she had never tasted blood before.
mind awhirl with possibility, she lowered her head to drink again.
The silver cup glinted in the candlelight, the choir's chanting receded in the pounding of her pulse. She was filled with life like never before. Ablaze, magnificent.
As she finished the goblet, the chanting swelled again in her ears... the last drop trembled on the silver rim, and splashed onto her gown.
a hole burned into the gown where the blood had been. startled, she stood up, her legs trembled. she hears a noise.
A loud crashing from outside, she is unable to move at first. Staring at her through the window is her mother. Baleful astonishment rimming her eyes.
The thunderous noise grew clearer as she turned to see the mutitudes of proletarian revolutionaries marching down the street, coming to save her from the confines of this petty bourgeois plot. High time, she thought - after all, drinking blood was supposed to be a liberating experience and here I am standing around all startled and rubber-legged like a prebubescent teenager caught smoking. She wished the coming contributers to this collaborative masterpiece would think of something interesting for her to do, perhaps also figure out a way to get rid of those noisy rioters down the street who have clearly served their purpose now and are becoming rather tiresome.
And so it was with sheer liberation that she dashed the goblet to the ground.
Sofort wurde ihr uebel.
"Careful with the crockery," chided a tall, dark figure (he couldn't honestly be referred to as handsome). "That goblet will come out of your salary."
Flummoxed, she sputtered, "My salary?" "Yes, despite the negative propaganda distributed by my former employer, I've set up a rather progressive shop -- maternity leave, unwellness programs, the power to alter reality in decidedly nasty fashion...you could have worse jobs."
"Huh?" she sagely mumbled.
"You see, by drinking the blood, you signed up for more than a quick thrill, you're now a soldier in my army. You know, "Join Satan's army, visit exotic places, meet unusual people, and dismember them. Hell, you could nuke gay whales for jesus, if you want. I've got nothing against a good smear campaign, especially if you could actually touch off a nice nukular holocaust."
"Don't you mean nuclear?"
"You're in the army now. Sensibility, proper word usage and grammar, not to mention self-restraint, have been thrown out the window. Now how do you feel about those protesters?"
"Well--"she began. She paused for thought and looked down at her hands and arms, now beribboned with unfamiliar muscle. "Well," she continued,"the proletariat has historically provided the bulk of the cannon fodder for the all the armies of the earth. Surely we shouldn't allow such a fertile recruiting opportunity to go to waste?" Old Scratch smiled broadly at her, standing tall in lightly starched dress greens. Medals twinkled on his breast. He sniffled a little and dabbed at his eyes with an embroidered hankerchief. "What a lovely notion," he said. "No more subliminal messages. No more Ozzy. No more Regis and Kathy Lee! Now we can make damnation a truly interactive experience. To arms! To arms!" And with that they we gone, only to reappear in the midst of the bellowing throng. Suddenly gibbering howls filled the night, and dark ichor flowed through the gutters. Soon a full company of nascent imps stood at quivering attention under the light of the new moon. Small smiles graced mouths filled with curved, jagged teeth. The future, they knew, was theirs.
She had tasted blood, and the power was hers...
Or so she thought. The tall, dark and (not so) handsome fellow had given her some freedom it seemed, but was she really free? Did the burden of evil not wiegh heavily upon her now fibrously muscled shoulders? Did the sight of her mother, not now standing ashamed at the window, but drooling among the other ignorant minions, whispering chants, singing the praises of satan fill her with a sense of guilt?
Or, well, no.
It seemed that would be merely the shadow of a prodigious catholic upbringing and nothing more.
Ah well, she thought, and smiled still more widely than she had when she'd first tasted the power. Her thirst for blood was stronger than any catholic upbringing.
An upbringing that would not tolerate the new found desire for ruthless dismemberment, mutilation and profound death that was slowly suffusing her inner being. Even though it was this same institution which had used the creation of petty sins to send many of the worthless cattle called society into the hands of this dark incarnation standing next to her.
As this profound philosophical ideal overcame her any guilt that might have effected her performance was washed away like the blood off the sidewalk when the jumper has been removed to the county morgue. Leaving only the fading white outline of it's former two dimensional representation.
In an exalted state of mental purity, such that she had never experienced before, she raised her arms to the sky and started to use the power that had been granted to her through the drinking of the sacred blood.
The sky quickly clouded over with ugly black clouds. Lightning crackeled through the heavens, striking the earth. Cooking the slobering minon's surrounding her.
The beautiful sickly sweet smell of burning flesh brushed her sensory perimeter. Slowly gaining strength until the winds of her supernatural death storm blew them away. The power flowing through her system on top of the electrically charged air was having an almost erotic affect on her. Commanding the winds her gown was torn from her body leaving her naked standing alone and defient in the heart of this fierce emotional storm.
She ran away naked and cold. Now what she needed was sex and a good looking man to give it to her. Oh yeah she also wanted some clothes.
Because as the sun fell beneath the horizon the temperature started to dropped. This somehow led her back to thinking about the taste of blood and was her life possibly being controlled by others. Was it worth the sensation of hot blood on her lips to let her life be dominated by others. It was as if they were pushing the buttons of her destiny. Anyways it was time to go find some clothes or a man to keep her warm.....
or a fullfillment of a desire she hasn't even thought of, something that could take her by surprise, something that would deminish the taste of blood in her mouth. A new perspective that ...
She bent down to pick up fig leaf. "Hey, there are too more here that I can use as pasties," she thought.
Dropping the fig leafs, she walked quickly down the street. She needed...what did she need? Blood... But no, she had to fight the temptation. She vaguely remember something about sex and needing clothes, but she figured one or the other was good enough, so she knocked on the door of the nearest house, still stark naked.
"Got any clothes?" "Nope," said the naked guy. "Darn."
The naked guy stood at the door, scraching his butt. "Can I piss then?" she said. The guy just stared at her breasts. "Don't mind if I do," she said as pushed by the guy. The house was cold. She was cold. She found the bathroom, pissed, got a towel, and dried off. She walked out, still wanting blood, sex, and.. well.. she could live without clothes. She walked into the bedroom. It was small, but had a large bed in it. A woman was sleeping in it. She got in the bed pulled over the covers.
Refusing to be the part of some poor man's sexual fantasies, she merely kissed the other woman lightly on the cheek (for she was attractive,) before taking the sheet from the bed. Getting up to fashion a sarong for herself, she left the house, the man, the woman, and their strange household behind her on her search.
"Men are so ridiculous" she mused as she left. "I suppose they are glad they're men though. There are some benefits. They never read bad informative articles about orgasm in Cosmo, for one thing."
"Also, I think they probably all know that Michael Bolton is horrendously annoying, and mostly it takes them less time to do their hair and stuff.
But that doesn't mean much, really, as EVERYONE knows that Michael Bolton is annoying." She walked, and pondered, and pondered, and walked. Suddenly, with a loud SHAZAM!, an archetypal Jesus stood before her.
But according to Trent Reznor, Jesus never even existed so it then dissapeared with another loud SHAZAM.
"Wait just one second," she thought to herself. "If I'm not going to go by Michael Bolton standards, I'll be DAMNED if I'll go by Trent Reznor standards." And with that thought, the Jesus figure reappeared. He was rather emaciated and had the usual Jesus paraphernalia... stigmata, cross across the shoulders, tattered loincloth.
Jesus bent at the waist, cleared his throat, stood upright quickly and spat a great big loogie that arced in the air like the trail of a V2 rocket. "Damn cold," he said, blowing his nose on a hot pink kimono. "Not even the Son of God can get away from this shit."
The cold left her body as she gazed at the Figure's androgynous shape. Her eyes followed the shape of It's hips leaning against the cross. She felt warm as she noticed a red drop sliding down from the hole in It's right hand. She watched the blood begin to run down It's arm. She stepped to the Figure, held out her arm, touched the blood with her finger. Bringing it to her mouth she felt a glow. "DRINK AGAIN," pink kimono afire. She found her tongue tracing a familiar terrain; down a hairless chest to the loincloth. The blood stains she now noticed on the loincloth gave her hope that this was more than just the 'real man' she had been looking for. The Figure lifted It's loincloth and rubbed It's fingers around the bleeding hole. She closed her eyes. Passing over the Its male appendage, she drew to Its female member, the source of the blood she had tasted before.
She quickly jumped on the "son of god" and bit him. He tasted of... well... shit. She got off the (now limp) body and spat on the floor. "That little fuck!" she exclamed as she realised that Trent was in fact right and there *was* no jesus anyway. She pulled up her tattered bloody sheet over her body. So much for all that religon shit. She kicked the body's head, and walked away. Realising that her bloody sheet was not a good thing for the police to see she pulled it off and threw it down an alley. Once again naked and cold she went off for some fun.
The steam rose up around her as she slid across the manhole cover and down the wet empty street. It'd been too long since she'd had sleep. Hell, it'd been longer since she'd had a decent meal. Food didn't really matter though. Blood and cum was the only thing she hungered for.
However, the fact remained that she longed for a spirtual companion. A soul elongated from strange encounters, manifested from mid-western dreams. She wanted to meet chaos agents, benevolent hustlers, angels..........like minded and poised for eternity. Desire moved through her quickly, and in the back of her mind she knew the time had come. The messages came and went, small flickers of memory that would wait around corners and remind her of those days when she was a child. That music, it stills plays over and over again in her head. A sountrack from some other place, some other time....but familiar as her own reflection. After walking for what seemed to be an eternity, she stop to watch herself in the reflection of a puddle that was shimmering under the neon glow of an artificial daytime. Her reflection lied, it became the muse that moved her through world. Invisible. *SNAP SHOT* Welcome to OKLAHOMA.......
And suddenly, without any warning, a shimmering, scaly arm reached to her from the depths of the puddle. "What the Hell is that?" she exclaimed. The ways of the world never ceased to amaze her. The arm stopped it's ascent just before the armpit and remained there, rigid and unyielding, with it's hand in a tight fist. Then, the fingers slowly began to open like one of those sped up flicks of opening flowers, revealing a small stub of paper. "Buy the ticket, take the ride." said the disembodied voice from the other side of the puddle.
"Boy, that blood stuff is worse for your nerves than caffeine," she said, blinking quickly and stepping into the reflection of the tree splayed across the puddle. The rail to bus transfer ticket sank to the bottom, ready to join a corroded 1978 penny, the plastic handle of a ring pop and a woman's earring dropped when she realized the semi breathing in on her was much more pertinent than her earring back. "Oklahoma, eh" she said, wandering into nearest cheesy all-night restaurant. She sat down in a section being handled by a scary blue-eyeshadowed girl who looked like she desperately wanted to break into film.
"Like, ya know. What'll it Be?" The overmade waitron queried. "Hm. Whaddya got in the way of Plasma?" She asked hopefully. The girl eyed her strangely and said, "What kind, Lady? Superheated or Blood?" She was obviously copping a 'tude tonight. "Blood, please." The Tammy Fae lookalike sauntered back toward the grill. She sat nervously, glancing around for any hint of being pursued. She thought of Jeff and the things he could do with a rubber chicken and a potato. Ah, for the carefree days before this blood thing. She started to think that maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. After a few thought- ful moments, the waitron dropped off a red-filled glass.
Suddenly, as if a violent volcano had erupted inside of her, she felt the recurring sexual desire explode within her. She knew that now she must feast not on blood, but on flesh. Frantic, she roamed the street, still naked, looking for a man that would fill her yearning need. She saw the perfect candidate. A tall man with a shaved head and a rather unruly goatee. He carried a sign that read "I AM SAYE." He carried the sign in a rather hostile way, waving it this way and that. She ran to the man and embraced him. He dropped the sign and looked at her with a rather astonishing face. "May I help you?",asked the man. "Yes, I believe you can!" she moaned as she pulled him closer. Right away he entered her with such passionate fury that it took her by surprise. She moaned with a tremulous, quivering voice. He thrusted again and again, his loins a powerful locomotive. "OH YES!",she howled,"YES YES YEESSSS!" They rolled down the desolate street until they came to a stop. Swiveling she climbed atop him and began to ride him as if he were a bucking brahma bull."Ahhhhhhh..." she moaned in excasty as her hair flung into her face. Up and down she rose, arching her back as she pounded his throbing machine inside of her. A tidal wave was welling up inside of her."Ohhhhhhhh Yessss!" she screamed. He rolled over on top of her and pinned her arms to the ground. He started an ungodly pounding into her quivering flesh. She started to scream as her orgasm burst forth from her burning quarry. At the same time he emptied his Fury inside of her . She would have been filled with pleasure if not for the dragon that was aproaching them. "What the Hell was a Damn dragon doing here?!"
As the dragon approached, she wished she had telekinetic powers so she could freeze the damn thing in its tracks. As she wished for it to happen, she was shocked to see that the dragon froze, as if frozen in time. She looked around her, and saw that indeed, all motion had stopped. She began to realize her own powers. The man groaned beneath her, and she realized for some reason he had not succombed to her whim. Perhaps it was because he was inside her, a part of her, close to the source of her desire. She squeezed her vaginal muscles around his hard cock and felt his throbbing organ conform to her insides. She felt a power coursing through her, and willed him to become longer, wider and harder. She needed more of him. She felt his cock grow within her; a throbbing heat, huge, needy, and filling up every available space inside her pussy. "OOOOOOOHHHH!" she groaned, and willed a speeding of his thrusts. She was experiencing the most incredible sex of her life. She held her breath as the man's face contorted with pleasure. He reached up to her, needing her, wanting her to enslave him. She laughed as a second orgasm rocked her body, then climbed off of him. She left him in the middle of his second orgasm, an orgasm she had willed. He froze in time, perpetually cumming.
It had been good, but she longed for something more, something better, someone who could meet her needs, a woman. She willed herself a *high*, red, skin-tight shirt. She was more powerful, her telekinetics were growing (as well as her chest), every time she got sex or blood.She walked away from the cum-covered man and the icy dragon, to find a club off some sort. She hoped she would find a woman, who would not mind the fact that she was naked from her belly-button down.
She shivered when the cold grabbed her. Whatever club she wanted to go, it'd better be warm in there. Slowly she opened the door on her left side and jumped outside. The street - or it was more like a dark ally - was wet, like it had just been raining. But the air was so dry, she could hardly breathe. 'Shit, was has been goin'on outhere' she wondered while softly touching the ground. It was not water, but blood that covered the whole area! She quickly jumped up, and started runnin' towards the end of the ally. The gigantic square was full of people and creatures. She thought for a while and started moving towards one of the small shops on her right side. Peeking inside for anybody that might see her, she grabbed one of the short skirts that were hanging on the side. Suddenly a lot of noise! Not even thinking she ran away,and ran and ran...
She then found herself in a field of tall grass, completely naked. "Now where did my clothes go?" she wondered. "Oh, well, stranger things have happened in my life..." She walked further an entered a hilly region. On one of the hills, two vagabonds in rags and bowler hats were lunching beneath a tree. One of the bums, a prtly man, looked up. "Godot!!!" he cried pointing at her. The other looked up from the carrot in his hand and said, "No, you fool, Godot is a man." Are you sure,"screamed the heavy one, and he stood up and ran to her. "We've been waiting forever!!!" She looked at the approaching vagabond and something insider her clicked. "OHH NO! I'm not gonna get stuck in this dialogue!!" She ran and ran, leaving the two ne'er do wells to eat their carrots beneath the dead tree.
She ran for what seemed hours until she approached a wood. Between the trees she could see flames, and like a moth she felt herself drawn to it. A long haired man sat before a campfire. Squinting through the firelight, she saw that it was Michael Bolton. He looked up at her with a forlon stare. "Hello...are you here to laugh, too?" "uhhh no" she said, and sat next to him. "What are you doing here?" she asked curiously. "Why are you naked?" he returned. He stared at her for a a few seconds, and said "UM never mind that. I am here because the U.N. banished me from civilization, for crimes against culture." She nodded, and decided that that was a fair punishment. He continued "Regis and Kathy Lee are out hunting, they'll be back shorlty. Ron Popeil and Ted Turner may be stopping by, too." Getting up, she realized she wanted no part of this gathering. "I have to....find my clothes. BYE!!" And with that, she left the Wood of Lost Stars, and never returned again.
A few hours into her trek, the hilly region became flat, and farms began to appear here and there. By midday, she could see a large town in the distance. "What the fuck is this, Lord of the Rings," she thought, images of fat, pimply geeks from high school filling her head. By evening, the town was still a distance away, so she knocked on the door of a small cottage to find food. The man who answered was a short, round, swarthy bear of a man with a head of thick curls. He was dressed in a blue bathrobe. "Yes?" She eyed his ample flesh, and her mouth watered. "Yeah...I need a place to stay, and some food.." He looked at her. "I imagine clothes would be on that list, too." he said. "Well, not really..." she replied. He though a bit, then welcomed her inside. The cottage was warm and the air smelled of tobacco and jism. She looked in the small livingroom to find pornographic tapes lining the wall on woodem shelves. A poster of the man hung on the wall. In it he was naked, and bransishing a cock that put most horses to shame. "I am Sir Ron Jeremy...", he said, and winked at her. She gasped.."Holy shit...." she muttered... He looked at her and opened her robe. "And what is your name? No, that's okay, I won't be needing it..." His cock stood fully erect, and like a cobra it hypnotized her...she felt drawn to it...
As she approached him a voice intruded upon her thoughts. "Don't." Her strange trance broke. "What did you say?",she asked the man. "He looked at her as if she had suddenly lost all forms of reasonable thought. "Not a damn thing," he replied. The slightly reptilian voice interupted her again."I am the Dragon. The one you froze. He is like you. The blood upon which he feasted has given him powers, not unlike your own. He is willing you to him. Resist. For if you don't, your blood will soon fill his widening belly." She backed away from the man and headed towards the door. He looked perplexed, with an err of curiosity and distaste on his brow. He approached her again, reaching out with his mental gift. She tinged with trepidation as she was being drawn closer. She gathered her will and resisted the man, who was becoming more distrought by the second.
Running from the scene, still naked of course, and not looking where she was going, she colided head on into the dragon. (Who had become unfrozen shortly after their first encounter, as her powers really werent all that strong.) "What the hell did you freeze me for you bitch?" the dragon asked. "Uh" she thougt,"uh, well, I was, you know, sorta in the middle of something and.." "Nevermind!" the dragon interupted. Now that you're paying attention, climb up on my back, Im supposed to get you there by seven o clock, and if I don't, believe you me missy, there'll be Hell to pay." So she climbed up and held on tight, as the dragon flew off into the sunset.
As the dragon flew away, elsewhere, in a seemingly unrelated bit that merely establishes the presence of the character in the story, a young man, named Bob, slips and falls on what greatly resembles a pile of dragon poop.
Who in hell cares about Bob? I don't!!!! Who is "she" anyway? "She" needs a name!!!!!! As she rode of on the dragon's back she began to wonder where she was being taken. She asked the dragon. He replied "you are going to my Master's Kingdom". As the dragon finished his sentence, she relized she was in the firey relms of Hell. She began to scream but, she soon relized her screames were useless. No one could help her now. She still wanted a man or a woman, but she noticed in Hell there is no man or woman, everyone is one. And now, she is part of that ONE!!!
"I don't want to spend any time in HELL!!", she cried at the dragon. He snorted..."tough titty sister! My Master would like to speak with you." She stepped off the dragon's back and onto the ground, which was hot as asphault on a summer day. "OWOWOWOWOWOWWO" she cried,and danced around, her bare feet being scorched. A thin demon butler approached her. "This way, miss" he said. She hopped after him, howling in pain. He escorted her into a lush hacienda which turned out to be on the shore of a vast fire lake. Inside, however, was air conditioned, and rather comfortable. The sweat on her bare body felt good as it cooled, and already she was in high spirits when she was ushered into Satan's Study. The Lord of the Flies was actually a fat slob of a man who looked like a movie producer. "Hello," he said in a voice that oozed with filth. "I thought you were tall and dark..." she said. He laughed "Oh, that's Mario...I send him out to do public appearances as me. It's good for my reputation. Anyway.. can I Can I offer you a drink?" She shook her head. "No. I really want to know what's going on." Satan smiled, and motioned for her to sit down. "It's a long story...I think you'd better sit down."
"Well," said Satan, smiling...I'd like you to marry me." She flinched. "What!!!" Satan shrugged. What can I say...I've always been in love with you, and so I sent you on this weird trip...the blood...the faces in the windows...that guy Saye...(who, by the way wasn't cheap)...it all was a big show I put on for you...to win you to my side." She looked at him. "Are you crazy? Are you fucking crazy?" He cowered. "I...I..I didn't know what to do!! I..." "I've been running around naked, drinking blood, riding dragons, fucking strange men in the street, all because you are IN LOVE WITH ME??" Satan suddenly looked embarrassed. "I..I'm sorry..." A rage exploded in her, and she leapt on the short little man. She throttled him, cursing and spitting. "YOU DUMB BASTARD!!! YOU STUPID BASTARD!!" In a minute, the Prince of Darkness had shat himself and then died... She stood up, looking down at the body. The butler walked in, looked emotionlessly down at the corpse, and then up at her. "Hmmmm..It seems you are the new ruler of hell, Miss. Congratulations."
She stammered..."Ruler of Hell?" and then it dawned on her...with ol' scratch dead...she was the new scratch. "HMMM..Does this mean I have unlimited powers?" The butler looked at her blankly. "Not unlimited, my mistress, but a lot more extensive than before." It seemed as if she could feel the power, a humming in her bones.... "I think I might get used to this!!" The butler just shrugged. "Whatever my lady....is there anything you require? I have other work to do..." She thought..."I need a man, right now!!" In the dungeons below there are plenty of men among the writers." She frowned "Writers? What are you talking about." He looked at her closely, doing a good job of being bored. "The writers that Satan used to create the whole fiasco that led you here..." "No wonder my life hasn't made any sense...it was being written by a whole slew of different shut-ins...." She hurried down into the dungeon.
The Dungeon was a dank, smelly affair. The men and women were seperated into seperate chambers...and she found the men's area with no problem, because some guy was singing the Misfits "London Dungeon". The men were all chained to the stone wall. They looked haggard and broken, all except for the guy singing. He was a stocky fellow, with a shaved head and a goattee. He bobbed his head from side to side, singing. "Come on, join me!!!" He stopped singing as she entered the dungeon. "Hello" he said, smiling. The men began to scream and wail at the sight of her. She waved her hand and the chains that bound the singing man disappeared. "You...come with me." he sauntered over, smiling. The other prisoners began to wail louder, begging for freedom. She waved her arms over her head, and then the dungeon was empty. "Where did you send them, "asked the man. "She looked at him. "You don't speak unless I ask you to! And I transported them to the studio audience of The All New Price Is Right." The man's jaw dropped. "You Fiend!" he said in shock. She grabbed his arm...you come with me...I need you..."
She led him though the house and into her private chambers. He followed behind, humming a tune. "Where are we going?" he asked. "Silence, " she hissed and slapped his face. "This Queen of Hell stuff is great...I could get used to it." Her bed chamber was a vast room with a large bed in the center of the room. Divans were placed around the room, and a TV/ stereo rack system lay stood across the way from the bed. She threw the man onto the bed, stripping off his loincloth. "You stay there!!" she spat. He made himself comfortable on the bed. "Sure thing, hon," he said. She sent a blast of energy into his head. "I SAID SILENCE!!" He rubbed his temples..."owwwww yes mistress" She walked over to the stereo and found a CD rack next to it. Scanning over the collection, she winced: the complete Lawrence Welk? Michael Bolton? The ex-Lord of the Flies sure had terrible taste in music. With a wave of her hand the CD's were gone, and replaced with her own collection. She chose Miranda Sex Garden and inserted the CD. Soon the music filled the room, and she felt herself getting into the mood. She sauntered over to the bed, casually looking at the man's crotch. He was well endowed, she saw. That was good to know. She climbed onto the bed, crawling onto him. "umm..what are you doing?" he said uneasily. "SILENCE!!" she sent another jolt through his body. He yelped in pain. "DAMMIT! Stop doing that already!!!" he cried. She began to kiss him, and he responded reluctantly. "I don't usually do this on a first date..." SHe lcast him a glare. "OK OK OK sorry!!" His kisses became deeped and deeper, and his hands slid over her breasts, fingereing her nipples. She reached down and grabbed his cock, smiling at its thickness in her palm. She stroked it, watching his face contort in pleasure. "If you cum now...I will kill you," she said. He looked at her, his eyes wide. "OK" Straddling his body, she wormed her way up to his head, so that his face was in her crotch. Without any prompting, he began to mouth her cunt.
He was actually pretty good, for a man, she thought. His mouth easily found all the places she liked, and soon, she found herself closer to an orgasm. She impaled herself on his cock, and began to ride him hard and fast, moaning and grunting. I NEED THIS, she told herself, I'VE NEEDED THIS ALL MY LIFE. She Bucked harder and harder, amazed at the slaves resilience...her orgasm overtook her body like a geyser of power...it was as if she were riding a jet of pleasure straight up through the roof of the universe....straining her back, her eyes closed, she let out a cry of pure ecstasy....her mind filled with images from her catholic youth...naked torsos in the church alcoves...the ecstasy of St Theresa....and suddenly she opened her eyes to find herself in a white room, dressed in a plain white robe. The room was empty save for a little desk, and a wizened old man who sat there, scribbling away in a huge tome. She approached him, and her motion attracted his attention. "Hello dere!" he said. "I'm glad you could make it." "Where am I," she asked, and tried to will herself back into the bedchamber, but found she was powerless. "Oh, there's no magic here..." he said with a chuckle. "I've seen to that." "Where the fuck am I?" He smiled. "Language, my dear girl. Language! You are where you belong! Where you've always belonged. See for yourself..." he motioned and a door opened in the wall. She walked over to it and opened it, and stepped through to a vast void of stars. Nebulae flashed with ionized gasses all around her. She was floating through interstellar space, she realized with utter amazement!! "What the fuck is going ON!!!" she cried into the voiceless void. She turned to return to the room and found that she had drifted too far from it...it receeded into the distance until it became just another star out of the thousands of thousands that already glared at her, as if mocking her very littleness.... As she drifted on, all purpose left her body, and she waited to see where the capricious asshole's hand of fate would take her. (She looks through the computer monitor and frowns..."it better be good", she warns)
well, seein as how the newest author was put under tremendous pressure not unlike the reality of a deadline, he began to blank out. "well screw it", he thought, scratching his elbow. "i'll just mention something about kathy lee and it'll be alright, i won't get shunned". "it isn't half that easy, asshole" the computer type face whispered. "you'll have to top about a hundred damn twisted plots, not to mention the fact that you probably think yourself to dignified to go back to that lewd sex thing. i bet you disappoint sonic, too". the author whipped out his left nut and said," bite it. i'lll get you where you need to go if you just shut your ass up". quickly he thought of his options. tada! he had it. ' we rejoin our pro/antagonist as she burned through the atmosphere of a distant planet that existed long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away and all that SW crap. she landed smack dab in the middle of a stagnant swamp. "who farted!?" she cried, at the same time realizing that she was, in fact, in the middle of a stagnant swamp. this was pretty luck for her, because the oh so smelly swamp sludge contained several healing oinments that healed the burns created by reentry. "i think i'll walk this way, she said, looking in the direction of a quaint lil clothing store. walking for a few minutes, she was suprisingly calm for someone who had tasted blood, been in a riot, met, killed, and become satan, and even met micheal bolton. she swung the clothing store doors open." hi.. yeah i was wondering if you could get me some decent clothes and point me off in the direction of earth?" she courteously stood at the alien service counter and talked into the mike. " why, i suppose so,"the 6-eyed alien said, with a sweet southern accent," would you like some lemonade?"
"Yes, that would be nice." She reached across the counter and accepted the condnestation-covered plastic cup. Enjoying the symbiotic sensual experience of the liquid quenching her thirst, causing her throat to open up, and the citric sourness of the fresh lemons causing her tongue to convulse, she looked up at the sky. At that moment, everything was as it should be. And she didn't even like lemonade. "Damn, I need to piss..." she thought. But there was even comfort in the sensation of a full bladder pressuring for release. Just then, the phone rang...
She reached over the counter and picked up the strange alien "telephone". "Hullo." she said. "Nanu-nanu."the voice at the other end replied. "Oh Jeeeeeezussss!!!" she screamed back. "I'm looking for my gleek...and a pair of size 11 pumps." said the voice. She couldn't take another second of this insane garbage. She slammed the phone down hard on the cradle. Something was sickly familiar about this whole business. Just then, an alien of the six-eyed variety presented her with a small multicolored shopping bag. "Some decent clothing...on the house. We normally don't do this, but your repulsive human form is a bit rough on the eyes and you're scaring away my paying customers." His syrupy drawl reminded her of someone...maybe it was Andy Griffith. She hurriedly yanked the clothes out of the bag. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Gloria Vanderbilt designer jeans...a halter top...brown knee-high zip up boots...Zowie!!! Everything a girl could ever want." In no time she was ready for a long night of boogie-down action.
But she still had to piss like a racehorse...
She left the clothing store and searched the swamp for any place where a girl could take a pee-pee. There was a small cluster of boulders fifty feet ahead of her and she decided that that was as good a place as any. She ran around to the other side of the cluster--so as not to offend any more customers of the nice alien at the store--and pried the pants down around her ankles. "Aaaahhh!" she moaned as she voided her bladder of that noxious vampire piss. Just as she was wiping herself with Spanish moss, she heard strange singing coming from the crest of the largest boulder. She shoehorned herself back into her pants and began climbing the boulder. On the top she discovered where the song was coming from...a pair of golden, glowing platform shoes. "Ooooooohhhhhh...." she cooed. "They be mine!" She lunged for the shoes, but as soon as her greedy hands touched the shoes, she received an electrical shock. "Hands off!" the shoes commanded. "To wear us you must first answer The Riddle of the Ages!" "What the Hell is that?" she screamed. "It is the burning question on the mind of all mortals." the shoes answered. "Well go ahead, ask me! There are a lot of stickers in this swamp." she pleaded. "Alright then...here goes." the shoes replied. "I haven't got all day. I feel the need to boogie!" she exclaimed. "Sorry." the shoes said. "Here is the question...Say! Are those Gloria Vanderbilts?" "Just ask me the goddamned question!" she screamed as she pondered how bad those stickers really were. "Fine, fine. Alright, Is O.J. innocent or guilty?" the shoes inquired. She couldn't believe this outrage. "I don't fucking care!" she cried as she advanced on the shoes. "Right answer!" the shoes said as they disappeared and then instantly materialized on her feet.
As she walked out of the swamp, she found that the golden shoes had a communal mind of their own, and they pulled her across the countryside in the opposite direction. She found herself gliding over the ground accelerating rapidly. "So this is what an ICBM feels like," she thought. "This is what an ICBM feels like!!" shouted one of the shoes at her. She rolled her eyes and looked around. As it flashed by her at incredible speed, she saw that the landscape was changing. It slowly shed its rustic character. Soon she found herself in the middle of a strange city strangely reminiscent of New York. Here the shoes stopped, at an amazingly authentic replica of 42nd street. She would have almost believed that she was in New York but for the fact that everything, including the faux concrete was made of a substance much like adobe in its consistency...
"Hey dere, girlie!!" came a voice behind her. She whirled around to discover a strange looking man behind her. He had the body of a man, but his head was made of dirt. A few seconds later she realized that his head was a CHIA-HEAD. (chia is a registered trademark of williams novelties...used with permission). "Hey there girlie!!" He approached, extending a friendly hand. She shook it reluctant to speak to the CHIA-head. "Umm hi..." she managed. "We were wondering when you'd show up...do you got the pizzas? She frowned "Pizzas? What Pizzas?" He looked at her with a shocked expression, or what she guessed was a shocked expression for a man with a CHIA-head. "The Master will not like this...you were supposed to bring the Pizzas, Laylah!!" She backed away slowly..."I think...you have me mixed up with another person...my names not Laylah...its...its..." she paused...what the fuck was my name? she asked herself. She backed into someone, and turned around to see Andy Warhol with a green mowhawk. His eyes grew wide with insane delight as he grabbed her in surprisingly tight arms. He shouted into her ear "PUBLIC OPINION FLAT GHOST HOME!!! ANXIOUS REDBEARDS APPLY FOR SINGULAR MEMBERSHIP!! ATTACKING CELLS OF ORACULAR DEGREE!!!!" She struggled against the Warhol Thing's grip, but could not break it. She was dragged to the CHIA-head, began to laugh. "Dont mind Warthol. He's got some kind of semantic disease...we will take you to the master..." CHIA-head turned and walked toward a tall building. Warthal looked at her and flashed a spittle specked grin. "AUTONOMY OF A PIERCED STAR!!! ANATOMIES OF PUBLIC OPINIONS GONE FLAT!! SO MUCH THE ASH OF TRAINSTATION MURMUR FIRES!! GARROTED AND FINGERING OBLIQUE ICONS!! BLINKING ON, OFF MACHINE DOLL HEAD!!!" She groaned wearily, as the creature dragged her after CHIA-head, who had already entered the building.
As soon as she entered the building, she decided that in thirty seconds she would fell the need to slap Chia-head, as he was still in a kind of girlish,giggly state. What she really neede was some decent blood...29....and too boogie. 28....she wondered if the chia was like a wart, a kind of parasitic blemish.'Tired of that unsightly chia hair',she thought,"try new noxchia!...22. As she was dragging along, she noticed that the hall she was walking in openned up ahead to a darker room...19. The air around her began smelling of ...17, was that pipe smoke? they turned the corner to the dimly lightly room, kind of a greenish hue to the light, too. The pipe smoker turned out to be sitting in a throne far above the rest of the room...12 ...Pipe smoking didn't seem the least bit diabolical for someone called the master, homely, maybe even a little debonair, but not sneaky and mean. " Well hello, and who might this young stranger be? uhhuhhuh." He was talking to his nose, and not moving his jaws. Damn,she thought, as she did every once in a while...5... i hate these preppy assholes. " I just wanna get a decent ride back to mama Earth, get some blood, and if i have time, boogie." I'm not quite in the mood to here you people bitch about machines having gymnsaurophobic cooties. i could after all just will you out of existance, seeing as how i AM satan incarnate and all...3... you know, asmodeus, mephistopheles, Hades, yadayada...SMAAAACK! Would you please tell this chia guy to stop chuckling, he's pissing me off." " is name is Lupus, and his chia disorder is nothing you should be making fun of. Please, Lupus, don't hurt yourself. Now about that trip to Terra, I think we can accomadate you, but i don't think we can be of assistance in the matter of blood, or boogying, for that matter. And i will require a fee, of either pizzas, or those fabulous shoes."
And then everything blew up.