightly. Occasional better, I’m just really glad that he kept his tiny images flash out of focus. Even with his fish-bowl so clean.

sharp, beady, dead eyes, Suit can’t distinguish one frame from the next. Not that he cares too much anyway.

He nods. Once.

To a song that only she can hear,

PEEL AND EAT
she begins to undulate and slowly turn on the platform—her body in constant motion—
but every move deliberate. Sensual. As she BUFFET
turns, her hips gyrating, she begins to pull at the film, working the knots open. Stretching out scenes. Letting them fall. Editing in her own way. There is only the crinkling of the film to be heard as it unwinds and she crushes Suit enters the cell. Black on six sides. With a it underfoot.

duplicate door across from him. Illumination Suit remains motionless, but inter-of a sort filtering down. Dull yellow glow like ested. Waiting. Expectant.

cancer consuming a lung. Straight back stain-Her breasts exposed, she takes one
less steel chair before him. In front of the up in both hands, alternately twisting and chair: a small raised wooden platform. Also flicking the nipple with her thumbs. Then black. Soap box for an audience of one. Oth-bending her head down she takes the nipple erwise the room is empty. Hollow. Dull.

in her mouth, sucks on it once. Hard. Baring Door clicks shut behind him. Locks
her teeth, she grips it tightly and bites it off slide and snap into place.

without uttering a sound. Whipping her head For whose sake? he wonders
up, she spits it at Suit. Blood runs down her nonchalantly. Smiles. Lipless. All teeth. Sharp.

chin and squirts out from the hole in her Glistening. A new shark in these waters. Sits.

breast.

Molds. Crosses his leg: left over right. Checks The bloody nipple bounces off of
the crease.

his chest, and into his open palm. Suit rolls it Perfect. As always. And not a hair
onto his fingertips, then he holds it before or bit of lint to be seen anywhere.

his eyes, admiring it like a fine jewel. He is Leans back. Laces his fingers. Waits.

also acutely aware of the stain on his silk tie, But not for too long.

but he will live with it. Almost worth the price Lights dim.

of admission. So far. After a moment, he Door before him opens.

brings the ravaged nipple up to his lips giv-Silhouette takes the stage, as the
ing it a quick flick of his pointed tongue, then door swings shut, and it too is locked.

pops it into his mouth. Sucking. Savoring.

Fade up.

Chewing it lightly. Playfully. Rolling it on his Eyes meet. Business is pleasure.

tongue. But he does not swallow. Yet. And in Vision holds.

the meantime, he continues to observe.

149 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK

Iron is in the air.

Silhouette sways before him, miss-

IT’S BEGINNING
ing a beat or two, probing the bleeding hole in her breast. Meanwhile her other hand wan-TO LOOK A
ders down between her legs, and peels away the film. But it is more of the same—until she LOT LIKE
is naked and standing with a minute’s worth stretched out in her hands. Rotating her wrists, she takes an edge and runs it across RAGNAROK
her soft belly.

Flushing.

Scarring.

Opening.

Bleeding.

A thin under layer of pale yellow fat

A TASTE FOR THUMBNAILS
like cottage cheese.

Swooning.

Image: bathroom. Modern. Tiles shining.

Bleeding.

Porcelain glowing. Fans humming. Fluffy Intestines exposed, she stuffs her
towels that look and feel great, but absorb hands with the film inside herself, and pulls water about as well as a sheet of steel. Would out a length of her entrails. Taking small make a great set-up for a commercial. There’s steps, she continues to try and dance. Twirl-a couple included, and they’re real. Well, sort ing her entrails like a key chain one moment.

of: GQ and Vogue, late twenties, slick and Stumbling. Wrapping them around her like a pointy, ripped abs, dyed hair, fake bake, and boa the next. Knees buckling. Running them all.

back and forth in between her legs. She lunges The time: morning. Even though
forward into his lap.

there are no windows. No clear, bright sun-Suit catches her, knowing that since
shine. No fresh air. Even if there were win-his tie is already ruined, the rest will have to dows, the bright sunshine and the fresh air go with it anyway. Silhouette holds her in-wouldn’t be there. Not invited. Not missed.

testines out for him, a silent appeal in her Not a situation comedy? Hardly. Or
eyes. She tries to squirm seductively, grind-does that remain to be seen? Depends on ing into his lap, but she doesn’t have much one’s sense of humor, of course.

strength left.

Rather simple actually. Morning

Suit holds her as she dies, feeling
ritual before they part ways for the remainder the anticlimax, and he brushes her lids with of the day. Both naked, showered, squeaky, his fingers as she draws her last breath—no but absolutely unaroused—never time for longer wanting contact with eyes that now that. Such a spontaneous action could kill match his own. Curious, he reaches into her one or the both of them.

abdomen for the minute of film. Digs around Vogue has just finished waxing her
ignoring the odor and ooze, but it is lost.

underarms and legs and is disposing of the Consumed? Suit wonders as he
unsightly strips. They’re reusable, of course, hears the locks being released on the door but she always buys new ones. She can’t before him. Fascinated. Raises an eyebrow.

conceive of going through all the trouble of Finally, he swallows the nipple.

washing them, or even worse is the thought What’s next? Suit smiles. All teeth.

of ever having to touch them again. Their As always. What’s next?

mere presence makes her empty, stapled stomach heave.

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 150

GQ ignores the flash of her grimace

So don’t tell me that the world isn’t going to and speaks to her for the first time today: end because you lost this nail. Find it! ”

“Pass me my electric razor would you, my He pauses; breathes, but with little
dear.”

depth. “Now, I have to go or I’ll be late.”

“Only if you pass me the nail clip-

Hands the pail with his clippings, then pers first.”

crosses over to his clothes. “Take great care They smile smugly in unison. Noth-with those, and yours, after you have them ing like a bit of humor to start their day right.

all, of course.”

They exchange the desired items,

“But if I don’t have them all and the
careful not to make any fleshly contact. No world is going to end, then what does it mat-need to tempt Fate and be scratched or ter if you’re late? There won’t be anything to bruised through some carelessness. Their be late for.”

Teflon coating can only take so much abuse.

“Just find it.”

Razor on. Buzzing. Fistful of angry

“And if the world is going to end,
bees. Second snap. Clippers chattering in do you really want to die wearing those socks their place. Raised high. Jaw locked. Finger-with that suit? And those shoes? What’s tips on his face. Skin pulled tight.

come over you this morning?”

“You’re not serious. You’ve had

“I have no time for this.” And he is
that beard for years. You finally have it gone.

trimmed just right: manicured to perfection.

Search: an exercise in futility, but

It doesn’t even irritate me any more. And she continues nonetheless.

despite—”

Sighs. “Now I’m going to be late,

“I feel the need for change… some-
too.”

thing in the air, perhaps? So, keep your con-In haste. Abandonment. But a re-
cern. I may need it later. Don’t mind me. You minder: Garbage Day. Rushing. Rubber
have your nails to trim, and the clock is tick-gloves. Disinfectant spray. Bags from each ing, my dear. So focus.”

room. Takes them to the foyer. Back upstairs, Hairs fall. Nails fly. Transformation
her own layers are applied. Quickly. Methodi-all around. Just see the results.

cally. Machine-like in her efficiency. Finally, Aftershave. Expletives: but barely
out the door. Security system armed and qua-evoked in his mind, never uttered aloud. Still: druple locks in place. Then, by the garage: pain. Sharp. Electric. Burning. Looking for lid up. Bags dropped. Lid down. Wheels the something…some release. Glances in the bin to the sidewalk.

nearby garbage pail. Pauses. Frowns. Picks

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

it up. Holds it out to her.

But being privileged only means so

“I think you’ve lost a nail. I’ve
much sometimes.

counted, and there are only nineteen cres-Turns back to the garage. Feels a
cents, not twenty.”

presence: Derelict. Suddenly, in her face. Si-

“Really now. It’s not the end of the
lent. Sultan of Scatology. Smoldering, yet world.”

smiling. Teeth: rotting. Breath: reeking. Eyes:

“Listen, dear. After you fell asleep deep, dark, indecipherable. Long, greasy, last night, I saw the Norse God Loki building stringy salt and pepper hair and beard. Burst-a long ship from people’s discarded hair and ing burlap sack over his left shoulder. Hairs nails. When he finally had enough and the and nails poking through its entire surface.

ship was completed, Ragnarok began. And

“Good morning, my dear. I was won-

Ragnarok is the battle at the end of the world.

dering if you could spare some—”

Granted, this was only a re-enactment on tele-

“Is your name Loki?”

vision, but it seemed quite plausible to me.

“Do I look like a Norse God to you?”

151 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK

“I don’t watch that much television.

THE DANGERS OF BLACK SOCKS

I have no idea how a Norse God is supposed to look, but I couldn’t help noticing that sack But, first, see the man: GQ, late twenties, slick of hair and nails. Are you building a long and pointy, with his ripped abs under his two-ship with them?”

thousand-dollar suit and his hundred-dollar

“This is the suburbs, my dear. No
shirt. Abs like those shouldn’t be covered, open water for tens of miles…will you be my but he is on his way to work, after all. Plenty friend?”

of time to admire them later in his mirror at the

“Is that really necessary?”

office, perhaps while his male secretary is

“It would be nice.” The derelict
blowing him. (Hey, when you close your eyes, flashes a brown, hourglass toothed smile.

a blowjob is a blowjob. And when your eyes Vogue steps back, grimacing. “Let
are open, and you don’t mind what you see—
me think about it.”

well, perhaps you need to have a talk with

“Uh huh…bad day, my dear?”

your wife.)

“I’ve just discovered that my

If he ever gets there, that is.

husband’s an asshole.”

The idea persists—dominates his

“Only this morning? You have my
thoughts while his car remains gridlocked on sympathies.”

the “freeway”—but not about his abs, or the

“Thank you.”

office, or his secretary. Rather, this is some-

“But not to worry—”

thing worthy of a good water-cooler discus-

“Yes, yes, I know. The end is near,
sion: he just can’t shake the idea of the end and if I can be of any help—”

of the world—although, in a Ragnarok kind

“Why, that’s very gracious of you.”

of way.

“Think nothing of it.” Vogue lifts

He slams his fist on the dash. “Damn
the lid of the garbage bin. “Top bag on the you Public Television for planting that evil left. Knock yourself out. And here—” She seed of knowledge in me last night!”

digs in her small purse and holds out a fistful However, in consolation, while the
of change, just in case. He snatches it away seed is planted, growing, he is still aware that and pockets it before she even realizes it’s his day planner is completely filled. Too many gone. “But I must be going.”

commitments. Besides, he could easily be

“To work?”

mistaken of course, so why cancel all of his

“How much time do I have?”

appointments, until he has some more solid Hefts the sack. “Not too long.”

proof?

“Then definitely not…today is just

Nonetheless, it doesn’t help that his
full of epiphanies, isn’t it?”

wife lost one of her fingernail clippings this

“And so much more.”

morning: only mere hours after he sees the

“Well, good morning then.”

Norse God Loki completing the construction

“I will remember you; this day.”

of his long ship from discarded human hair

“I’m counting on it.”

and nails. And then, after the last plea for And with that, she strides away and
donations, Ragnarok followed. Naturally.

gets in her car. Vogue is gone. For good.

“Why did you have to do that,

“That is one strange broad…it
woman? And then to top it off—those cracks won’t be long…what a laugh…but then
about my wardrobe? This hasn’t been a good again, let me take a look at what she’s left for morning.”

me…it might just be…

Still gridlocked. Then, in the mirror: brown blur barreling along from behind.

Shock. Focus. Definitely a man approaching.

Is traffic moving that slow, or is that

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 152
guy moving so fast? GQ wonders.

Grabs at his chin. Awakening. “Oh

Passing by: Derelict. Singing. Slum-my! Wait! How much time do I have?”

ming along. Long coat whipping out behind.

“You and your wife are like a couple

Bursting burlap sack over his shoulder—
of broken records…you do know what a hairs and nails poking through its entire sur-record is, don’t—”

face.

How much time?”

“Hey!”

Scowls. Hefts the sack. Then smiles.

Eyes over the shoulder. Briefly. But

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine for awhile. Why he keeps on going.

don’t you just go to work.”

“Hey!”

“Ragnarok’s approaching, and I

Opens the door. Starts to get out.

should just go to work?”

The derelict stops. “I’d put on the

“That’s just all the horns blaring
emergency brake if I were you.”

around you because your car is holding up Car rolls forward. Stalling in the pro-traffic, my boy.”

cess.

In desperation: “Can’t I give you a

GQ sits back down in time and
lift or something?”

stomps the brakes before he hits the car in

“In this gridlock? It’s faster walk-
front of him. Pulls up the emergency brake.

ing. See you around. Oh, and by the way, Meanwhile, the derelict continues to cruise.

nice socks.” Winks. And with that, the der-

“Wait! Loki, is that you?”

elict is gone.

The derelict stops once again. Spins

Hell’s orchestra honks around him.

around as GQ runs up. Agitated. Severely.

Finally, with his head down, GQ returns to

“Do I look like a Norse God to you?”

his car and moves forward the five feet that

“I’m not sure. The guy playing Loki
opened up for him. Uncertain and afraid, but last night looked different, a lot different, but also aware that he is late for work. Very late.

I know he was just an actor.”

“Is that a coincidence or what?” He

“Wow. I applaud your wisdom.”

pauses. Thinks. He said it was okay to go to GQ points at the sack. “Are you
work, and, if he was Loki, then I should be building a long ship with that?”

fine. Who am I to argue? Or, if he was just a

“That’s really wacky, my boy. You
derelict, then I really have nothing to worry sound as weird as your wife.”

about…except maybe my sanity…work it is

“My wife? You spoke to my wife?”

then.

“Just a little bit ago. She was going

Now: almost lunchtime. Arrival. Ev-
on about the same thing. I tried to explain to erywhere: eyes. Peering. Probing. Senior Part-her—”

ner approaching. But GQ makes a few quick

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I told her all about
moves. Deftly creates a diversion with two that stuff. I saw it all!”

secretaries, and makes it to his office rela-

“In a vision? Wow. I wouldn’t have
tively unscathed.

expected that from—”

“See me in my office.” Barks at his

“No. No. No. Like I was trying to
secretary, who obediently follows, pen and say before: I saw it all on television.”

pad in his hand.

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, that’s not so

“Lock the door.”

remarkable then, now is it?”

The secretary, well aware of his du-

“But it was on Public Broadcast-
ties, does so, then crosses over to the full-ing!”

length mirror and discards his stationary. On

“Point taken. But I really must be
his knees, he adjusts himself so that his boss going.” Steps away. Then, turns back. “Oh, will have the perfect angle to admire all.

and by the way, thanks for the beard.”

The things a person has to do to

153 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK
get ahead in this world. The secretary sighs.

still around his ankles, they conclude he is Unbuckles and unzips his boss’s pants. Low-insane. Most leave before he takes hostages ers them and his boxers. Makes a few final and starts knocking them off.

adjustments, before swallowing GQ whole.

Finally, the Senior Partner appears

While maneuvering, he notices his boss’s and takes control. Leads the remaining few, socks. He grunts, laughing.

including GQ—after he pulls up his boxers

“Watch the teeth, buddy. I’ve had a
and pants—back to “The Scene of the
hard morning.”

Crime.” Too late, it seems.

“Show I shee.” And he continues.

“Something either severely sur-

Meanwhile, GQ pulls up his shirt
prised or frightened him, and instead of swal-and admires his waistline. Some consolation.

lowing properly he choked and ended up with If it is the end of the world, at least I’ll meet a lung full of semen.” The Senior Partner con-my maker with perfect abs. That has to say cludes with a slow shake of his head.

something.

Army of eyes on GQ. Accusing. As-

Ridiculous, the secretary thinks.

saulting.

Sometimes I just can’t believe he’s my boss. I A voice from behind: “Now that’s
could never dream of doing something so what I call a cumshot!”

shocking, so…

Silence.

Laughing. Choking, while GQ is

Titters.

ejaculating.

Laughter.

Choking.

Scowling, the Senior Partner

Laughing. Hands on his throat.

doesn’t bother to quiet the crowd. He makes Choking.

a couple of quick nods and gestures, getting Dying.

his key people in motion to take care of this Dying?

situation.

Truly.

“Come with me.” He walks away

I can’t believe this is happening.

without looking at GQ, but GQ knows to fol-Their thoughts echo.

low. Eyes forward, he gets into step behind GQ in panic. Mouth to mouth? With
the Senior Partner. Avoiding all eye contact, that much semen on his lips? Guess he tries to shut out the disgusted glares and again…Heim…lime…or something. Just whispered rebukes. He still can’t believe this like on television. Yeah!

is happening to him, but there is no

Ribs crunch, implode, but he is un-
escape…not unless Ragnarok is going to successful.

happen any time soon.

Starts to run, but he is caught in the They enter his spacious office, and
doorway to his office. Pants around his the Senior Partner sits behind his desk, re-ankles, GQ stumbles into the foyer. Changes clining. GQ stands opposite. Afraid to do any-his mind. No need to be charged with fleeing thing more. Police and ambulance on the way.

the scene of a crime. But what crime? Death

“Don’t worry, I know who made that
by lethal sperm injection?

cumshot crack. He’s packing his things as

“Help me! A doctor? Someone?

we speak. We simply cannot tolerate these Anyone? ”

kind of outbursts…from him or from you—”

Everyone thinks he’s joking, but

“From me? Me? ”

nobody’s laughing. Blasé. Totally.

“Now don’t get me wrong, this is

In consensus: how rude and inap-
not sexual discrimination. I’m all for gay propriate. What is this, a sitcom?

rights—big business— good business for us But, after he pathetically and des-right now, in fact. In any case, an asshole is perately goes about the foyer with his pants an asshole and a blowjob is a blowjob, cor-

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 154
rect? Especially if your eyes are closed. Were else—with your wardrobe and your they?” Throws his feet up on his desk.

psyche—because whoever you may be with

“Maybe don’t answer that…let me get
doesn’t seem to be doing much good for straight to the point.”

you.”

“You’re worried about a scandal?”

GQ leaves. In silence. Help still on

“Hell no. We’ve covered up worse
the way. Told not to worry about “the inci-messes than this; although, word will leak dent,” for now, anyway. It’ll be taken care out, I’m afraid. No real open scandal, but ru-of—part of his severance package.

mor and innuendo, which is even worse in Behind the wheel. Eyes dead. Even-some ways. In any case, I’m not especially tual resurrection.

concerned about that. Your sexual escapade

“But Loki said… that bastard! He
is not really at issue. Well, not the main is-tricked me! I should have known better. Lots sue. Taken on its own, I couldn’t give a rat’s of time to go to work, my ass! He set me up!

ass, or even two or three. Hell, throw in some I wonder if my wife is in on this? I’ll find squirrel nuts, but—anyway, the real point is, out…if it takes my whole life and fortune, this last incident was simply the frosting on well…most of…uh, some of…in any case, I the cake—that extra green on the conve-will find you, Loki, and you too, my dear wife, nience-store wiener. Until today, I was will-and I will make you both pay before Ragnarok ing to let things slide for a bit, allow you time begins. It’s going to be the end of the world to adjust in your new position with us, but alright! Yes indeed. We shall definitely see…

then this morning—or, I should say, it was almost noon, I caught a glimpse of—”

“I can explain!”

THE BED BUGS BITE

“Not just your tardiness, but we
have a certain image to maintain, and we can’t In this hotel suite: shadows and silence reign.

allow for such… indulgences, particularly Curtains drawn tight. A/C off. Everything on when they are so, so…” Feet drop. Leans in.

autopilot. Waiting for the next guest to arrive

“I mean, my God man! What were you think-and bring life.

ing about when you were getting dressed No.

this morning?”

Hold on.

“I—”

Life does exist here, but for now it is

“Don’t answer that. There’s noth-
asleep. In hibernation. Just barely.

ing you can say. I’m so disappointed in you.

Waiting.

I thought you had a better sense of fashion Then: footsteps.

than this. Black socks with that suit? And Arrival.

those shoes? Where was your wife when you Presence.

were getting dressed? Didn’t she see what a Well, sort of.

mistake you—”

Vogue manages to get the door

“She—”

open with her arms overloaded. Quite the feat,

“I don’t want to hear it!”

but she’s done it before. Never dreams of

“So I’m being let go?”

hugging anyone, but she can wrap her arms

“Yes. And you can go now—the
enough packages doubling her body weight back way. You are familiar with the back door, and still be able to sign on the dotted line at aren’t you?”

the same time.

“…This is it?”

Illumination is lacking, so she

“Your things will be sent. Now
reaches for the light switch. There is a slip, please go…and you may want to consider but in a phenomenal display of speed and getting some help, or switching to someone dexterity she hits the switch and saves the

155 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK
bag of breakable bobbles before it meets its pages looking at the picture for any clues.

untimely demise. Sighing in relief, she slides Pictures are good, as long as they are not too past the door and steps over to the bed. As abstract, because using one’s imagination the door snaps shut behind her, Vogue low-can be difficult, and difficult is not good. And ers her bundles of joy onto the quilted sur-using one’s imagination can be pretty scary, face with practiced ease.

and too much like work, and work is not good, She spins, kicking off her stilettos,
either. Not that kind of work, anyway.

slapping them against the wall. Then,

Fortunately for her, the illustrations underhands her massive carrying bag into a are fairly straightforward. Depicting Vikings.

chair across the suite. Again she sighs. Again Doing what Vikings do. Trading. Killing. Con-she spins. Several times. Smiling. Laughing.

quering. Lying with their women. Telling sto-A little maniacally? Perhaps. Perhaps insan-ries to each other about trading, killing, con-ity has settled in her lobes. But she’s enjoy-quering, and lying with their women. And ing herself, so who’s to criticize? Who’s to yes, there are images of their gods: trading, know or care that she’s maxed out most of killing, conquering, lying with their women, her credit cards in just one morning? (Well, and doing all those other things that gods possibly her husband for one, but he hasn’t do in a Viking kind of way.

found out just yet, nor does he count in her She drifts. Lying back, book in hand,
books anymore, anyway.) Besides, she’s got she soon falls asleep. Exhausted. There’s mondo overdraft to boot, so it’s cat’s-ass-only so much shopping a woman can enjoy living-the-sweet-life until Ragnarok ap-in a morning. Actually, there is no known limit, proaches.

except for what time provides.

Then she could be screwed, of

She dreams: of herself. Of her hus-
course. But she’s not worried. Not about her band. Of Ragnarok. Of more. But she under-credit, in any case. About Ragnarok itself?

stands little of what she sees and experiences.

Well, Vogue figures she’s gotten in good with Flashes of their future? Could it be? So much Loki so far, but she doesn’t know if that in darkness…but they’re just dreams. Never itself is such a good idea. From what she’s taken stock in them before, but then again, gathered, Loki’s the “Bad Guy,” and the bad they’ve never been so vivid before. So de-guys usually lose in the end—on TV and tailed. So realistic. All around her: sights, film, anyway. And she doesn’t know much sounds, smells, pressing in against her. Seiz-beyond that. Normally, she would embrace ing. Squeezing. Nibbling. Gnawing on her her ignorance—actually, she’s usually un-mind—her whole being.

aware of her ignorance—but Ragnarok seems She wakes. Bound to the bed.

like a pretty big deal. So, she’s even put some Wrists and ankles wrapped around by the of her non-existent funds to good use and sheets. Somehow secured. She struggles for bought a couple of books on the subject.

a minute to no avail, then tries to scream.

Vogue would have preferred the videotape Before a sound escapes her lips, however, versions, but they would have taken too long the pillow beside her flips over her face, to arrive on special order “for preferred cli-smothering her. Panicking, she struggles ents only.” And she’s not sure if she has the harder, but, surprisingly, she soon learns her time to waste learning to read once more. But mistake and lies still. The pillow presses again, is it the only way to escape the inevi-down for a moment longer, but then it flips table? It’s a possibility, especially with so back beside her.

many outside forces at work beyond her unHer purse lies open. Beckoning.

derstanding.

Something that enormous must have some-Vogue picks up one of the books
thing useful inside in it—in theory, anyway.

and scans the cover, then flips through the The previous lesson already forgotten, Vogue

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 156
tries to ease her hand towards it. The purse

“Don’t you know that Loki is the
appears to open wider for her and draw Ultimate Trickster, Baby Bear—it’s what he nearer—almost within her reach—a nail file does—well, when he’s not killing, conquer-glimmers, shimmers.

ing, laying with women, doing what Vikings Closer.

do, or, well, whatever. And I must point out Laughing.

that you have never helped me at all. Ever.”

Laughing?

“Stop this already, Loki, and just tell Not her laughing.

me what you want.”

Laughing at her.

“First of all—stop calling me Loki.”

Around her, the room echoes with

“What do you want me to call you
guffaws. She stops her straining and strug-then?”

gling. Listens. Her eyes dart all around the

“You’re talking to a bed, Goldilocks,
suite, but she sees no one. Yet everything what do you think?”

has changed. Or has it? Vogue can’t remem-

“I’m not thinking much at all. For all ber if she ordered a theme room or not. A little I know, I’m still sleeping and dreaming… and too realistic for her liking in any case: tapes-I didn’t want a dirt floor! So give me a break tries of ancient battles cover the walls; spears, already. Let me wake up, or let me go. I’m not swords, and shields line the perimeter. Across going run away.”

from her a fire blazes. Before it lie an empty

“Hmmm…so much to consider…”

plate and a long knife on the dirt floor.

The bed inflates, but the sheets do not Dirt floor?

loosen.

I didn’t pay all that money for a

A voice erupts from across the suite.

dirt floor, did I? Whimpering, she continues

“Enough of this idle bantering, Veikur Rum!”

to look and listen, trying to pinpoint the Vogue turns her head to see a beau-laughter.

tiful, buxom, naked woman with long blond It’s coming from the bed. Reduces
braided hair reaching down to her waist. Ly-to soft snickers, and, in its own way, does ing there, Vogue is both deeply envious and some “listening” of its own. Waiting to see strangely aroused, admiring the perfection what her next move will be. The bed doesn’t in her form, searching for some flaw. Finding have to wait too much longer.

it fast. As she glances below the waist once

“Who’s there?”

again, her envy and anticipation are turned Vibrating, the bed answers. “Just the
into gloating and revulsion. So much for per-two of us.”

fection. The beauty stops at the meridian.

“And who’s that?”

From the waist down, her figure is rotting The bed shifts beneath her. “Who’s
and putrid. Dead flesh hangs in sinewy strips.

that where?”

Every movement brings a watery, squishing Exasperated, she cries: “Who’s that sound and an escape of septic gases. Slowly, under my bed?”

purposefully, she moves towards Vogue, leav-

“No one is under the bed, Mama
ing a trail behind her like a massive slug.

Bear, and the bed is not yours to begin with.”

She cries out as the Valkyrian fe-

“Is that you again, Loki?”

male draws nearer. Her body trembling, tick-The bed sighs and the woman sinks.

ling, then burning and bruising as her body

“You really have no clue what a
is bitten—her clothes being eaten away.

Norse God looks like, do you?”

Weeping. “Who are you?”

Lower, the bed enfolds her.

“Hel, his daughter.”

“Will you stop playing tricks on

“You mean Loki’s daughter, right?

me? I helped you out, remember?”

What’s your name?”

The bed pauses. Hardens.

“I just said, Hel.”

157 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK

“You mean your name is Hell?”

the bargain.” Veikur Rum adds, and Vogue’s

“Not H-E-L-L! … H-E-L! Why do I bindings tighten once again.

always have to go through this with every-

“Isn’t Loki expecting me? Shouldn’t
body? Aren’t you listening—”

I be on my way? Won’t he be upset that

“Okay! Okay, already! What does
you’ve kept me as it is?”

Loki want with me now?”

They hesitate. Retreat. Regroup. Re-

Sitting on the bed, squishing and
consider. Hel settles in her seat. Minor erup-farting, Hel coldly caresses Vogue’s cheek.

tion underneath.

Somehow soothing and scaring her at the

“Perhaps…”

same time. She trails her frigid fingers down

“We’re dead anyway, soon
her neck. Feels Vogue’s pulse quicken.

enough.” Veikur Rum rumbles and starts to

“He wants you and your husband
nip at Vogue again.

to be the last two people in Midgard to re-

“Just for tying me up—that’s
start humanity after the end of the world.”

harsh.” Vogue doesn’t really sympathize,

“And where exactly is Midgard? Do
being totally unfamiliar with the experience I need my passport or any shots first?

of being sympathetic. However, she is start-And…did you just say that only the two of ing to think on her feet, so to speak. And she us are to survive?”

wants to get away relatively unscathed.

“Yes.”

Hel explains: “No. No. Almost all of

“…And it has to be with my hus-us are to die—it’s our Fate. After Ragnarok, band?”

very few will remain alive.” She nods, con-

“Yes.”

templating. “Yes, we must satisfy honor. Fate

“But Loki knows what an asshole
is calling us.”

my husband is.”

Remembering her dreams, realizing

“Yes. Everything has its price.”

there may be some truth to them, Vogue

“So it seems…can’t we negotiate?”

changes her mind and decides to stall.

“No. You’re to join with him shortly.”

“Well don’t you have call display

“What exactly do you mean by
or message manager? Don’t answer. Just ig-join?”

nore it. That’s what I do. I don’t think I’m

“Just meet with him.”

ready for this yet. Let’s put Fate on hold for

“And then?”

awhile.”

“And then you go into hiding until

“Loosen her bonds, Veikur Rum. It’s

Ragnarok is over.”

time for her to be on her way.”

“That’s it?”

Whimpering and groaning, Veikur

“That’s all.”

Rum complies.

“And you needed to tie me,

Vogue sits up and rubs her wrists
and…and all of—well, just to tell me this?”

and ankles. Still desperate, she asks: “But

“Not at all. He only wanted me to
what about Free Will?”

pass on the message to you. The rest was all

“Do we look Catholic?”

my idea.”

“…uhhhh…”

“Don’t forget about me! I helped,

“Don’t answer. Just get dressed.”

too.” Veikur Rum chimes in, but Hel ignores Hel stands and shifts away, her lower body it. She leans back and reaches across Vogue burping and oozing.

for her bags.

“But Vayker Room here ate my

“Now let’s take a look at what you’ve
clothes.”

bought to help you make it through

“Sorry.” Veikur Rum rumbles, but

Ragnarok.”

not too apologetically, still enjoying the feel

“And have ourselves a little fun in
and the view.

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 158

Hel gestures, dismissing her. “I’m
be by sooner or later.” And he doesn’t bother sure you have something in your bags.”

to look up at them. Scratches at some mud

“I suppose,” Vogue pouts, “but I
caked on his pants. Flicks away the dust.

really think you owe me.”

Scratches.

“Perhaps,” Hel smiles darkly, “we

Flicks.

shall see what you deserve in—

Not expecting to be so blatantly dis-
regarded, the two stand above him, chests heaving, eyes darting around dubiously.

SHAVING THE WEASEL

Searching.

Finding… nothing. Certainly not Slowly, carefully, the derelict lowers his burst-what they were expecting. Well, they were ing burlap sack on to the beach. He’s spent expecting Loki, here, at the only nearby body too much time collecting discarded human of water: a shallow river in a park at the edge hair and nails to have them spill all over the of the city. And they figured that by finding sand now. Satisfied that his bag is safe, he Loki, they would also find each other, but sits down beside it on a nearby log and something is missing.

watches the waves lap up against the shore.

“Where’s your long ship?” Vogue

Waiting.

asks. “I thought you’d be almost finished by Knowing he won’t be alone for
now. Isn’t that your last sack? What about long.

Ragnarok?”

Soon, he hears their approach from

Attacking from another angle, her
opposite directions. Man and woman. GQ and husband shouts: “You said I had lots of time!

Vogue. Slim and stylish…well usually any-You set me up! I lost my job! My only wish way, but not today. Sure, they’re still slim was to see you pay before Ragnarok be-and Teflon coated, possessing abs of envy gins—but now it seems Ragnarok is nowhere and buns of stainless steel. But they are also in sight and I’m unemployed! What am I sup-haggard—dirty and sweaty from running
posed to do now? I’m hungry. Thirsty. Filthy.

around store to store, trying to find the right My teeth feel like they’re coated with—”

things to get them through Ragnarok. But

“You would go and lose your job,
they’ve never had this kind of experience wouldn’t you? Well, if there’s no Ragnarok, before, so, mostly, they’ve bought a lot of at least I won’t have to be stuck with you to crap. During their sprees, knowing the clock rebuild humanity.” Vogue glares at her husis ticking, neither made their usual pit stops band. “I want a divorce.”

to check the hair, the makeup, the dandruff

“What are you talking about?”

flakes, the creased clothes, and the runs in

“You know what a divorce is—al-
the nylons. Or to change those cursed black most all of our friends and family have—”

socks. In any case, Teflon may be a breeze to

“No. Not that. The being stuck to-
clean, but it gets filthy just as easily given gether part and rebuilding humanity. How are the opportunity. So for many reasons—in-we supposed to do that when we’ve both cluding the awareness of their lack of clean-been snipped?”

liness—they are also angry.

“Well, it’s a long story, but this morn-At themselves.

ing I went on a bit of a shopping spree—”

At each other.

“Shopping spree?”

At him. They both yell, “There you

“—and I got a hotel suite—”

are—I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then

“A suite? For one person?”

they run, shopping bags slapping their

“—and I was laying down reading
thighs, converging on him.

about the Vikings, and I fell asleep. I had all He sighs. “I figured you folks would
these dreams about you and me and

159 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK

Ragnarok—”

ther returns. “Now take your things and get

“Whose credit cards did you use?”

going. I’ll have to seal you in pretty soon.”

“—and then I woke, or I thought I

“Seal us in?”

woke, and Loki’s daughter, Hel—”

“It’s for your own protection. Be-

“His daughter’s name is Hell? Man, sides, what else did you expect?”

who are we dealing with?”

“You’re going to seal us in a cave?

“Not Hell, you idiot, H-E-L! I un-How do we know when Ragnarok is over?

derstand why she complained so much now.

How do we get back out? How are we to

Anyway, she explained everything to me—”

survive? More importantly, how do we even

“Did you get a refund for the room
know this isn’t just some trick on your part?”

since you left after staying for only a couple Vogue cuts in: “I really think I should of hours?”

tell you about my—”

“Don’t you want to hear about what

But the derelict ignores her inter-

Hel had to say, or about my dreams? I think ruption and speaks over her.

they were prophetic, you know like on that

“Everything you need is in the cave.

mini-series that was on last weekend—”

Go ahead. Take a look for yourselves. But if

“You kept your receipts, I hope.”

you two want to stay out here instead while The derelict clears his throat. “Why

Ragnarok is running amok, then be my guests don’t you two stop arguing, sit down, and and you can die with everyone else. Let me relax.” He pats the log on both sides. They know right now though, because if you want hesitate. Both about to speak. Then they drop to stay out here then I have to find another their eyes and their seats soon follow, with couple to rebuild humanity… fast…so what’ll their bags still held before them. “Did I say it be?”

Ragnarok wasn’t approaching?”

“…the cave…” The couple agrees,

“…no…” They glumly answer in
albeit reluctantly for a number of reasons, unison.

but neither wants to die so soon—not when

“Just because you don’t see a long
they have so much to live for.

ship moored here, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t Getting up together, the trio walks
somewhere else, now does it?”

away from the water towards the cave’s en-Again, they reply: “…no…”

trance; husband and wife each holding on

“Well then, you two have a date with
tightly to their purchases. A mass of huge Destiny, don’t you? Humanity is in your boulders is suspended above the opening, hands, or perhaps more appropriately, it is in ready to block it at the pull of a rope. The your loins, and I don’t need you two bicker-derelict stops.

ing over such trivialities. Right?”

“I forgot my sack. Go on ahead. I

“…right…”

don’t want it to get wet.” He pats them both

“That’s better. Now do you two
on their shoulders. Simultaneously they want to go to that cave in the hill over there?”

cringe but remain silent. “Oh, and thanks again

“A cave? Do we have a choice?”

for your contribution, I couldn’t have gotten Vogue pouts.

this far without you.”

The derelict only answers with a

“How stupid do you think we are?”

smile.

GQ scowls.

GQ whines. “We have to spend

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Ragnarok in a cave? For how long?”

“What does ‘rhetorical’ mean?”

“Until it’s over.”

“Just get going, I’ll be right behind

“You’re still being vague.”

you. Besides, you know I’m going to be seal-

“You think I don’t know that?” He
ing you anyway, soon enough.”

flashes a brown, hourglass grin, which nei-Slowly complying, knowing that this

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 160
is where their Fate lies, the couple enters the last forever. Let’s see
mouth of the cave. Nearby, there is a gas how long you two last
lantern—which fills them with hope and de-together.

spair: hope in that it appears Loki did leave provisions for them, but despair because Score one for Midgard.

neither of them has ever operated a lantern Cheers,
before. Sure, they can ask him when he comes Loki
back, but what about after they are alone together? What other complex mechanisms Sighing. Shining the flashlight in his may they be forced to learn how to use? They wife’s frowning face, GQ takes a step back.

can only continue to hope that Loki provided

“Boy, have we been screwed.”

something a little simpler for them to operate.

“You think so?” Vogue snaps. “Now

GQ takes hold of the lantern. Continues into will you get that light out of my eyes?”

the darkness. Eyes open for a flashlight. His He turns off the flashlight. Both are
wife is at his side but neither reaches out for happy not to see the other. They remain the other.

standing, eyes adjusting somewhat to the The derelict returns. Sack over his
utter darkness.

shoulder, he pauses at the entrance and takes

“Well Ragnarok or no Ragnarok
hold of the rope.

we’ve got a long haul ahead of us. I wonder

“I really should go in and make sure
if Loki left us anything to dig ourselves out?”

they’re alright first, but—” He shrugs indif-

“How long do we wait though?

ferently and pulls the rope. The massive boul-Shouldn’t we be certain Ragnarok has come ders come crashing down, covering the cave’s and gone—if it’s going to come at all? Al-entrance. As the rocks and dust settle he though, from what Hel was telling me—and steps away and shakes his head: “That is why didn’t you listen to me in the first place one gullible couple. Oh well, I suppose there about my dreams?”

is no other way.”

“You have plenty of time to tell me

Inside the cave, they hear the rocks
now, don’t you?”

tumbling behind them. Both know they are

“If they even matter anymore…how
here to stay for quite some time. Rather than did we get in this mess in the first place? You trying to find their way back to the entrance, and your wanting to get some culture…damn they feel their way around the cave. Soon you and Public Broadcasting straight to they find a wooden table with a large flash-Valhalla!”

light on it, among other items. After drop-

“It doesn’t matter anymore. What
ping their bags, GQ wrestles the flashlight matters is how we make it through—
away from his wife and thumbs the switch.

On the table there is a brief note,
which reads:

SUCKING ON THE MARROW OF LIFE

Hey folks:

Spitting out the small bones, GQ reaches for Perhaps we’ll
another rack of rat heating over the gas lantern in the middle of the cave floor. Charred meet again in Valhalla
on the outside, raw on the inside. Even after (ha ha). You should have
all this time, he still hasn’t got the hang of enough to get by, but
barbecuing. Too blue collar for him, and take it easy. Batteries—

Vogue has never been a cook. (Why get your like most things in life,
hands dirty and cook when you can dine out or have it prepared and delivered?) Besides, and in this cave—don’t

161 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK
being in the cave all this time, it’s not like

“Big deal. We’ve known that for

Loki left them any spices besides a red-and-decades, and what good has it done us? We yellow plastic salt-and-pepper set, or any-still get hungry. Still feel pain. Still can’t get thing other than the lantern to cook with.

out of here.”

They almost starved before they finally re-

“Well, why don’t you open up al-
lented to eating their first rat, oh, so long ready, and we’ll find out what Fate has in ago. So now, they eat what they can, when store for us?”

they can.

“Despite what I saw in my dreams

Across from him, Vogue sits with
in that suite all those years ago, I still can’t her legs crossed, avoiding his gaze in the bear the thought of having sex with you any-shadows.

more.”

“Did you know a rat only needs a

“But that’s exactly what we’re sup-hole a quarter inch wide to fit through?”

posed to be doing. What about our Fate?

“Kinda like something else,

Did it ever occur to you that maybe if we hmmm?” Vogue picks at the meat on her stick.

started having children, Loki would come

“No need to be snippy.” He blows
back for us, and set us free?”

on the rat. “It’s not like size matters anyway,

“Of course not! If Ragnarok is over,
when you’re not getting any to begin with.”

he’s dead. We have to find our own way

“What’s the point—with your va-
out… somehow… or maybe there will be some-sectomy and my tubes tied? No children to one—”

repopulate Midgard.”

“You know there is no way out. The

“I asked, but you never said any-
only entrance is blocked with stones too large thing back then either. Besides, I assumed for us to move, and we have nothing to break Loki took care of those things—”

them down with. ‘Everything you need is in

“Nice assumption—”

the cave’— my ass! ”

“Just like he took care of this…”

“Stop whining already…maybe

Pulling the skinned rat off the skewer, GQ

Ragnarok isn’t over yet anyway. Who knows stabs her in the heart, until the stick pokes how long it’s supposed to last?”

out the back of her blouse.

“I still think we need to have sex.”

“Owwww! Would you stop doing

“I didn’t want to thirty years ago,
that already?” Vogue pulls the skewer out when you still looked half decent, and when and throws it on the stone floor. The wounds you didn’t smell so…so…”

close over before much blood is spilled. Still:

“You think you stink any less than I

“You’ve just ruined another blouse. It’s not do? We’ve been out of soap, cologne, and like I have that many to chose from.”

toothpaste for more than twenty years. It’s

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

not going to get any better…”

“Yes. Just like all the other times

And so the two argue and argue,
you’ve tried to stab me, choke me, smother still try to murder each other on occasion, me, bash my brains out.”

and slowly go insane until…

“And don’t forget about trying to
kill me too.”

“How can I forget when you’re sit-

MISADVENTURES
ting here nagging me all the time? Just quit it IN A THUMBNAIL UNIVERSE
already, I’m so bored with all of this: living in the dark, sleeping on a stone floor, the Watching the sun set, Loki and Hel sit on a stench, your endless bits of trivia, eating rats, log on the sand a short distance from the bugs—”

cave that holds GQ and Vogue. A low fire at

“But we’re immortal…”

their feet. Loki pokes at it with a length of

VINCENT W. SAKOWSKI 162
driftwood, while Hel scruffs her brother Fenrir away. Maintaining a disguise or not, he can behind the ears—the massive wolf’s head in only stand so much grime after all.

her lap. His eyes closed, he growls lowly, Hel nudges him, and he almost
contented. Loki is still dressed as the der-stabs his hand. Somewhat irritated, he turns elict, with the bursting burlap sack of hair his head.

and nails beside him. He has a long way to

“What was that for?”

go yet before he has enough to build the Hel points at his still-raised thumb.

long ship, but he’s in no hurry, especially

“I thought you knew better than
since he knows that he will be killed at that?”

Ragnarok.

“What’re you talking about?”

“How long are you planning on

“What? Don’t you know? Haven’t
keeping them in there?”

you ever watched Public Broadcasting with

“I don’t see any reason to release
all those science programs?”

them, especially since they’re not living up

“Yes. It’s funny. That’s kind of what
to their end of the deal. So, I’ll just keep send-got GQ into trouble in the first place. So…?”

ing a rat or two their way to keep them going,

“So…see that dirt under your
driving each other crazy.”

thumbnail?”

“But what about their children—if

“Of course. That’s what I was go-
they ever have any? You did take care of ing to scrape away until you shoved your them, too, didn’t you?”

elbow in my side.”

“Of course. I made them fully func-

Hel raises an eyebrow. “Well, think
tional just before they entered the cave.”

of all the millions and billions of people I prob-Hel shakes her head. “They’re
ably saved…?”

about the worst possible parents I can imag-

“Start making sense, or it’s going to
ine.”

be more than my nails I’ll be cleaning out.”

“Considering you’re the goddess

But there isn’t much of a threat in his voice, of the underworld, that’s saying a lot.”

or in any other part of his body.

“It is, isn’t it? Still, that’s been your

“That dirt is made up of molecules,
plan all along, hasn’t it? No children, they go and those molecules are made up of atoms.

insane together in a cave for eternity, their Perhaps every one of those atoms is a whole own special room in Niflheim, so to speak.

universe, filled with planets and stars and And if they do have any children, Midgard people. Perhaps we are—our whole uni-will be reborn with the worst possible off-verse—just one of those atoms that make up spring.”

the molecules in some other ‘old man’s’

“Pretty funny, don’t you think?”

thumbnail sitting on a log on a beach some-

“Always like having the last laugh,
where else…ever consider that?”

don’t you, Father?”

Hel holds a superior smile, but she

Loki grins, makes no reply, and stabs
is also happy to pass on this “knowledge.”

the smoldering driftwood into the sand. He Loki considers her words for a mo-pulls out a chipped and rusted Swiss Army ment and answers: “No. Can’t say that I have.

knife—with only eleven tools, including the Nice story…although I wouldn’t be telling main blade—so nothing too fancy. He digs that to anyone else in Niflheim or Asgard if I his thumbnail in the groove of a smaller blade were you. Not a very Norse idea.” Holds up and snaps it open. Holds up his thumb. In-his thumb again, and places the blade under spects the scratched and broken cuticle; the the nail. “And maybe you’re right, but it’s dry and cracked skin; the caked dirt under-still just dirt to me.” And he draws the blade neath the yellow half-moon of the nail. Raises across, creating a tiny shower on the ground the small blade and sets in to scrape the dirt before him. “Besides, if their universes are

163 IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE RAGNAROK
anything like ours, they aren’t really worth keeping anyway.” Blows the bits of dust.

“Now I’ve got nine more nails to do, not counting my toes if I feel like doing that much today. So why don’t you just sit back, relax, and enjoy the sunset, rather than worry about any other possible universes, or that couple, or…

RAGNAROK

STEVE BEARD

LOCATION:

Brighton on the south coast of England STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Metrosexual

BOOKS BY BEARD:

Meat Puppet Cabaret

Digital Leatherette

Aftershocks

Logic Bomb

Perfumed Head

DESCRIPTION:

“Steve Beard is a thorny weed in the parking lot of postmodernity.”

- Bruce Sterling

INTERESTS: abject objects, absolutism, acid house, aerosol art, aesthetic recommodification, Afrocentrism, alchemy, alien invasion movies, ambient music, anarcho-mysticism, archons, assassination, astro-physics, avant bardism… and that’s just the things beginning with ‘a’ (list taken from his book Aftershocks).

INFLUENCES: Charles Babbage, J G Ballard, Lester Bangs, Barbie, Georges Bataille, Jean Baudrillard, Sleeping Beauty, Beavis, Walter Benjamin, Hakim Bey, William Blake, Bugs Bunny, William Burroughs, Tim Burton, Butt-head… and that’s just the folks beginning with ‘B’ (list taken from his book Logic Bomb).

WEBSITE:

www.mappalujo.com

165 SURVIVOR’S DREAM

Survivor’s Dream <<

Dead Girl was travelling. She was crossing the Atlantic Ocean. She was going from a place in London Town to an island in the Caribbean Sea. She was hiding inside this ship. She had been put there.

(1) Transplantation

It was cold. There was a massive
amount of heat coming out of these engines.

You are being choppered into hospital. You They were huge engines. They were big and are flying through the air over East London.

fat and the colour of silver. There was this You were picked up at Mile End. That’s intense heat radiating out from the engines where you used to live. But now you are into a very cold space.

going to the big hospital in Whitechapel.

Dead Girl had her own little bed

You are going to land on the roof. You are throughout the voyage. It had a little cabinet inside a helicopter. It’s the colour of blood.

next to it. But she never used it. She didn’t You’ve seen it whirling high above you like have the key.

a tireless metal insect. But that was back The only thing that Dead Girl owned
when you were safe on the ground. Now there was her fanny-pack. It was a little purse on a is blood in your throat. Someone is shouting belt made out of what they call mock
beneath the noise of the blades. You close crocodile skin. She always wore it round her your eyes. They want to know your name.

waist with the purse at the front. She liked to Someone wants to know your name. You are unzip the purse to check her photo was still bleeding. You don’t know your name.

inside. It was a black and white photo. She What is your name? You don’t know.

kept it in one of the pockets so that its torn You’ve forgotten your own name. Let it go.

white border was always visible. It was the You let it go. You are losing it. Losing your only thing inside her fanny-pack and she own life. Let it go. You drift into a cold dark always wore her fanny-pack. That way she space. You are no longer yourself. You dream knew her photo was always there close to you are this dead girl. You dream you are no her. She found that very comforting.

longer alive. What is your name? You don’t Dead Girl wore her fanny-pack
have a name. You are Dead Girl.

underneath this white hospital gown that tied up at the back. She didn’t have any shoes or

>>
socks on. She wasn’t wearing any knickers.

Dead Girl was calling out to someone. She She had these sticking plasters on
didn’t have any clothes on. All she had on her arms. That must have been because she’d was this fanny-pack around her waist and been cutting herself. They called it self-she was calling out to her Fairy Sugadaddy.

harming back at the children’s home. But it But he wasn’t there.

wasn’t that. It was because she couldn’t It didn’t matter. She could always
stand it. That’s why she’d run away. She’d look at all the stars rushing past in the run away from the Silver Birches because she darkness. They were pretty and she tried to couldn’t stand it.

catch them. But she was going too fast. She She was going to Paradise.

was falling. She was hurtling through outer space down towards Planet Earth.

>>

It was cold.

Dead Girl was falling through the atmosphere.

She was rushing like a meteorite towards London Town.

She didn’t have any clothes on. She

STEVE BEARD 166
didn’t have a home. She wanted to hear the hair was a mess.

voice of Fairy Sugadaddy. She wanted some Suddenly she wasn’t wearing her
comfort. But all she had was her fanny-pack.

hospital gown anymore. The only thing she Dead Girl screamed. She was
had on was her fanny-pack.

burning up.

Dead Girl unzipped her purse and
took out the photo. It had a torn edge. She

<<
only took out the photo when she was feeling Dead Girl arrived at this island in the very low. She didn’t do it very often. She Caribbean Sea. It was Paradise. She saw its only did it now and again.

name on a postcard when she got off the The photo was all dirty and creased.

ship. The postcard showed these empty

It was a black and white photo of a little baby white beaches and shady golf-courses. It had wrapped in tissue paper. The baby was lying a picture of the big honey-coloured casino in a shoe-box.

where all the glamorous people went. The Dead Girl stroked the image on the
casino was called Atlantis.

photo and then turned it over. On the back Dead Girl stood on this red carpet
there was this logo showing two little animals inside Atlantis. It ran past rows and rows of standing up on their hind legs. It was what slot machines lit up like television screens.

they call a Royal Crest.

There were all these empty chairs in front of the slot machines. They had these plush blue

>>
seats.

Dead Girl was falling naked through the air.

Dead Girl was wearing her white

Old River Thames was looping across
hospital gown and her fanny-pack. She was London Town far down below.

the only one in the casino. She walked down Dead Girl was caught in a hail-storm
the red carpet in the warm silence. She called or something. She kept twisting and turning, out but nobody answered. Even the slot but it did no good. She kept getting jabbed machines were silent.

and bombarded on all sides. She kept getting There was this bandstand in the
hurt.

middle of the casino. It had a domed roof She felt that she was splitting apart.

held up by these thick white pillars. Running She felt that there were pieces of her that round the top edge of the bandstand were were just shearing away. She was coming these pictures of dogs and birds and naked apart as she fell through the air.

stick people. There was a red velvet rope What had happened to her Fairy
surrounding the bandstand. Inside the

Sugadaddy? She didn’t know.

bandstand there was this glass aquarium Dead Girl saw her arms and her legs
which went from the floor to the ceiling. It and other pieces of herself raining down was all blue inside with little pieces of coral through the sky. She saw her head falling and shoals of fish that flashed from side to down with its eyes closed. They span away side. It was a very important place. The sign from her and disappeared.

outside said it was a Beautiful Person Lounge.

Dead Girl was just this lump of flesh

Dead Girl touched the rope. Her
left over from herself. She was what they call hand was all sweaty. She could see how the a torso. She still had her fanny-pack. She was rope was attached to the nearest pillar with a falling.

brass hook. She wanted to unhook the rope.

All this brown water came up to

She felt like she wasn’t supposed to do it.

meet her. Dead Girl splashed down in Old But she wanted to go inside and get closer to River Thames.

the aquarium. She wanted to be a Beautiful Person. But she was dirty and smelly and her

167 SURVIVOR’S DREAM

<<
cassette tape into a machine and all this Dead Girl was inside the Beautiful Person soothing ambient music came out. Another Lounge. She was lying on this bed made out one inspected a glass box full of flying blue of coral and there were these Silly Bitches sparks.

fussing over her. They were dressed in short Dead Girl looked closer. She saw that
white skirts and looked like nurses. They had the glass box had a long twisted flex coming mean little eyes and long rows of sharp white out of it that connected it up to a glass wand.

teeth.

The wand was as long as a sword and hollow Dead Girl was nervous. She held
like the barrel of a gun. It had a hand-guard at tightly on to her fanny-pack under the white one end and at the other it twisted round and linen sheet that covered her body. There was round on itself in a spiral until it tapered to an a light shining down on her. It was a light like open nozzle. It lay on a trolley next to a box of the ones they have in operating theatres. It tissues.

had all these bulbs arranged in a circle under Dead Girl saw the drapes twitch. She
an umbrella of mirrored glass. Dead Girl felt tensed.

very hot.

The Silly Bitches came back to Dead

One of the Silly Bitches smiled at

Girl. One of them pulled the sheet away from her and said something about how she was her face and gave her a round plastic box going to be made into a Beautiful Person.

with two little brown seeds inside. She was She was going to get what they call a
told to take them to make her feel better. She makeover. Witch Doctor was coming to treat was given a glass of water and she drank her himself. Didn’t she know how lucky she them down. It was like taking headache tablets was? That was why she was here.

or something.

Witch Doctor. Who was that? Dead

Dead Girl looked at the drapes from

Girl became excited. She felt embarrassed and the corner of her eye. She saw first one foot looked down at the carpet. It was handwoven and then another move out from under the and showed the Atlantic Ocean floating in a drapes. They were bare and dirty with very cosmos with little stars and a big sun and a long toe-nails. There was somebody standing moon on either side. The sun and the moon behind the drapes.

had these smiling faces.

One of the Silly Bitches was busy

The walls of the Beautiful Person
with a big magnifying glass. She swivelled it Lounge were dark and made of glass. There over Dead Girl’s bottom. She was looking were these lovely drapes hanging down on down at Dead Girl’s thing. She was looking one side. They were made of velvet and they at what they call a vagina.

were the colour of champagne.

Dead Girl looked at the drapes again.

One of the Silly Bitches said Dead

There was nobody there.

Girl had to put her feet in the stirrups hanging Another one of the Silly Bitches was
either side of her. She told her to be a good smearing something cold on the fleshy lips girl. Dead Girl lifted up her legs so that the around Dead Girl’s vagina. She was getting it sheet was in her face and her bare bottom from this tub of ointment and smearing it on was exposed. She was cold now. She could with her fingers. She said something about a feel the cold air on her bottom.

Magic Wand. She said it was so the Magic One of the Silly Bitches she couldn’t

Wand wouldn’t slip.

see made a joke and all the others laughed.

Dead Girl wanted to get up and

Dead Girl looked out to see the reflections of leave but she found she couldn’t move. She the Silly Bitches in the glass walls. They were couldn’t control her arms or legs. It was like like ghosts. They were busy tending to all they were stuck.

this glinting machinery. One of them put a The Silly Bitches backed away from

STEVE BEARD 168
her. They started giggling and curtseying.

The moment Witch Doctor touched

Someone was coming. There was someone
her with the wand she started laughing moving into the light. It was this thin old hysterically because of the shock. She was man. He had these grey whiskers tufting out crying with laughter. There were these tears of his ears. His pink lips were very thin like a running down her face.

slit in his face. He had all this wild hair like Dead Girl turned her head to shield
white candyfloss. His clear blue eyes had her bright red face from Witch Doctor. She this blank expression. It was like they weren’t was shaking.

taking anything in.

Witch Doctor was shoving his

Dead Girl couldn’t stop looking at

Magic Wand in and out of her vagina. He him. The Silly Bitches called him Witch kept on doing it. He did it for about an hour Doctor. He began to caper in his long black until he got tired. Dead Girl was so wet with coat. He jabbered and sang snatches of a sweat that eventually the nozzle slipped and Gary Glitter song. The Silly Bitches gave him touched her skin where the ointment was.

tweezers and scissors and scalpels and he Dead Girl screamed when that happened. She dropped them all over the floor. He was screamed and leapt up into the air. Witch making these deep barking noises.

Doctor had burned her with his Magic Wand.

Dead Girl was hypnotised. It was

She wanted to push him away but banged madness. She wanted to kiss Witch Doctor her head against a tray of tweezers and all over. She wanted to stroke his lovely hair.

scissors and scalpels held by one of the But she couldn’t move. She could only watch.

Silly Bitches. The Silly Bitch cried out in alarm.

It was so sensual. Her eyes caressed Witch Dead Girl collapsed back on the bed. She Doctor. It was like eating chocolate.

leaned over and was sick on the floor.

Witch Doctor picked up the Magic

She was ashamed. There were the

Wand in his right hand. He began to feint two little brown seeds in the middle of all the and parry with it in the air. One of the Silly vomit. One of the Silly Bitches immediately Bitches pressed a switch on the side of the rushed over to clean up the mess. She knelt glass box. The blue sparks inside the box down with a tissue. She didn’t notice the started to move faster. Witch Doctor said seeds.

something Dead Girl couldn’t hear and the Dead Girl was still leaning over the

Silly Bitches all laughed in one go.

side of the bed. She had her head upside Now there were blue sparks moving
down. She could see what was happening through the spiralling glass barrel of the through the gap under the bed. The Silly Magic Wand. They surged towards the open Bitches were turning off all the equipment nozzle and sprang out in a shower. Witch and putting it away. They were moving

Doctor giggled and waved the Magic Wand around on their long white legs. Witch Doctor in the air. He began to form patterns with the stood alone in his long black coat. He was blue sparks. The Silly Bitches gasped and panting. She could see only the lower half of clapped.

his body. He didn’t have any shoes on. She Dead Girl broke out into a sweat.

stared at his feet. They were covered in mud The sweat poured off her. First it was hot and and his toe-nails were all long and twisted.

then it was cold. It soaked through this bit of paper between her and the bed of coral. The

>>
bit of paper was dripping wet.

Dead Girl was floating in the Old River Witch Doctor was there between her

Thames. She was very badly cut up. It felt legs. His eyes were wild. He told her it like there were pieces of her missing. She wouldn’t hurt and she believed him. The Silly didn’t know where they were.

Bitches were still talking about a makeover.

Dead Girl was aching all over. She

169 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
hurt on the inside. She was just this torso secret guilty things other people wanted her now. How did she know that? It was a
to be. She could change shape just like that.

philosophical question.

Except the one thing she could never

She drifted in the water. She felt she change was the place where Witch Doctor had to find the missing pieces of herself. But had burned her. His Magic Wand had left a she didn’t know how. All she had was this big red lump on the outer lip of her vagina. It old fanny-pack. It was strapped round her was incredibly painful and swollen for a day waist. It was the only thing she owned.

and a half after her makeover. It left a scar Then she remembered what Fairy
that never went away.

Sugadaddy had said. He had told her she had got this blue light deep inside of her. She could take control of it. She could use it to (2) Trepanation
make these images and project them on her skin. He said that she had got these Extra

>>

Special Powers. Could it really be true?

Dead Girl was floating. She was floating in Dead Girl reached deep inside of

Old River Thames. She was crying out for herself and found the blue light. It was warm her Fairy Sugadaddy. Where was he? He must and wet and faint like quicksilver. It was hard have gone away.

to catch. Dead Girl knew what she wanted.

The water was very cold. Dead Girl

She needed something to keep her going for shivered. She had all these goose-bumps on the time being. She grew some spare body her skin. But the only place she had skin was parts from the blue light deep inside her. It on her torso. The rest of her was made from was like creating something in a hot blue blue light.

forge. She had these new arms and legs. She There was this rash on her belly
made herself a new replica head. They glowed from her fanny-pack. It was chafing her.

like holograms as she put them on. So now it Maybe it was strapped on too tight.

was just her torso that was made out of flesh and blood and bone and marrow. The rest of

<<
her was made out of the blue light.

Dead Girl was on this Old Royal Spaceship in Dead Girl blinked and checked how
orbit high above Planet Earth. She was her new eyes worked. She gazed at the stars trapped inside. She had been taken there from high above her in the night sky. It was like Atlantis to work on a farm but it had all gone seeing the world through a blue filter.

wrong after she had done something bad at She drifted some more. She let
the Royal Harvest Festival or whatever it was.

herself be carried along by Old River Thames.

Her memory was all fuzzy.

Dead Girl had used her Extra Special

<<

Powers on the Old King. That was the thing.

It was not until Fairy Sugadaddy contacted It was the very first time she had used her her some time later that Dead Girl understood Extra Special Powers. She didn’t even know what had happened to her in the Beautiful what they were at that point. She was just Person Lounge.

playing. She surprised herself. Dead Girl had Witch Doctor had injected these
used the blue light inside her and made herself blue sparks into her belly and they had grown into the Old King’s guilty love. She had into a ball of blue light. She could use the pretended to be his Lost Princess. But he blue light to make creatures and project them hadn’t got it. He hadn’t got it at all. He was outside her skin. That was one part of her angry. He shouted at her but she only laughed Extra Special Powers. The other part was that at him in contempt. So they took her away.

she could make herself look like whatever So now she was being taken to

STEVE BEARD 170
where they threw away all the waste and the breathing in the intervals between the trains dead bodies on the Old Royal Spaceship. She pulling in and out overhead. She couldn’t was strapped down on this trolley with a get off the trolley. She couldn’t move.

sheet thrown over her. They had let her keep At the centre of Garbage Disposal
her fanny-pack. She kept touching it as the was this tall round building. It rose all the trolley was pushed down a long corridor.

way up to the top of the ceiling. Dead Girl The corridor was made of glass on
guessed it extended to the train station above.

all sides. Dead Girl could see the green and So that meant she was looking at just the blue swirl of Planet Earth outside. She could underground part of the building.

see her own reflection. The steel columns set The building was lined with thick
in the walls supported this railway running white marble streaked with heavy blue veins.

directly above. Dead Girl could hear the It looked like it was made of Italian ice-cream.

rumble of the tube trains as they went There was this riveted metal door in the backwards and forwards. She could feel the middle. It had these yellow and black
air whoosh as they passed.

chevrons around the side.

She got pushed down the corridor

At the edge of Garbage Disposal
for a long time. There was this old blue carpet next to the gutter was an old white ceramic which seemed to go on for miles. Dead Girl bath with all this electrical equipment. The was drowsy. She closed her eyes. She dreamt bath rested on these iron feet made to look of the trains. She saw all these young girls like lion’s paws. They were flaking with gold sitting inside. They had bashed-in faces and paint. The bath was very big and must have missing limbs. They didn’t look very well.

been quite nice once. But now it was stained They looked like broken dollies. That made with deep brown marks. There was a wooden Dead Girl sad.

board over the top of the bath. Dead Girl could She woke up when the trolley got
hear this water slopping around underneath.

pushed through these double doors. They There were cigarette stubs and what
swung open and swung back closed behind looked like pieces of old orange peel blocking her. One door said GARBAGE and the other the drain under the bath. Dead Girl squirmed said DISPOSAL. So that’s how she knew
on the trolley and it moved towards the bath.

where she was. She was inside Garbage

It bumped against it and disturbed the lid.

Disposal. She was alone.

Dead Girl was hit by this vile smell of dung The place was deep underneath
and chlorine all mixed together. She felt sick this train station. Dead Girl could hear the but couldn’t move.

trains pulling in overhead. The metal struts This shadow fell across her. Dead
in the ceiling shook from all the busy Girl tensed up. She could hear someone movement. But down below with her it was moving across the wet floor tiles behind her.

dark and empty.

Someone else had come into Garbage

There was a curved window at the

Disposal.

edge of Garbage Disposal. The glass was scored by these thin steel beams. The stars

>>
outside were cold and blank. They made it Dead Girl was being nudged by the tide. She like twilight inside Garbage Disposal. The was getting washed up on the shore of Old floor was paved with black and white ceramic River Thames.

tiles. The tiles were an oblong shape. There There were all these pieces of
was water on the sloping floor. It ran off into brilliant rubbish in the shallow water. There a gutter which followed the curve of the was an empty glass bottle of perfume, a window.

winding stretch of red cloth stitched with Dead Girl could hear her own
oblong glass slides and also a six foot long

171 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
ostrich feather. These things were there microphone next to her lips. She had this bobbing in the water next to her. They kept guttural tone. Dead Girl thought she must be touching her stumps.

from Central Europe or somewhere. When Dead Girl was glad she had the blue

Crazy Lady looked up into the CCTV camera light growing out of her. She checked her that was in the roof Dead Girl could see how fanny-pack with glowing blue fingers. It was old she really was. Her face was all pulled still tied to her waist. She didn’t have to worry.

back and taut and her eyes were covered in a She let herself get washed up on
little pair of blue goggles. She was wearing the shore.

this blue one-piece swimming costume under her white coat.

<<

Crazy Lady began to brush Dead

Dead Girl was in this place called Garbage Girl’s hair. She brushed it with a gold plated Disposal on the Old Royal Spaceship. She brush. Dead Girl’s hair was made of lots of wasn’t on the trolley anymore. She had been different colours and thick as fuse wire. Crazy moved. Now she was lying on the board over Lady talked as she brushed. She talked about the bath.

how she was a Professor who knew about Someone had taken the sheet away.

strange drugs and hidden space aliens and Dead Girl didn’t have any clothes on. But lots of other secret stuff. Dead Girl didn’t she still had her fanny-pack. She fiddled with understand it at all. But it didn’t matter. Crazy it. She kept moving the zip up and down. She Lady brushed her hair so it shined.

felt bad. She wanted to get up and leave.

Crazy Lady ran her fingers through

Nothing stopped her. She wasn’t tied down Dead Girl’s hair. She massaged the scalp. Dead anymore. But maybe if she got up she would Girl allowed herself to feel safe. She shivered only make things worse. Maybe it was better with pleasure.

to stay where she was. She stayed where she The Crazy Lady was interested in
was.

the bit of Dead Girl’s head at the front just Someone was behind her. Dead Girl
above the hairline. She dabbed at it with could hear them moving in between the noise shaving foam and scraped off the hair with of the trains rumbling overhead. They were this cut-throat razor. Soon Dead Girl had a talking to themselves. They were making bald patch high up in the middle of her these humming noises. Dead Girl hoped that forehead. She didn’t cry or anything. Even everything was going to be all right.

when the Crazy Lady jabbed her with a

There was this little black and white
hypodermic needle and her skin went all cold.

CCTV screen on a jointed arm right next to Then the Crazy Lady picked up this
her. Dead Girl could see everything that was scalpel and cut the skin on Dead Girl’s happening to her. She had an overhead view.

forehead. She pressed into the flesh and this She could see everything on the little screen.

blood came out. It didn’t hurt. The Crazy Lady There she was lying on top of the
made lots of little cuts and none of them hurt.

bath looking very small and frightened and They intersected to form a sign like a cross.

there was this Crazy Lady standing over her.

The Crazy Lady wiped the scalpel

It was the Crazy Lady who was making the clean and picked up this weird instrument humming noises. Her head was covered by made of rusted metal. It was very old, like it this white swimming cap and she had this had just been dug out of the earth somewhere.

white coat on with brown stains all over it.

It was shaped a bit like a corkscrew with a Her legs were bare and she was wearing these wooden bar across the top. There was a spike green Wellington boots.

at the end which the Crazy Lady drove into Crazy Lady snapped on these white

Dead Girl’s skull by pressing a button in the surgical gloves. She started to talk into this handle.

STEVE BEARD 172

Dead Girl felt the jolt even through
inch thick. The Crazy Lady was chuckling the anaesthetic. She gritted her teeth as this now as she dabbed at the edges of the hole blood started to trickle down over her ears.

in Dead Girls’ forehead.

Now she could feel this headache from very far away. There was this barrel round the shaft

>>
of the corkscrew thing which had sharp saw Dead Girl was beached on the shore of Old teeth set in a ring at the bottom. She watched River Thames. There were these cosmetic as the Crazy Lady twisted the handle and the jewels lying on the tide-line. They were made revolving saw started to cut into her forehead.

of cut glass. She felt them digging into her Dead Girl stopped looking at the TV
side just below where she had the strap of monitor after that. She looked at the stars her fanny-pack. Dead Girl was what they call outside the window instead.

a torso. Except now she had this head and She guessed the operation went on
these limbs made out of blue light. She had for half an hour. There was all this white dust this faint glow.

flying around. Dead Girl got it between her The strand was covered in all this
teeth and it was gritty. After a while she fine sand and silver glitter. The bank of the realised it was powdered bits of her own river was lined with a red-brick wall. On the bone.

strand between the river and the wall was At one point she used her Extra
this open square tent. Its frame was made of Special Powers on the Crazy Lady. She didn’t red painted wood and it had these open sides really know what she was doing. She was with long white gauze curtains pulled in at just trying to escape from the situation. That the four corners. Fluttering from the top of was why she pretended to be what the Crazy the pitched roof was this triangular flag with Lady wanted deep down inside. She
an emblem on it. The emblem had these little pretended to be a Space Alien. But it didn’t animals standing up on their hind legs. It was do any good. It was obviously a feeble what they call a Royal Crest.

imitation. Crazy Lady laughed and kept Next to the tent was this wrought
calling her this name that Dead Girl didn’t iron spiral staircase. It led up from the strand recognise. She must have looked stupid.

to the top of the river bank. The lower steps Crazy Lady could see right through her act.

were covered in green sludge.

It wasn’t like with the Old King. The Crazy Dead Girl saw something coming

Lady wasn’t fooled. She knew what was
down the steps. It was moving fast. It was going on.

leaping down the steps. It was a bundle of When Dead Girl felt this cold air
rushing black energy.

inside her head and had all this blood in her eyes, she wanted to scream. She couldn’t

<<
use her Extra Special Powers on the Crazy Dead Girl was in Garbage Disposal on the Lady any more. She couldn’t do much of Old Royal Spaceship high above Planet Earth.

anything. She opened her mouth and closed She was inside the bath now. The wooden her eyes and she tried to yell at the top of her board had been slotted into place on top of voice. But no sounds came out. All she could her. It was like she was in a coffin. It was dark hear was this slurping noise from the blood and she was lying in two inches of cold smelly that was spilling out of her head.

water.

She opened her eyes again and

Crazy Lady had tried to be gentle.

looked back at the TV screen. The Crazy Lady She had dried the blood from her ears with a had pulled the corkscrew thing out of her rough towel and brushed the pieces of bone forehead and there was a solid chunk of bone from her fanny-pack. She had wrapped a inside the barrel at the end. It was at least an bandage round her head to cover the wound.

173 SURVIVOR’S DREAM

She had done all this before she had put her all painted black and he was stepping down in the bath.

into the street. The door had a bell with Dead Girl tried to push the lid off
broken wires sticking out of it. The street but it was no good. It was locked down tight.

was silent and empty.

She felt this panic in the back of her throat.

Dead Girl thought Fairy Sugadaddy

Her head hurt from where Crazy Lady had must be showing her quite an old picture of drilled this hole in her forehead. She didn’t Witch Doctor because he didn’t look mad or know what to do.

confused. His eyes were like shining blue That was when Fairy Sugadaddy
sparks in the night. But they were taking first spoke to her. He spoke to her inside her everything in. They were alert and focussed.

head. He had a lovely musical voice that Witch Doctor was wearing his black coat with faded in and out. It was difficult to catch. It the collar turned up around his neck. He was was like listening to something off the radio looking good. He stood on the street and lit a late at night. It was full of these clicks and cigarette. He smiled a secret smile.

whistles. Dead Girl guessed the voice must Dead Girl tried to hold on to the
be coming through the hole in her head. She image of Witch Doctor as it faded in her guessed it was coming from very far away.

mind’s eye. She tried to pull it back. She was She thought Fairy Sugadaddy must live on a excited. She wanted to grab Witch Doctor distant star.

and take him deep down inside her. She Dead Girl closed her eyes. Fairy
wanted him. He had burned her with his Sugadaddy said he would grant Dead Girl a Magic Wand. She was angry with him. He wish. Dead Girl’s fear ebbed away. She was didn’t even know what he had done to her.

calm. She listened to Fairy Sugadaddy. He She would show him. She would track him said he would make her wish come true. But down and point him out to Fairy Sugadaddy.

she had to do one thing. Would she do this She would get a wish come true.

one thing? Dead Girl nodded. She would have Dead Girl was sinking. She opened
to find Witch Doctor and point him out to her eyes. It was cold and dark but she wasn’t Fairy Sugadaddy.

in the bath anymore. She was falling through Dead Girl understood. Fairy
space.

Sugadaddy wanted Witch Doctor but he was The Old Royal Spaceship got
hiding. She had been given a very important smaller and smaller above her. She had been job. Fairy Sugadaddy said he believed she dumped out of Garbage Disposal. The Old could find Witch Doctor. That’s when he told Royal Spaceship was a shadow in the sun.

her about her Extra Special Powers. They would help her. All she had to do was reach inside for the blue light. It was like her own (3) Assault
special power supply.

Dead Girl nodded again. Fairy

>>

Sugadaddy flashed this picture up inside her Dead Girl was all alone on the Heath of mind’s eye. It was like something off an old London. She was wandering through the
videotape. It had these bright colour bands forest. The earth was parched and the grass floating away from the outlines and it was all was dry and yellow.

fuzzy and grey at the edges. It was a

Dead Girl was sweating. The sun
surveillance image of Witch Doctor leaving was high in the sky and it was hot. She had this building late at night. Dead Girl her white hospital gown back on. She kept recognised him by his white candyfloss hair checking her fanny-pack was still there and his bare feet all covered in leaves and underneath it. Her hands were not made of dirt. He was coming out of a door which was blue light any more. They contained veins

STEVE BEARD 174
and nerves. They were made of flesh.

He nosed her shoulder gently and backed Dead Girl could feel this cool breeze
away. Then he came in again and started to on her face. She had all this lovely new skin.

lick her neck. He was very hairy. He had this She touched herself all over. The only parts long matted hair down his back and he had of her that were still made out of the blue these fine little hairs on his belly. His paws light were her legs. She still didn’t have her were all dirty and his claws were sharp.

real legs.

Black Dog was all over her. He was

She was carrying this Magic Wand
licking her bruised skin and biting her sore in her hand. She looked at it. It was a long nipples. He was slavering over her. She used spiralling tube made of glass.

her Extra Special Powers on him but it was no Dead Girl had found Witch Doctor.

good. He ignored the blue ghostly parts of She knew where he was hiding. She smiled to her. He wasn’t interested in them. It looked herself. She had stolen his Magic Wand.

like a human torso was already exactly what he wanted. Black Dog simply kept going and

<<
she went along with it. There was nothing Dead Girl was lying on the strand of Old River else she could do.

Thames. There were all these cut glass stones Black Dog had this stiff black penis.

next to her. There was this empty bottle of It was growing out of this dirty bush of hair perfume. She could smell the Chanel Gardenia.

between his hind legs and it had all these Dead Girl was this grey slab of meat
veins on it. The glans of it was pink and in a rotting fanny-pack. The rest of her outside glistening. Black Dog kept rubbing it against her torso was just this flickering blue light.

her and whimpering. He has his eyes closed.

She had a ghost head. That was what it was.

He kept putting his penis inside the

She had a ghost head and she had these cuts and holes in her flesh. He was opening ghost arms and legs.

up the old wounds. They were starting to Dead Girl itched all over. She wanted
leak all over the place. He bit her neck until to scratch herself but she couldn’t move. She the old scabs came away and he found the wanted to put herself back together but she soft wet channel of her open throat. He didn’t know how. She wanted to howl.

shifted his weight back on his haunches and There was something rushing
moved his penis in and out of this newly towards her. It was moving fast. It had raced discovered hole.

down this spiral staircase on to the strand. It Black Dog was panting. He was
was big and black and angry. It had all this building up a rhythm. Dead Girl could feel matted fur and its breath smelt of urine. It him moving in and out of her. She could feel was a Black Dog.

his tiny sharp claws digging into her belly.

Black Dog skidded to a halt before

There was fresh blood on his gums. He
her and cocked his head. He was looking opened his fiery red eyes so they were just down at her with these red eyes that were these narrow slits. He went into this spasm ever so intelligent. It looked like he was and whimpered.

grinning but it was just that he had all these Black Dog was squirting all this
sharp yellow teeth crowded into his lower semen inside her open bloodied neck. He was jaw. The saliva kept dropping down from his leaning over her and his legs were shaking gums.

and wobbling. It was like he could hardly Black Dog’s nose was all wet and
stand. There was all this spit bubbling out of black and wrinkled. He was sniffing her from his jaws and dropping down on top of her.

close up. He was investigating her scent.

She was all sticky and wet on her shoulders.

Dead Girl tried to shrink back but she couldn’t She didn’t like it. She wanted him to stop.

move. Black Dog finally touched Dead Girl.

There was this whistling sound from

175 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
the top of the river bank. There was this Someone was coming towards her.

clapping sound and the shouting of a name.

It was this Freak Boy. He was crawling along Black Dog cocked his ears. He looked up to the ground. He was dragging himself along the top of the spiral staircase. He backed off on his knuckles. Dead Girl could see from the from Dead Girl. He turned round and raced way his Joe Bloggs jeans trailed flat along back over the sand.

the ground that he had these withered legs.

Someone was coming down the

Freak Boy was breathing hard. He had this spiral staircase. Dead Girl couldn’t quite see barrel chest and these big powerful
who it was. They were breathing hard and shoulders. He was wearing this hooded grey moving very slowly. They were coming down top that partly covered his face.

one step at a time. They were bumping

Freak Boy loomed over her. He had
themselves down on their arse.

this gaunt face with pink little eyes. He had Black Dog stopped when he got to
all these pimples on his cheeks and fluffy the tent. He slumped down with his head on white hairs on his chin.

his paws.

Dead Girl dug deep inside and
found the blue light. It was growing there

>>
where she hurt the most. It grew out of her Dead Girl was wandering on the Heath of shame at even being alive. She wasn’t going London with the sun going down. She came to let Freak Boy do anything to her. She didn’t to this old silver birch tree growing by a lake.

care that her Extra Special Powers hadn’t The lake was covered with the green flat worked on Black Dog. He was just an animal.

leaves of all these water lilies.

Freak Boy was human. Things would be

Dead Girl sat down under the tree.

different.

Her legs were made of this blue light. They Freak Boy reached out to touch her
fizzled and glowed under her waist. It was fanny-pack. Dead Girl sparkled with a furious like she was propped up. She was tired. She blue light.

just didn’t care.

The branches of the tree stretched

>>
out over the water. One of them had these Dead Girl was sitting next to this lake on the chrome rings attached to it next to the leaves.

Heath of London with her back against an They were clinking in the breeze.

old silver birch tree. She was wearing her old Dead Girl adjusted her fanny-pack
white hospital gown with her fanny-pack on under her hospital gown to get comfortable.

underneath. Her thin little legs glowed blue.

She still had the Magic Wand. She ran her It was a cool night. The stars were
fingers along the smooth spiralling surface laid out on the purple sky above her. The of the blown glass.

moon shone down on the lake.

The flowers of the water lilies were

<<
opening. Their petals were big and white and Dead Girl was lying on a soft bed of sand square. They opened right up under the next to the Old River Thames. She was just moon.

this torso with fuzzy blue extensions. All she Dead Girl brought the end of the
had was her fanny-pack. She was surrounded Magic Wand up to her lips. She blew down by glitter and shiny beads of glass.

the open glass nozzle. The musical sound of There was this tent on the strand
her breath reverberated over the Heath of with a crisp red and white pennant fluttering London.

in the breeze. It was guarded by this sullen It was time for her to tell Fairy

Black Dog. He was lying on the sand licking Sugadaddy she had found Witch Doctor. She the blood from his paws.

knew where he was hiding. It was time for

STEVE BEARD 176

Witch Doctor to pay for what he had done.

gone.

Freak Boy must have taken the
photo when she wasn’t looking. It must have (4) Abortion
been when she used her Extra Special Powers on him. Dead Girl started to cry. Her tears

>>
were made of blue light.

Dead Girl sat on the edge of the lake on the She tried to remember what had

Heath of London next to the old silver birch happened. Freak Boy had reached her when tree. She was wearing her white hospital she was lying on the strand of the Old River gown and she had her fanny-pack on

Thames. He had reached out for her fanny-underneath. Her legs were made of blue light pack. But she had used her Extra Special that shone over the water.

Powers on him. She had changed herself into The water lilies were opening under
what he secretly wanted. She became his Fish the light of the moon. They opened right up.

Girl and laughed at the desire in his eyes.

There were these beetles flying out of the Freak Boy had whimpered and gazed at her flowers of the water lilies. The big white petals in fear. He had been transfixed.

of the flowers turned pink and fell into the That was when Dead Girl had found
water. There was pollen in the night air.

something at the back of his mind. It was Dead Girl clutched the Magic Wand.

deeper than his secret desire for Fish Girl. He Its glass was cool under her hand. She had didn’t even know it was there. It was this told Fairy Sugadaddy where Witch Doctor radio connection. Dead Girl found the trace was hiding. She had sent him a message.

of an old signal. She decided to follow its She tried to think of a wish to have
trail back through the atmosphere. She come true.

wanted to see how far her Extra Special Powers would take her.

<<

So while Freak Boy was distracted

Dead Girl was this little ghost made of blue by her Fish Girl act she had pulled in the light. She was flickering at the edges like a source of the signal. She had pulled it across naked candle flame. Only the middle bit of the open skies of London Town until she her was made out of flesh and blood. Only could see it inside the mind’s eye of Freak her torso was real.

Boy. She was thrilled when she saw the vision Dead Girl was drifting through the
of Witch Doctor. His white candyfloss hair Heath of London. She was in the woods with floated above him like a vapour cloud and trees all around and branches covering the his eyes glowed a deep blue. It was a live sky. She was looking for Witch Doctor. She image. She had to be careful. But she was so was lost.

excited to find out where he lived.

The ground was all parched and dry

Witch Doctor was crouching on the
and cracked. There was no breeze. She was ground. He was in a damp place surrounded hot. The only thing she had on was her fanny-by patches of earth and swaying green leaves.

pack. Dead Girl had a sudden thought. She He was wrapped in his big black coat but stopped and unzipped the pocket of her underneath he was naked. Dead Girl could fanny-pack. It was empty. There was nothing see his loins beneath the tuft of hair on his inside.

belly. She could see the claws in his toes. He Dead Girl panicked. She wanted to
was moving around on his hands and knees.

go back. She wanted her little black and white He was muttering something to himself.

photo, the one with the torn edge. She wanted Dead Girl could see that he had his
to touch it. She wanted to stroke the picture Magic Wand. It was made of glass and
of the little baby. But she couldn’t. It was spiralled round on itself like a snake. He took

177 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
it and used the nozzle to draw some lines in Sugadaddy and tell him her wish.

the earth at his feet. He drew this circuit diagram and Dead Girl felt that it spelt out her

>>
name. She was frightened but kept on looking Dead Girl sat by a silver birch tree next to a at the vision.

lake on the Heath of London. She was wearing Witch Doctor put the Magic Wand
this white hospital gown. It was cold. The on the ground and pulled a little black bag night was coming to an end.

from his pocket. It was a drawstring bag made Dead Girl kept unzipping the empty
of black leather. Witch Doctor opened the pocket of her fanny-pack. She tried to count bag and scattered its contents over the the stars. She used the glass nozzle of the diagram at his feet. All these precious stones Magic Wand to scrape some bark from off tumbled on to the earth. Dead Girl gasped.

the tree.

There were flashing green emeralds and deep Fairy Sugadaddy had still not got
red rubies and little white diamonds. She back to her.

wanted them. There were eleven in total. She This breeze came up and dislodged
felt they belonged to her.

some of the leaves of the birch. The chrome Witch Doctor began moving the
rings in the branches made a clinking sound.

precious stones around the circuit diagram.

The green and golden leaves dropped on to He moved them into a funny pattern, sat back the surface of the lake.

to look at them and then leaned in to rearrange Dead Girl shivered and got into the
them once again. He was chanting now but water. Her legs glowed blue under the stars.

Dead Girl didn’t understand the words. She It didn’t matter. She couldn’t think
was hurting too much. Her stumps were
of a wish to have come true anyway.

enflamed. She was aching inside.

She began to pull back from the

<<
image of Witch Doctor. It was too painful to Dead Girl was fighting her way through all carry on looking. He was doing something to these brambles and sharp twigs on the Heath her. Somehow he was affecting her thoughts of London. She was battling through the and feelings. She pushed the image away.

undergrowth. The only thing she had on was Witch Doctor looked up and smiled. He smiled her little fanny-pack.

right at her. She was ashamed. She saw where It was dark. There were grey clouds
he was hiding. It was in this little cave under sliding over the moon. Dead Girl was just a hill shaped like a big pregnant belly. The this torso. The rest of her was made out of stars shone down on the hill. It was covered blue light.

in grass. She identified the coordinates of She came to this clearing and saw
the place in her mind. It was on the Heath of the dark mass of a hill up ahead. It was in the London.

shape of a woman’s pregnant belly. The Dead Girl had got rid of Freak Boy
clouds parted. It was outlined against the and come to the Heath of London. But he moon.

must have taken her photo out of her fanny-Dead Girl saw there was a light
pack while she was inside his mind. So now shining at the bottom of the hill. It was a she was lost in the woods with nothing to yellow light tinged at the edges with shades console her.

of green and red. She moved closer and saw Dead Girl dried her eyes. She
an electric light shining out of an open decided to go on. She wanted to check that window. The window was set into the side of the vision she’d had of Witch Doctor was the hill behind the leaves of this bush. Dead true. She wanted to find out if he really lived Girl crept up and moved the leaves aside.

under a hill. Then she could get back to Fairy The window was oval-shaped and hinged

STEVE BEARD 178
into the earth at the sides. It was pushed where Witch Doctor lived. But how could half-open like a port hole. Dead Girl could she be sure? She remembered the precious see that the pane of glass was decorated. On stones she had seen in her vision. They had the side facing her it was lined with a thick flashed with a hidden fire. They had seemed black paint. But on the side facing inwards it to wink at her. Where could they be kept?

was beaded and lined with a trace-work of Dead Girl looked under the bed but
lead.

there was nothing there. She could feel her Dead Girl tugged at the window with
heart beating wildly. She felt under the both hands so that it swivelled open to its mattress but there was nothing there either.

full extent. The yellow light spilled out from Her breathing sounded very loud. Dead Girl under the hill. Dead Girl poked her head pulled up the lid of the box and gasped when through the gap. She saw an ornately
she saw Witch Doctor’s Magic Wand inside.

decorated bedroom lined with arched

It was all made of glass and twisted around doorways leading further back into the hill.

on itself just like she remembered it. It was The room was empty. Suspended
lying at the bottom of the chest next to this from the high vaulted earthen ceiling by a black bag.

metal chain was a chandelier of shaded Dead Girl looked closely at the bag.

electric lights. Each bulb was screwed into a It was made of leather and it had a brass clasp.

perforated silver clasp and ringed with a drop It was much bigger than the little bag she curtain of coloured glass beads. The shadows had seen in her vision. She wanted to check cast on the walls were tinged with yellow what was inside the bag. But what if Witch and green and red.

Doctor came into the room? She thought Dead Girl touched her fanny-pack.

about it and realised she didn’t care. She She didn’t even think about how scared she released the clasp on the bag and opened it was. Instead she climbed through the open up. She was still half expecting to see all these window and shut it after her.

sparkling gems inside just like in her vision.

Dead Girl found herself crouched

But instead she saw these hunks of dead on the lid of a square-shaped box directly meat.

beneath the window. The wooden box was Dead Girl felt sick. She nearly passed edged in brass and painted with geometric out. She recognised what was inside the bag.

patterns of white and pink flowers. Next to it The grey flesh with the coarse black hairs?

in the corner of the room was a brass four-That was her skin. And all the red meat around poster bed. On top of its snow white quilt the cut white bone? That was her flesh.

were these white pillows spattered with red Dead Girl was very angry. She
dye at their tips.

hauled the bag out of the chest and tipped The walls were made of dark earth
its contents on to the bed. All these body and the floor was set with a mosaic of parts spilled out on to the white quilt.

midnight blue tiles cut with swirling yellow Suddenly there was real blood on the pillows.

star-shaped motifs.

Dead Girl saw her arms and her hands and One archway to the left of Dead Girl
her fingers. She saw her lips and her teeth.

opposite the foot of the bed was set with a Her own sightless green eyes stared up at half-open slatted wooden door. Beyond was her.

silence and darkness. The other archway in Dead Girl picked up her head. It was
the far right-hand corner of the room opened cold and heavy and covered in all this long into a shadowy corridor. Dead Girl thought it black hair. There was a hole in its forehead.

must be a walk-in closet or something.

She screwed the head back on. The blue light The sunken chamber was warm and
acted as a kind of solvent. It made sure that still. Dead Girl thought this must be the place her head stayed stuck to her neck. She rolled

179 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
her tongue over her teeth. She sniffed the Dead girl shivered. She felt ashamed of the damp air. She shook her hair all over the place.

blue light which showed through at the seams The head stayed firmly in place.

all over her body. She wanted to cover her Dead Girl was ecstatic. She put her
pathetic weakly glowing legs.

arms back on. The blue light showed up at Witch Doctor’s eyes were cold.

the seams in the shoulder joints. She swung Dead Girl had the sudden chilling conviction her arms and flicked her wrists. She clenched that he had expected to find her here. He had and unclenched her fists. Everything seemed let her go and now he had brought her back.

to work fine.

Wasn’t that it? There was something inside Dead Girl had nearly put herself back
her he wanted. Dead Girl thought that he knew together again. She had found all the parts of all about her Extra Special Powers and that her that had gone missing except for her legs.

was what he had come for. He was expecting The legs on her body were still made out of the blue sparks he had injected into her belly the blue light. They looked even more forlorn in the Beautiful Person Lounge to have grown now she had got the rest of herself back.

into this Little Thing. That was what he was They were shivering and flickering like a bad expecting. Dead Girl instantly became very television picture. Dead Girl climbed up on calm. She knew what Witch Doctor wanted.

the bed and looked everywhere for her

That was enough. She was going to have to missing legs. She looked under the pillows be very clever to trick him. But she was sure and felt under the quilt. But she just couldn’t it could be done.

find them.

That was when Witch Doctor

>>
appeared. He came out of the shadows at the Dead Girl was floating among the water lilies back of the archway leading into the closet.

in the lake on the Heath of London. Her white His hair floated above his head in thin white hospital gown billowed out on the water. She cotton-candy wisps and his eyes glowed with held the Magic Wand over her chest. These a hypnotic blue light. He was wearing his dead leaves were blowing all around her.

long black coat and it was covered in these She closed her eyes. She moved her
beautiful pink petals. Dead Girl thought he legs against the coarse stems of the water looked like a bride-groom. She was still lilies where they were underwater. Her legs kneeling on the bed in the corner of the room.

were only made of blue light. She kicked and She was transfixed by the sudden appearance went under.

of Witch Doctor. He was all naked and dirty Fairy Sugadaddy didn’t care about
under his coat. He smelt of dung. He had her.

these long sharp nails on his fingers and toes.

Her head felt like it was bursting

He came up to the bed and he rolled
with emptiness. She breathed out and drifted up his sleeves. He was looking down at her.

down through the murk. Her fanny-pack felt She shrank from him until she was lying on loose. She let herself go all the way down her back. What was he going to do? She towards the bottom of the lake.

wanted to disappear but she couldn’t. She tried to get away from Witch Doctor but it

<<
was like she was pinned to the bed and Dead Girl was lying on this beautiful white couldn’t move. There was only one thing to bed that was all covered with her own blood.

do. She would have to put him off with her Her joints ached. She was spilling all this blue Extra Special Powers. She would have to do a light at the seams from where she had put number on him and hope that it worked.

herself back together. Her legs were still made Witch Doctor looked her up and
of blue light and she had tucked them
down like she was a slab of meat or something.

underneath her. She couldn’t move.

STEVE BEARD 180

Witch Doctor was standing over her
were very sharp. All this water and seaweed in his long black coat. He was looking at her and stuff gushed out of her. It soaked the with his head tilted to one side. There was a bed. She stank of old fish. Witch Doctor didn’t grin on his white face. His long toe nails made care. He was delving around inside her belly a clicking sound on the floor tiles as he with both hands. He was hurting her. Dead moved closer. He was panting. The nails on Girl gritted her teeth. She could feel him his fingers were long and hard and sharp.

pushing and pulling deep inside.

Dead Girl was using her Extra

That’s when Dead Girl really let him

Special Powers on him. She was concentrating have it. She still had her little ghost legs tucked hard. She was trying to pretend to be the one up beneath her. They were made of blue light.

thing he loved so much he kept it hidden She concentrated on the light and pushed it from all the world. He jumped back when up into her belly. Now she made the light into Tattooed Lady suddenly pulsed out of her the thing that Witch Doctor wanted most of like a solid hologram. He gave a little yelp.

all.

But all she could do was laugh.

Witch Doctor pulled this weird Little

Witch Doctor stood there in shock.

Thing out of her belly. It was made out of Something was happening to his mind but blue light but he didn’t notice. He had found he refused to accept what it was. He could what he was looking for. He held it in both not speak the name of his secret desire like hands. The Little Thing was an old man the Crazy Lady had done.

size of a baby with all this long white hair. It Dead Girl lay on the bed doing her
had wrinkled skin on its face and its eyes Tattooed Lady act. She was naked except for were half-closed. Its mouth was this bubble her fanny-pack, which was pushed up
of wet flesh. It was squawking and giggling.

against her breasts. Her belly was all fat and Witch Doctor looked very serious.

lumpy. It was big and swollen. It felt really He was taking deep breaths. It was like he heavy and was pressing down on her. It was was in shock.

like there was something coiled inside. The Dead Girl sat up on the bed. She did
strange thing was that her belly skin was all this thing with her mind where she cut the brown and hard. It was bristling with these cord of blue light that still connected her to soft spines which looked like big hairs. It was the Little Thing in Witch Doctor’s hands. It like she had this big hairy belly.

was easy. She didn’t know why she had

Witch Doctor was very agitated.

never done it before. She had made this Dead Girl kept pretending to be Tattooed spectre and now she was cutting it loose.

Lady as he leaned in close to her grotesque She took down great lungfuls of air.

belly. She could see there was this old wound Witch Doctor was moving away
in her belly. It was a cut. The two halves of from her back through the archway to his the skin either side of the cut had been closet. He was carrying the Little Thing as if stitched back together with thick black thread.

it were a prize. The lights in the ceiling were The stitches ran in a jagged line from the top shaded with glass beads. They looked like to the bottom of her belly.

veils. She thought the lights must be weeping.

Witch Doctor leaned in close. His

She slid off the bed and crawled after Witch breath smelt of alcohol. The blue fire in his Doctor. She wanted to know his secret.

eyes was deep inside. He was a shadow now Witch Doctor’s closet was at the
obscuring the light from the ceiling. He flexed end of this snaking tunnel. The closet was a his fingers and his glittering nails made a narrow space with a high ceiling made of skittering sound. Then he sliced through all stained glass. The glass was all in the shape the stitches just like that. It was very quick. It of hundreds of flowers. They were of varying was painless. Witch Doctor’s finger nails shapes and sizes and colours. Some had big

181 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
blue ridged petals. Others had delicate little squinted to read the label Witch Doctor had red petals. The glass flowers were lit from stuck on the jar. It said ‘Horus 1000’.

within. It looked like they were growing from Witch Doctor pressed a button on
the ceiling.

his harness and the hydraulics started up Dead Girl marvelled at how beautiful
again. He started to come down. He was it all was. The last of the blue light which relaxed now. He was laughing to himself. Dead made up her legs looked very weak and feeble Girl didn’t move. She was still looking at the now. She felt faint and found it hard to Little Thing trapped in the glass jar. It was breathe.

made out of blue light but Witch Doctor Dominating the closet was this
hadn’t noticed. He obviously thought it was open-framework four-storey tower made of something that was made out of nerves and wrought iron and laminated glass. It
skin and blood. Dead Girl saw the spectre stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The open its mouth wide. It was shrieking from core of the tower consisted of a four-sided inside the red liquid but nobody could hear.

column of open square-shaped shelves. Each It didn’t matter. The Little Thing inside the of the shelves contained a rack of glass jar popped like a soap bubble and was gone.

specimen jars. The jars were all filled with Witch Doctor had got caught up in
this thick red liquid and covered with a muslin the cables. The hydraulics had jammed. That cloth.

was when he saw Dead Girl down below. She Witch Doctor had strapped himself
was no longer doing the Tattooed Lady
into a leather harness and was rising up the routine. He shouted at her but she ignored outside of the tower. The noise was like one him. He thought he had taken her Extra Special of those old lifts. There was this hydraulic Powers away from her to add to his collection.

pulley system next to all the glass flowers in But he hadn’t. She had used her Extra Special the ceiling and it was pulling him up by these Powers to trick him. He dangled helplessly metal cables. He was still carrying the weird above her. He didn’t realise there was nothing Little Thing and his black coat flapped in the inside that last jar.

air.

Dead Girl ran back to the bedroom

The noise of the pulley stopped
but now it was all different. It was just this when he got to the top storey. He swayed in dingy cave hacked out of the ground. There the air as he reached out and selected a jar was a naked ten watt bulb hanging from this from one of the shelves. He pulled back the low ceiling by a twisted length of flex and in cloth lid and plopped the Little Thing inside.

the corner was a stained yellow mattress and It dropped into the red liquid and Dead Girl a screwed up plastic bag. The ground was saw its horrible grinning little face magnified sticky. It was covered in all these crushed by the glass. There was this brief smell of brown seed-pods. They were in these layers.

ammonia mixed with bananas. Witch Doctor The ones on top were all bristly and springy covered the glass again and sealed the cloth and the ones underneath were all slimy and tight round the rim with an elastic band. Then rotting. Dead Girl walked carefully over to he began to write out a label.

the window. It was just this sheet of

Dead Girl looked at all the jars of red polythene tacked over a hole in the wall.

liquid stacked in the tower. They all seemed Everything was changed. She gave
to have these little wizened creatures the room one last glance. Opposite the preserved inside. The creatures looked like mattress was this open door leading into a the Little Thing she had projected except they dark passage-way. It smelt of damp. On the were made out of real flesh and blood. It was other side of the room where the walk-in closet like Witch Doctor was collecting them. There had been there was just this pathetic wooden must be hundreds and hundreds of them. She cupboard. The door had a full-length mirror

STEVE BEARD 182
on the front. It had swung wide open to reveal Eventually she landed on this mud-Witch Doctor’s black coat hanging from a shelf. This was where the water lilies were rail. Piled on the floor of the cupboard were rooted. There were big fat seedpods all all these old papers. There were Court around. They were brown and bristly and circulars, kiddie porn magazines, death ready to burst.

certificates and skull X-rays.

Over the edge of the mud-shelf the

Dead Girl reached for her fanny-
ground gave way to become a sheer drop.

pack. It was underneath her white hospital There was this chasm. Dead Girl peered into gown. Suddenly she had got her old clothes it. She had never seen anything so deep. Far back again. That was when Dead Girl realised away at the bottom of the watery chasm it she had done what Fairy Sugadaddy wanted.

was very dark. She could see this dark light.

She had found where Witch Doctor was

Dead Girl wished she could go to
hiding. The polythene window fluttered in the dark light. That was her wish. She wanted its earthen frame and this cool breeze wafted to disappear and start all over again.

into the damp room. It was time to leave.

That was when Fairy Sugadaddy

Underneath the window was this old
came back. He spoke to her inside her head.

cardboard box. The Magic Wand lay inside.

His voice was like an amplified echo. It was It hadn’t changed. It was still made of this much clearer than before.

twisted and braided glass. It looked like these Fairy Sugadaddy soothed her. He
two snakes made of crystal that were curled said that she had landed on the lip of a Silly up around each other. It shone in the light.

Black Hole and that the dark light at the Dead Girl hitched her hospital gown
bottom of the chasm was what they call a up around her hips. Her ghost legs were still Singularity. He said he would take her there.

giving off this soft blue glow. She climbed But first she had to go to a place called the back out through the window on to the Heath Temple of Osiris.

of London. It was early morning. She had spent the whole night underneath the hill.

Dead Girl walked away from the hill.

(5) Crash

She ached on the inside. The sun was
peeping through the green leaves overhead.

>>

She was carrying this twisted glass rod. It Dead Girl had been through the Singularity was hollow with a nozzle at one end. She at the bottom of the lake on the Heath of knew it was really a Magic Wand.

London and was trying to get out of this Silly Black Hole. She was being carried along

>>
by this torrent of boiling water. She couldn’t Dead Girl was falling down through the water get a grip. Everything was soft and slippery.

in this lake on the Heath of London. It was a Her hospital gown was in tatters.

deep lake. She was wearing this white hospital She had lost the Magic Wand. Even her
gown over her fanny-pack. Her legs were fanny-pack was gone.

made of this thin blue light. It was dark all The water surged over Dead Girl’s
around.

head. She was tumbling through all this loose Dead Girl had this Magic Wand
mud. There was a silence in her head where made of twisted glass. She was holding on to Fairy Sugadaddy used to be. He was gone it ever so tight.

now and he wasn’t coming back. She knew Every so often she would bump into
that much. The skin had grown over the hole the thick stems of all these water lilies. She in her head.

would kick against them to make sure she Dead Girl wanted to slow down. She
kept on going down through the deep water.

wanted to get back to her life.

183 SURVIVOR’S DREAM

<<

Fairy Sugadaddy said it was time

Dead Girl was falling down through the dark for Dead Girl to go. So she jumped off the water in this lake on the Heath of London.

mud-shelf into the Silly Black Hole. The She was wearing her hospital gown with her muddy water slid past her. She was going fanny-pack on underneath and she was
very fast. She was aiming for the dark light holding this Magic Wand made of glass.

there at the bottom of the lake. She could see Fairy Sugadaddy was guiding her.

that it was very far away.

He was whispering soft words at the back of her head.

>>

Dead Girl landed on this mud-shelf

Dead Girl was caught in a Silly Black Hole at with these big fat seed-pods all around. The the bottom of this lake on the Heath of jolt went through her legs. Fairy Sugadaddy London. She was trying to find a way out but said this was the opening into a Black Hole.

the muddy water was battering her from all She massaged the pain in her knees as she sides. She no longer knew which way was up looked down over the mud-shelf into this or down. Her white hospital gown was in watery chasm. That was when she realised shreds.

she had got her legs back. They were thick She closed her eyes. She tried to
and strong and hairy.

remember what Fairy Sugadaddy had said.

She tried to remember how she had

He had taken her to the Temple of Osiris and got her legs back. She couldn’t think. The something had happened. She had lost
memory was dim. Fairy Sugadaddy had taken nearly all of her Extra Special Powers. The her to this place called the Temple of Osiris.

blue light had started fading away inside of It was like a big cave full of rubbish. Her legs her from that moment on. Now she could only were lying on the ground.

use it to make the spectres she remembered She crept towards the edge of the
from the past. She couldn’t pretend to be mud-shelf and peered over it. Far away at the new people anymore. That’s what Fairy
bottom of the chasm was this dark light. Fairy Sugadaddy had said.

Sugadaddy said it was called a Singularity. It Dead Girl’s ears were bleeding. She
was where she wanted to go. But there was was grinding the enamel from her teeth. There just one problem. Witch Doctor wanted to were these painful little rashes flaring up all go there as well.

over her skin.

Fairy Sugadaddy said she would

What else had happened at the
have to leave part of herself in the water at Temple of Osiris? She couldn’t remember.

the mud-shelf to guard against Witch Doctor.

Someone else had been there. Hadn’t he been She would have to split up. So that’s what dangerous or something? She had reached she did. She used her Extra Special Powers for the blue light one last time. She had used and pretended to be Tattooed Lady again her Extra Special Powers to frighten him off.

because she knew that would confuse Witch She had laughed at him. Wasn’t that it? She Doctor the most. She made Tattooed Lady had pretended to be one last person. She out of the blue light she still had deep inside had become this big person clad head to toe and cut her loose just like she had with the in rubber. Who exactly was that?

Little Thing.

Something tough and hard brushed

Tattooed Lady crouched down on
against Dead Girl’s fingers. It was this gnarly the mud-shelf with her eyes wide open. Dead root growing out of the mud.

Girl gave her the Magic Wand to hold. She Some last part of Dead Girl hidden
thought she might need it to frighten Witch deep inside took over and made her grab the Doctor and ward him off. Tattooed Lady root. The big person she had become in the grinned through the water.

Temple of Osiris was in charge now. Dead

STEVE BEARD 184

Girl sighed with relief and let go. Her Extra pieces of glass showered over her like Special Powers faded away to nothing. She confetti. The force of the impact went into was all that was left of the blue light now.

her chest. Then she was thrown back as the She thought she must be a
car rebounded from the pillar and sailed Dreaming Girl.

through the air. It was like she was in this funfair waltzer as the car span round and she

<<
felt sick. Then there was this jolt which came Dead Girl was sliding towards this Singularity up through her spine as the Merc landed back at the bottom of a Silly Black Hole. She was on the roadway facing the way it had come.

moving very fast. She was sat in the back-She shat herself. It was all warm and
seat of this big car in just her white hospital sticky inside the hospital gown she was gown and her fanny-pack. The car was
wearing. She was in a state of shock. The painted black. It had smoked glass windows Merc was a wreck. Its horn was blaring too and lots of armour. It was what they call a late and there was all this steam coming out Merc and it was out of control.

of its busted radiator. But all she could think Dead Girl couldn’t see who was
was that it was a good job she still had her driving. It was very shadowy inside the car fanny-pack on.

and all she could see out the window was She looked out of the crumpled door
this long thread of water flashing past. Fairy to see this surveillance camera mounted on Sugadaddy said it was the Old River Seine in the roof of the tunnel. It had these tiny the City of Paris. He was guiding her now.

gripping feet and it was moving round to track Then everything went dark as the
her. She squinted up at the lens of the camera.

Merc shot into the mouth of this tunnel. Time It was round and dark. She thought the Old slowed down as the car got faster. Dead Girl King must be watching her on closed circuit gripped the edge of her seat and pressed her television somewhere to check she really was feet against the floor. She was bracing herself dead. She imagined him sitting at a leather for a crash when this brilliant white light went desk in his dressing gown with the Royal off in front of the car from the end of the Crest or whatever stitched on his pocket. He tunnel. It flooded the windscreen so she was looking very furtive. There was the ghost couldn’t see what was going on. She closed of a smile on his lips.

her eyes and felt the wheels of the car go into Dead Girl thought about using her
this skid.

Extra Special Powers. She found some more Fairy Sugadaddy was whispering in
of the blue light from somewhere inside the back of her head. He said that the herself and she pretended to be the Lost Singularity was not far away and she had to Princess. That would show the Old King.

get through it. She felt exhausted. Her That would teach him to laugh at her. That’s metabolism had seized up. She was very what she thought. She rested her eyes. She sluggish. The light faded away and she imagined how shocked the Old King would opened her eyes to see this pillar in the central be to see his Lost Princess lying in the tunnel.

reservation of the roadway coming to meet She saw him crying and whining. She laughed the car. Her bowels refused to work. She was as she coughed up some blood…

full of shit. She felt very very heavy. She felt like she was gaining weight. She couldn’t What is your name again? Someone wants move.

to know. It’s important. What is your name?

The pillar hit the Merc between the

You don’t know your name. You don’t have a front headlights and the car buckled. Dead name. You are dreaming you are no longer Girl was thrown forward into the seat in front alive. You are this Dreaming Girl who as the windscreen shattered and all these little thought she was a Dead Girl. That’s how it

185 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
is.

glowing with this shimmering blue light.

You are bleeding. There is the taste Dreaming Girl stopped looking. She
of blood in your throat…

didn’t want to think about the Dead Girl. She didn’t want to think about what had

>>
happened at the Temple of Osiris. She

Dreaming Girl was coming out of this Silly remembered that Freak Boy had come back.

Black Hole at the bottom of a lake on the Only this time he had been wielding a knife.

Heath of London. She was using this tough Dead Girl had been in danger. That was why old root to climb up through all this loose Dreaming Girl had been called up. She had mud. She pulled herself up hand over hand frightened Freak Boy off Dead Girl. It was and kept helping herself along with big Dreaming Girl who had been this spectre made powerful kicks of her legs. She was tired.

out of blue light.

Dreaming Girl was rising through the

But now Dead Girl was made out of
thick muddy water. She was covered in this the blue light and Dreaming Girl was real.

protective gear from head to toe. It was a Wasn’t that it?

white rubber body suit with a hood a bit like Dreaming Girl closed her eyes and
a deep-sea diver’s outfit. The suit was partially swam back up to the surface of the lake.

inflated with air and it was cinched in at the waist by this green leather strap thing. The

<<
strap thing was buckled up really tight. It Dead Girl was lying in the middle of this was what they call a dildo harness.

Singularity at the bottom of a Silly Black Hole.

Dreaming Girl had this little metal

She was alone in the back of this stupid Merc pipe coming out of the hood at the mouth. It which was all smashed up. All she had on was like so she could breathe. She unzipped was her fanny-pack and her white hospital her eye-slots. There was sun-light coming gown. There was a deep pain in her chest down through the water from above. Below and she could hardly breathe.

her was this dark light at the bottom of a Dead Girl did this thing where she
chasm.

separated from Lost Princess and got out of Dreaming Girl saw that the root she
the car. She looked down at Lost Princess.

was holding on to was connected to all these She was just this hologram made out of blue other roots. There was this network of stems light. Dead Girl felt lighter. Fairy Sugadaddy in the mud and water. Climbing was easier was still saying things to her in the back of now. She found foot-holds and hand-holds.

her head. His voice was very calm. He said Soon she poked her head through a crack in she had to get into the Antigravity Universe this sloping mud-shelf. There were all these which was behind the crash scene at the rotting seed-pods in the water and brown Singularity. So she left Lost Princess leaves and dead water lilies all around the flickering on the back seat of the wrecked place.

Merc and drifted across the empty roadway Dreaming Girl hauled herself out on
towards the central reservation. There were to the mud-shelf where the water lilies were these orange sodium lamps set in the walls growing. There was no sign of Tattooed Lady of the tunnel. They were flashing and buzzing.

or the Magic Wand. She looked back down She was looking for the pillar which the car through the crack in the ground. The roots had crashed into. She used her sense of touch of the water lilies went down through the to find it. It was like she didn’t trust her mud and the water. Far away down below eyesight or something.

caught in some of the stems was this Dead There was this vehicle coming

Girl. She was wearing a ragged white hospital towards her from the mouth of the tunnel. It gown that billowed in the water. Her skin was was like it was following her. She could see

STEVE BEARD 186
the twin pools of its headlights and hear its with its engine running. For a while nothing engine. It was a big white vehicle and it was happened. There was just this electric light moving very fast.

leaking from the gaps in its blacked-out Her hands closed on this door
windows.

handle that was set in the pillar. She worked Fairy Sugadaddy told Dead Girl that
it and the door in the pillar opened. She Witch Doctor was in the back of the
stepped through into the space beyond and ambulance with Tattooed Lady and she was the door sprang shut behind her.

stopping him from getting past the Singularity.

Dead Girl found herself on this old

She was giving him what he deserved with stairwell like something out of a multi-storey his own Magic Wand. It was the same in every car park except it stretched to infinity up and parallel universe Dead Girl looked at. Witch down in both directions. Fairy Sugadaddy Doctor could not follow Dead Girl into the said it was the Antigravity Universe. The Antigravity Universe. He was trapped.

square walls were made of red brick and the Dead Girl was unbelievably happy.

stairs were made of concrete. There were She thought she would faint with euphoria.

cigarette butts and old plastic bags on the She sat down on one of the concrete steps in landing.

the Antigravity Universe and took these deep She moved up to the next landing
breaths. Fairy Sugadaddy said she could go and opened the door a crack. It looked out of back to any parallel universe she wanted now.

the central reservation pillar on to the crashed He had granted her wish and taken her this Merc with the Lost Princess lying in the back far. The rest was up to her. He started to croon with her legs like a broken doll made of blue an old song deep inside her head. It was like light. There was all this glass rubble on the a lullaby. But she couldn’t catch the words.

road but this time it was quiet. The car horn It was like there was all this static on the line.

was not making any kind of a sound. Fairy Fairy Sugadaddy was fading out.

Sugadaddy said she was looking out on to a Dead Girl lifted her fingers to her
parallel universe which was only a bit forehead to feel the hole in her head. But different from the one she had just left. She there was just this knotted lump there now.

let the door close and moved on.

The skin must have knitted back together.

Dead Girl checked the view from lots

It was time to go. Dead Girl lifted up of different doors as she raced up and down her white hospital gown and undid her fanny-the stairwell. One thing at the Singularity pack. She ran the belt through her fingers always stayed the same. The Lost Princess until she got to the little purse. She unzipped was always lying in the back of the crashed it one last time. It was still empty. It was made Merc. But little things would change.

out of mock crocodile skin. Dead Girl left it Sometimes she was on the left seat rather on the step. She didn’t need it anymore. She than the right seat. Other times the Merc was got up and opened the nearest door.

facing in the direction it was originally going Dreaming Girl walked out of the pillar in rather than back the way it had come. One in the central reservation. The emergency time the Merc was on fire and there was all lights from the ambulance cast red and blue this thick black smoke in the tunnel.

shadows against the roof and the sides of Another thing that also stayed the
the tunnel. Lost Princess was lying in the same was the other vehicle racing up to the back of the crashed Merc. Her skin was scene. Dead Girl could see after a few times glowing with this blue light. There was blood that is was an ambulance. It had a red cross coming out of her ear and she was shivering.

painted on its white side and its windows She had these cuts and bruises on her face.

were all blacked out. It usually turned up at Sitting next to the wreck was the
the crash scene and stopped next to the Merc ambulance with the blacked-out windows. Its

187 SURVIVOR’S DREAM
engine was still running. It was emitting this silver bark had been scraped off the bole of low throbbing noise.

the tree.

Dead Girl moved away from the

Dreaming Girl took off her gloves.

crash scene. There was the sound of rushing The sensation had returned to her fingertips.

water coming from the end of the tunnel. She She traced the edges of the dark wood that began to walk towards it. The road surface had been revealed by the missing strips of was wet under her feet. There was water bark. There were these letters that had been dripping down the sides of the tunnel. The etched into the tree. Together they spelled lights were fizzing out one by one. It was out a name…

becoming dark.

Dead Girl slowed down. There was

You are Dreaming Girl. You are dreaming mud on the ground. She crept along. Before you have come back from the dead. You are she knew what had happened she was swept bleeding. What is your name? Somebody off her feet by this torrent of water. It boiled wants to know. You are flying through the and coursed all around her. It completely air over Whitechapel. You are going to land carried her off.

on the roof of this big hospital. It is coming up fast. What is it? Somebody wants to know

>>
your name. You are inside this emergency Dreaming Girl was swimming in this lake on helicopter. You remember your name.

the Heath of London. She was dressed in a Someone is leaning in close
white rubber body-suit with this hood
beneath the whirring blades. They have their covering her head and a dildo harness round ear to your lips. You say it. You give them her waist. She was moving with powerful your name.

strokes towards the bank.

Ada ‘Babyface’ Wilson. That is your The stars were out in the sky.

name.

Dreaming Girl got out by this bare silver birch tree. It had these gnarled branches that stretched out over the calm water.

Dreaming Girl pulled the metal pipe
from her mouth and spat this green slimy water on to the ground. The air was cool on the back of her throat. She remembered what had happened in the Temple of Osiris. Freak Boy had attacked her with a knife. He had stabbed her in the throat. The blood had come up unbidden. It had been hot and thick and urgent. But she had fought him off.

She took off her hood and shook
out her hair. It sprang out around her head. It was thick glossy hair composed of very many different coloured strands. There were blonde strands, grey strands and black strands.

There were strands of brown, auburn, red and every colour in between.

There was this clinking sound
coming from the tree. Dreaming Girl could see the chrome rings fitted to one of the branches. She moved closer. Some of the

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON

LOCATION:

Hyattsville, MD

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

The Horrible

BOOKS BY LAWSON:

Pocket Full of Loose Razorblades

Last Burn in Hell

Sin Conductor (forthcoming)

The Troublesome Amputee

The Horrible

Psych Noir

The Scars are Complimentary

Tempting Disaster (as editor)

Sick: An Anthology of Illness (as editor) Of Flesh and Hunger: Tales of the Ultimate Taboo (as editor) DESCRIPTION: John Edward Lawson writes slithering wet things that compliment your complexion. His focus on hyper-absurdity, moral ineptitude, and profound violence stems from the observation that "life is beautiful." The grimy post-industrial storyscapes his characters are trapped in have nothing to do with real life, because "reality is for people who can't handle fiction."

INTERESTS: Serial killers, pathology, political nonfiction, games, film, exercise, marketing, hiking, travel, cathartic hellmongering, mental illness, massage, meditation, yoga, chin na joint breaking techniques, porn, watching people bicker.

INFLUENCES: Chuck Palahniuk, Skinny Puppy, Guy Maddin, Kurt Vonnegut, Shinya Tsukamoto, Dissecting Table, Clive Barker, David Lynch, The Jesus and Mary Chain, John Waters, William Burroughs, Godflesh, David Cronenberg, Allen Ginsberg, 1980’s synth pop, David Fincher, Bret Easton Ellis, Oneiroid Psycho-sis.

WEBSITE:

www.johnlawson.org

189 TRUTH IN RUINS

Truth in Ruins

Chosen and Quon have been working on their truck for hours since it broke down. They’re covered in so much grease and grime that their ethnicities are indistinguishable. Their One concealed by many
age and economic status are hints that they Unable to understand
belong to the Iron People, the younger gen-With no ideas of yesterday
eration burdened with rebuilding the United There’s only forever today

States after the war.

A hall of broken mirrors

Chosen breaks the terse silence.

And masks behind masks

“Can’t you hand me the ratchet?”

Without the darkness

After a tense beat Quon replies.

There is no revelation

“Hand you the rat shit? That’s just plain

—Leif Hansen, Mysterium Tremendum
sick!”

As they stare at each other it is clear that they are about to lose it, which is natural given that they are both serial killers. A sudden, shrill sound halts their escalating emo-CHAPTER ONE
tions, something animal in nature. It is the vocalization of pain. That only excites them, of course, and the men split up to seek out its Overhead, the oil spill stretching from hori-source. Hopefully it will be a fallen Humanzee zon to horizon allows no light through, not or, better yet, a woman. Women have been directly. The foul vapors deforming the sky far too intimidating to approach ever since are backlit by what could be stars, moon, or the latest bestseller was published…Chosen sun. It doesn’t matter any longer because and Quon both shudder and try not to think nobody can remember what those things look about it.

like, or how they could possibly affect life on In the underbrush they locate what

Earth’s surface.

was supposed to be a baby but is, instead, a Humid air sweeps over ruined build-malformed waste of oxygen. Apparently its ings in persistent cough-gusts. The weather parents recognized it as such and cast it away, today is the same as it is every day: too inde-the men are thinking, for surely not even the cisive to rain completely. Instead, a thin arte-Humanzees would stoop to stealing such a rial spray of dark liquid hangs in the air, gen-child from an open window or stopped vetly drizzling, saturating everything with its hicle.

chemical odor.

Chosen wipes sweat and food from

Somewhere in the distance a lone
his lip. “Got a phone?”

vehicle can be heard splashing through After another twenty minutes of the
puddles. Burned Church Road doesn’t get baby’s wailing, the duo decide to wait for the much use these days. The sign simply reads police a little further down Burned Church

“Burned Church” with “rOAd” added on by Road. Forty minutes later, when Detective hand. Debris is strewn across the pavement.

Pittman finally arrives, the men are on their Humanzees perch on tree limbs, as-second pack of cancerettes and third bag of sembled in curmudgeon cloisters, their tiny cedar chips. They watch Pittman exit the pa-chimp faces disapproving, their bald lips trol car, fifty years of virgin sacrifices stuffed pursed to support cigars, their hairy little under a suit and tie. His hair and eyes are as hands giving people the middle finger. The black as his heart, his complexion and accent only two people here to receive an eyeful of betraying Slavic roots. He’s clearly older and said finger have their attention elsewhere.

better off financially, a member of the Dark-

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 190
ness People—those who lived through the to pop out as a Jorge.

war and destroyed the USA.

Next to her is a pile of books, all

“Short and sweet. Where?” He
with the same title: Rape is a Girl’s Best steals the cancerette from Quon’s mouth and Friend by Javier Jitlé. It’s a bestseller, de-stares hard at the men. It occurs to them that spite the fact that men everywhere are up in while serial killers are barred from hospital arms. It puts too much pressure on them, they work, teaching, and the like, they are allowed argue. Most men don’t want to do such
on the police force. Bearing that in mind they things to their female counterparts, and those curb their instincts and lead the detective to who do go limp at the thought of it being a the shrieking infant.

boon to women. Javier wonders at the lack of

“It’s a baby all right.” Pittman turns perception in the world. Hasn’t anyone ever to leave.

heard of satire, ever considered the scope of

“How come we didn’t hear it be-
rape to go beyond just women as the vic-fore,” Quon quivers. “Think the Humanzees tims?

left it here?”

Somewhere a phone begins to ring.

Pittman expels a bloody bundle of

Her eyes move to the doorway, although she mucous. “Fuckers. They’re gonna take over doesn’t. Eventually Javier creeps toward the one day.” The men look at him; he scowls in sound, clutching a copy of her book to her return. To silence the baby he lifts it in one chest. Loose linoleum tiles crack underfoot.

arm, cursing quietly when its soggy wrap-A man emerges from a shadowy
pings douse him with unmentionables.

doorway next to Javier. This is Reid. He is The two men stare at Pittman again,
large, armed, and enraged, his business-ca-for a different reason this time. The baby has sual clothes somehow all wrong.

finally gone silent.

“Well?” she asks the darkness.

Reid hesitates, then states, “You’re
the one who wrote the book.”

“You came here to try it out on me.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Bitch, I came here to kill you!”

She clucks her tongue, smirks. “I’ve
got to answer the phone first.”

The haste of the hospital’s decay is only Javier continues on her way. Reid,
matched by that of its occupants. They flop stunned, tries to formulate words. He remem-and flail, fail and die. It’s a busy place these bers something and unsheathes a huge knife.

days. The west wing, however, was aban-Although he brandishes it menacingly she doned some time ago, left to crumble in soli-doesn’t see the display.

tude. The walls there are coated with filth, Running after her he shouts, “Hey,
moss grows on the floor, and the ceiling tiles wait!” The thud of his heavy footfalls ech-are crumbling. The rooms are in semidark-oes mercilessly, disturbing dust and vermin.

ness, lit only by the dim smog-light bleeding He catches up to Javier in a nurses’ station, in through cracked windows.

used more recently for storage and cheap In one of the rooms a pale woman
sex.

lays on a cot, staring listlessly at the ceiling.

She picks up the receiver. “Defec-

This is Javier. She is in her twenties and tive Canteen.”

doesn’t care. Her clothes are made of PVC.

A raspy voice in the phone gushes,

Javier’s parents had planned on a boy and

“Up your mother, you crotched-up cock
were too stubborn to adapt to her gender.

blocker!” Javier considers the phone’s pit-She has it better than her sister, considering ted plastic surface as the tirade continues, that her sister was named Jorgita after failing then hangs up.

191 TRUTH IN RUINS

Reid turns on the television; the
shapen appendage looks out at them, waves screen presents a debonair man who growls, a webbed hand. They move on. Looking at

“Smoke my tumor, baby!” The cancerettes the patients, mostly under the age of four, advertisement ends with a woman’s lips Pittman feels he’ll be able to pick his nose stretching over twelve inches of bulbous with confidence after this move. A thousand meat.

CCs of cancer is a stretch even for a corrupt Javier turns it off and glares at Reid.

cop like him. Currency such as cancer is fluid,

“Who was it on the phone?” he
so to speak, making it perfect for unstable asks.

times like these. Cancer is the one

“Same person it always is: a
replenishable thing everyone has in abun-jackhole. Like you.”

dance.

After agreeing to the Canteen’s
terms Pittman hands over the baby, and it immediately starts screaming. An assistant CHAPTER THREE
scuttles away with the squealing thing as it works to deafen all within hearing range.

“Reid! Reid, you nipple

“This is it, huh? I’ve seen jowlitoriums more twister…stop it with the hide-and-seek!”

lickable than this!” Pittman snorts and hawks Reid, more forlorn than angry to-up a chemical-laced lugie.

day, shuffles out from behind a door. Al-Javier observes him—he is typical
though he towers over the other two he shies of the United States after the destruction away from Pittman.

wrought by World War 3: This Time It’s Holy.

“Why aren’t you down at the sta-

“This is the Defective Canteen, not The Sation doing the files? You know what kind of voy.”

caseload we’ve got.”

“What’s that in your voice, some

Reid starts to reply, then eying Javier sort of South Americanism?”

stops and leans in to whisper. “There kept

“I was raised in Argentina.” She
being, uh, prostitutes under my desk. Every leads Pittman through semi-functional hall-time I got rid of one another appeared.”

ways. Sobs, giggles, and all manner of wet

“Of course!” Pittman smacks Reid’s
noises leak from the various doorways. “You head, explaining that he’s trained the prosti-want to leave the boy with us it’ll cost a thou-tutes to stay in position under his desk for a sand per year. As you can see, we’re running certain amount of time every day. “Not for, out of space so there’s a premium on the you know, things of a fucking nature. Just in beds.”

case is all.”

“You’re one abscondful fascist

“Just in case?”

mofo, you know that?” The baby-thing in

“I like to know that I could have it if his arms gurgles, leaving a trail of drool be-I wanted it. You’ll get to understand and ap-hind them. “No, I mean it. Argentina? Jitlé?

preciate the feeling.”

I’m not some kind of idiot.”

Javier shakes her head, starts to walk She wheels on him, a finger jabbing
away. “It figures you two would know each his chest while his eyes focus on her pale other.

cleavage. “So my great-grandfather was

“Not so fast, Nazi!” Pittman grabs

Adolph Hitler! Like nobody knew that alher arm, slams her against the wall a couple ready. You’re a crotching brilliant detective.

times. “You’re the one who wrote that book!

They must pay you well.”

Right?”

A toddler with both legs fused to-

She glares at Reid. “Didn’t we go
gether into one hideously long and misover this already?”

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 192

“Don’t worry about that rookie,

“We’re talking about reality!”

bitch, worry about me!”

“We’re talkin’ about a one in a bil-

“Don’t call me that.” She knees him
lion type of personality here, bit—uh, babe,”

savagely in the groin.

Pittman continues, still rolling back and forth On seeing this Reid massages his
in the dirt. “How many great-grandchildren own groin, remembering the same thing hap-of Hitler recently relocated to the USA advo-pening to him after he first confronted Javier.

cating rape while surrounding themselves

“You’re…a profiler…” Pittman
with retards and deformos?” He fumbles with gasps, dust from the floor clinging to his lips.

his gun, attempting to point it at Javier.

Somebody has the mutants attempt-

While Pittman struggles to get up
ing aerobics in the physical therapy center; the Canteen assistant returns, ears dripping their awkward, off-time counting resonates blood, and thrusts the wailing baby-thing into down the halls. And still the horrible discov-Javier’s arms.

ery Pittman turned over to them shrieks and Reid helps Pittman to his knees.

wails in some unseen room.

“I’ve got the devil on a short leash, babe.”

Javier plays with the hair in her right Javier runs her hand over the baby’s
armpit. “I’m a foreign national. The profiler/
head, smiling. “Looks like I owe you a re-serial killer designations aren’t forced on us, fund.”

at least not until we become citizens of your fine nation.”

“Everyone’s a serial…killer or a
profiler…it’s a scientific fact!” Pittman curses, CHAPTER FOUR
his fingers attempting to drive the pain from his genitals. “But it takes a special…a special pathology to be… fuck! …to be a profiler-Javier squints as she looks through the serial killer.”

tainted windows of the police station. Gun-

“You’re talking crockery, detective,
men in the sniper towers occasionally fire a worse still you speak of ‘scientific fact’ as if shot or two, keeping the hordes of scaven-the two have anything to do with each other.”

gers at bay under the unbound darkness.

Javier eyes Pittman, then decides she’d rather Seeing it all, she wonders what point of the eye Reid, idiotic though he is. “There’s no the Crusades/Jihads was. Surely, the deities such thing.”

of both sides were powerful enough that they After World War III: This Time It’s
didn’t need animals like homo sapiens de-Holy, the United States finally acknowledged fending them, nor would they want said homo that its citizens were either serial killers or sapiens destroying their creation. Stranger profilers. Given that natural balance is still was the conclusion of World War Three: achieved by pairing the two, the only form of This Time It’s Holy; each side recognized intimate relationship allowable by law is a the other’s destructive prowess and they serial killer/profiler match-up. The confusion joined to become the Allahryans.

about gender in the marriage vows—and the And why not? The Arabs are Cau-silly argument that “I will love and cherish in casian, scientifically, although they don’t sickness and in health” meant instead “we possess the profound lack of pigment found will have children”—has been replaced with in the Westernmost reaches of Eurasia. Javier

“I promise to ritualistically murder your knows she is the logical choice to lead the body” and “I promise to clinically dissect Allahryans, given that her family started up your mind.”

the whole Aryan thing to begin with. Not

“Forget biology,” Reid blurts, see-
only is she uninterested but the group seems ing his superior failing to get anywhere.

to be doing just fine without her. According

193 TRUTH IN RUINS
to the news Allahryans have bombed all the The Zero-Degree War continues
cloning centers. That means no more clones outside, young and old at each others throats, of profiler spouses for serial killer spouses to the Iron People no longer content with re-murder. Which, in turn, means no way to keep building the mistakes of the Darkness People.

the serial killers in line. Fires are visible on Javier leans back too far and her
the horizon.

chair topples. She springs to her feet as Javier sighs, leans back in her chair.

though nothing happened, wiping mud and

“I operate a sperm bank out of the Defective broken bits from her clothes. Ignoring the Canteen. You two wanna make some extra detectives’ giggles, she watches a dozen sus-money?”

pects being lined up and shot next to a trash A model posing as a news anchor
pit. “The greatest good for the greatest num-sobs while recounting details of the latest ber, right?”

Allahryan attack. Pittman turns off the tele-Pittman aggressively thrusts the
vision with such violence that it is rendered baby at her. “Without our system there would inoperable. The baby seethes in the angry be chaos out there. You have to admit that cocoon that is Pittman’s embrace. Reid eyes much at least!” The baby warbles in tune its quivering, wet flesh with suspicion.

with him.

“Why don’t you tell us about the

Javier laughs and laughs.

first killing, babe?”

Javier leans back further, sucking
on a cancerette, taking in the brutal landscape outside.

CHAPTER FIVE

“The one where Miladah Allard was
found bludgeoned to death in her hot tub.

She was a profiler, just like you.”

The police vehicle’s eight wheels jump and

“I never said I was a profiler.” To
thump, bouncing over carcasses and chunks show her disdain Javier leans back just a little of asphalt or masonry. The thick plastic ar-further in her chair.

mor coating the vehicle deflects sniper fire A woman passes the open doorway,
from rampant Iron People. Inside, the occu-pausing to giggle and say, “Hey 9/11.”

pants pretend they’re capable of ignoring Reid nods, his chest puffed out a
each others’ stale sweat. Reid and Pittman bit. “Now look here, you best keep your an-take turns poking the deformed baby in its swers kosher Jitlé. None of that Third Reich eyes, while Javier picks her nose. Five other occultism crockery.”

police are squished in the cramped space,

“9/11?”

wondering if the seat cushions are moist from

“Because I’m a raging inferno be-
the perpetual precipitation or the urine of past tween the sheets, baby!”

riders. They attempt to distract themselves Pittman shakes his head. Not even
by sharing a bag of cedar chips.

the sickly baby is dumb enough to believe Javier snorts. “We going on a pic-Reid’s tripe. “‘Thou thyself art in continu-nic?”

ous mutation and in a manner in continuous

“It’s called confronting the perp with destruction.’ That was found at the scene.

the horror of their own crimes.” After it be-Mean anything to you?”

comes clear she doesn’t understand Pittman

“Sounds like an apologist for the
adds, “We’re going to the latest profiler-se-current government.”

rial killer crime scene.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to

“What’s that going to prove?”

mean? If you don’t like the USA then why

“That we’ve got an ace up your hole
don’t you leave!”

this time, so watch out.” Pittman gestures to

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 194
the rear, where a woman reclines across sev-doesn’t get a response she leans in and whis-eral seats, her mud-colored hair disheveled, pers, “Hey…why do they really call Reid ‘9/
worry-lines trickling like stress fractures 11?’”

across her multiracial features. The gray suit Beulah’s eyes flick in Javier’s direc-she wears to convince others she’s a profes-tion, oozing eight flavors of scorn. She merely sional hasn’t been changed in several days.

shakes her head and goes back to what she A very strong sex addict vibe radiates from was doing.

her. “Meet Beulah Faye Nieran. She’s the best Something up in the charcoal sky
profiler we’ve got.”

rumbles, followed shortly by God’s Dander:

“Looks like she’s asleep to me.”

dirty-gray snow carried on the bleeding

“Don’t let that fool you. She’s
breeze, crystallized chemical flakes that will sharper than the knife you used on your last soon melt and merge with the poison already victim.”

saturating the ground.

“Maybe you’re thinking about

Pittman opens his window: “P.S.—
yourself,” Javier replies. “Serial killer.”

fuck you all!” After firing a few random shots

“Takes one to know one, babe.”

he closes it again.

“Then what’s your opinion of this?”

“The point?” Javier asks.

She hands him the latest newspaper, hot off Pittman jabs a finger at the baby,
the press and already mildewed. The lead laughing. The explosive discharge of the gun story is about a serial killer-serial killer. “Not has caused the baby’s various deformities to only do you have a profiler who kills only quake with fright.

profilers, but now you’ve got a serial killer Beulah adjusts her bra and rolls over
who only does other serial killers.”

to face the vehicle’s rusty inner wall. “Hell

“Bullshit!” Pittman throws open a
licker.”

window and tosses the paper out; the officer next to Reid is hit in the throat by incoming fire. Pittman hastily closes the window, joining the other police in looting their fallen com-CHAPTER SIX
rade.

The wounded officer gurgles,

“Not…fucked up…yet!”

The murder victim awaits them in a penthouse Beulah is the only one not digging
hovel, once a fine chunk of real estate worn in bloody pockets, hacking loose tumors, down to tenement status in the years after prying loose authentic aluminum fillings. She the war. Oil paintings hang askew on the walls flips through NC-17 crime scene photos, and ceiling, mutilated canvasses left to dangle oblivious to the antics of the others. Even like the amputee limbs strewn throughout the this proves boring, and soon she is stiching trees in the courtyard.

together doll arms and legs, torsos and heads, The corpse is female, dark-skinned
fidgeting with tiny clothes and eyeballs.

with spiky blue hair. Five holes have been

“What’s up with that?” Javier takes
burned deep into her torso; there is no blood a seat next to Beulah.

around the wounds. Her feet and hands have

“You believe in Voodun? The power
been severed, and it is from these wounds of Obia? The might of Chango?”

that she bled to death. A golden retriever licks Javier considers the question, pick-at the puddles.

ing her nose. She wipes her finger on Beulah’s On the wall a phrase is scrawled in
back when she’s not looking. “So you make detergent: It is thy duty to leave another voodoo dollies. You know, I always wondered man’s wrongful act there where it is.

if there were voodoo dollhouses.” When that Beulah picks at a scab, Reid fixates

195 TRUTH IN RUINS
on the victim’s week-old bruises, Javier works the victim’s dresser, desk, refrigerator, and on lyrics for a song she is considering writ-cabinets to see if there’s anything worth taking, and Pittman points an accusatory finger ing.

at her. “You’re not a man,” he bellows, “but Pittman rushes to a window, throws
this is sure as hell your wrongful act and I’m it open to let the darkness in, and bellows: not gonna just leave it lying there where it

“Marcus Aurelius—get stuffed! ” The baby is.” He motions to some men, but Beulah passes particularly wet bursts of gas.

throws herself onto the corpse before it can The Humanzees lining the roof’s
be moved. Afterwards she sprawls out next edge all shriek and bare their fangs, scatter-to the body, attempting to see what it sees, ing to distant hidey-holes.

trying to feel what it feels.

“You ask me,” Javier says, dragging

Reid jabs at the detergent lettering

Beulah off the corpse, “we should have this with a pen, then sniffs the residue. When he case solved very soon.” Beulah is already thinks it’s safe he sneaks a few snorts of the snoring in her arms.

stuff, bringing on mild convulsions followed by Pacific-breeze calm and bloody gums.

“So, this pretty much rules out the

Humanzees, eh?” Pittman grumbles, with no CHAPTER SEVEN
response. “Fuckers are gonna take over one day,”

Beulah eyes him wearily, silent even

Back at the Defective Canteen things are though she agrees.

calm. The staff is asleep for the night, tucked Javier shifts uncomfortably, trying
in with moldering sheets and dead dreams to squash the insect loose in her left boot.

while the patients fester in a separate gloom.

“Anybody bother to run a check on these Javier slips in with the stealth of a
quotes yet?”

night incendiary. This is the final step of her The baby looks at Pittman, slime
daily routine. There is a room kept in the west trailing from its eyes. Pittman looks at Reid.

wing, far away from the others. Her prize pos-Reid looks at the others wishing he had a session lives within, a prisoner in his own desk at the ready with a prostitute huddled broken body. Nameless fluids seep from nu-under it. Nobody seems to know anything.

merous sores on his body, coagulating on Being the senior officer, Pittman
the sheets bunched up around him. As far as clears his throat in the attempt to appear on she can guess this one is roughly twenty top of things. “What’s this blar-hah from, years old, older than the rest even though he anyway? The Bible?”

should be dead. Layers of blubber crush his

“Marcus Aurelius,” Beulah drones.

frail body down into the bed, cruel springs She rolls over on top of the victim, grinding straining against his flesh. Patches of coarse its bleeding parts against her. “The quotes hair sprout where there should be none, while come from a series of philosophy books he other areas that traditionally harbor hair are cranked out centuries ago.”

devoid of follicles. His skin is rotten cheese-Javier kneels beside her, eyes nar-
cloth draped over atrophied limbs.

rowing. “You have a very interesting method, His eyes come alive as Javier slinks
detective.”

in, her PVC outfit glimmering like pools of

“Marcus who?” The baby urinates dark blood in the sickly smog-light. His lips on Pittman’s leg.

smack wetly, and his long, gnarled finger-Blood dripping from her lips Beulah
nails click together, sounding like a chorus replies, “Ancient Roman dude.”

line of epileptic cockroaches. A bulge forms The rest of the officers investigate
between legs that will never carry him away

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 196
from this dank pain.

doned west wing will be alive with hustle

“Hiiiiii Langston. How’s my favor-
and bustle, despair and pleas for a merciful ite guy today?”

death.

“Uh…uh…uhhhh!”

Her hand works furiously, then

Mutant bats, snared by bands of
rests. It is done. With their nightly ritual com-Humanzees on the hunt, screech outside.

plete Langston drifts away from this world, Heavy rain whips against the windows sud-finally allowing sleep to embrace him. Javier denly, then dies down.

caps the collection tube and puts it in cold Javier smiles, licks her lips, leans
storage. Soon she’ll have more cancer than over the bed to taunt Langston with her cleav-she’ll know what to do with…

age. “I came to say goodnight.” She removes a collection tube from a nearby cabinet.

“Uh…uh…uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh! ”

If she doesn’t hurry he’s going to

CHAPTER EIGHT
finish before she’s in place. A box of surgical gloves is in the drawer as well, but she decided long ago she prefers skin-on-skin con-The police are dragging Javier in once again.

tact. “Have you been a good boy today?”

The police station’s hallways are morose, He quivers and squeaks affirmations as she unhealthy, saturated with years of contempt pulls back his sheet. Gingerly placing the tube and violence. Reid leads the group with a under a premature opening in his urethra, bodice-ripping strut, hoping there will be fe-Javier begins to lovingly caress the thing that males to impress on the way to Pittman’s of-passes for Langston’s penis. It is a work of fice. Pittman, for his part, is doing all he can evolution that could only be conceived to simply keep his malformed baby in line.

through a collaboration between M.C.

His left arm is perpetually stuck in the same Escher and H.R. Giger. While it could never football-clutching position from carrying the possibly be put to practical use on a woman’s defective thing around so much. If his hands body, he is the father of hundreds—if not lose contact with it the baby goes into thousands—of offspring.

Chernobyl mode in zero seconds flat. Beulah, Javier was sincere earlier when she
the profiler’s profiler, sluggishly marches be-mentioned the sperm donor money to Reid hind Javier, continually attempting to mas-and Pittman. It is the major source of income sage her pale German-Argentinian neck and for her, given that pollutants have caused shoulders. Javier bats the intrusive hands male infertility to rocket. And sure, Langston’s away, annoyed, until she feels the barrel of a congenital deformities will be passed on to gun against her back.

the children of all those desperate women

“Fine, have your way, you subby
who pay her for artificial insemination, but bitch!” The men ignore Javier’s outburst.

nothing can be proven in court. As far as the Passing the entrance to the Sex
world is concerned Langston died of respira-Crimes Division Javier can’t help but notice tory failure five years ago. He lives in the all the empty desks. Papers and folders and hospital’s abandoned wing with Javier, in disks and crime scene photos are scattered secrecy, his mind long gone. She isn’t sure everywhere. A lone detective sobs quietly at what exactly keeps him alive, but these late-her desk. The feet of her colleagues dangle night visits must help.

in midair, their bodies affixed to the deterio-She sees his children pouring in
rating ceiling with improvised nooses. Rape every day, slowly filling the dilapidated hos-is a Girl’s Best Friend has been nailed to the pital. Soon the Defective Canteen will spread wall. A large red X has been painted over it.

through the entire structure, and this aban-

“Hey doll,” Pittman hollers. “This

197 TRUTH IN RUINS
is the one right here. The one that wrote the Glimmering ropes of snot dangle from her book.”

chin. “Pu-pu-please…”

The detective looks up from her

Disgusted by this scene the prosti-
desk. Snot bubbles out of her right nostril, tute crawls out from under Pittman’s desk reaching Bubbalicious proportions before and storms out.

bursting with a wet pop. “What?” she

“So how about it…wanna take her
wheezes.

place?” Pittman laughs as she eyes the desk.

“That book. Her,” he says, using

“You couldn’t even fit down there! Now take the baby to gesture at Javier.

ten steps backwards.”

The sex crimes detective rushes out

“Wu-wu-what?”

with a godless howl, but Javier’s fist leaves Pittman draws his gun, raises it. “I
her horizontal. Beulah whispers in her ear, said take ten steps back, ya bombdaclot.”

“Everybody needs work. You took that away Javier and Beulah share a look. The
from them.”

baby sucks at an imaginary teat while look-

“So,” Reid exclaims, “we finally see
ing at recently-acquired close-ups of the se-the killer at work! Her method is intriguing.”

rial killer-serial killer’s messy work.

Javier considers her fist, then puts

Silvia starts to look back over her
it away for later use. They make it back to shoulder, but an angry sound from Pittman Pittman’s office and hunker down for a while, stops her. Her breath now under control, she staring at the crime scene messages left thus does as he commands. Pittman counts her far:

steps aloud. On her fifth step the baby leaves 1) “It is thy duty to leave another man’s a smattering of milky blood on the floor. On wrongful act there where it is.”

Sylvia’s eighth step her heel finds no sup-2) “Thou thyself art in continuous mutation port, and her arms cartwheel in the air aband in a manner in continuous destruction.”

surdly, her face contorted by panic. She 3) “Penetrate inwards into men’s leading prin-tumbles down the stairwell, many loud
cipals, and thou wilt see what judges thou thumps and screams topped off by a wet thud, art afraid of, and what kind of judges they are then silence.

of themselves.”

Reid and Pittman crack up, high-

4) “The destruction of the understanding is fiving each other. “That shit never gets old!”

a pestilence.”

Javier walks over to the stairwell and A watery voice in the doorway says,
stops, overwhelmingly aroused by the wall

“Um…excuse me…” Everyone looks to the
of stench emanating from its depths. The source: a portly young woman clutching a lower two levels of the stairwell are filled with satchel to her chest, clothes badly torn, tear-obese corpses, bloated by the humid condi-streaked mascara drying on her cheeks. Her tions. So far the Humanzees haven’t been name is Sylvia. It turns out Sylvia was diable to sneak in and get at them.

rected here by the police downstairs. She was Javier’s gaze slowly focuses on the
abducted by a gang of young boys, roughly police once more. “Is it just me, or was that twelve years old, then alternately beaten and somewhat crotched?”

lashed with a belt for about an hour before Pittman snorts. “Hey, everyone
the boys lost interest.

fucks up sooner or later.” He holds the glis-Reid is angry at this waste of valu-
tening baby high. “I woulda made her go able time. “So, it was ‘torture fatty’ day, just down on this thing, but a big time freak like like always.”

her woulda probably enjoyed it too much.

Sylvia looks at them, lower lip trem-

Know what I mean?”

bling. Screams can be heard somewhere out

“No doubt,” Reid grunts, checking
in the vast darkness offered by the window.

under all the desks, chairs, and piles of trash.

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 198

He adjusts his crotch, shaking his head in the serial killer-serial killer struck again?”

disappointment.

Beulah finally perks up, a sharp in-
take of breath followed by her eyes opening—bright, focused. “Not only that, but our profiler-serial killer has taken herself a hia-CHAPTER NINE
tus. Do you think that means serial killers are more driven than profilers, so far as killing is concerned?”

Reid and Pittman are taking turns doing lines

“That’s just the thing,” Reid replies.

on the dashboard as the police vehicle prowls

“Profilers aren’t driven to kill. And who says the streets. Occasionally they stop to rub it’s a she? I think it’s pretty clear that a man is some of the fine white powder on the baby’s behind the profiler murders at least.”

gums; somehow it seems less grotesque

Javier eyes Beulah, memories of the
when it’s high.

massage forced on her sending a chill along Javier’s armpit hair is itching like
the nape of her neck. “You’re in for a bit of a mad. “Where are we going?”

surprise then Reid, you hell gator.”

“Where do you think? We need

Beulah leans in close, scrutinizing
some more office supplies.”

Javier. “You’re convinced I’m right, that this Young women in scant clothing,
is a woman we’re after. What is it you think boys in torn clothing, men in leather, girls you know, hmm?” She pokes Javier force-made up to look like women, they all stalk the fully in the chest, tidies her hair, picks the damp night in search of victimization. One remnants of diseased spinach from between needn’t have full-blown tumor sacks—for her teeth. “I always found World War II foot-just a skin carcinoma you can have your way age emotionally catastrophic.”

with these wretches. Some people are able to

“Catastrophic?”

scam them with just a harmless freckle. Those

“To the point of being arousing.

are invariably the Iron People, and the pros-How about you and me go back to my place titutes are bound to be Iron People as well.

and create our own private Auschwitz?”

The middle-aged or older crowd, having been

“I’m not into that. Don’t mention it
alive when the war’s toxins flowed full steam, to me again.” The vehicle has stopped, the have more than enough cancer to get by with-men peering back intently in the hopes of out such antics.

witnessing some fem-fem action. “Oh please, The Zero Degree war doesn’t reach
you crotching fascist bully boys!”

these parts, though. Class struggles are con-Pittman shrugs. “At least you and
fined to the designated Zero Degree
me agree the profiler-serial killer is a female.”

zones…zero degrees of tolerance, mercy, Headlines flash on the billboards
common sense. These here are the so-called lying askew among the rubble. If the news is A-Bomb Slums, hodgepodge abodes and
to be believed, hardcore violent Zionists have businesses scraped together from the rem-thrown in with the Allahryans, and now the nants of a forgotten civilization, untouched organization is know as the Kaballahryans.

by repairs, by progress. Not even the

The Holy Trinity’s schizophrenia has ended; Allahryans would bother striking here. Ironi-all three sides of the same God are finally in cally, the Iron People are forced to live here alignment, with sights set on everyone else even as they rebuild areas for the Darkness in the world, a heavy celestial finger on the People to prosper in.

trigger.

While the men up front peruse the

Reid unleashes a shout, draws his
flesh menu, the women languish in the back.

weapon and rushes out into the street. As he Javier can’t stand the silence. “Did you hear wrangles some flesh the baby thrashes,

199 TRUTH IN RUINS
arches its back. “That’s right,” Pittman coos.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!”

“We have ourselves a winner.”

Javier grabs Thadiana’s jaw, draws
her in face to face. “You’re one tweaked-out nipple twister, I don’t mind telling you.”

Beulah stops working on her latest

CHAPTER TEN
voodoo doll to whack Pittman’s head. “Pull over. I need to fuck the world.”

The vehicle comes to a stop near

Thadiana is unreasonably cheerful as the the scorched remains of a forest, its charred, police vehicle carries the group through burn-denuded trees imitating tortured spirits lined ing slums. She is well over six feet tall, dressed up before Satan’s scythe. Lightning streaks in a purple velvet bikini with synthetic white in green and orange across the roiling clouds, go-go boots reaching almost to her hips. Her never bothering to touch down on the
face and body have fallen victim to the cos-befouled Earth, just racing back and forth.

metic surgeries expected in the sex trade, leav-This extra illumination forces Beulah to pening something vaguely amphibian in her fea-etrate even deeper into the forest for a se-tures. Her noncommittal ethnicity is similar cluded spot to relieve herself. A couple min-to that of Beulah. Dirty-gold cornrows are utes later the group is summoned from the gathered high on her head that dribble down vehicle by her cries.

in two horn-like pigtails. Currently she is the They lackadaisically converge on
only one enthusiastic about the murders. “So, the scene to discover a Humanzee bound to cool! You’re after the profiler-serial killer?!

a tree trunk, its hands and feet cut off. Next That’s, like, so very.”

to the dead beast are the words “It would be

“Very? ” Reid grumbles, already a man’s happiest lot in life to depart from sorry they chose her from the teaming
mankind without having had any taste of ly-masses.

ing and hypocrisy and luxury and pride.”

“I’ll tell ya what’s very, ya

Beulah is busy doing her makeup.

bloodclot!” Pittman shakes his mutant baby Thadiana is the first to summon a
at her in the darkness, giving it whiplash.

comment. “Hoo-wee, that’s what I call ‘value

“We’ve got the perp right here!”

added!’”

“That’s the tiniest serial killer I ever Javier steps forward to examine the
saw!”

dead Humanzee, making sure to squash a

“No!” Pittman spits, shoving the
family of slugs underfoot. She takes a whiff—
baby under his suit jacket. “I’m talkin’ about these new words from Marcus Aurelius were that pale freak sitting next to you!”

painted in nail polish.

“You’re a freak?!” Thadiana ex-

“That your shade of nail polish?”

claims, scrutinizing Javier. “Wow! What a Pittman juggles the baby with glee, causing freak! You’re the, like, first profiler-serial killer it to scream. “Looks like you’ve struck again, ever!”

eh Hitler?”

Javier’s eyes roll from her to Pittman

“I haven’t left your sight for
and back again. “You have got to be jacking what…eight hours? More? It’s still wet.”

me.”

Pittman lines his eyes up with her

“And guess what,” Thadiana con-
crotch. “What’s still wet?”

tinues, her cornrows slithering to and fro.

“The words are!” Her knee explores

“Guess it, guess it, guess!” Then, before any-his eye socket, leaving him in the dirt with body can guess: “I’m a serial profiler!”

the other slugs.

Reid scans the scrunched-up faces

“Could be the humidity,” Reid ven-
of his compatriots. “There’s no such thing.”

tures. “Keeping it wet, you know?”

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 200

“Hey,” Thadiana giggles, “is that
center of sorts, all the computers have been live or is it Memorex?”

removed and cables dangle from the ceiling, The others stop to listen—some-the walls, sprout from the floor, rusted ten-thing is moving in the woods nearby. A small tacles blindly groping for purchase. Several band of Humanzees smashes through char-hallways lead away from this room, but only coal underbrush and bombs them with fecal one has not collapsed yet. It offers the glow matter, immediately scampering away before of artificial light and the faint sound of mu-retaliation can occur.

sic.

Beulah draws her gun, and Reid and

Pittman gestures to the doorway,

Pittman do likewise.

which is situated across the chamber. Reid hesitates and Pittman swings the baby by its ankle as if he plans to thrash his subordinate with it. After this display the others hasten CHAPTER ELEVEN
into the underground lair. Afraid to make the slightest sound the group moves forward on tip-toe. Regardless, displeased Humanzees The Humanzees are tracked to an under-begin to appear at the entranceways to the ground entrance. It is not crude, however—
myriad tunnels.

clearly this was constructed by homo sapi-Pittman puts the baby down to pre-
ens. The further Pittman explores, the clearer pare for battle. It unleashes a horrid cry that it becomes this was once a military installa-serves as a clarion call summoning hundreds, tion.

possibly thousands, of Humanzees to con-

“Hey,” he calls back to his compan-
verge on the lair. Too late Pittman realizes his ions. “You gonna come with or what?”

error and scoops up the baby.

Javier ventures forward a bit, fin-

Thadiana turns on him. “Smooth
gers trailing over creeper vines and mutant move, Ex Lax!”

blossoms. Pre-World War III: This Time It’s The Humanzees gather in an orga-Holy buildings often collapse when entered.

nized defense core, replete with heavy-duty

“I’m not so sure about this. Humanzees or denim diapers and sharpened bones. A thun-not, this place is on its last legs.”

derous unified roar wells up from deep in their

“And dangerous,” Reid adds, ad-
diminutive potbellies and they charge.

justing his crotch.

Thadiana yanks down her velvet

“Yeah!” Beulah is a little too excited bikini top, massive breasts furiously stab-by the prospect. To Javier she says, “The bing out at the oncoming horde with no ef-offer still stands.”

fect. “I saw this on a wrestling show! Why

“What…here? Now? How roman-
won’t it work?!” She heaves her breasts tic.”

around violently in a continued demonstra-The baby slaps itself, much to
tion of futility. It would seem only human Thadiana’s amusement.

males stop in mid-attack, struck dumb when They travel for minutes in darkness.

presented with an infant’s food supply.

Corrupted water oozes from old light fixtures After emptying her gun into the
like blood from empty eye sockets. Further in hairy mass, Beulah is fearless, diving in with there are makeshift torches to light the way.

a double clothesline. Apparently Thadiana Just when they are ready to give up the chase wasn’t the only one viewing wrestling shows.

a grand chamber opens up before them,

Javier, being from south of the border, at-riddled with tiny burrowed passageways lead-tacks in a Luchador stylee, using a flying ing to Humanzee-knows-where. This, too, is head-scissors to send the nearest Humanzee lit by torches. Once a multilevel command rocketing into the rest like a bowling ball.

201 TRUTH IN RUINS

Back to back, each in a wide firing

CHAPTER TWELVE
stance, Pittman and Reid unload clip after clip, leaving hairy limbs and soiled diapers floating in a thick viscous soup of muscle Digital computers hum, the tapes of analog tissue and blood. They pause momentarily computers whirl, the humans gasp and
to observe the frenzied defense orchestrated wheeze from their various positions on the by the women. “What the bloody blar-hah mildewed carpet. Everyone has cuts, torn are they up to?!”

clothes, and fecal stains from their encoun-The heel of Thadiana’s go-go boot
ter with the Humanzees. Beulah, dozed off connects with a Humanzee skull cracking it against a filing cabinet, makes a good shield directly into the skull of one behind it. She for Reid to hide behind. Thadiana, face to the bellows, “Buy one, get one free—cock
floor, heaves until regaining her breath—then blocker!”

she snaps off her boot heels to facilitate In all the chaos Javier realizes her
smoother fleeing in the future. Javier lies on cell phone is going off. Exasperated, she anher back wondering why the electricity works swers with several colorful expletives.

here.

A familiar “Uh…uhh…uuuuhhh!”

Pittman, for his part, is at the airlock makes its way to her ears.

taunting frustrated Humanzees through a

“You have got to be crotching me!”

small window in the door. They are throwing Javier German-suplexes a Humanzee, popping fistfuls of their seedy shit at the door to no its skull against the stone floor like a ripe avail. He laughs, alternately giving them the boil.

finger and making a masturbatory gesture with

“Uh…uhh…uuuuuuuhhhhhhhh! ”

his hand. The Humanzees become even more

“I’m not coming home tonight, so
relentless in their bombardment of the door.

keep it in your pants, Langston! Here, some-Soon the window is coated with green and body wants to talk to you.” She throws her brown turds, spoiling Pittman’s fun.

phone at the advancing Humanzee horde.

“So,” he says, turning to the rest.

The closest one catches it, putting the de-

“What now?”

vice to its ear in imitation of her. She turns to But the eyes of his comrades are
flee but hesitates, startled by the fact the not on him. There is another person here, animal seems to be communicating back and one who didn’t run in screaming while wav-forth with Langston, a bulge growing at the ing weapons around. He is dressed in badly front of its diaper. It strikes her that she could stained Army fatigues, clipboard and calcu-put the mongoloids and misfits housed by lator at the ready, the accumulation of stubble the Defective Canteen to work in an
twitchy on his nervous face. When con-

Humanzee phone sex operation. The only fronted by jittery eyes and trigger fingers he problem is that Humanzees don’t seem to explains that he works here.

have much in the way of cancer.

“Here? What is ‘here,’ bloodclot?!”

Her reverie is ended by Thadiana’s

“We, um…” The man sighs, adjusts
tug at her shoulder. Reid, shrilling like a nurs-his glasses, stares at the women’s chests.

ing home reject, leads the retreat into the last

“We make life. New life. Evolved life.” Hop-functioning hallway. Bullets and curses fly ing to impress his first visitors of the year he as Thadiana drags the other two women be-launches into rambling stories about Stalin’s hind her.

program to develop superhuman warriors by

“What’s the big idea,” she yells.

breeding humans and apes. The methods

“You almost left us behind!”

used were primitive at best, if not outright Pittman smirks as they run toward
kinky, and the scientists involved ended up the light. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

biting pillows at Camp Siberia. The scientist

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 202
holds up a tube of blue fluid and an elec-fills the air, as does a howl of Humanzee rage.

troshock collar as though they are the keys

“Up the escape hatch!” Beulah
to the kingdom. “We’re much more advanced says, pulling down the ladder. Thadiana and now. Just look at what modern technology Pittman have to drag Reid to his feet. Once can accomplish! You can train any lifeform the escape apparatus is in place Reid charges with the proper tools…and electrical current.

forward, knocking the rest out of his way.

My name’s Simon,” he adds with a shy

Pittman and Javier are busy bludgeoning the chuckle.

few Humanzees that brave the smoke and Hearing about her great-flames. The ladder leading to salvation is grandfather’s nemesis makes Javier’s nipples shaky at best, yet it manages to support their stand at full attention. “So you’re saying combined weight. The escape hatch itself is you’ve completed Stalin’s great plan? And another story. It proves to be almost com-all you got out of it was Humanzees?”

pletely rusted shut. Reid’s hours working out Simon is unsure how to respond.

finally come in handy and, choking on the He decides to rearrange his desk. Reid steadily increasing smoke, he forces the looks—there aren’t any prostitutes under it.

hatch open.

“So what is this, then…some kind

As the group lies moaning in the
of giant Nerd House?”

dust Reid blurts, “And 9/11 saves the day

“No, this is—was—military all the
again!”

way.”

Beulah shimmies over to him on her

Pittman and Reid both graduated
elbows. “You know why the ladies call you from Military Nerd Houses with degrees and 9/11? It’s not on account of any ‘towering good careers lined up for them. Reid states, proportions’ down there. It’s because all the

“The two are not mutually exclusive.”

crabs in your crotch are lined up to jump to It dawns on Beulah there isn’t any
their deaths, just like those people trapped way out of the room. After a quick scan she up in the WTC. You’re so pathetic even your locates an emergency exit hatch in the high crabs can’t stand you!”

ceiling.

She yanks down the front of Reid’s

Pittman is tired of surprises. “Lis-
trousers, exposing the ravaged skin of his ten,” he growls, reloading his gun. “Nobody groin to the wind’s scalding spittle. Tides of cares what this place was. All that matters is pus eddy around clumps of dying pubic hair that you and your pals made those freaky on his lower abdomen. Even in the darkness things, and now they’re after us.”

they can all plainly see his inner thighs and

“Well, I’m guessing you violated
tattered genitals are alive with micro-move-the boundaries of their lair…”

ment.

The lights start to flicker and the

Reid rolls away from the glare of the
monitors pulse drunkenly.

others and sobs quietly. A gurgle of content-

“You’re about to fuck up,” Pittman
ment chirps from the baby’s lips, followed by says, trigger finger slowly squeezing, squeez-uproarious laughter from the rest of the group.

ing… “You have any last words?”

“Yes,” Simon starts, a finger raised.

“I—”

He is cut short by a hail of bullets.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Like we wanna hear that shit.” Pittman high fives the terrified baby, then French kisses its wet face-hole.

Pittman convinces the others that there must The door blows open, sent hurtling
be a decent reward for information about the into the room by an explosive device. Smoke heart of Humanzee activity. It is decided they

203 TRUTH IN RUINS
should go straight to the top, bypassing any dear ol’ great-grandpa.” Thadiana is lost, so other law enforcement agencies who could he adds, “It was her that wrote the book!”

horn in on their credit. On the way into the Thadiana looks Javier up and down,
nation’s capital they pass by the local sui-saying “Kid tested, mother approved!”

cide pit and are overwhelmed. Bodies in the

“Whatever,” Javier says, pointing
tens of thousands overflow its borders, add-at something ahead. “Not only did I not kill ing to contaminated winds already foul with all those people, but we’re here.”

the smell of things dead and dying. Rampag-Indeed, Hog Heaven is directly
ing hordes of Humanzees work around the ahead. Pittman realizes this too late and clock to haul away the dead for their own crashes into one of the police barricades di-nefarious uses.

rectly outside the main entrance. For some Pittman licks the baby’s misshapen
reason the entire area is devoid of activity.

nose, shaking his head at the spectacle.

Reid leans out and shouts vigor-

“Fuckers are gonna take—”

ous greetings and profanity, neither of which

“Yeah, WMD it, we got the mes-
illicit a response. Inside, things are distress-sage!” Javier can only take so much repeti-ingly clean. The marble floors are cracked tion.

here and there, but not a speck of dust is Reid hasn’t said anything during
visible.

the ride. He sulks over a quintuple toe-cheese Deeper inside Hog Heaven they are
burger “value added” meal, including cedar confronted by an even more disturbing sight: chips and sweet piss. There was a time when the congressional chambers are all empty.

people were able to choose better ingredi-They enter, unsure what will happen next.

ents, or so the literature says, but Reid can’t No police or special forces drag them away, understand what they mean by “better.” If and there are no sessions to interrupt. “Do they don’t like it, he tells himself, they can Me” by Bell Biv Devo is the national anthem get out!

and the group feels compelled to sing the Beulah cranes her neck. “Anybody
song, despite the fact the place is a ghost see Hog Heaven yet?”

town. Seeing that Javier hasn’t joined in,

“It’s a’comin’, bloodclot!” Pittman

Pittman draws his gun and cocks it. She gets pounds the steering wheel. “Mother may I!

the hint and sings along; the words are What is it with you people? All you ever want barbed dog shit on her tongue.

to do is party!”

Penetrating further into the empty

“You’re full of grace today,” Beulah
congress the group finds no trace of life, not replies.

even a stray senator or two hiding beneath In the distance the Statue of Lib-their chairs. There is a note pinned to the erty looms high in the air, lighted from below, microphone: “Gone to the suicide pit. Take menacing a series of smaller monuments and care of things for us, thanks. P.S. Fuck you attractions. It was relocated after the fall of all!”

New York City in order to protect its chastity.

“When do you think they’ll be get-

On the cracked monitors that litter the fore-ting back?” Thadiana wonders, finger ab-ground news mongers shriek about the se-sently twirling her cornrows.

rial killer suicide rate reaching an all time high.

Javier snickers, “I don’t think they

Between the destruction of the clone facto-went on a field trip, sweet meat.”

ries and the insult of Rape is a Girl’s Best

“Every last one,” Reid nods, im-

Friend serial killers may soon become extinct.

pressed. “Every last member of congress was Pittman turns to face Javier. “You
a serial killer.”

might have the greatest kill record of any se-Their mission is a failure. There’s
rial killer on record. Even better than your nobody around to report the Humanzee lair

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 204
to. Instead, while the others investigate the less grim. The building is devoid of tourists, empty congressional chambers Javier bus-interns, advisors, Secret Service, even South ies herself with drafting a change-of-name American slaves. If the Congress is wiped bill, proposing the USA be called Jackass, out, surely at least the Presidency is still in-Incorporated. Taking a vote she notes with tact. Otherwise, that would mean there was pride the bill goes unopposed.

nobody at the top, no method, only chaos.

Beulah takes a break from playing

They enter the Ovular Office, expect-
with her voodoo dolls long enough to notice ing a spray of bullets or a hail of grenades.

something. “Hey, I wonder what this does?”

Instead they are met by eerie silence. The She pulls a massive chord, unveiling an enor-Secret Service has become, perhaps, a little mous chalkboard over to the side. It carries a too secret. Behind an enormous desk made running tally for the country’s various ongo-of authentic wood is an overstuffed chair, ing conflicts:

facing away from the door. Nervous glances run through the group. The baby starts to The Zero Degree War
make a sound but Pittman clamps his hand Darkness People 17
over its mouth.

Iron People 13

Reid, hoping to regain some of his
lost esteem, steps forward and spins the chair The Darwiniwar
around. He is greeted by pickle juice slosh-Humans 64
ing in a jar. The jar contains a brain. A make-Humanzees 5
shift turban covers the lid, and a label across the glass reads, in almost illegible writing, World War IV: Armageddon It

Osama. Corroded wires snake from the top, Kaballahryans 7
worming away to shaded crevices that leak Normal Folks 3
vermin and screams. A “Go Vegan!” bumper sticker and a “Have A Nice Day, God Made The War On Terror

It!” sticker have been slapped on the bottle’s Us 0
side. Reid looks to the others, then back at Terror 100
the bottle, then the others again. “What’s it mean?”

The baby giggles. Pittman smacks

Thadiana clears her throat. “It
it a few times, then grunts, “I didn’t realize means that God, as creator of the universe, there was another World War on.”

made this day and, like, everything that hap-Javier tickles under his chin, coo-
pens during this day. So, in order to give Big ing, “You say that as if you mean it.”

G props you have to not only accept what

“I’ll show you what a girl’s best
happens, but be happy about it.” She flashes friend is right here and now!” Pittman fondles the bottle to see if the brain will get scared; it his gun, but is restrained by Reid.

doesn’t.

Thadiana throws her arms around

Reid pounds the desktop. “I meant,

Beulah and Javier. “Just like mother used to what does this blar-hah about bin Laden have make,” she laughs.

to do with anything?! Is he in charge? Does this mean the Kaballahryns have won?”

Thadiana is too busy flashing the
baby to reply. Instead of being scared or CHAPTER FOURTEEN
awestruck the baby just seems to get hungry.

“Maybe they’re all the same per-

At the Honkey Pad the situation isn’t any son in the end,” Beulah ventures.

205 TRUTH IN RUINS

Javier snorts, kicking the jar to the
that fucker some Head And Shoulders al-floor where it shatters.

ready.”

“Move over Sizzlean!” Thadiana

God’s Dander is collecting faster
gushes. “There’s a newwww girl in town, and than it can melt. Nobody can remember this she’s feel…in’…good! Got a smile, got a song ever happening before. Lightning continues for the neigh…bor…hood—”

to arc across turbulent clouds in the dark sky

“This isn’t a sitcom about some
as gray chemical flakes swirl on the wind.

white trash waitress,” Pittman barks, thrash-Most areas are reporting several inches worth ing her with his gun. While Thadiana grov-of accumulation, while others are dealing with els on the floor spurting blood and tears, twice as much. The temperature has jumped Pittman stomps on the purple velvet of her by five degrees overnight, and most people booty shorts, ensuring she’ll feel his kicks attribute that to the unusual amount of God’s every time she sits down for the next week.

Dander lying around.

“Now with gel…” she sobs.

Calls from state governments across

Javier searches the desk, finding
the nation pour in at the Honkey Pad. Everyonly used condoms and a well-read copy of one seems to think the government should Sex a Baller, before digging out the presi-do something. “Aren’t there any fun calls?”

dential seal. She stamps her change-of-name Javier asks Honkey Pad operators. “Only resolution and faxes it to whatever news out-send through fun calls!” And just like that lets she can think of.

the incessant ringing stops.

“I do believe it’s getting better,”

Thadiana remembers something and

Pittman tells the baby while surreptitiously brings in a DVD that arrived earlier. “Check sniffing its privates. “It’s getting better all it, check it, check it!”

the time.”

“What is it?” Javier sees that it bears her name and shrugs. She pops it in and waits.

A dark room fades in on the screen.

The first thing she notices is the bright red CHAPTER FIFTEEN
paint covering the walls, only illuminated in small patches. A figure sits in shadow on the bed, launching into a half-hour tirade using Thadiana and Javier are watching television.

voice distortion filters. After it’s over Javier Pittman is passed out in the corner surrounded thinks about what she has seen, then starts by dozens of Pabst Blue Ribbon cans; the it again. She pauses the video after only a baby busies itself attempting to suckle few seconds and uses the zoom function.

through Pittman’s shirt. They are in the She focuses on the bed’s water-warped head-Honkey Pad’s mad theater set up for personal board. Etched in the wood is “Labor not as entertainment. On screen a weather forecaster one who is wretched.”

sits in a broken office chair, shirt half

“So,” she says. “The profiler-serial
untucked, tie loose, hair on strike, so un-killer tracked us down, eh?” She looks to washed he gives your eyes sweat stains. “Do Thadiana, who flashes her, earning only a I have to?” he sighs.

disgusted shake of the head before Javier The sound of a shotgun being
leaves. Perhaps Beulah will shed some light loaded can be heard from somewhere off cam-on the killer’s video.

era.

Instead she bumps into Reid as he

“Well then…ahem…it looks like
exits one of the executive washrooms. For lower Jackass, Incorporated is in for more of the first time since Beulah’s 9/11 revelation God’s Dander. If you can, try to stay indoors.

he seems no longer withdrawn, instead full For all the good it’ll do you. P.S. NASA, send of nervous energy. “What’s up with you?”

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 206
she asks.

the responsibilities associated with his job.

“Nothing.”

When Javier catches a headline

He starts away but she grabs his
about the murders she shares the news with arm. “What’s that—the window cleaner we the others. It would seem the serial killer-se-saw at the Nerd House?”

rial killer and profiler-serial killer have stopped In Reid’s hand is an empty test tube.

their killings.

“No, I was just…ah…you know, trying to

“Yes,” Pittman and Beulah say in
help out with your sperm donor thing.”

unison, too quickly.

“Couldn’t get it up, huh? I

Thadiana pops some bubble gum
shouldn’t have bothered asking a limp-
in her mouth. “Maybe they, like, killed them-wristed stroker like you.”

selves and shit like that?”

He retreats into the shadows fur-
ther down the hall, punching his groin and mumbling violent nothings all the while.

Beulah has taken leave of duty to

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
have her voodoo doll collection imported. It has taken her decades to make them all. Hundreds of people doomed never to exist now The Iron People have loosed their ultimate line the halls, the furniture, the beds, defects weapon on the unsuspecting Darkness
of fate with nowhere else to go. Their tiny People: Poontangutans swarm out of hidden pin-riddled forms summon to mind Abu
bunkers, wave upon wave of Women of Mass Ghraib infants.

Destruction crashing against the society’s Pittman, when conscious, pleasures
teetering fortifications. Covered in stringy himself by sitting on a window ledge and orange hair, faces boasting fatty growths, tin firing at the vague forms moving about un-cups over their swaying breasts, these new der cover of God’s Dander. The fact that his monstra sapiens tower over their Humanzee gun shots wrack the baby with horror only counterparts.

serves to increase Pittman’s fun.

Watching Poontangutans rampage

Thadiana, as the new Press Secre-
across the television screen Javier snorts.

tary, spends much of her time battling the

“This thing between your Darkness People media. Semi-functional children from the De-and your Iron People, it’s some cold-hearted fective Canteen crawl into the ring between stuff.”

rounds to mop blood up from the mat. “The

“Zero degrees,” Beulah mumbles.

administration’s decision to let profilers part-

“I can’t wait to become a natural-
ner with other profilers is entirely sound,”

ized citizen. Wanna marry me? I’ve got my Thadiana rages while body slamming Matt own sperm supply, so we could even have Drudge, Junior. “With virtually no serial kill-kids.”

ers left how is the species supposed to

“I’m not into marriage,” Beulah re-
thrive?” she growls while drop-kicking an plies, looking her up and down. “I just want Associated Press correspondent. When she to ball you.”

isn’t doing battle with the media she compul-In the distance something the popu-
sively flashes the mirror to see what effect lace refers to as “Mount Chimpmore” is be-she’ll have on herself.

ing erected. Thousands of human corpses Reid is barricaded in the Jefferson
have been piled up in enormous bonfires to Room. Occasionally shouts of “Left, right, illuminate the audacious Humanzee work: the left!” and “Attack!” can be heard through visage of the first great Humanzee leader’s the door. Like Pittman and Beulah he no profile is being engraved on the metal palate longer feels connected to the police force, or that is the Statue of Liberty. On her posterior.

207 TRUTH IN RUINS

Next to it the Humanzee God is being en-weapons are under the counter.

graved. It is the deformed baby Pittman car-

“What did I tell you?” Pittman puts
ries, now immortalized in all its bugshit glory.

his feet up, smoking his cancerettes three at Jackass, Incorporated has yet to formulate a a time. “Do I need to say I told you so?”

response to this outrage.

Javier decides to boost security,

God’s Dander hasn’t hindered the
then remembers there is none. Instead she Poontangutans and Humanzees in the least.

takes comfort in going to the basement to They use their underground network of tun-visit the National Treasury. There are hun-nels and crumbling military corridors to pop dreds of coolers here loaded with tumors of up wherever they please. Their human coun-every kind. She gropes their slick membranes, terparts aren’t as fortunate. The dander drifts licks them, stuffs them in her armpits to re-are as deep as five feet in some places, bring-lieve the itching. It’s still not enough to for-ing all travel to a halt and making people get all the videos she has been receiving from wonder, How can that fucker have any scalp the profiler-serial killer. Climbing into a refrig-left?

erator, wrapped in a cancer cocoon, she can Things are going very poorly for
finally imagine a world in which she doesn’t the country. A message from the Humanzees, exist. She’s never slept better in her life.

recorded in their dimly-lit underground layer, has arrived. Specialists believe they have broken the code; the message is: “The Baby Freakus weeps. Turn over the Baby Freakus CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
to us and you won’t be harmed. Otherwise we shall declare Holy War against your infi-del tribe.”

Javier has been spending more and more time On top of that, the profiler/profiler
in the Treasury, the darkness of sleep ob-match-ups aren’t working out. It turns out scuring piles of unwatched DVDs sent by that when you pair two profilers neither one the profiler-serial killer. Eventually, though, gets to be the good guy all the time. They she has to come up for air.

just sit around staring intently at each other, Pittman eyes the bits of lymphoma
trying not to let anything on while attempt-clinging to her dark hair. “You doing some-ing to figure out what the other is thinking.

thing different with your look lately? Maybe Desperate for action, the populace
trying to disguise yourself to avoid prosecu-demands an explanation from the Honkey tion?”

Pad. Pittman has no interest in dealing with

“I can’t believe you’re still on about the issue, unless it means a chance for him to that. Have you been paying attention to randomly kill more people. Reid won’t even what’s happening out there? Nobody cares deign to answer the door in the Jefferson about a few murders when the whole world is Room. Javier is only worried about ending coming apart!” Although Pittman offers no the incessant phone calls—lewd grunts and arguments Javier knocks over a vase and groans that could originate either from kicks the wall. “Even the Kaballahyrans have Langston or a Humanzee with a cell phone.

stopped attacking Jackass, Incorporated!

Thadiana has been missing for quite some They know we’ve had it. It’s obvious to ev-time, and Beulah is beginning to get suspi-eryone!”

cious.

Her tirade is interrupted by a phone

Isolated reports start to come in from call. Heavy grunts and moans wait on the fringe communities—tales of primate rage, other end. After smashing her phone on the empty homes awash in blood, nightshift work-floor she picks at a crusty melanoma in her ers fending off Humanzees with whatever nostril.

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 208

Pittman watches the display with a

Without hesitation Javier tosses a
smirk, then flicks at the baby’s genitals.

grenade, but instead of exploding it releases

“Looks like our profiler-serial killer is getting a smoke cloud.

more and more unstable all the time.”

“Great!” Pittman yells. “Now they

“Oh, up you, mother.” Javier storms
can attack from under cover!”

out.

“You whine more than that baby!

Cabin fever is getting to them all.

Just get to killing, already!” Javier fires her God’s Dander is now twenty feet deep, pour-shotgun into the billowing smoke at random, ing from the heavens with no end in sight.

and the resulting cries of primate pain send a The good news is the condensed chemical shiver across her thighs.

flakes have cleaned up the sky enough to Oblivious to these developments
cause vague differentiation between day and Beulah stalks through the Honkey Pad’s night. Iron People with windows more than empty corridors. She locates Thadiana un-twenty feet off the ground are bugged out der the desk in the Ovular Office. With the by the lighter shade of charcoal gray referred God’s Dander situation being what it is, the to as “day” by the news mongers. For the press can no longer make it to the White generation struggling to rebuild after the war, House, so why bother with news confer-the words “night” and “day” were merely ences? It’s time to return to her old profes-substitutes for “awake time” and “sleep time.”

sion. She hasn’t been put to use yet because Those words shouldn’t have to actually nobody ever sits at this desk anymore.

mean something after all these years.

“There you are. I’ve been all over

There hasn’t been any contact with
the Honkey Pad looking for you!”

citizens in rural communities or A-bomb slums

“Thought somebody stole these?”

for days. Either they’ve revolted and broken Thadiana has Beulah’s voodoo doll collec-off to form a new nation, or they’ve suc-tion under the desk with her, the cavernous cumbed to subhuman hordes. The
space a snapshot of the daily hustle and Humanzees now roam free, inheritors of one bustle of voodoo doll life. Gang wars, nation under God’s Dander. People aren’t Thanksgiving feasts, the diorama is both ex-even safe in the metropolitan areas any more.

tensive and amazing.

Javier raids the armory, appropriat-

“Geez…how many interns was this
ing small knives, grenades, a shotgun and desk designed to hide?”

ammo, whatever she can carry. She even finds

“I dunno. I counted over a hundred
a space age tomahawk and hooks it through fifty names, then I stopped. I mean, that was her belt. This is not in anticipation of conflict only on one side of the desk alone!”

with the Humanzees and Poontangutans, no.

Beulah scoots in close, shoulder-

She is simply tired of Pittman’s nipple-twist-to-shoulder with Thadiana, stroking her ing ways.

cornrows and thigh. “Are you really a serial The sound of gunfire and screams
profiler?”

ends her trip to the armory. She rushes to the

“Uh-huh!”

source of the disturbance, where Pittman is

“That means you what…profile
engaged in battle with Humanzees. The baby people in a compulsive and ritualistic manis struggling to reach them but Pittman keeps ner?”

it firmly headlocked under his left arm. Javier

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!”

scans the chaos—an alcove formerly boast-

“How about you and I make our own
ing a moss-covered bust of Lincoln is now personal Auschwitz?”

home to a hole in the ground. Poontangutans

“Gee,” Thadiana says, surveying
hang back near the hole barking orders at the diorama. “I just finished putting it all to-Humanzees as they emerge from the depths.

gether!”

209 TRUTH IN RUINS

Beulah knocks away a cluster of
appears to be a fine mist of blood spraying dolls. “No, I mean you and me…oh, never from his nether regions is, in fact, a multitude mind.” She pushes Thadiana to the floor and of living things. “Armageddon it!” Reid climbs aboard.

shouts over the fray. “Armageddon it now, Thadiana exclaims, “The San Fran-you crotching cock blockers!” Countless cisco treat!”

crabs spring forth from the glorious wounds that are his genitals, each anchored by a gos-samer strand of spider silk. The electroshock collar has been latched around the base of CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
his penis, its electrodes glimmering in the light.

Reid’s armada of airborne crabs

Pittman only has two clips of ammo, and makes quick work of the enemy. By the thou-Javier is down to her last two shotgun shells.

sands they latch onto Humanzee faces and She’s holding onto the final grenade in case start shredding. Several of them stumble they are overrun by the Humanzees and
blindly into their brethren clutching the raw Poontangutans—she will ensure they all go mass that is their heads, desperate to hold in out in a blaze of glory. A Poontangutan swings the face-jelly seeping between their knobby-across the ceiling tiles, a pair of Humanzees knuckled fingers. Seeing this display drains dangling from her hand-feet. Javier empties the last drops of courage from the Humanzees the shotgun into them and tosses it aside.

and Poontangutans. The final few turn tail The tomahawk hooked in her belt comes out and disappear into the chemical steam. Javier to play as Pittman unloads bullet after bullet tosses her grenade after them for good mea-into the horde.

sure, caving in the entrance.

“This isn’t your style,” Pittman

Pittman thrashes the baby around.

shouts over the noise. “I’m surprised you

“What’d you do that for, you Nazi slut-can get it up for non-profilers.”

bucket?! We have to go after them! Right

“I don’t kill profilers! ” A smatter-Reid? Reid?”

ing of Humanzee blood and skin lands in her They look and find that Reid’s mili-mouth.

tant STDs are not content to stop their ma-Just when all hope seems to be lost
neuvers simply due to a lack of enemies. They a massive arm knocks both Javier and Pittman have launched to the ceiling and are burrow-aside. Reid has finally hit the scene, radiating a hole in the weak foam board tiling.

ing power like never before. The primates Obviously, the master is no longer
sense something is different about him too, in control. Reid whips the remote from his and they wait to see what the deal is. Neither pocket and presses a large red button. Inside makes a move for what feels like ages, stantly the electro-collar crackles with dev-giving the Poontangutans enough time to astating voltage. Unfortunately for him Reid drag their wounded below ground.

is the only one adversely affected. The crabs

“I’m not into stupid school yard
continue as before, dragging his body ever stare-downs,” Javier says. She steps forward higher. The current running through his body brandishing her tomahawk.

forces his limbs to go rigid, keeping the red

“Get back,” Reid orders, “I’ve got it
button depressed, therefore continuing his under control!”

slow electrocution. Chimp-like noises escape

“Huh?”

between his clenched teeth, along with foamy

“I’ve trained them! Now they are
vomit. Cooked pus drips from him in pud-thunderbolts loosed from my loins!” So say-ding-like dollops. The others watch as he is ing, Reid yanks down his pants. What at first hauled out of sight, faint wisps of smoke trail-

JOHN EDWARD LAWSON 210
ing from between his legs, the smell of over-CHAPTER NINETEEN
cooked hot dogs causing their stomachs to growl.

Javier nods. “Well, I guess that does

Beulah is sitting cross-legged on a hand-that.”

carved mahogany table in the dining room.

“Let’s go find those other two

She is surrounded by plastic fruits and veg-wenches,” Pittman says, stalking away with etables, a wax boar’s head with an apple the baby hanging limp at his side. “I wanna stuffed in its mouth, artificial potatoes, sal-know what excuse they have for not being ads and soups. Her hair hangs in her face as here when we needed ‘em.”

she concentrates on the task at hand, which Javier follows, positive she can con-is the creation of a Beulah Faye Nieran voo-vince the other women to help her get rid of doo doll. When she is applying the final Pittman. They check Beulah’s room—she has touches she feels two pairs of eyes on her.

redecorated it with red paint and dark cur-

“Hey,” she says without looking up from her tains. The words “Labor not as one who is work. “You guys seen Thadiana around? I’ve wretched” are carved into the water-warped been looking all over for her.”

headboard of her bed. Across the room a Moving closer Javier asks, “How
video camera is mounted on a tripod. They do you know she’s not here? You didn’t look look at each other and shrug.

to see who it is.”

“She has a profound method,”

“Touché, Jitlé, touché.” Finished

Pittman says. “She can really get into the with the Beulah Faye Nieran doll she lays it head of the person she’s profiling.”

on the table. Then, before Javier can stop They continue on, a bit unnerved
her, she hammers a nail through it.

by the silence permeating the Honkey Pad.

Pittman finishes urinating in a vase

Still, with Reid out of the picture things are and faces them, shaking the baby at the looking up. The tables seem to be turned, women like a talisman. “What’s all this voo-though, when their search leads them to the doo hubbub about? You have a lot of ex-Ovular Office.

plaining to do!”

Thadiana is sprawled out on the

Beulah produces her service re-
floor, several stab wounds in her back. The volver and, smirking, pulls back the hammer.

blood has turned her bikini into an interest-

“Honestly, how many videos did I have to ing maroon and purple tie-die. She struggles send you?”

to lift her head, and when she does there is a Pittman quietly calculates his shots
glimmer of pained recognition in her eyes.

fired during the fight with the subhumans.

The presidential seal has been stamped on His brow furrows—the numbers don’t look the wall dozens, perhaps hundreds of times good. If he throws the baby at Beulah it might to form the words: “Do not despise death, prove enough of a distraction for him to slip but be well content with it, since this too is in an old-school tackle and punch combo, one of those things which nature wills.”

T.J. Hooker style.

They stand over her leaking body

“It doesn’t have to end this way.”

as she intones, “I do believe…it’s getting Javier takes a furtive step forward, palms fac-better…it’s getting better all the time…”

ing Beulah. “What about you balling me?

Phlegm and bits of collapsed lung spew from There’s plenty of ways this could go.”

her mouth, then she goes still.

“There’s no point in sticking

Pittman stoops, clunking the baby’s
around. I mean, come on…there’s only
head against a wall, and checks her pulse.

Poontangutans and Humanzees left out there.

“She fucked up, all right.”

What’s the point in killing something that’s hardly alive to begin with?”

211 TRUTH IN RUINS

The baby snorts several times, and

Pittman the finger. Within seconds her hand Pittman rubs its head. “What’s your major waivers and falls to the carpeting.

malfunction anyway, beeotch?”

Pittman is all smiles as he holsters

Beulah’s smile contains a thousand
his weapon. This is his ultimate accomplish-razor-edged threats. “I’m a philosophile liv-ment. After all, he is the “serial killer-serial ing in a dour and depressing world that has killer.”

no use for my joyful absurdity. The worst of Pittman returns to the Ovular Of-it is all the skulls. It’s so expected.”

fice, determined to position Thadiana’s

“What skulls?!” Javier snarls.

corpse under the desk in order to celebrate.

In response Beulah sinks her fin-

“Hey, she ain’t that dead yet—if ya gernails deep into the flesh of her own face, know what I mean!” he tells the baby.

ripping it away from the underlying bone.

Even in these times this is a ghastly sight, He hesitates just outside the Ovu-and the others cringe while blood spurts from lar office door, considering the pale, wheez-her torn muscle and skin. Beulah’s lipstick ing thing in his clutches. What reason is adds an unnatural slash of color across her there to keep it alive now? As the function-crimson mask. Her eyes, lids torn away, bulge ing president he won’t have to answer to his out as she cries, “That’s comedy!” Her ec-old superiors at the police department, and static proclamation is cut short by the dis-with his companions all dead he no longer charge of her service revolver going off in has to worry about their judgments.

her mouth.

“Sorry little buster. It’s you or me,

Pittman, Javier, and the baby stare
and I’m pickin’ me this time. Enough of shoul-down at Beulah’s deflated head for some time.

dering the burden for everyone else!”

Its contents are spilled on the table as if it Determined to toss the baby from
were a melon dropped from the top of the the Ovular Office window and skeet-shoot Washington Monument. Warm brain tissue the fucker, Pittman strolls in with an extra dribbles onto the carpet, making Pittman’s bounce to his step. He freezes mid-stride, stomach growl. Now that her body has
breath caught in his throat. An abundance of moved from its original position on the table Humanzees and Poontangutans await, weap-her parting words are visible on the tabletop: ons in hand and teeth bared. He can hear

“P.S. Fuck you all!”

dozens more pouring in down the hall.

Javier lets out an extended sigh.

Pointing at Pittman the baby laughs,

“Obviously she was the killer all along. Happy and laughs.

now? It’s all over…” She faces the window and stares into God’s Dander, wondering if it will ever melt.

Pittman chuckles. “You not only got
everyone to kill themselves, but you tricked Beulah into committing murders for you. I’ve got to admit, you certainly are the craftiest serial killer I’ve ever seen.”

He fires his final bullet into her back.

She manages to turn slightly, not quite enough to confront him, trembling as she uses the wall for support. Slowly she falls to her knees, then her hands and knees, then finally her face smacks against the floor.

Javier’s last act is to raise her hand and give

BRUCE TAYLOR

(aka Mr. Magic Realism)

LOCATION:

Seattle, Washington

STYLE OF BIZARRO:

Magic Realism and Surrealism

BOOKS BY TAYLOR:

The Final Trick of Funnyman

Kafka’s Uncle and Other Strange Stories Edward: Dancing On the Edge of Infinity DESCRIPTION: In the introduction to Bruce Taylor’s story, “The Breath Amidst the Stones” in New Dimensions 10, the editor, Robert Silverberg, said, “The specialty of Bruce Taylor of Seattle is brief, playful, bizarre stories that occupy the mysterious middle ground somewhere between fantasy and the surreal.” Since that story was published, the “fantasy” to which he referred, is more that of Magic Realism, similar to some of the work of Bradbury, and the stories that appeared on Serling’s, The Twilight Zone—people leading ordinary lives suddenly caught up in extraordinary circumstances or realizing that what they thought was reality turns out not to be so.

INTERESTS: Hypnosis, remodeling, urban walks, reading, backpacking (Bruce is vice-president of Switchback, Inc., manufacturer of hard-shell backpacks—
www.switchbackpacks.com ) When not doing that, he enjoys travel, astronomy, remodeling, urban walks, reading, and getting artists together at once-a-month gatherings at his home (such events come under the name of FOKUS—Friends of Kafka’s Uncle Society, named after Bruce’s recently published book.) INFLUENCES: H. G. Wells, Ray Bradbury, Franz Kafka, Anton Chekhov, Jack Cady, Rod Serling, Dostoevsky, Flaubert, Robert Penn Warren, Karel Capek I, George Orwell, Steinbeck.and the absolutely amazing wealth of imaginative writing of Magic Realist writers as well recent Magic Realist film.

WEBSITE:

www.pantarbe.com/mrmagicrealism

213 THE BREATH AMIDST THE STONES

The Breath
country.”

The glass warps in embarrassment.

“Damn. I meant it to mean a soapy pane of Amidst the Stones glass. No good, huh?”

“No,” I reply, “no good.”

I look about me, amused and an-
gered. Amused because all those things which we used to consider as having no life—
well, now they do, and how they wrestle with

“Foo-fra!” says the wall.

their special conditions of existence is amusI look up from the sleeping desk. “I
ing. Yet, I’m angered…

can’t understand you. Take the plasterboard

“Sputz,” says my pencil.

out of your mouth.”

“Sputz,” I repeat. “It sounds like a

The wall sneers; the grain distorts.

mispronunciation of spuds, which means

“I don’t have plasterboard in my mouth,”

potatoes. Is that what you mean?”

says the wall.

“No,” says my pencil. “I meant it to

“Then what were you saying?”

mean the act of spelling incorrectly.”

“Foo-fra.”

“Oh.”

“Foo-fra?” I scratch my head.

The pencil crawls across the desk

“What kind of word is that?”

and, in the border of my income tax form, it

“I don’t know,” says the wall. “I
begins a game of tictacktoe with my pen. The just invented it. Maybe”—and the wall stares pen suddenly makes a big black pool of ink.

at a picture by van Gogh—”maybe it’s an It whispers, “Have you any Kaopectate? I expression that’s halfway between fooey and think I’m getting the runs.”

frampt.”

I shake my head. “No.” The letters

“Fooey I understand, frampt I on the paper run from the engulfing black don’t.”

tide; then the tax form stands and tries to

“Huh,” replies the wall. “I just made shake the ink from itself. Then the paper lies up frampt. I suppose I should define it be-back down, the letters rearrange themselves, fore I use it in other words.”

and what once read “If you do not itemize I nod. “It would really help.”

deductions and line 15 is under $15,000, find

“Skidge,” says the rug.

tax in tables” comes out $di dte 00t yoi5t I stare down. The blue-green rug

51zeit o f do i x.

smiles pleasantly.

And the letters know they are in the

“Skidge?” I say.

wrong positions, but since they never learned

“Skidge. I like that word. I thought how to spell, nor learned anything about word it up.”

order, they give up and lie around, babbling I rub my eyes. “What does it
incoherently. A t jumps up and down. A mean?”

capital A tackles a small z, and they tumble

“It’s a combination of skid and edge.

across the page. I sigh.

I’m sure it has applications to rugs in gen-In the background, I hear a slop-
eral, but I’m not sure how.”

ping. The water is climbing out of the fish

“Maybe,” says the wall, “it can
tank again. And the fish inside dart about, mean a rug that has a tendency to skid near always very frantic when the water does this.

the edge.”

This time I don’t bother trying to put the

“Spain,” says the big picture win-
water back in the tank. Every time I tried dow.

before, there was nothing really to grab onto.

“Sorry,” I say, “Spain is taken. It’s a I watch the water. It is still experimenting

BRUCE TAYLOR 214
with mobility. First it lengthens itself out like yarrow sticks, and the Bible is screaming, a snake and tries to inch forward. Then it

“Pagan! Heathen! ” The dictionary is look-rolls. As it tries new forms, it mutters, ing into itself and shouts words that it finds

“Maybe? How do I . . . ? No . . . no, that won’t amusing: “Foregut!” Rustle of pages.

work.” It rolls up into a moist ball and tries to

“Galago!” Then, “Macronutrient!”

roll. “Better,” it says. It rolls over to the cat, A wastebasket sneezes, and papers
which stands with stiff fur. The animal alfly up.

ways stares at the water with a look that must

“Willbillet, woorbillet, woobillet.”

be incredulity. The water mimics the cat’s The wall frowns. It looks to me. “Not all form—even the tail, which it switches about words have to make sense, do they?”

as a cat might. A pregnant guppy stops its I shrug. “I don’t know. It helps if
mad swimming long enough to look out from they do.”

the water in the place where a cat’s eye would

“Isn’t there such a thing as poetic
be. The form then looks at itself and the fish license? Woorbillet?”

inside. “Most amazing,” it says.

“Words are supposed to mean

“You’re getting better,” I say.

something,” I say.

“Thank you,” says the water. “Find-

“Scoobie-doobie-doo? Twenty-
ing a convenient form is most difficult.”

three skiddoo? Ya-hoo? Don’t give me that

“Well, at the risk of making a bad
crap.”

pun, your options for form are indeed fluid.”

“I don’t want to argue. Maybe you

“Hm! Fluid indeed. Aren’t we
are right.”

funny.” And, like a cat, the water sits on the

“Yippee-skippee. Wait! Where are
rug, ears back.

you going? Are you angry at me?”

“Move!” says the rug. “You’re get-

“No,” I say. “I want to go for a walk.

ting me wet.”

Ever since The Change, it’s been awfully I shake my head. “You really should
noisy in here.”

be more careful. You risk being soaked up.”

“Ah,” sighs the rug, “was not The

“True,” says the water, pacing

Change wonderful? Isn’t it magic to be aware?

about. “Also, since more surface area of me To be sentient?”

is exposed, I guess I risk rapid evaporation.”

“For you,” I say. “Me, I’m not so

It walks back to the fish tank, which
sure. Right now I guess I’m really pissed at is trying to scrub algae off its inside surfaces.

the Valaslavians.”

It mutters, “Can’t see a goddamn thing.”

“Maybe you’re pissed,” says the

“Crap,” says the water. “I don’t re-
water. “We’re not.”

ally want to go back into the tank and sit I get my coat. “I’m glad for you. I
there. I feel like a kitty stuck on a potty box.”

mean, I really am. But don’t forget how hard I shrug. The water crawls back into
it is for us people to deal with The Change.”

the tank. I hear whispering. I look around.

“You’re angry,” says my pencil,

The books are talking among themselves.

“because we won’t be exploited any longer.

Suddenly there is a paper-thin scream. Tropic We now have minds of our own. We won’t of Cancer has just opened its pages and ex-be controlled by you any more.”

posed itself to Jane Eyre. Portnoy is comAs the pencil talks, it makes an ex-
plaining again. My abnormal psychology clamation point on the paper.

text is shouting theories that either drasti-

“Think what you will,” I say. I limp
cally conflict with theories in other texts or out the door.

simply do not make any sense. I sigh. Let My inner agitation keeps me, thank-them shout. The theories have little to do fully, from remembering why I limp. As the with reality, anyway. The I Ching is tossing door closes, it wishes me a nice walk. The

215 THE BREATH AMIDST THE STONES
sidewalk looks at me. I smile.

my foot. The rock moved in a grinding mo-

“Tread lightly, stranger,” the walk
tion, and I felt the bones in my foot turn to says.

mush. I screamed. Once. Twice.

“Since I hurt my foot, I don’t have

“Respect,” said the rock, “respect,
much choice.”

respect, respect! Even though these life forms The walk still looks at me with wari-be inferior to us, respect!”

ness. I stop walking to let two rocks cross in My foot was beyond hurting; it was
front to me. Following behind them are seven also beyond repair. I squeezed my eyes shut little stones. I walk past brush and hear gasps.

and behind my eyelids saw yellow and blue Looking down, I see two beer cans making and purple lights.

love. I shrug.

Lieutenant Arko looked very pale.

“Stop!” says a stop sign. “No park-

“I think we made a mistake,” he whispered.

ing within thirty feet!”

“Uh,” I replied. The rock backed

“I’m not going to park,” I reply. “I’m off my foot.

just out for a walk.”

With Lieutenant Arko and Commu-

I continue on. And I’m angry. The
nications Engineer Toshiba helping me, we Change. The goddamn Change. If we had began to back away to the ship. The rock only been more careful; Valaslavia looked so jumped toward us. We scrambled into the wonderful. We certainly studied the planet, great white ship. And from all over, rocks the culture, and it certainly seemed that it began to leap toward the ship; rocks of all would be a very nice addition to our Empire.

shapes, sizes, colors. And we heard the mes-And so we set our ship down near a city.

sage: “All has life. And as the Great Ones The inhabitants came out. People.

from Trixpoxya made us aware, so we make They looked just like people. We had our you aware!”

IBM Translator, and I read the speech—a

“But,” I called down from the hatch-
very nice speech, really, although somewhat way of the ship, “we are already aware!”

standardized. “‘Greetings,’” I read, “‘in the

“Yes, yes,” said Communications
name of Earth, you are now a subject of our Engineer Toshiba.

Empire.’”

“See?” He wiggled his thumb. “No-

I was just about ready to continue
tice how aware I am of my thumb! See? I can with our list of expectations and various touch all five fingers with my thumb! Isn’t kindnesses when I heard: “Go plitz your-that neat? I’m aware I can do that—”

self.”

“Awake! ”

I did not have to know the meaning

“But we are awake!” said Lieuten-
of the word to know that I’d been insulted.

ant Arko. “See? My eyes are open. I am I glowered at the Valaslavian. The
aware of my awareness!”

Valaslavian smiled meekly and pointed down.

“Awake! And we give you the

There was a large rock by my foot. A very power to give others what we give you!”

large, squarish rock.

Our minds were filled with some-

I looked around to my crew mem-
thing—I don’t know what. But I felt a pres-bers. They shrugged.

ence. My mind—not my head—ached.

Lieutenant Arko shook his head.

Somewhere within me, a thin wail; something

“The jerk doesn’t understand. Try again.”

reaching forward, something reaching back,

“In the name—”

and then—then—touching.

“Plitz you!”

The whole ship shuddered.

I guess I got angry and grabbed the

“Kabort?” I looked around. A

Valaslavian by his tunic, and then pain! Pain!

mouth had formed in the wall. “Ka-plut?”

Pain! I looked down. The rock was sitting on

“Pootz!” The floor shifted.

BRUCE TAYLOR 216

Then a deep growl. I swallowed.

We all looked at each other. I still had the A Little Spider
translator in my hand; it self-activated, and I stared at it with astonishment. “The stars!

Shop Talk

The stars! They are mine! No longer am I controlled by sweaty, soiled fingers of the inferior flesh! I shall go where I wish to go! I shall go where no machine has gone before!”

The hatch sealed itself. The growl
came again; once more the ship shook, and Now, I remember talking to my neighborhood our minds were filled with immense power spider, you know, she lives right next door and an incredible sense of destiny!

and spends all her time in her apartment weav-

“Hang on!” I yelled.

ing those webs that others would not care to The ship leaped skyward at I don’t
admit to weaving but she does it right in her know how many g’s. The ship bounced
living room and doesn’t seem to mind that around the universe like a Ping-Pong ball for people walk by and scream at her frankness.

I don’t know how long. It was obvious that Me, it never bothers me. No sir.

the ship was enjoying sentiency.

We became good friends. I always admired We all knew what we had to do. We
how hard she worked as she anchored one did not dare let the ship get back to Earth.

end of the web here and the other end there.

We jammed the controls. We pulled wires.

If I worked as hard as she did, I’d be sweat-We stuck chewing gum in tape heads. We ing in a second.

blew fuses. We kicked and hit and destroyed

“Really,” she said one day as I was
as much of the navigational-communications visiting her, “it isn’t really all that difficult to systems as possible.

build webs, it really isn’t at all.” She regarded But the ship had a mind of its own.

me casually with a few of her eyes.

And Earth appeared on the

“Huh, do tell,” I replied. “It cer-
viewscreen.

tainly seems like a task.”

And in our minds we heard the com-

“Care for some coffee?” she asked.

mand: “Awake!”

(I know she had a very complicated Latin We all looked at each other hope-name, so I just called her Mrs. Webb and she lessly.

said that was fine.)

I remember. I remember it well. I

“Yes,” I replied.

sigh. My jacket snuggles around me for more

“Well, you know how to do it. Ex-
warmth. Such the memory. Now the reality. I cuse me while I lay a batch of eggs.”

shrug. My foot hurts.

“Certainly,” I replied. And shov-

I want to return home, but in order
ing a few silk strands aside, and being care-to do so, I have to cross a drawbridge. The ful which burner to turn on (a part of her web span is up; the bridge is yawning. I look to was anchored to the refrigerator near by and my watch, but the little hands are folded.

I didn’t want to burn the silk) I put on a pot.

“Sorry,” it says, “but I’m taking my rest

“I take it you’d like some?”

break.”

“Uh-huh,” she said; she really
didn’t seem all that interested; laying eggs and all does take some concentration. So, I (“The Breath Amidst the Stones,” originally ap-brewed some coffee up, ducked some silk peared in New Dimensions #10, Ed. Robert strands and put her cup in a fairly level area Silverberg, Harper and Row, 1980.)

of silk where she often sat, sometimes splayed like a black flower in a delicate silk setting.

217 A LITTLE SPIDER SHOP TALK

And when she was through with her oner-they weave and they see themselves more ous task, she came up the web and sat right like spiders than they want to admit?”

down and with her front legs, she held the

“Possibly. But with you, some-
cup and drank. “My, that’s good,” she said.

thing else—”

“Is that the last of the Maxwell House?”

“And that is—”

“I didn’t see it,” I said. “This is

“Your name—isn’t it Latin for
the Brim.”

Black Widow—”

“Nice,” she replied.

“Oh!” And she was definitely up-

“How many eggs do you lay all at
set, “all that folklore about how deadly I am?

once?” I asked politely, not knowing if she’d That I eat my mate?”

be offended by such a question.

“Well, you do—you have done

“I don’t know,” she said, and I
that—”

think she might have glanced to the corner,

“Well,” she said, “is it that act that to the eggs, with all her eyes, but I wasn’t I do or is it the fear people have that, if they too awfully sure. “A few, I suppose.”

get involved with one another, they will some-And she sipped her coffee. And I
how be devoured? The sense of themselves sipped mine.

lost to another because people will do just

“I really do admire you,” she said,
about anything for love? Or be slowly drained

“for being my friend. So many who walk by of the essence of themselves until just a shell would like to pretend that I don’t exist, but I of one remains?”

know they are frightened. I wonder why.”

I almost choked. “That’s rather

“People are afraid of spiders,” I
good,” I said, “matter of fact, your insight simply said.

into the human condition is awfully astute.”

I suspected Mrs. Webb was

“Thank you,” she said, “our spe-
amused but looking at her, she appeared excies has been around long enough to have pressionless.

quite a folklore about humans. Actually, prob-

“Spiders outside of themselves or
ably more accurate than your folklore about the kind that dwell inside?” she asked.

us. But tell me, is there anything else about

“Oh, hell,” I said, “maybe it’s
me—specifically—that may bother people?”

both—maybe there’s a part of ourselves that I thought for a minute and then
so reminds us of insects that we can’t stand said, “Yeah, that red hourglass design on your the knowledge. Or maybe it’s a fear of being body.”

ensnared in something and having no way I heard defensiveness in her voice.

out, or being overwhelmed by something

“Well, what of it? It is certainly distinctive symbolic that catches us with so many legs and I think rather attractive—”

that we can’t escape—”

I laughed. “Hold it, I didn’t say it

And Mrs. Webb did laugh. “Oh,
wasn’t attractive or bad or anything like that.

the fear. It’s the fear, isn’t it? Of being overI’m just stating a fact—”

taken, of being unable to escape, of being

“Why should it be bothersome—”

held powerless by the incomprehensible.”

“ The hourglass is the classic sym-

“Maybe,” I said, as I drank my cof-
bol of the passage of time,” I thought. “And fee. “But maybe people are specifically fright-of death.”

ened of you—”

She sipped her coffee reflectively.

“By my webs?” And she lowered

She lowered it as if considering to say someher coffee cup. “By my silk?”

thing—then sipped again. Quietly and with I laughed. “‘Oh, the tangled webs
great injured pride she said, “But I’m a we weave’—uh, Shakespeare, I think.”

widow—a black widow to be sure and some-

“So, I remind people of the webs
times my appetite does get carried away I

BRUCE TAYLOR 218
suppose—but time? Time? It’s just coincidental that I have a red hourglass.”

Of Tunafish and

“Symbolic,” I said, “maybe people
fear spiders because they associate the hour-Galaxies
glass with being overwhelmed by time.” I paused. “Or the lack of it. Or the passage of it.”

Mrs. Webb chuckled. “Over-
whelmed by the Black Widow of Time. My, how sinister and ugly we sound—we are life

“Tunafish,” the madman said. Let me clarify forms just like you—we don’t even kill for that. You can’t say that he was actually a sport or blow up anyone and yet we’re re-madman because when you spoke to him,
garded as so horrible.” She sighed, finished there was that instant of recognition of what her coffee and simply held the mug. “More you said and a second’s pause as he decided and more,” she finally said, “it sounds like what crazy response that deserved. Not say-the attributes given to spiders—especially ing he wasn’t crazy. But there was, as Black Widows—are qualities that people hate Shakespeare so eloquently said, method.

and cannot accept in themselves.”

This guy could talk for hours—and he did.

“Maybe,” I replied. “A lot of it

But dammit, to look at him, you knew that he sounds like that to be sure. The term, I be-knew that you knew what was going on: he lieve, is ‘projection’.” I drained my cup.

insisted on being crazy. He had made a ratio-

“Well,” I said, “as usual, it’s been interesting nal decision to be irrational—which in men-talking with you.”

tal illness—is usually not the case.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Webb replied.

His name was Mr. Stevenson. He

“Hope our chat didn’t scare you.”

was forty-seven, black unruly hair and when

“Hardly,” I replied. “What is most
you spoke to him you sensed enormous in-frightening and always frightening is when telligence. As near as we can figure out, he’s things aren’t said—then the fantasies, and manic-depressive. Something is depressing usually the worst ones—set in.”

him so God dam much that he can’t face it

“Indeed,” she sighed, “indeed.

and handles it by being high and crazy from Well, I have to get positioned in my web here the anxiety.

to see if dinner drops in.”

Course of therapy? Try to talk to

“Let me take your cup,” I said and
him. Try to establish some sort of rapport, so doing, and dodging thick silky strands, I empathy.

went to the sink, washed the cups and put

“Hello, Mr. Stevenson. How are
them on the drainboard. Then, “Take care,” I you today?”

said as I walked out the door.

“Tunafish.”

“Good-bye,” Mrs. Webb said, “do

“I’m having a hard time following
come back; it’s always so interesting talking that, Mr. Stevenson.”

with you.”

“Well, you know what they say.

I went downstairs thinking of many

They’re always saying it. It. Always it. Tit.

things. When I reached my apartment, I Haven’t felt tit for ages. Tit. Tit-tat. Shall we stopped by the mirror—yup, I sighed, a few tit-tat, you queer? Get your thoughts off me.

more gray hairs. I shook my head and, on the Put out your fire; I’ll not combust for you, way to the kitchen to fix dinner, I glanced to you salad eater! You vegetarian! Nazi Ger-the table at the red hourglass and watched, many died because you ate salads. You need drop by drop, this mortal blood pass.

a dressing down. A Thousand Island’s for you, buddy!”

219 OF TUNAFISH AND GALAXIES

“Mr. Stevenson, I find it very diffi-

Mr. Stevenson stood and began laughing.

cult to carry on a conversation with you—”

And then, talking. “Funnier than a schizo-

“Carry on. That’s it. Carrion. Car-
phrenic cat. Blooie! Guts blow out! Wheee!

rion, my sweet, meet my friends.”

The deadness of it all. All fried like sardines

“Mr. Stevenson, I—”

in sand. More beautiful than a dry fog. De-

“You know what they say: a hand
humidified oceans; cement clouds. More fun on the bird is worth six in the scoff.”

than a windy vacuum.”

“Mr. Stevenson, I think you’re go-

“Mr. Stevenson, I really think you
ing to have to—”

can be more straightforward—”

“Eat shit.”

He looked at me. He looked at me

“No—”

for a long time and then he switched into a

“Yes! Try it with catsup!”

high falsetto. “My name is Mickey Mouse. I

“I have no desire to eat fecal—”

fuck Pluto and Donald Duck when Uncle Walt

“Shit! Call it shit! Call it by its proper isn’t looking. Yes, yes, it’s true. He drew me noun, you silly gerund!”

and when he was gone I had to draw on my With that, Mr. Stevenson snapped
own talent. He cheated me, he did. Gave me his fingers and walked away.

gloves, four fingers and no penis. I had to erase a lot and add a few lines. And even Out there. Out there. It’s happen-then—even then it was all a Fantasy Land ing without warning. Fire. Heat. Breaking near the Frontier Land just left of Tomorrow down. Melting. Heat. Hotter. Hotter. Tighter Land but when you wish upon a star/Makes the atoms squeeze. Heavier. Heavier and no difference who you are unless you’re John then blinding light as the center of the galaxy Wayne—” Mr. Stevenson stopped and
explodes…

switched into the role of John Wayne; “Hi.

I’m John Wayne. I suck off gun barrels. I

“Mr. Stevenson…”

grab bulls by the balls and squeeze. If you Mr. Stevenson sat hunched like a
ain’t American, you ain’t real. And if you tight ball in the corner of the day room. As I ain’t real, why, then, I’m gonna have to shoot watched him, he hunched himself tighter, you.” Abruptly, he switched again. He be-tighter.

came rigid, stiff and began making mechani-

“Mr. Stevenson!” Gently, I touched
cal movements like a robot. “Bleep! Bleep! I his shoulder. His muscles were tight and as I am—am—America—John Wayne/Fantasy
touched him he contracted still tighter. I Land. What does woman mean—mean to
stepped back. I’m not exactly certain why me—butt, big tits and warm, moist—buzz!

but I felt as though something was going to Buzz! Ejaculation! Ejaculation! This is Ejacu-happen. And it did. Oh, Lord. How do you lation Command! The penis has entered!

describe a person exploding? Suddenly, he That’s one small surge for man, one giant leaped up, flinging his arms and legs out and grunt for mankind!” He stopped suddenly yelling, “Boom! I go boom! Boom! Boom!

then tilted his head as though listening.

Boom! Whizzz! Whee! Whee! Boom!

“Attention! Attention!” He turned around Boom! Boom! The whole God damn thing three times, walked back and forth six times go boom!” He spun about, did a cartwheel and then turned to me. “Andromeda calling.

and flipped to his back, arms, legs out straight One order for one tunafish sandwich with and silently said, “Boom.”

side order of hard boiled sand with steak He had a silly grin on his face but
sauce.”

his eyes showed fear. Some other patients

“Mr. Stevenson, I feel I should tell
had frozen smiles. Others looked horrified.

you that you are totally disorganized.”

For a long time everyone was silent. Then

“Andromeda calling. Also one

BRUCE TAYLOR 220
chilled entropy over boiling ice.”

order was breaking down. Since he has been

“Mr. Stevenson… I… uh…”

here, his ability to interrelate to people has He laughed and leaped and touched
disintegrated rapidly—”

the ceiling. “Whee!” was all he replied. I The resident shook his head.

gave up and went to a staff meeting where

“Damn. This pen doesn’t write. Got another we were to discuss the patients. As I walked one?”

out of the day room to the meeting room, I I tossed him mine. “Jesus! This
realized that I had no idea what to say about one doesn’t write either. Someone got a pen-Mr. Stevenson except that he came across cil?”

totally disorganized. But then, everybody A nurse tossed him one and we fi-knew that.

nally got on with the report.

“No diagnosis as yet,” I said.

No civilization in the galaxy knew

“Well,” the resident said, and he
what the ramifications of the suddenly in-paused to think of something meaningful to tense radiation meant because by the time say, “sounds like he’s a manic-depressive in instruments detected the change, the instru-an acute manic phase.” The resident looked ments, the minds that created the electronic to me. “Would our astute and illustrious tools, the planet on which the tools and minds medical student care to say something?”

worked together—vanished. And even if

“I think you’re right,” I said. Actu-
minds remained intact long enough to know ally, I wasn’t sure; I didn’t like the resident, the change, they would realize it was hap-but he would be a great one to write a letter pening in the nearby galaxies as well—but of reference for me and so I wanted to be as what could be done? Besides, if one goes by agreeable as possible. Besides, you never conventional space-time physics, then the but never say anything foolish in psychia-explosions in nearby galaxies had occurred try. You have to be so careful lest everyone billions of light years ago… if one went by turn to look at you as though you had let a conventional space-time physics.

verbal fart at least and at most, you were really inappropriate and on the edge of a break-Dr. Leery tried hard to look comfort-
down. Of course, that usually makes me emable. And the harder he tried, the more un-barrassed and self-conscious and I begin to comfortable he became which made him try fumble with my hands and the staff looks all that much harder and of course the staff even closer at you which makes you even noticed it and they became uncomfortable more embarrassed until finally you excuse which made Dr. Leery even more uncomfort-yourself to get a cup of coffee. By the time able which made the staff that much more you return, some other staffer has come un-uncomfortable until finally Dr. Leery excused der scrutiny—they’re through with you, hav-himself to get a cup of coffee. When he got ing decided, in your absence, what your prob-back, the staff was comfortable and was al-lems are—but that’s neither here nor there.

ready discussing the patients. After Dr. Leery Anyhow, the resident looked at me and gave sneaked in the door, he leaned against the me a quick nod for being as perceptive and door frame, trying to look as comfortable as intelligent as he imagined himself to be and possible. The staff decided to ignore him.

he sat back and said, “What do you think of

“And so,” the resident said, “James
treating him with lithium to kind of even him Stevenson is our next patient. Mr. Bradley, out?” I know that he’s going to treat him would you care to discuss him?”

with lithium anyway, so I say, “Yeah, I think I cleared my throat. “He has been
it’s a good idea.” The resident smiles. I’m on the unit two days. He came in on a police going to get a good letter of recommenda-hold for directing traffic and saying that the tion. After he writes it, then I can go my own

221 OF TUNAFISH AND GALAXIES
way and disagree with him and tell him what flapping his arms and looked down at me with a shmuck I think he is, but right now, I’m a very penetrating look. “Come to the quarry nice, nice, nice.

and get stoned with me. We’ll have a rock

“So,” the resident says, “lithium it
concert which we’ll take for granite. Bring is. Also, when dealing with this guy, be as along quartz of wine and we’ll marble at the concrete as possible. Don’t abstract. Be sights and watch the old order pass away good role models.”

and the galaxies are now beyond our com-I bobble my head. I glance at Dr.

mand/and the space-time it is de-ranging.”

Leery. He’s obviously uncomfortable with He stopped flapping his arms. I looked at the idea and looks very uncomfortable, but him. “I’m terribly confused,” I said.

really, he’s insecure and wants to be liked by

“Tunafish,” he replied, jumping
everybody, but realizes he’s not liked by ev-down from the chair. “You can tune a piano erybody which makes him more uncomfort-but you can’t tunafish. What’s a cute psy-able and the staff begins to look around, chotic break like you doing in a place like wondering where the bad vibes are coming this? Boom! All go boom!” Then he became from and in all their eyes the question is the very still, tensed up and let a very noisy fart.

same: is it me? You? Is someone’s psycho-

“Like that. Just like that.” He flapped his sis coming out of remission? But in Dr.

arms, whistled and skipped out of the room.

Leery’s eyes, he knows it’s him and he starts I watched. I didn’t even have time
shifting about and staff members begin to to be concrete. Not even asphalt. Nor gravel.

glance at him which makes him very uncomI laughed. What the fuck am I saying! I—
fortable and he quickly drains his coffee cup and goes out for another cup. The staff once

…if one went by conventional
again becomes comfortable and returns to physics. But it was unconventional. Civili-business.

zations did not have time to shriek. The Force

“Next patient,” the resident says.

had arrived. It was chaotic; born of chaos, He gives me an approving nod. It’s going to yet it was ordered. It was total paradox. It be a great letter of recommendation. Dr. Bra-was breaking laws and making new ones. The dley. Yeah. Yeah. Ohhhhh! The money!

speed of light meant nothing. The Force itself was its own constant and set its own

“Mr. Stevenson!” I see Mr.

way. Blinding, swift, immeasurable heat and Stevenson running about the dayroom, flap-planets turned to smoke; space warped, suns ping his arms. His face is serene, even with changed color, became rubbery; some ran like all the exertion. He stops in front of the win-glowing hot plastic; others popped like soap dow, but still flaps his arms like a giant bird.

bubbles; inconsistent yet the destruction The late afternoon sunlight streams in and I was consistent and the Force moved…

squint for it is almost impossible to see and in the brightness Mr. Stevenson is a dark Dr. Leery and the resident read the
form waving and undulating. I go over to chart. Dr. Leery was uncomfortable. He’d him. “Sir.”

look at you, then look away and shift weight

“Casserole,” he says, “it reminds me
from one foot to the other and he’d grimace.

of Dresden, the days when it was a caterpil-The resident looked uncomfortable and kept lar potentially butterflying about. Pretty bird flipping the pages back and forth, back and it was; yellow of bill burning, burning in the forth, forth, back and—uh—I—seem to be night whose broad stripes and quasars never having trouble—consecra—concentra—oh,
more Crest toothpasting/And the wienies in yes—and Dr. Leery said he’d be right back air/mustered buns to eat there—” Mr.

after he made a telephone call. The resident Stevenson then hopped upon a chair, still smiled. “Well, how’s the lithium working, Mr.

BRUCE TAYLOR 222

Bradley?”

the south flank of a massive volcano, the

“It’s not,” I replied. “He’s higher
moon rose. The man sighed; looking to Ve-than ever and the personality disintegration nus, he said, “You son of a bitch! You’re just is more obvious; I can’t follow a word he God damn lucky. That’s all. If we were a few says; it’s like—you know—rutabaga—“I
million miles closer, if the sun hadn’t cooled, stopped. I said that?

I’d give you a run for your money, you pearly The resident looked at me. “Like
bastard.” The man gave the finger to Venus, what?”

then he turned and continued to walk.

I opened my mouth and shook my

The city was ancient; the buildings
head, not knowing what to say. I realized were not tall. They had big windows, curved that I was blowing my recommendation and I at the top. Some of them had peaked roofs, tried to save my ass—“Rutabaga,” I said others were flat. But the city itself was a again, “like in a salad bowl—you know—a perfect statement of proud architecture; some-football game—”

what ponderous, perhaps, but nonetheless The resident just stared. He sat with stately, roomy, elegant, comfortable. For the a pencil in his hand. Abruptly the pencil soft-time the city was used, it was used well; a fair ened and gently fell on the resident’s wrist of use, a carnival of creativity, a festival of like a thin cord of yellow toothpaste. He delightful architecture, as though the build-looked at me and said, “Rumplestiltskin!” and ers, those who decided to remain behind and then his watch exploded in a puff of metallic who knew the end was near, put as much blue smoke.

energy into the living as they could into that I ran to the dayroom, passing Dr.

great moment.

Leery who stood in the hallway watching the The man was proud of them. He
walls sag and the ceiling lights melt and hang sighed again, looked about, occasionally tak-like glowing stalactites.

ing his tattered sleeve to rub the outside of I saw Mr. Stevenson. He turned,
shop windows to peer inside. In one build-smiled and shouted “Tunafish!” and waved ing, he saw occupants sitting at tables. They good—
appeared perfectly preserved, no signs of deterioration—like they were just sleeping—
waiting to be awakened. The man scratched his head, laughed and thought, oh, how we can get carried away with ourselves. Shaking his head, he realized that this city was City Streets
like all the others: dead. Dead as the rock which made up the buildings. But there was one thing that puzzled him: why he was not dead. And how he survived without food.

And why he was so angry and hurt. He often thought there must be a reason—but All the cities on the Earth are the same: dark, what? Was there some mission for him? Why deserted, still, lonely. The tall and gaunt man, was it up to him to carry about the miserable a shadow, a mere memory of his former self, burden of memories of a long dead planet?

came over the top of a hill and there was Why had he not left with the others? Why another city. Just like the one before. A thin had he chosen to stay and die—but not die wind stirred the snow. The man kept walking after all? The man frowned. The same ques-and abruptly the snow ended and the pave-tions over and over again and the same an-ment began. He walked slowly. It was swer: some things are not known. One thing evening. Venus was high in the sky. Over he did know was his constant rage at Venus.

223 CITY STREETS

Perhaps that anger fed him and kept him he was still surprised at the warmth—it didn’t alive—but why him? He was the only one he seem that warm that day. He looked about.

knew of who had survived and he certainly In the dim light, he saw huge wooden boxes got very lonely—yet he kept on, more than or crates. Some kind of warehouse, he mused.

once asking himself, why? Why do I conAll around were unopened boxes. Though tinue to trek around this snowball? This the man was tired, his curiosity was aroused gaunt, this shadow, this memory of a former and, discovering a hammer on the floor, de-planet? Was there something that he had cided to look inside one of the boxes. Enter-missed? No answers. Walking on, he was tainment comes easy, he thought, as he about to cross the street when he noticed pushed the box into a pale pool of moon-something. He stopped and backtracked. A light. He began prying boards off, surprised parking meter—an hour left on it. He
at how much effort it took and deciding the frowned. Malfunction. Must be. But out of box wasn’t about to yield its secret easily.

curiosity, he checked another parking meter Finally, he was able to peer down inside; in and there was an hour left on it. The man the moon’s light, he saw an ocean, waves, was puzzled. He had not noticed this before high and white, crashing against cliffs, and a in other cities. Meaningful? Meaningless?

blue sky. The man stood back, hurt and anThe man continued on.

gry, and kicked the crate. “God damn you, Some time later, he realized he was
you son of a bitch! What a miserable joke!”

getting tired; stopping, he looked about. In Kicking the crate again, he breathed through the thin light of the moon, the city streets clenched teeth, his hands fists. “Just what I were so dark; the windows looking over them want,” he whispered, “to be reminded of the like sad, lonely eyes, as though watching for past.”

something yet to come or seeing that which He abruptly wished he had not
had passed; eyes turned in on themselves opened the box. He had tried hard to forget and seeing the darkness outside penetrating the way it once was; by looking into the within to darken the soul. The man wanted box—it only served in opening old memo-to cry; looking to Venus, he shouted, “Damn ries. Again, he kicked the crate. Now he was you!” Shivering and walking once more, he too angry to sleep. He went after another tried the doors to buildings. He needed a box; the wood squeaked and scuffed as he place to sleep, a place comfortable, where he pushed it into the moonlit area. After much could curl up tight as a seed.

work, he had the top off that box and peering Unexpectedly, a door he tried
in, he gasped. Never had he seen anything opened; a gust of wind caught it and the like it: a city. A beautiful city with towers knob slipped from his hand. Bang! The door white and tall, shining in the sun and the slammed against the inside wall with the contrast between city and sky was sharp.

sound of an explosion. The man gasped, His heart ached to see such a city. Wanting jumped back, then calmed himself and
a closer look, he took off more boards, then thought, outside of myself, it is the only scrambled up the side of the box, bending sound that I have heard. He quieted his heart double to look in. People! Yes, people! They and noticed the moon shining through high were smiling and he heard singing. The air and dirty windows. Slowly closing the door, was fresh and clean. He pulled back out of he abruptly realized how warm it was. But the box, amazed; it was like no city he could then, he remembered that it had been a fairly even imagine. He concluded that it was a warm day—he even saw, late that afternoon, city on Venus. It must be. He had never seen ice melting on a cliff face. Obviously, the anything like it in his wanderings. But what stone buildings soaked up the meager heat he could not understand was why Venus
during the day and released it at night. Yet would send these boxes. He began to think

BRUCE TAYLOR 224
it a joke. What a bastard is Venus. What an stopped breathing. Then, faintly, faintly—
incredible, insensitive bastard! How base, yes—crying! He heard something crying!

boorish, crude to flaunt its good fortune be-From the back of the building—silently, he fore something so starved as Earth—like eat-made his way back to the interior of the vast ing cake before a beggar and tossing a few room. Stumbling into a large box, he stopped, crumbs. The man thought all of this while he swore silently, waited. The light of the moon dragged out from the darkness a third crate came through a high bank of windows on the and opened up that one.

other side of the warehouse, now. In the light, the man saw a cleared area; a ring of What he saw stopped his
chairs circled about an old-fashioned, pot-thoughts. He began to cry. Then, sitting bellied stove.

with his back to the crate, he bawled and that The man stopped. The crying
changed to hysterical sobbing. Smashing came from within the stove! He was im-the floor with his fists, he sobbed, “It’s un-pressed by how lonesome a cry it was, how fair! It’s unfair! It’s so God damn fucking pathetic, how sad; thin, high and wailing.

unfair!” And what he saw haunted him: a Stooping, the man opened the fire door. The rolling landscape, green of grass with so many crying continued.

flowers of different colors that it must be the

“Hello,” the man whispered,
origin of rainbows. In the distance, a broad

“Hello?”

river and beyond the river, a snow crowned The crying stopped; all he heard
volcano with majestic waterfalls pouring was a sniffling. Then a weak voice: “Who down high cliffs to the plain below. And the are you?”

sky—ah! The sky was so incredibly blue

“That makes no difference,” the
and yes, that’s the way it was and God damn man said, “The question is—what is wrong?

it, the man doesn’t want to remember it; he Why are you crying?”

was then certain, beyond a doubt that it was

“I don’t want to die!”

trickery from a wicked Venus which now sud-The man peered into the belly of
denly had so much more—suddenly he ran the stove, but saw nothing. “Why can’t I out to the street and, seeing Venus, he see you?”

shrieked, “You son of a bitch! Not only can

“I don’t want to die!”

I not die, but you torment me with memories!

“Shh!” the man said. “Shhh! Let’s

Why this torture! Why remind me of what is not talk of that now. Where are you?”

no more!” He shook his fist—then gave in The thin voice filled him with de-to his hopeless rage. And through his tears, spair. “Look in the ashes. Blow, blow gently, he looked about: the city silent, ancient; stranger, for I am almost gone.”

snow moving down the street like a front of The man suddenly realized how he
dust—he stumbled back into the warehouse was trembling and frightened as well. Gen-to fall against the crate with the ocean intly, he blew into the belly of the stove; ashes side; he sobbed as he sat in the light of the touched his face like infinitely soft fingers.

moon, sobbing then finally falling asleep.

“Gently, gently,” came the voice, Sometime during the night he

“oh, stranger, gently.”

awoke. It was dark where he lay; he shook And there, there, amidst the dark-his head, uncertain if he had heard a noise or ness of ashes, a little red ember. “Behold if he had just dreamed it. Silence. He sighed, me,” came a faint whisper, “behold me for I curled up on the floor again but just before am dying.”

he drifted off—he opened his eyes and sat The man pulled back. “Not if I can
up so fast that he banged his head against help it.” He stood and frantically stumbled the crate. The man listened. The wind? He about the warehouse, looking for paper, wood

225 CITY STREETS
splinters, anything that would burn. There!

Then the fire crawled out of the

There by the door; something white. He stove; it slipped down the front and then grabbed it. Yes, yes, paper; an ancient cough stood on two flaming legs. It walked over to drop box. Then, a board from a crate. In the man; he was so stunned that he could running back to the stove, he ran into annot move. He was kneeling, hands on knees, other box and dropped the paper. “God damn mesmerized by the fire; it then reached out, it,” he muttered, dropping to his knees and touched his hand with flaming fingers—yet scuffling in the darkness. And in the dis-the man did not feel a burning heat; rather, it tance, a wail, a high sobbing. Time was short.

was a gentle warmth; the fire whispered to

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, “Where the the man, “You have saved me. You took the fuck is the paper!” He spent precious min-time to save me.”

utes looking on this side of the box, on that The man did not know what to say.

side. Nothing. He ran back to the stove, All he knew was that he was surrounded by board in hand and knelt before the open belly.

warmth, light and in the warehouse, there was

“I am dying. I am dying.” The man
no darkness.

could barely hear the voice.

“Ah,” said the fire, “ah, I was

“No,” he said, ripping his tattered
wrong. There is time after all.”

shirt into small fragments. He placed them in The man nodded and mumbled,
a pile right down by his knee. Then, care-

“There was an hour left on the parking fully, carefully, he took one fragment and meters…”

placed it next to the ember. “Here,” he said,

“Good,” said the fire, “good.

“eat!”

Good. And what an hour it shall be. You

“It’s too late, too late.”

have certainly done your share. Now to do

“No! No, it’s not! Eat!”

mine.”

Oh, God, the ember was so faint.

The fire collapsed into a ball, rose

But it nibbled the fabric. “That’s right,” the and, flashing through the warehouse, bust man said, “that’s right; you need strength.

through the front window. The man ran after Eat.” The little ember became brighter. “Yes,”

it, only to see it rise high, high into the air. He the man said, “wonderful. Wonderful. Don’t lost sight of it. And was puzzled. He waited.

stop.” He placed another bit of cloth with Dawn was coming; the sky on the horizon the first. The ember began to nibble that east of the black mass of the volcano was one—the red changed to orange; he put on grey blue. Silence. Still. A suspended mo-even more cloth. The orange became bright ment: the moment of between, of transforma-and yes! There! A little flame danced. More tion. He was holding his breath; he wanted cloth. Then the man took the board, looked to scream. He was sweating. He could not for splinters and, finding them, fed them to bear the tension and gritted his teeth. He the flame. The flame grew brighter. He stood, wanted to pull his hair, wanted to break then broke the board with his feet. More things. And still, still the moment continued.

splinters. More fire. “I feel stronger,” said He stood frozen and, not knowing why, stared the fire, “much stronger.”

at the volcano, staring at it until his eyes

“You’re going to feel stronger
watered.

still,” the man replied, placing larger pieces Suddenly, a tremor. Then, a jolt.

of wood on the fire; he raced about gather-The man was thrown to his knees. Another ing more boards; soon, the fire was yellow, tremor. And then, looking up, he saw it, high, warm and bright in the stove. The light, flood-high above: a huge fire ball. A fire ball not ing out of the door, pushed, pushed the dark-falling, but driving, driving at incredible ness back. “Yes,” the fire roared, “yes, yes, speed—aiming for the caldera of the volcano.

oh, yes.”

The sun rose just as the fire ball struck the

BRUCE TAYLOR 226
volcano’s caldera. A brilliant explosion of trapped the sun’s heat and so began melting light, of thunder, and the man covered his the ice which created water vapor which fur-eyes. The ground trembled and shook; the ther increased the temperature and so on and buildings of the city began to crumble. The although he understood it, he still shook his intense light faded and when the man was head in disbelief. “No,” he whispered, “no, able to see once again, what he saw was the no, it’s not possible!” He ran up the hill and entire upper half of the volcano engulfed in turned around; the water in the valley was an black, heavy, dense rolling smoke. From fis-inlet, an extension of a larger body of water.

sures in the side of the mountain, lava gushed.

Why, he thought, I must be looking out over Another quake; the glass of the warehouse an ocean—and not far away, he saw waves, behind him burst out, covering him with glass.

white and shining in the sun, beat against a More buildings toppled, but the man was too rocky peninsula and he was reminded of a stunned to move. In the distance, the vol-slow and ponderous heartbeat as he listened: cano roared and amidst all this fury of light Whump! Whump! Whump! And the waves, and sound, he heard something else. He the waves beat, beat against the rock. The turned—and backed away. The crates. The spray was carried high and how it sparkled in crates which he had looked into the night the sunlight!

before, were swelling, the steel bands around He turned again, shaking his head
them snapping like thread while boards split in amazement: the volcano: the top half of it and popped—the man turned and ran.

was gone. What remained was cloaked in Around him, the ancient city continued to snow. Waterfalls cascaded down the steep crumble, the bricks fell, the old concrete, the flanks to join a broad and slow river that me-rock shattered like glass and he ran. And as andered easily through green, rolling mead-he did, he saw that the sky was completely ows.

dark; pumice rained down. He ran up the hill, But the most wonderful thing was
outside the city and found, on the other side, right before the man; downslope from him: a valley and at the bottom of it, room sized the city. There was the city with towers, white boulders. He ran to them and found two that, and tall, shining in the sun. And people!

leaning together, formed a cave. He crawled People! He saw them strolling the wide in—to wait.

streets; he heard them singing and suddenly For days the sky was dark. For
he was running, running in the new, rich air; days he heard the thunder and felt the earth running and could still hear the surf. He ran shake. He waited. Slept. Dreamed of the through the tall grasses and flowers of purple cities he had seen while the darkness and the and gold waving in wind and on the horizon, rain of rocks continued. He awoke with a the mountain all splendid and white and he start. Quiet. He noticed something else: he ran, yes, ran, then was leaping and laughing was sweating, because it was hot. Looking and running again to those people in that down, he saw that he sat in mud and that the city with the towers so tall and, oh, God, so large boulders had settled, leaving just a very white and shining, yes, shining, shining in small exit. He clawed at the hole, pulling at the light of the sun.

the mud, the rocks and finally it was large enough for him to crawl through; once out, he stood—and stared. His mouth dropped open: there was water in the valley. He looked up. The sky was a very deep blue and the air was warm. He tried to think of what had happened, then realized what must have happened—the smoke, the gasses must have

BIZARRO BOOKS CATALOGUE - SPRING 2006

BB-001

BB-002

“The Kafka Effekt”

“Satan Burger”

D. Harlan Wilson

Carlton Mellick III

A collection of forty-four

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Mellick III on the map...

written in the vein of

Six punks get jobs at a fast

Franz Kafka, with more
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S. Burroughs sprinkled on
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211 pages $14

236 pages $14

BB-003

BB-004

“Some Things Are

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Better Left

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Unplugged”

Kevin L Donihe

Donihe’s Debut novel.

Vincent Sakowski

Midgets take over the

Join The Man and his
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Lionel Richie vs. The
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Church of the Byrds, plant
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postmodern fantasy.

244 pages $14

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BB-005

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“Razor Wire

“Stranger on

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Carlton Mellick III

D. Harlan Wilson

A genderless humandildo

The fiction of Wilson’s
is purchased by a razor

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176 pages $11

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“Fishyfleshed”

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Carlton Mellick III
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92 pages $10
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260 pages $14

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“Dead Bitch Army”

“The Menstruating

Andre Duza

Step into a world filled with

Mall”

racist teenagers, cannibals,

Carlton Mellick III

100 warped Uncle Sams,

“The Breakfast Club
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- Brian Keene
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212 pages $12

344 pages $16

BB-011

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“Angel Dust

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Apocalypse”

Kevin L Donihe/

Jeremy R. Johnson

Carlton Mellick III

Meth-heads, man-made

A parody of those old
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244 pages $14

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“Last Burn in Hell”

BB-014

John Edward Lawson

“Tangerinephant”

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Kevin Dole 2
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“Foop!”

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Chris Genoa

“Spider Pie”

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104 pages $11

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Enter the world of the in-
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a blue-mohawked female
with a biforked tongue.

assassin named Shark Girl

190 pages $13
can stop them.

284 pages $15

BB-021

BB-022

“Pseudo-City”

“Kafka’s Uncle and

D. Harlan Wilson

Other Strange Tales”

Pseudo-City exposes what

Bruce Taylor
waits in the bathroom stall,

Anslenot and his giant ta-
under the manhole cover
rantula (tormentor? fri-
and in the corporate board-
end?) wander a desecrated
room, all in a way that can
world in this novel and col-
only be described as mind-
lection of stories from Mr.

bogglingly irreal.

Magic Realism Himself.

220 pages $16

348 pages $17

BB-023

BB-024

“Sex and Death In

“It Came From Below

Television Town”

The Belt”

Carlton Mellick III

Bradley Sands

In the old west, a gang of

What can Grover
hermaphrodite gunsling-

Goldstein do when his sev-
ers take refuge in Telos:

ered, sentient penis forces
a town where its citizens
him to return to high
have televisions instead
school and help it win the
of heads.

presidential election?

184 pages $12

204 pages $13

BIZARRO BOOKS CATALOGUE - SPRING 2006

BB-025

BB-026

“Sick: An Anthology

“Tempting Disaster”

of Illness”

John Lawson, editor

A shocking and alluring

John Lawson, editor
anthology from the fringe

These Sick stories are hor-
that examines our culture's
rendous and hilarious dis-
obsession with taboos.

sections of creative minds

260 pages $16
on the scalpel's edge.

296 pages $16

BB-027

BB-028

“Siren Promised”

“Chemical Gardens”

Jeremy R. Johnson

Gina Ranalli

Nominated for the Bram

Ro and punk band Green is

Stoker Award. A potent
the Enemy find Kreepkins,
mix of bad drugs, bad
a surfer-dude warlock, a
dreams, brutal bad guys,
vengeful demon, and a
and surreal/incredible art

Metal Priestess in their way
by Alan M. Clark.

as they try to escape an un-

190 pages $13
derground nightmare.

188 pages $13

BB-030

BB-029

“Grape City”

“Jesus Freaks”

Kevin L. Donihe

Andre Duza

More Donihe-style come-

For God so loved the
dic bizarro about a demon
world that he gave his only
named Charles who is
two begotten sons… and
forced to work a minimum
a few million zombies.

wage job on Earth after Hell

400 pages $16
goes out of business.

108 pages $10

BB-031

BB-032

“Sea of the Patch-

“Extinction Journals”

Jeremy Robert Johnson
work Cats”

An uncanny voyage across

Carlton Mellick III
a newly nuclear America

A quiet dreamlike tale set
where one man must con-
in the ashes of the hu-
front the problems associ-
man race. For Mellick
ated with loneliness, insane
enthusiasts who also
dieties, radiation, love, and
adore The Twilight Zone.

an ever-evolving cockroach

112 pages $10
suit with a mind of its own.

104 pages $10

BIZARRO BOOKS CATALOGUE - SPRING 2006

BB-034

BB-033

“The Greatest

“Meat Puppet

Fucking Moment in

Cabaret”

Sports”

Steve Beard

Kevin L. Donihe

At last! The secret con-

In the tradition of the sur-
nection between Jack the
real anti-sitcom Get A Life

Ripper and Princess
comes a tale of triumph

Diana's death revealed!

and agape love from the

240 pages $16 / $30
master of comedic bizarro.

108 pages $10

BB-036

BB-035

“Deity”

“The Troublesome

Vic Mudd

Amputee”

God (who doesn’t like to

John Edward Lawson
be called “God”) comes

Disturbing verse from a
down to a typical, subur-
man who truly believes
ban, Ohio family for a little
nothing is sacred and in-
vacation—but it doesn’t
tends to prove it.

turn out to be as relaxing

104 pages $9
as He had hoped it would
be…

168 pages $12

BB-037

BB-038

“The Haunted

“Tales from the

Vagina”

Vinegar Wasteland”

Ray Fracalossy

Carlton Mellick III

Witness: a man is slowly

It’s difficult to love a
losing his face, a neighbor
woman whose vagina is a
who periodically screams
gateway to the world of
out for no apparent reason,
the dead.

and a house with a room

176 pages $11
that doesn’t actually exist.

240 pages $14

BB-039

COMING SOON:

“Suicide Girls in the

Afterlife”

“And Your Point Is?” by Steve Aylett $11

Gina Ranalli

“Not Quite One of the Boys”

After Pogue commits sui-
by Vincent Sakowski $14
cide, she unexpectedly

“Misadventures in a Thumbnail Universe”

finds herself an unwilling
by Vincent Sakowski $10

“guest” at a hotel in the

“House of Houses” by Kevin Donihe $10

Afterlife.

“War Slut” by Carlton Mellick III $10

100 pages $9

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Table of Contents

- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN