The Mote Archive - The Great aMotian Novel

From: "ozzie nelson"
To: purpler@rocketmail.com
Subject: New Mote Address
Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2001 19:48:28

>Will be off and on for a few days:
>
>http://12.39.229.103/listthreads.asp

Prof

That's how it started. She was tired when she read it, with no idea who Prof or "ozzie nelson" might be unless dead TV stars had chosen her for electronic haunting. It was early in the morning; her buttercup baby had rolled out of bed with the sun's hello. The household was cranky but in two hours no one would care about not enough sleep or mysterious URLs. Buildings would crumble onto light and life and for a few months the deep sadness of souls ripping through the cosmos could keep her curiosity folded away.

It wasn't until after the new year, when she was cleaning out her mailbox for the same reason that one picks at the goo trapped beneath her or his fingernails, that she crossed the email again. She clicked on the link and the page went black and red...an online community it exclaimed...but she knew those colors. Anarcho-syndicalists.

She took a look around...

2. betty - 3/18/2002 9:00:01 AM

...she saw an assortment of handles that were familiar from other forums. Places without hems mostly. Few of these people had expressed anarchist leanings when she had made her proclamations. Doubt crept into her theory of an online resistance countering the corporate tackover of a previously free resource. Still, she sent away for her super secret password and it came back "anarchy".

She was baffled. Are they? aren't they? Foot in the water:

58816. betty - 1/24/02 3:48:09 PM

I noticed a whole lotta familiar handles when i came across this site...who remembers me?

betty

White, blank screen, no reply, no reply, no reply.

3. betty - 3/18/2002 9:53:13 AM

after a three day narcissistic whine it occured to her to look at the posts ahead of hers. She didn't look far, the previous post said:

RUN!

No post number, no author's name, no date, no time, just "run!"

'Okay, that's odd", she thought. "Where would screen names run to anyway?" and of course, why? they couldn't be in physical danger, what does "run" mean to an online community?

4. zojak quafeth - 3/18/2002 3:35:24 PM

Kevin Carroll just shook his head. He didn't get it. All the bitch did was sit there all day long. Day in day out staring at a blank fucking computer screen.

"Here's your coffee."

"Where the hell were you last night?" She asked without even bothering to turn around.

"you're welcome. And none of your business."

She spun "I'm your wife goddamn you!"

"No you're married to that damned box on your desk." He turned to leave. Drops of warm coffee splattered on his cheek as the Stwarbucks smashed into the wall next to his head. He reached into the bag.

"I'm tired of you. And I've got a date tonight."

It was over before she could scream.

Realizing he was in deep shit, he swallowed the barrel of the snub nose, its short heft reminding him of his days as a Catholic altar boy.

In the end though, he didn't have the balls to do it. He dropped the gun on the floor and went upstairs to take a shower.

5. betty - 3/18/2002 4:11:03 PM

In the army they called him walleye because his mark and his bullet rarely met, the only thing more disgraceful had been the way he went limp everytime his wife asked for a good time. Without the clandestine intrigue he couldn't keep it up. So she stared at blank screens, horny and alone, too moral to fuck what she could and too guilty to leave him.

She was bleeding onto the oak floor, not yet dead while he washed the splattered blood off his neck in a steaming shower. She had an unbelievable headache...the kind you get when your head is in two different places at once and you can't move because every single cell in your body is suffocating to death. She should have run but now she was running out.

By the time he had pulled the shower curtain back she had thought all of her last thoughts about family and friends and dead dogs she would see again.

6. ivan osokin - 3/18/2002 4:18:19 PM

as usual, he turned the hot water on full blast so that his already pale skin would be pink and tender when he emerged. he used to tell his wife that he didn't feel clean unless he felt pain first.

but this time, the water spurted forth harshly and abrasively...erasing layers of his skin like the layers of an onion. what was beneath? only more nothing, he thought. realizing that it was nothing that killed his wife...nothing more than a cheap imitation of an american psycho scenario, he stepped out of the shower...out of the brett easton ellis simulacra...and snapped himself back into a non-literary reality. his wife was sitting at the computer...staring into the scren. but the screen wasn't blank, it was only his limited creativity that saw it as such. he just couldn't imagine what she could...he just didn't see things the same way.

his wife, looking up at her husband's stupefaction, realized she had just been a part of his pathetically derivative fictions. her laugh was interpreted by him as a threat, and he stormed out to revisit another revenge fantasy. the gun would be there again, because without it, he was impotent.

7. betty - 3/19/2002 2:07:54 PM

she was getting less and less tolerant of his limp dick and mind tricks. this week he had convinced himself that he was a spy, no normal spy, collecting data and sending it back to Central Intelligence but a Movie spy...getting the girls and saving the day. He had even given himself a code name Kevin Carrol.

Not that he shared any of this with her. They didn't talk anymore, silence was the third in their menage a trois. She read his journal. Thinking of this she laughed again, what top secret spy provides his own incriminating evidence? She would try to remember to ask him this when he started to creep towards her warmth.

8. Indiana Jones - 3/19/2002 2:29:51 PM

Someone knocked on the door. Strange, because the doorbell worked fine, and the door was solid hardwood--secure, but deadly on the knuckles. Then she realized, she thought, why the visitor had chosen to knock as she recognized "shave and a haircut, two bits." The personal touch and calling card that a doorbell doesn't deliver. Of course the cliched rhythm wasn't all that personal either, unless the rapper wanted to convey banality and perhaps hucksterism.

She undid the latch and deadbolt but kept the chain in place as she opened her door a couple of inches. The man standing outside could be a travelling salesman alright...okay-looking, around 30 years old she guessed, but a cheap suit and the immediate whiff of strong aftershave.

"Howdy, ma'am," the stranger greeted her and doffed his hat in a wide, over-gracious sweep. "Perhaps you're in need of my services?"

He presented a card that said only "Irv" and a phone number, all in blue Helvetica type.

9. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 2:49:06 PM

"Boy howdy", she thought, "I could sure use some servicing." It had been months since she and Kevin had had anything but hall sex -- saying "fuck you" when they passed in the hallway.

10. PelleNilsson - 3/19/2002 2:57:10 PM

The blue Helvetica made her shiver. Hadn't she seen it before? Just before... before the episode she didn't want to think about ... when the fog enveloped her mind. She didn't recall any Irv but the name invoked feelings of angst and repression. Was her past coming back to haunt her? Would she have to relive the agony?

She undid the chain.

11. glendajean - 3/19/2002 2:59:50 PM

He wasn't thirty. He was even younger. Turns out he was a bible salesman, a college student from some southern college trying to earn a few bucks before going back to class in the fall.

One of Flannery O'Conner's children has come knocking on my door. Going to take me up to the barn and steal my wooden leg? she thought as she stood there staring at this earnestness in a cheap suit, this boy peddler. Why me?

12. betty - 3/19/2002 3:04:17 PM

She had called him Kevin...she was starting to get confused.

"So, Irv" his name was heavy with sarcasm, "what service is it that you provide?" Though he looked edible, she was a little worried this Irv wasn't exactly right...maybe he had wondered down from the Psych Center.

"Usually folks introduce themselves after they meet a nice stranger."

"They do?" She was about to close the door.

13. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 3:09:14 PM

Irv stuck his foot in the door fast and launched right into his speil...

"Ma'am", he asked, "have you given any thought to where you will be spending eternity?"

14. betty - 3/19/2002 3:11:54 PM

"Hopefully under you" She wanted to blurt.

15. PelleNilsson - 3/19/2002 3:13:51 PM

No, no, no, he said. I suggest Bali. I have some really nice brochures here. Easy payment terms. Bali has ... everything.

16. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 3:16:28 PM

"Irv", she said, "I'm sure that you're a nice enough feller and all, but you'll have to make an appointment to come back the day after eternity if you have plans of saving my soul." "I got kids upstairs and a lunatic husband playin with a gun in the shower and I don't have time for anymore nuts in my life right now, thankyouverymuch."

17. betty - 3/19/2002 3:20:06 PM

"Ma'am, I don't think you understand what I'm talking about here. I am talking about eternity, in Bali...how does that sound to you?" Irv was growing horns.

18. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 3:21:56 PM

What's that there a stickin out of your purple mesh shorts, Irv? Is that a roll of lifesavers, or are you just happy to see me?

19. betty - 3/19/2002 3:27:17 PM

"Sorry to be rude, Irv" she was saying before she could not, "Do you want to come in? I've got some coffee on the floor."

"On the floor?" He smiled.

"Long story."

20. rubberducky - 3/19/2002 3:37:19 PM

'a story i long to hear', he thought. 'do you like my shorts', Irv asked, "they come free with every third bible sold!'

....'won't you help me?...' Irv loved opened-ended questions because of the mischief that could result.

21. betty - 3/19/2002 3:41:44 PM

"Hey, Kids," She shrieked, "go outside and play."

"But Mom!" shot back voices between male and female.

"Please, kids, I need some time."

22. glendajean - 3/19/2002 3:45:13 PM

Remind me to send your college a donation, she thought as she pulled him into the guest bedroom.

23. betty - 3/19/2002 3:54:28 PM

"Now, let me tell you a little bit about Bali Ms., what is your name?" He was trying to say with her tongue in his mouth.

It wasn't much worth the effort. Nobody wanted to spend eternity in Bali, they far preferred hell. Bali was relaxing and boring, no drama like two kids and a nutty husband. Besides his cock was throbbing and she seemed ready.

24. glendajean - 3/19/2002 3:57:32 PM

Auggh. She screamed.

"What is it?"

She was holding what looked like a plastic rooster.

25. glendajean - 3/19/2002 3:58:23 PM

"That's Jethro," he said, smiling. I grew up on a farm, and Jethro was my pet rooster. Momma gave me that when I left for college. It's my good luck charm.

26. betty - 3/19/2002 4:07:28 PM

"Enough of this game" she whispered, got down on her knees and opened up his pants. they were botton-fly khakis...more annoying than a bra.

27. zojak quafeth - 3/19/2002 4:17:49 PM

Jethro the Rooster burst forth with a vengeance.

She had no choice but to choke his chicken before it poked her eye out.

28. betty - 3/19/2002 4:19:58 PM

Under, On top, beside, below...it happened fast and hard and then it was over.

Irv all flush and grin asked, "But now, can I be of service?"

"I thought that was service," she wondered if this was when she was supposed to light a cigarette. And was he going to shut up and get the hell out?

29. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 8:04:14 PM

"now that you're feeling a little more relaxed," said Irv, "have you given any thought to your plans for you and your family if you or your husband, what's-his-name, should be involved in a murder-suicide?" Warming to his pitch, Irv continued, "Wouldn't you want to be sure that your children don't have to worry about your final arrangements? I represent Bali Gardens Mausoleum and Park of Eternal Peace, this area's largest full-service death care conglomerate, and I'd like to talk to you about a pre-need package. It looks like you may be in need in the near future."

30. betty - 3/19/2002 8:31:12 PM

She grabbed her shirt--a white button up--pulled it around herself. It was getting tight around her breasts. She was gaining weight again. Everytime her husband went on one of his schizophrenic adventures she felt her curves grow.

"Look, Irv?" she whipped her fiery head around to face him, "this was fun and all, but we really don't need any Eternal Peace, a moment or two wouldn't be bad, but my emotionally unstable husband is capable of coming home at any moment." Pulling up her jeans, she looked out the window, "and I got two kids beating the shit out of each other in the back yard. But thanks, it was fun."

He was staring at her dead on, she handed him his pants. She squinted her already narrow eyes, "What do you mean I may need one in the near future?"

He looked away.

31. bubbaette - 3/19/2002 8:59:14 PM

"Let's just say that I know your husband," Irv said. "Plus there's your fondness for unprotected sex with strangers," he added as he pulled on his purple mesh shorts.

32. ivan osokin - 3/20/2002 11:00:05 AM

"You know my husband?" the implications of his statement caused a ripple of anxiety, "How do you know my husband?"

"Don't worry...I won't tell him that I fucked his wife." He laughed. She didn't know what to make of the laugh but rather than dwell on it she tried again to politely get him out of her house.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." she paused and made gestures indicating she was done talking and had to get back to her life.

"Okay. Okay. I get it. I'll come back again some other time and maybe we can...y'know...again?"

She hated when men called it "y'know"...it showed how uncreative they could be.

"Sure. Whatever." Her indifference rung through the dismissal and he left without saying anything more.

34. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 11:40:42 AM

Irv was gone, but somehow his presence still lingered in the air. Or was it just the smell of his powerful, astringent aftershave?

She fingered his business card again, and knew she'd better destroy it, then give the room a good dousing with Lysol--if she wasn't out of the stuff. Hell, she could always just light a match. She also intended to commit Irv's phone number to memory, but was jogged from the task by another scream from the backyard.

It sounded a little more imperative than just your typical result of a shit-beating, so she padded hurriedly across the unmoppped linoleum, feeling the crumbs of previous meals under her feet, to the sun room off the kitchen, which gave her the best view of that side of the house.

35. bubbaette - 3/20/2002 11:46:19 AM

"Booger, Tater", she yelled, "What the hell are you doin out there?"

36. bubbaette - 3/20/2002 11:50:30 AM

Booger and Tater looked up from the cat they were in the process of shaving. Booger, an eight year-old tow-headed provocatuer, had talker her five-year old brother, Tater, into holding down the cat while she played barber. Naturally the cat took offense and had latched his claws into Tater's arms and was in the process of skinning the runny-nosed child. Tater was screaming, the cat was screaming and Booger was screaming at both of them to hold still.

37. betty - 3/20/2002 11:57:20 AM

It was 10:30 in the morning and already the day had been too much.

38. betty - 3/20/2002 11:58:17 AM

********

Chapter 2

40. betty - 3/20/2002 12:07:07 PM

The corner was gray and the bus wasn't coming. He shoved his dark hands into the yellow pockets, staring at the cliche cracks, pacing under the small plexiglass shelter intended to shield from the elements but little more than a place for grafiti, the media of the mass transit. Scott was sick of the hours wasted on this corner.

41. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 12:43:16 PM

A cab pulled up, but the driver wasn't dressed like a cabbie. He flung the door open, honked his horn, and said, "Hellooooo, sailor. You look like you just might need a lift." He nudged with his too-clean-shaven chin toward the backseat of the four-door. "No charge, friend."

"Thanks," Scott winced and slid into the back...anything to get out of the weather before the next downpour. It had been raining off and on for a week. Yes, anything, even the possibility of a homo cabbie with ideas, Scott thought, as he caught the first whiff of an overpowering fragrance.

He noticed the driver was watching him in the rearview mirror as he swung the door shut with a click. "All comfy?" Scott heard, and decided he didn't look the way this guy's eyes seemed to grin idiotically at him.

42. bubbaette - 3/20/2002 1:02:31 PM

The cab driver thought to himself that the fare reminded him of a rubberducky with that yellow slicker on. "Where to?" he asked.

44. betty - 3/20/2002 1:50:05 PM

Where am I going? He didn't really know. He had lost his job a couple of months ago. His mom still had hers even though he had the college degree/guarantee of a new and better life. "I was just getting on the bus to go somewhere." He said with a shocking honesty. Scott wasn't sure why he was trusting this guy...he musta been a fruit wearing those purple mesh shorts over a pair of khakis like that.

45. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 1:53:26 PM

"Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" Scott said...and didn't know why he said it.

He also didn't know why it always seemed like Groundhog's Day on this particular corner--unless it was because of the daft Swede who came by every so often repeating the same bizarre phrase: "Collect call. Will you accept the charges? Collect call. Will you accept the charges.?"

Thirty-five years on a cord board at the phone company, or so they said.

46. betty - 3/20/2002 2:32:26 PM

They called him the Swede, but once, in a more generous mood, Scott had asked his name. "Pelle" the crank answered. Now Scott didn't want to see the crazy old man ever again, he smelled bad, he spoke in sing song and he was missing teeth. But worst of all, without a job, without a prospect, without a wife and with his pride, Scott was getting worried he might be dumpster diving with Pelle any day now.

47. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 3:14:47 PM

The taxi was accelerating onto the freeway, and the driver reached over to turn the volume up on the radio. Marvin Gaye, "Let's Get It On." Did that mean something?

When Scott followed the movement of the driver's hand to the dash he also noticed something peculiar about the cab license. The picture looked like the guy in the front seat alright, but it listed just his first name: Irv.

"Marvin Gaye...such a sad story, eh?" Irv was saying.

48. betty - 3/20/2002 3:22:13 PM

Scott was staring out the window, at a hearse. A morbid day. "Oh ugh, yeah, sad story."

They pulled up to a light, it was green but they stopped, the funeral proccession was cutting through the red.

"There goes Judith" Irv chirped.

"Huh?"

49. judithathome - 3/20/2002 3:36:40 PM

"Yes, Judith of the Athomes. She was in the right place at the wrong time."

50. ivan osokin - 3/20/2002 3:37:04 PM

Judith was an ominscient narrator who had been forced into retirement to make way for the new style of narrative, where characters are merely embodied struggles against the puerile urge to reduce life to a series of homosexual innuendoes and wish-fulfillment seductions. Judith had to struggle just to keep her job, and reduced herself to being merely semi-niscient for miminum wage plus tips. Two years ago, she packed it all in. It was not possible to reduce her intellect to the levels that the new economy needed. And now, Irv recognized her death for what it was...the end of characters with depth.

He pulled out his copy of The Economist and started masturbating furiously, despite being in a cab. He came all over Allan Greenspan.

51. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 4:07:28 PM

New economy, new fiction, what's the difference? the omniscient spirit of Judith thought as it hovered over the scene and sperm dried on Alan Greenspan's glasses. At least I'm not being cremated. In Georgia.

52. betty - 3/20/2002 4:31:58 PM

Scott snapped out of his post modern day dream, "Hey Irv?" his name got followed by question marks quite often, "You the Madonna of the Cabbie set? I don't see a last name or an expiration date anywhere on your license."

"That's a curious thing to notice, do you spend a lot of time in cabs?"

"I did when I was younger, my dad drove for Liberty Cabs. He had a PhD in French Literature, came here from Togo. My dad had the cleanest cab in the city, but he was still driving a damn cab."

53. rubberducky - 3/20/2002 4:38:51 PM

he continued...

"I took it hard when my parents split up, mainly because dad didn't earn enough. That's weird, really, considering what my mom, Maureen, ended up doing for a living."

He paused as he wiped away a tear. He continued, "I hope she's well, I've been saving all my tips for a whole year just to fly down to D.C. to see her face to face for the first time since I was 18 and left home for the big city."

54. alistairConnor - 3/20/2002 5:14:02 PM

Scott hadn't been paying attention to where they were heading. With a shock he realized they were approaching the airport. Irv pulled up in front of Delta departures.

"Here's your ticket. Boarding at gate 21 in thirty-five minutes. You've got your passport?"

"Always got my passport." Great. A free trip. Where to? Scott realised he didn't want to know. Go with the flow. Get the fuck out.

56. betty - 3/20/2002 7:08:37 PM

Passport. He was going International. He had a friend in France, a friend in the Netherlands, family in Togo he had never met.

He was at the metal detector getting the twice over by a big breasted black woman raising her eyebrows in the direction of her friend working at the next screening station. "No carry on?" She asked with her West Indian accent.

"I travel light," he was almost whispering.

"You haven't got no bags?" Her voice made him hope his ticket was for someplace with lots of umbrella topped drinks.

"Nope, somebody just gave me the ticket 10 minutes ago as a gift."

57. bubbaette - 3/20/2002 9:37:41 PM

The screener immediately picked up the telephone to alert airport security to the traveler with no luggage and a "gift" ticket for an overseas flight. Security officers and national guardsmen quickly surrounded him and hustled him off to a windowless room within the bowels of the busy airport.

58. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 9:42:02 PM

"Okey-dokey. So who just 'gave' you this ticket?" the fatty who breathed through his mouth asked Scott.

"A cabbie named Irv."

The smaller of Scott's two questioners raised an eyebrow over his dark, Secret Service-style glasses. Then he started punching numbers into a cell phone as small as a potato chip.

Fatty mouth-breather was oblivious to the action, though, and just get boring ahead. "Irv, hunh?"

59. Indiana Jones - 3/20/2002 9:42:28 PM

"just kept boring ahead."

60. bubbaette - 3/20/2002 10:20:03 PM

"Just 'Irv', no last name?" quized Fatty. "And he just gave you a ticket to Bali?" Fatty heaved his bulk over the table and shoved a sausage-like finger under Scott's nose. "Listen here, punk, if you think I'm gonna buy some bullshit story about a cabbie named Irv just givin you a ticket for an overseas flight, you're looking at a long-term detention and a investigation of everywhere you been and everthing you done since kinnygarden."

61. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 8:27:05 AM

The one with the cell phone put it away and said to Fatty Mouthbreather, "Just talked to HQ. We're going to have to move this hot potato."

"Dat so?"

"Yep. Expeditiously."

"Okay, lover-boy," Fatty said, and stuck a meaty paw into Scott's side, grinding him with a knuckle as he did. "Let's go."

The three men stood up and went out of the secluded room back into the main terminal, walking past the rental counter toward the doors to the big parking lot.

"Kevin, is that you?" Kevin heard a female voice say.

He tried to look back over his right shoulder, but his companions kept pushing him along. Still he saw who was calling out to him: Jennifer, the hotty he occasionally saw jogging in his neighborhood. She had the most abundant curly black hair hanging down her back almost to her perky ass, but if you straightened the tresses out, they might have reached her knees.

She walked quickly to catch up with them, and to his further chagrin he noticed she had her usual attire on: flimsy shorts and a tee shirt that barely reached her waistband. When she did stretching exercises, which she seemed to do whenever she wasn't moving, he could always catch a glimpse of the place where her flank curved out at the top of her hips and the superb flatness of her stomach. At such times he thought, Just a skillful tug on each side, and I could be dining in the garden of earthly delights.

"What's up, Kevin?" she said, as the came along side.

62. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 8:29:09 AM

"Kevin?" Fatty wheezed. "Doesn't loverboy's passport say Scott?"

63. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 8:47:27 AM

Mr. Cellphone stared straight ahead through his sunglasses grimly. "Doesn't matter what he calls himself, partner. We'll soon get to the bottom of this."

He caused the three of them to take a sharp right turn. "Excuse us, missy. Government business." They were now heading toward the tarmac.

"Okay," Jennifer nodded still walking with them. "I've got to go meet my mom, anyway. But, Kevin, let me know how things turn out."

Then Scott was once again alone with the two government agents. They went out onto the landing field, and Scott saw that a large black jet was just touching down.

Mr. Cellphone said, "Know who's on that plane? Father Don Jexster. I think you'll want to talk to him, Kevin."

Yes, that made sense. All the scene needed now was "Ride of the Valkyries" playing through the airport loudspeakers to complete the Leni Riefenstahl tableau.

Meanwhile, after drowning Booger, Tater, and the cat, a housewife was thinking of Irv and wondering whether she would soon be joining omniscient Judith, Joe Esterhaus, and Bill Clinton's penis on the dustbin of literary history.

64. betty - 3/21/2002 8:59:39 AM

**************

Chapter 3

65. theDiva - 3/21/2002 9:07:37 AM

Steam covered the bathroom mirror. She could hear the music pulsing through the walls.

'Damn him', she thought.

66. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 9:41:31 AM

"I need to get a paper," she thought. "The TV is on the fritz again and I need to be sure the cops are still not on to me."

67. judithathome - 3/21/2002 9:43:08 AM

The memory of those garish purple mesh shorts stuck in her mind like molasses on an empty short stack plate.

68. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 9:44:14 AM

"Where did he leave that bible?" she wondered.

Was there a clue there? She had to search the house to be sure.

69. betty - 3/21/2002 9:46:59 AM

She pulled her hair back into a pony tail and rolled up her sleeves. She headed to the guest bedroom, it smelled like goat.

70. theDiva - 3/21/2002 9:49:30 AM

Suddenly, she felt absolutely ravenous.

'Hm. Maybe I'll head downtown for some jerk chicken.'

71. betty - 3/21/2002 9:53:43 AM

She didn't really care if Scott found the bible or not. He'd laugh and think it was a joke...she called out "Tater, Booger!" Unfortunately they both responded, her fantasy was over. "Come on, we're gonna go to Jamaican Jerk Hut and get some chicken."

72. betty - 3/21/2002 9:55:21 AM

They came bouncing in, they loved going to Jerk Hut and listening to the music. Booger had crusted snot on his cheek.

73. betty - 3/21/2002 10:59:35 AM

Linda decided it would be cruel to parade him around town like that, she grabbed the blue washcloth ran it under the instantly hot water and headed back into the living room. Tater had some dried blood on her. Linda thought about how it would have felt to push her daughter's bullish head under the water, what the struggle would have felt like, the violent twist and turns.

She sighed at this inhuman thought. Just sighed.

74. bubbaette - 3/21/2002 11:29:49 AM

Her mood brightened in the car on the way to the Jerk Hut as sun broke through the clouds. Booger and Tater, unusually quiet in the back seat, watched as a small black jet streaked across the sky in the middle distance. "There goes daddy", said Tater.

75. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 12:00:19 PM

a cold shiver streaked down her spine.... could they have inherited the ... 'abilities' her uncle Sto had??

76. judithathome - 3/21/2002 12:19:40 PM

...abilities that paled in comparison to his dashing good looks and suave ways with the ladies. But best not to dwell on that...there was a line, after all, that she wouldn't cross and that line was the International Date Line. She was afflicted with fear of flying.

77. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 1:11:14 PM

"GODDAMN that freakin' cabbie moron!" she hissed at the top of her lungs as a familiar purple meshed clad cabbie cut her off. "Just because they're on their way from the airport, they think they own the damn road."

Tater started crying at the sound of momma's voice while Booger all but ignored the various goings-on while marveling at her namesake at the end of her finger.

"Where could he be going?" she pondered. "I think I'll follow him to be sure. The kids are fed and should be okay for a while in the back seat."

She pointed her rusted out white and blue Ford Fiesta in the same direction and pressed on the accelerator...

78. bubbaette - 3/21/2002 1:16:57 PM

Irv spotting the blue Fiesta in the rearview mirror and chuckled before gunning the motor in his purple Crown Vic Cab. "That Betty sure does run hot and cold", he thought. "First she dismisses me like a hired hand and how she's trying to run me down. Don't call me, I'll call you," he thought as the executed a couple of tricky turns in heavy traffic.

79. betty - 3/21/2002 1:44:12 PM

the Crown Vic with trailing Fiesta had stopped at a light. Linda looked into the rearview mirror, she was getting old. Bags under her eyes, wrinkles on her forehead and all wrapped up in yellowing skin. She was feeling tired, she wanted to go home. "God I hope he hits a tree!" she shrieked, curling her fingers into her palms. She hit the steering wheel and turned left after the cabs right. This was a stupid thing to do.

80. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 1:51:06 PM

The Fiesta plowed through the wrought-iron fence and into the cemetery. Linda tried to regain control of the car as it bucked up and down over the humps of graves toward a large group of people gathered around a casket and some freshly turned earth.

Booger and Tater were once again screaming, their small bodies smashing hard against the interior of the car.

At the last possible moment, Linda was able to swerve away from Judith's pall bearers.

Damn...where did that jogger come from?

81. bubbaette - 3/21/2002 2:36:33 PM

Booger and Tate were bawling in the back seat. Booger had a bloody nose and Tater was looked like he'd hit his head hard. And the damned Fiesta was probably totaled. And her resident psychotic, Kevin, was going to have a freaking fit when he found out about all this. Thank god she hadn't killed any of the funeral attendees.

Struck by her situation and by the notion of being killed at a funeral, Betty started laughing hysterically.

83. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 2:41:15 PM

Betty ... Linda

Betty ... Linda

Linda ... Betty

was she having split personalities or was this her own way of dealing with her own true horrible name of ...

of ....

gulp!

Belinda

God, how she cursed her parents for that name.

84. judithathome - 3/21/2002 2:45:49 PM

They had been fans of Jane Wyman until she married that fool Ron Reagan.

85. betty - 3/21/2002 3:03:06 PM

"Ma'am," the voice was unsure, "Ma'am, are you Okay? Can we help you outta there?"

86. betty - 3/21/2002 3:06:49 PM

Belinda tried to stop laughing, her diapragm was spasming. "I didn't do that well in Physics, but it seems rather implausible that my tiny, rusted piece of american shit could even dent that fence."

The stranger stared at her a second or two, "Ma'am you stay right there, an ambulance is on the way."

87. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 3:52:07 PM

So is this genius gonna help me out or make me stay right here? And did I hit the jogger or not? I think I did...she deserved it anyway...brickhouse slut. I woulda killed her for the hair alone.

Both Belinda's diaphragms were now spasming.

88. betty - 3/21/2002 4:05:02 PM

She went black, only for a minute or two she thought. When she woke the handsome EMT was cutting her out of her seat belt. She tried to look around a bit but her neck hurt.

"Where are the kids?" she managed.

"They were a little banged up but seemed fine. Can you move your arm?" It was bruised, but she moved it. "They are on their way to the hospital for a check up but we don't suspect there's anything too wrong with them."

"I think I saw a jogger."

"Yeah, you did."

89. rubberducky - 3/21/2002 4:14:01 PM

"Cygnus ... something, by the looks of the KFC name badge I saw," she whispered. "No telling what happened to him, but it didn't look like it'd be any great loss."

Belinda paused for a moment, did she say that out loud?

92. betty - 3/21/2002 4:29:27 PM

If she did, if she didn't was no difference. There was nobody left in the car to hear her. Frank, the cute EMT, had gone to speak with his superior about the best way to get the crazy woman out of her car. they are going to leave me hear and I am going to die like this, she was careful to not think out loud. I am going to die like this and they are just going to open up a grave, and throw me and this piece of shit car in there and my kids are going to be orphans because that dipshit Scott is not coherent enough to raise them and i still can't believe i damaged that fence and what are they going to do let me die here.

93. Indiana Jones - 3/21/2002 9:55:36 PM

The other reason Frank was taking so long was he was chatting up the slightly injured jogger, who he found out was named Jennifer T. Weigel. "You're really lucky....Just look what she did to that fence. Maybe I oughtta give you a more thorough examination. Sure you're alright?"

"Yes, like I said, I rolled with the impact. I'm pretty athletic and it comes in handy sometimes."

"I know what you mean. In my profession I have to keep in shape," Frank said, puffing out his chest, sucking in his gut, and practicing his best posture. The twin towers of his muscular thighs looked as sturdy as the World Trade Center on September 10, 2001.

"Really? My job is like that, too. I train the performers for Cirque du Soleil during the day." She ran her fingers through her thick hair and stretched a little, causing her t-shirt to hike provocatively.

Frank moved a little closer. "And what do you do at night, Jennifer?"

Nearby, Booger watched them impassively, her smudged, green-eyed face looking nothing so much like that of an Afghan refugee. She turned to Tater and said, "Did you hear that shit mom was moaning? So she has issues because Gramps and Mamaw named her Belinda?

"I think I'll go slam the car door on whatever part of her looks hurt the worst."

94. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 7:52:51 AM

Belinda noticed her two brats conspiring and then wondered what had happened to that cute EMT. Goddamnit, she thought, Irv was right... they're out to get me.

95. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 8:33:18 AM

She then noticed for the first time that the radio was blaring "...oooh heaven is a place on earth"

She screamed. God how she hated Belinda Carlysle. Maybe it was the name thing.

She reached over to turn off the radio and noticed for the first time that that he arm ended about half way between her eelbow and where her wrist should have been. She screamed again as blood from her upraised arm splattered over the radio, mercifully shorting it out.

She turned to look for the cute EMT. All she noticed was the ambulance bouncing vigorously up and down.

She turned further to the left just in time to feel the slap of a limp hand flail harshly across her face.

"Got her!" tittered Tater. "With her own hand. Now momma's gonna spank you Bugger!"

Bugger screamed and ran through the wrecked wrought iron fence with Tater chasing behind waving momma's severed hand.

Belinda looked back down at her stump. The pulsing blood was slowing.

The world was beginning to fade. Although her cheek still stung. "I always did pack a great right cross" she thought as she passed out.

96. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 8:40:25 AM

Suddenly, another car came bumping over the graves, its own radio blasting with Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell." Then two seedy guys who looked like they just left a late-night frat party came piling out, laughing over some shared joke.

Somehow she knew they were lawyers, or in this case, ambulance chasers. And likely Republicans. She didn't care anymore. She was tired of being an immobilized victim whose only proactive moment in life had been to fuck a guy in purple mesh shorts.

97. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 8:54:57 AM

The shorter of the two leaned through the window and extended his hand. "Sexlawyer 109 at your service, and frankly, ma'am you look like you could use some service right now. This hyear's my partner Jex."

"As I see if, Ma'aam, you've got a case against the Ambulance service here for letting you bleed to death while the EMT's doing the horizontal mambo with some floozy. Of course, the settlement might be larger if you actually die, but that's up to you. Sign here with your good hand while I see if I can find something to make a tourniquet."

98. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:07:02 AM

Jex yanked his tie off to save his potential client, but realizing that it was a clip-on tossed it own in dusgust and began unlacing one of his black NIKE's to use a tourniquet.

"What are you doing?" asked Niner. We want her dead don't we.

"Sure but the longer she hangs on, the bigger the pain and suffering award."

"Ooh. Good point."

Jex tied a tourniquet high above the elbow using his best double knot while Niner pulled out his old brick sized cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Cellar Door. We need pictures of the scene."

99. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 9:08:41 AM

"Jex? Jex? I'm Ace, you dipshit. How many times are you going to screw that up, fucking moron? Just suck my cock, dammit."

100. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:14:31 AM

"Jex. Ace. Like there's a difference. You gotta grow one before I suck it. Finish your call."

101. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 9:14:51 AM

Sexlawyer 109, also known as Francis Cesaer, slapped his head and said "no hablo ingles. Como se dice 'suck my viril load' en Espanol?"

102. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:18:06 AM

Belinda wafted in and out of conciousness listening to the incessant, dreadful, babble. Wishing she were dead, she began to gnaw at the tourniquet. Trying to restart the bleeding. Praying to leave for something better.

103. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 9:25:50 AM

She left for something better. She was a torch singer, lounging across the world's biggest grand piano, and instead of gnawing on her own bloody arm, she breathed huskily into a microphone.

Was there something more I could have done?
Or was I not meant to be the one?
Where's the life I thought we would share?
And should I care?

104. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:29:29 AM

She looked over at her pianist. He was wearing a purple mesh tuxedo....

105. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 9:35:53 AM

Booger and Tater, both bloody and with Tater still clutching a lifeless hand approached the car. "You ask her", said Booger, nudging Tater. "Muuuuuumma", whined Tater, "we're thiiiiiirsty. Can we have some money to buy a sooooda?"

Belinda was dragged back among the living by the sound of her children's voices. With her last strenght Belinda cried "Goddamn it, can't you see I'm busy!"

106. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 9:37:18 AM

Francis looked at Ace and they both exclaimed "Orphans!"

107. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:39:31 AM

"...I'm sorry, mumma. Can we give you a hand?" asked Tater as she began beating Belinda back into unconsciousness with the bloody stump.

Bugger reached in the car, grabbed Belinda's purse and ran for the fence.

Tater threw the bloody stump at the two lawyers arguing aover their own names in some strange Spanglish language and followed Bugger through the fence.

108. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 9:41:01 AM

Niner and the Ace followed at their fastest middle age pace, Ace's laceless shoe slapping like the sound of two fatasses fucking like walruses.

109. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 9:42:54 AM

HAHAHAHA

110. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 10:05:42 AM

"Collect call, Collect call. Will you accept the charges?" she heard above the whine of a chainsaw and felt someone at long last pulling her free of the wreck.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Who are you?" she asked the grim-visaged figure hoisting her in his arms.

"I go by many names. In my own country I was known as Odin Pelle. Will you accept the charges?"

112. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 10:24:54 AM

Should she accept the charges? What were the charges? One thing she knew for sure was she needed to see a doctor. Or a faith healer.

"Sure, sure, I'll accept the charges. Whatever. I think I'm dying." The smell of Irv's aftershave was all gone, replaced entirely by the odor of garbage. Pelle reeked.

Frank was abruptly back on the scene, buttoning the last button on his tight-fitting shirt and pushing its tail back into his 501 Levis. "Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing with the victim? And omigod where the hell is her hand?"

Pelle shrugged and pointed toward the two lawyers and two kids. "One of them has it, I think."

113. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 10:27:07 AM

Odin Pelle waved one of his four arms, as if to dismiss the situation completely, and sat back down in his unconcerned lotus position at the foot of the mangled vehicle.

116. betty - 3/22/2002 10:30:15 AM

**************

Chapter 4

117. betty - 3/22/2002 10:47:27 AM

As Scott was rubbing his head, smarting from a crack at the hands of Fatty Mouthbreather, Father Don Jexter was exiting the plane.

"Father! Father!" A young man with adulation in his eyes was running down the hall. 50 feet from the enfeebled Father he bends over panting like a dog. "Father, you are needed."

118. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 11:16:11 AM

Scott's head whipped to the side again. reeling from another blow. The power packed by the little man in the black uniform and white collar was astounding.

"Haave you reconzidered zhe ill advized pozition of maintaining ignoranz regarding zhe teecket geeven to you?" His voice echoing in the sound proof room at the airport.

"I .. know .. nothing..." Scott sobbed.

A blow to the gut by the priest would have sent him to the floor if he hadn't been held up by fatty mouthbreather and one of the father's nuns.

As he desperately tried to suck in air, something snapped.

He became Kevin Carroll. Secret agent man.

This time he couldn't even recognize it as a fantasy and truly believed that he had become what was before a figment of his imagination.

He stood up straight, suddenly able to breath.

"Fuck you, you pedophiliac bastard" he rasped in a fair Clint Eastwood imitation.

It was like a slo mo scene in a John Wu movie. As the priest leveled another blow, Kevin kicked up with both legs, braced by fatty and the nun. Blood sprayed from the father's nose and fatty wrenched his right arm out of the nun's grasp.

Kevin reached into fatty's waistband, hoping that his fingers would close around something long hard and powerful.

They did. A Tauris 92F 9mm semiautomatic with a 15 round clip. Fatty went down with two in the gut. The nun was propelled backwards by another 3 rounds. One in the father's head finished him off and Kevin was able to put another 2 into fatty's partner's head before the partner could fire of his own Glock 9mm. That left 3 nuns and seven rounds. Two in each in a matter of seconds left Kevin with one hell of a mess and one round.

119. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 11:24:55 AM

Kevin pushed the button to eject the clip and searched fatty for another. He found two.

Four minutes later, Kevin purposefully strode out of the soundproof room wearing a blacksuit and shades he had stripped off of fatty's partner. He was carrying the priest's briefcase, but had no idea what was in it. It was locked. He had the 9mm tucked into the back of his waistband and the Glock in a shoulder holster. He had snub nosed .38's strapped to each ankle. It seems even the nuns were armed. He was loaded for bear. Four guns and more ammo than he knew what to do with.

And walking down an airport concourse looking like Tommy Lee Jones in "Men in Black."

Fortunately, the quiet room was inside airport security. He walked up to the gate agent as the plane to Bali beagn to board.

"Has anyone unknown to you give you anything?"

"Nope."

"Has your baggage been in your possession the entire time?"

"Yep."

"Aisle or window?"

"Exit row. Window please."

"We've got one for you."

"Thanks."

"Enjoy your trip sir."

He smiled and walked down the jetway.

Things were looking up.

120. PelleNilsson - 3/22/2002 11:44:09 AM

Meanwhile, the Swede was feasting on a plate of mashed turnips and something smelly when Irv stormed in and cried “Hi Swede!” The Swede said nothing. “Hi!”, Irv cried again but not so loud this time. “OK, Irv show us what you brought” said the Swede, dourly.

- Brought? I didn’t bring anything.
- You burst into people’s houses without bringing booze? American manners are unforgivable. What do you want then?
- I want to talk about… uh … a problem of the heart.
- Off topic. Take it somewhere else.
- Off topic? What the fuck? What’s on topic then?
- Whatever occupies my thought processes. Currently Swedish army tactics in the 17th century.
- But I don’t want to talk about that. Hell, I can’t talk about it. I know nothing about it.
-Good. Now get your ass out of here before I ban you permanently. And remember to bring the booze next time. It does wonders for my thought processes.

121. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 12:00:13 PM

"Funnel-headed old coot," thought Irv as he beat his retreat.

122. rubberducky - 3/22/2002 12:29:15 PM

Meanwhile, once in the air, Scott finally began to relax.

"Would you like something from the drink cart?" asked a young dishy babe with eyes that were as fabulous as any he had ever seen in the movies.

"Yes, please ... Ms. Jones" Scott replied eyeing her name badge.

"My friends just call me diva, mister...?" she answered giving his sleek frame the once over.

"Scott, diva. And I'd like a double malt scotch when you can get that hot, perky ass over to the real drink cart" Scott grinned. He knew immediately where he really wanted to 'land'.

123. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 12:48:57 PM

Scott remembered Father Don Jexster's briefcase, so he decided to have a look-see. No one was watching him--the passenger next to him was a Middle Easterner busily reading the Koran--so Scott jimmied the lock and flipped open the case.

Inside was a leatherbound volume that he at first thought was a bible, but upon closer inspection he saw the title was The Skullfuckers: A Secret Society and was actually a notebook--apparently Father Don's life's work.

124. betty - 3/22/2002 1:10:39 PM

So what exactly is this guy a father of?

and he began leafing through the pages.

It started:
The secrets of THE ANCIENT AND UNIVERSAL RITE OF COSMIC ARCHITECTURE
including THE ORDER OF THE TEMPLE OF THE ORIENT XII°
and the Rite of
MEMPHIS AND MIZRAIM
33°, 90°, 97°

125. betty - 3/22/2002 1:11:53 PM

"Oh God, what is this WhoHaw?" Scott mumbled at the Koran reader.

126. betty - 3/22/2002 1:13:51 PM

The book went down and the right hand went out "Hello, my name is Ivan." Said the Middle Easterner who wasn't.

127. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 1:45:52 PM

Scott/Kevin looked right past Ivan as Ms. Jones returned with his drink. His eyes locked on her pendulous breasts as she laned over to hand him his drink.

All he could think was that he was gonna have an awful hard time hiding all his guns when he tried to fuck her in lavatory.

132. betty - 3/22/2002 1:57:45 PM

Ivan, noticing the heaving of bosoms, decided to introduce himself. If anyone was going to be fucking the stewardess, it would be him. After all, hadn't he done that so many times in his films?

134. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 1:59:36 PM

Scott/Kevin looked at the man's copy of what was presumably the Koran. On closer inspection, Scott/Kevin realized it was actually a bi-lingual edition...one was in Arabic and the other in Tamil. Scott/Kevin, during his time as a low-caste cremation ground attendant in madras, had picked up enough tamil to get himself out of deadly situations and into the beds of rebellious brahmin daughters.

135. betty - 3/22/2002 1:59:40 PM

Kevin reevaluated Ivan. Did he have an interest in Ms. Jones?

Was he going to have to eliminate him?

Was a dude named Ivan doing reading the Koran?

Was it really the Koran?

Why was the plane so dark?

He grinned sheepishly as he removed his shades and put them in his coat pocket.

131. ivan osokin - 3/22/02 6:56:28 PM

Ivan had a headache. Sometimes his life went by so fast and was interrupted by so many other thoughts that when he spoke, he was two minutes behind everyone else. In his films, it didn't matter. He never came two minutes late.

"Damn," he thought..."i'm just gonna stop introducing myself to people."

136. betty - 3/22/2002 2:01:13 PM

He placed his drink on the large armrest and continued looking through the briefcase. He noticed two tabs on the inside bottom edge. He discreetly pulled up on one and found a hidden compartment filled with cash. he quickly slammed down the panel.

Shit, had Ivan seen?

He looked at Ivan and smiled?

"So what is skullfucking?" Ivan asked pointing to the book in the briefcase.

Kevin smiled. Scott would be freaking out. But he was Kevin. All he had to do was dispose of this punk in a discreet manner at 30,000 feet. No problem for Kevin Carroll.
(sorry guys i accidentally deleted some posts)

137. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 2:03:01 PM

"So...skullfucking, eh? Never tried that, though i once saw an aghori in benares do something close to that." Ivan blurted out, realizing that it might be a little too forward. He backpedalled, "i'm kidding...of course."

139. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 2:07:05 PM

Scott/Kevin was hit with a frightening revelation..."Hey!" he stormed at Ivan "That's a Tamil-Arabic Koran! There'd NEVER be such a thing! This book is a fake!"

Ivan retorted, "What's fake? Is any narrative true? or real? We could be part of a narrative ourselves...would we be fake too?"

Scott/Kevin started feeling for his gun...it was quivering with anticipation.

140. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 2:09:42 PM

"After all, the Kuran is only a holy narrative...why not put it into Tamil? Or Malayalam? Or for that matter, English, eh?"

"Alright...quit the canadian mindfuck, okay?" Scott/Kevin saw Ms.Jones from the corner of his eye. She was positioning herself by the bathroom up front, in a way that only he could see. Her fingers were exploring her body and any thoughts of sending this freaky canuck to the yukon beyond quickly disappeared. Ms. Jones winked at him.

141. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:20:54 PM

"Excuse me." He said as he got up and walked into the aisle.

Ms. Jones saw him get up and backed into the lavatory.

He walked up slid in and closed the door behind him.

She was already unbuttoning her shirt when he turned to her. He pulled her shirt open, popping the last two bottons.

"I've never seen a purple mesh bra before."

"Since we're getting personal, you can call me Irva" she said as she reached for his crotch.

143. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 2:32:30 PM

Ivan, meanwhile, was talking to the man in the seat behind him...Gibreel Farishta...who said he was fated to fall out of an airplane someday and become an angel. "At least that's what Salman Rushdie told me", Farishta said.

"Well i hope it isn't this one!" laughed Ivan, who resumed his reading...

"Okay...this word means 'kill' and this one means 'purple' and i think this means 'web'? hmmm...'screen'? let me pull out my dic-

"Attention Passengers. We will be experiencing some slight turbulence up ahead...please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you."

He heard Farishta mumble, "oh shit...i hope this isn't the time. i'm not ready."

144. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 2:33:00 PM

In the cockpit, the pilot was becoming confused. Had someone slipped her a hallucinogenic? Otherwise, it just seemed too hard to believe...too surreal. None of it made any sense.

The voice in her headphones repeated, "Do you understand? They've just found a bunch of bodies down here, and we need you to turn around. You have at least one lunatic on board...maybe several."

She thought of her two children at home and wondered if she might not ever see them again.

146. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:37:44 PM

"I'm an air marshall" Kevin told her as her eyes opened wide in shock at seeing two guns.

Ding.

May I have your attention. Please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts. We have a slight problem.

148. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:40:47 PM

Irva smiled. "Ooh. A lawman. Let's finish this later Marshall Dillon."

He laughed and sauntered towards his seart as Irva glided towards the cockpit to see what was wrong.

149. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 2:41:24 PM

Abruptly the plane dipped and banked sharply...maybe too sharply.

Have to avoid that iron fence this time! the pilot thought.

150. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:44:13 PM

Kevin felt the plane turn. The closer they got to LAX the closer they got to Scott. He hated Scott. He liked being Kevin Carroll.

"Move over fuckface" he said to Ivan as he shouldered his way to the aisle and purposefully strode towards the cockpit.

151. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:46:31 PM

Irva rushed to meet him.

"Why are we turning around?"

"The pilot says there's a kiler aboard. I told her we have an air amrshall aboard. She'd like to see you."

"Lead the way, ma'am."

152. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 2:48:18 PM

He put on his shades. Time to play Kevin carroll full on.

Irva opened the cockpit door. The pilot turned.

"You!" she screamed.

153. betty - 3/22/2002 3:08:52 PM

"Get that Man out of my pit!" She was screaming loud enough to concern the passengers. "Get him out now!"

Irva was in the back of plane, though she should have been strapped in, serving flat soda and flirting with an older gentleman. Ivan stepped forward and with a powerful forearm, took the schizophrenic bumbler down. Ivan looked at Scott, on his back and blacked out, and said like some action hero, "purple mesh is more than you can handle."

154. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 3:12:39 PM

Irva took a look at Kevin/Scott stretched out on the floor and thought about how close she had come to disaster. Her indignation boiling, Irva said "I think we have a way to occupy this feller til the plane sets down -- let me go plug in my wax pot."

155. betty - 3/22/2002 3:16:56 PM

****************

that chapter went wicked fast!!!
We are about 20% done with our novel! Yeah! Let's do the Hokey Pokey!

Chapter 5

156. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 3:48:41 PM

Belinda opened her eyes and tried to focus. A sterile tone followed by "Paging Dr. Vine, Dr. Howard, Dr. Vine" had awakened her.

She'd had the strangest sedative induced dream about piloting a plane. Her insane husband qua secret agent was in it somehow. She tried to reach over with her left hand to scratch her right hand. It was hard to reach with all the I.V. tubes and monitor wires stuck all over her. She lifted up her right arm. All that was there was a bloody stump.

Phantom itch?

She began to remember.

She looked over and saw two dark figures standing at her bedside. One tall and thin, the other short and a little stumpy. Her vision was still a little too blurry to make out their features.

Angels? Demons?

"Hi we're your lawyers."

She began to cry.

157. betty - 3/22/2002 3:53:03 PM

Between her wails, "Where are my children? Where are Tater and Booger?"

158. Indiana Jones - 3/22/2002 4:02:27 PM

Ace patted her stump solicitiously. "Don't worry, Belinda. They're enjoying tonight's production of Cirque du Soleil courtesy of that friendly Ms. Weigel."

159. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 4:27:01 PM

"Don't call me that! You can call me Betty..."

"And Betty when you call, you can call me AL, DOO DOOP DOO DOOP..." sang Ace and niner in unison.

"Oh my God. Why couldn't I just die in peace?"

"Actually Belinda, er Betty. We were wondering the same thing. We could make a much better case if you were dead and your children orphaned, but we're willing to work with what we've got."

Niner cleared his throat. "Here's what we got. That EMT was just banging that little chalupa in the ambulance while you were bleeding out. We got a good case for negligence, intentional infliction of emotional distress, reckless disregard. We got great potential for punitive damages. You're sittin' pretty."

160. ivan osokin - 3/22/2002 4:29:04 PM

"Ms. Weigel?" Belinda struggled to figure out if she knew a 'Ms. Weigel'...her mind was slow to come to an answer. Her eyelids were heavy and her body was starting to feel refreshingly painful.

"Yes...the jogger...do you remember?"

"Jogger?" Her jaw hurt and her head was being held by some type of brace. The ceiling tiles were white and quite toxic. She tried not to think of it, and her mind ran back to think about who was taking her children to "Sack the Holy" or whatever it was...Oh, Ms. Weigel...the name started to take on a face...Teri Weigel? she was in porn...thoughts of her addiction returned. Teri Weigel was super hot...the best film she did was one with that guy named Ivan who had a double-jointed cock...wait...that couldn't be right...her kids would never go to "Sort the Soldier" with someone in their mom's secret porn stash.

"Belinda...you're lucky to be alive. We almost had to augment..."

"you mean, amputate?"

"oh yes...that's right. sorry. it's my first day."

161. zojak quafeth - 3/22/2002 4:36:39 PM

"Now iffin we can get the hospital to make a mistake here or there, we'll be doing ewven better."

"Get out!"

"Calm down, little bonita. You're in good hands. We'll go now, and fill out the forms. Get this little lawsuit going. We wrote our numbers on your left hand while you were out. call if you need anything.

Oh. And don't worry about costs. We already filled out power of attorney forms. We'll just write the checks right out of your check book. See you later my Spanish Harlem Mona Lisa. Now I can go write a novel."

They slithered out the door. Betty turned to the morphine doser to her left. She'd seen one before. She pushed the button repeatedly until alarms started to sound and drifted blissfully into unawareness."

162. betty - 3/22/2002 7:01:01 PM

*******

Belinda was a secretary, not even administrative assistant. The head of the department was Asshole, a queer CIA agent posing as a fundamentalist. The department administrator had shoved two lumps of coal up her ass and pulled out two diamonds that her new boyfriend had made into a lovely set of earrings. She paraded around in them like nobody knew where they came from, but it was hard not to notice the smell.

Her job was becoming exhausting just because the facades were so flimsy and she had to be careful not to knock them over. And she was a klutz, always knocking over glasses and bumping into furniture and stubbing her toe. Her people were hearty, stout, fat people of substance, of the earth. Not Middle Class with superficial culture and superficial bodies.

Not too long ago her boss had decided that it was time to talk about office stuff again. That meant Belinda had fucked something up or somebody had complained that she had fucked something up. Whichever, time to smile and pretend that it was all fine and that it didn’t make her want to cry the way they talked to her. Like she was young and dumb and couldn’t figure out the copying machine. It’s OK she said into her head, I’m leaving anyway.

she didn't bother to close the door behind her as she entered her supervisor's office.

"So how do you feel about things?" Ms Diamond Earrings asked.

"It's taking me a little bit longer to get comfortable than I had expected" she dutifully replied. She was good at feigning concern for her own fate.

163. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 7:47:41 PM

Obviously, her typing speed had declined drastically after the accident and one-handed filing was a mortal bitch. She still had splitting headaches, her car was totaled, and Kevin evidently split the day of the accident -- heard about it on the news and hit the highway, she supposed.

So here she was, disabled with two kids to support in this crappy job, a missing husband and her mortgage near default.

164. bubbaette - 3/22/2002 9:01:26 PM

And now it looked like the crappy job is in jeapordy, too.

Her moronic lawyers from the firm of Urquhart, Vincennes, Spades and Cesear tell her not to worry -- that she could sue under ADA or they could almost guarantee her Social Security Disability and they're gonna find Kevin anydaynow for childsupport and then there was the great lawsuit in the sky against the ambulance company, but so far all they had produced was more bills.

She had hoped to light a fire under the lawyers by speaking to one of the senior partners, Vincennes or Urquhart, but had no success getting them on the phone. And she had so much money sunk into Beavis and Butthead, esquires, that she was afraid to take on any other attorneys.

165. bubbaette - 3/23/2002 6:23:48 AM

Ms. Diamond Earrings said "Belinda, we all want you to succeed, but we also have an operation to run here. During your previous evaluations you have always rated as 'full contributor', but frankly, your work has slipped. We need someone here to answer the phones, but it's gotten so that we can't depend on you with all the time you've missed lately."

Sweet Christ on a cracker, bitch, what do you want? I'm workin one-handed here. You need an abortion from your fling with agent Holier-than-Thou and you take off two weeks and come back with a set of diamond studs. I loose my fucking hand and husband and it's 'Belinda, your sick leave has expired'.

I've been worried about that, Miz Fallow, and I think that if I just put in an extra hour or two each day...

"No, I'm sorry, we need to have this position filled. We've had talks before about your performance but I'm afraid we just haven't seen the kind of improvement we need".

166. bubbaette - 3/23/2002 6:45:46 AM

If I had two hands I'd wring your neck, you scrawny no-lipped, piano-legged, fake-titted harpie from hell.

But Miz Fallow, I know that I can get back up to speed if you just give me a little time. I'm getting fitted for a prosthesis as soon as I can save up the money for a deposit. The kids have been upset since the accident and because they miss their daddy, so I've had to leave early for meetings at school. But I'm sure they're settling down and things will get back to normal...

Ms. Diamonds tapped her folder on the desk and said "No, I'm sorry, we have to let you go."

167. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 4:43:55 AM

Ivan limped into the cockpit and closed the door. The pilot turned and smiled : "So you're the hero who floored that madman!" Ivan started fumbling with his fly. "Er- wait a minute, what about the co-pilot?"

Ivan's turn to smile : "Perhaps he could step outside for a minute? You could put the plane on autopilot."

The co-pilot grinned and stood to leave. "Cap'n Dirty sez : When the opportunity arises, pilot on! You young folks enjoy yourselves."

As he opens the cabin door, Wonk sneaks a last peek : Ivan is pulling something long and shiny out of his pants. "Wait a minute, what's that?"

"You pervert!" snarls Ivan, brandishing a gleaming plastic knife. "Get this up ya!"

168. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 5:05:26 AM

The excruciating pain of the too-hot wax brought Kevin back to awareness. "Just relax honey" said the trembling voice of Diva/Irva, and the silken touch of her fingers began to transform the meaning of that pain.

But the opening of the cabin door interrupted his sensual awakening. From his position, face down on the floor, he could see only the co-pilot's shoes, then Wonk slumped almost on top of him, gurgling and gasping out his life. "Real Irish Republican Army. Take this plane to Dublin!" he heard.

But the lifeless form of the c-pilot prevented Ivan from closing the cabin door, and it was not Kevin but Scott who surged to his feet, ready for anything. With his pants and a corpse around his ankles, he had to take a mighty standing jump to enter the cabin, cracking his head on the bulkhead and nearly blacking out a second time.

When his head cleared, he saw the pilot and Ivan locked together, grunting, moaning, sobbing... yet fully clothed. And spurting blood.

Evidently, she had pulled a knife too and they were locked in a deadly embrace.

Sure looks good, Scott couldn't help thinking. Death : better than sex?

He heard the door click shut. Diva was in the cabin, her bosom heaving.

169. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 5:14:57 AM

Both pilots dead. No problem for secret agent Kevin Carrol.

Pay-off time. Those months as a Microsoft Flight Simulator junkie were worth something after all. In a sense, it had been worse than his heroin period. But a real 747... Scott knew that it was going to be better than heroin. Better than sex.

Passengers screamed and tumbled, carry-ons flew as the plane went into a tight banking turn. Surely too tight? But Scott, his instincts returning as he found the controls exactly as he expected them, knew precisely how far he could push the machine without tearing the engines off. First objective : Nevada.

170. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 5:22:44 AM

A squadron of F-16s surrounded the plane in tight formation. But Scott was not to be intimidated, they could play chicken all they wanted, they wouldn't make him deviate from his plotted course.

Diva manoeuvered herself into position, she seemed to know exactly how to do it without interfering with his piloting. Surely she'd played this game before. "Oh Kevin!" she cried as he eased the powerful machine gently down into the Grand Canyon.

171. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 5:25:48 AM

[Erratum 168. Scott/Kevin. Kevin/Scott. Bah.]

172. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 12:50:35 PM

[I didn't mean to hijack the narrative, I just happened to be doing my accounts while you were all in bed and... well I'd better finish the section.]

173. betty - 3/24/2002 12:56:42 PM

Reality was folding in on itself. she and he and we and nowhere inbetween. Linda and Betty had become Belinda, Scott and Kevin couldn't keep their minds out of each other. Diva was Irva who was of course Irv and heads swum from mystery and confusion and violence. and Pelle was still sitting by a totalled Ford Fiesta. and that is all that an omniscient narrator can know, that Pelle was sitting by that Ford Fiesta and he was chanting in Sanskrit.

who was in that car, were they still in that car, did they die in that car, we don't know, I don't know. there is no all knowing and even if there is, it's not me. it is not the narrator sitting at a computer listening to "Blues Clues" while a two year old with a fat lip twirls around and shakes her butt with a grace unimaginable.

There were no deaths no lost limbs no airplanes or guns or plastic knives plunging into the grossest of human depths. there was nothing but a blank screen staring at 20 people around the globe trying to be clever or funny or honest fighting with the ego of an almost infinte other.

And there was Pelle chanting, with four arms and painted blue, sitting by a Ford Fiesta that was badly rusted.

174. Absensia - 3/24/2002 2:11:46 PM

Upon second look, the badly rusted Ford Fiesta had purple mesh seatcovers. When one came closer to Pelle, a truly frightening thing to do, it was clear Pelle was chanting: "My other car is an Edsel."

175. alistairConnor - 3/24/2002 3:10:11 PM

The F-16s had backed off. No room. The cliffs towered over the plane, a few dozen feet from each wingtip. It's tight, thought Scott, and it feels good.

Far ahead, he saw the sharp bend in the canyon. Perfect timing, he decided, we'll get there when Diva and I are peaking... Splat... a fitting end to an eventful day. He doubted the passengers would agree.

Back in the cabin, the atmosphere was surprisingly subdued. The intercom was open, and Diva's rich, charismatic voice filled the plane with alternating onomatopoeia, speaking in tongues and imitations of farmyard animals. A number of couples, some formed by complete strangers, had succumbed to the charm (had she slipped something into the drinks?)

But Kevin was back in control. Scott, you goddam Gen X no-future dipstick, get a life, he thought, and pulled back hard on the joystick. The intensity of the G forces, coupled with the uncertainty of clearing the canyon rim, lent an astonishing new intensity to their mutual orgasm. Sirens were whooping, danger lights flashing, and a mechanical voice read off the rapidly diminishing altitude. The last thing he heard before blacking out was "Seventeen feet"...

176. Indiana Jones - 3/24/2002 4:41:22 PM

Irv sat back in the purple-upholstered chair that squeaked like bedsprings in a cheap hotel.

"It seems I'm the only one in this room interested in fixing this plane wreck of a marriage," he sighed. "You, Kevin, can't even concentrate on what we're trying to get at, what we're trying to work on, but insist on drifting off into your macho delusions, while Belinda you appear to have developed some kind of transferral sexual fixation on me."

He pushed the talk button on his desk. "We certainly have our work cut out for us." A female voice responded on the other end. "Ms. Weigel, would you mind stepping in here a minute? And bring my special file with you...the one in the leatherbound notebook."

Irv smiled regally across at them, saying nothing for a few seconds while they waited. He noticed that Belinda stared at the rooster figurine he had on his desk.

"So, have you given any thought to my suggestion that the two of you take a trip together, just the two of you? Away from
...ahhh...'Booger' and 'Tater'? Say, what about Bali?"

177. Indiana Jones - 3/24/2002 11:57:00 PM

Ms. Weigel entered the room with Irv's special file. She was a tall brunette with the thickest, curliest black hair Kevin had ever seen. He could just imagine it after a fresh shower, her leaning over him, letting the drops from her body splash on his bare chest, the strands of her hair caressing his face as her hungry mouth sought his.

"Yes, that's the stuff," Irv said and reached for the folder. He put it on the desk between them and let it fall open. "This is something I use only in extreme situations...and I believe we have such a situation here." Irv smiled his idiotic grin that was mostly with his eyes.

Kevin glanced down and noticed the file contained nothing but a dried, leather notebook entitled The Skullfuckers: a Secret Society, by Father Don Jexster.

"Soooooo..." Irv said. "Either of you two fine people ever heard of Alistair Crowley?"

"I went to school with a French exchange student named Alistair something. Connor, I think." Belinda said.

"No," Irv chuckled. "Alistair Crowley, the Satanist. Connor doesn't sound very French to me," he nudged Kevin under the table and winked.

178. bubbaette - 3/25/2002 8:05:04 AM

"No offense, Dr. Irv, but how am I supposed to afford a trip to Bali?" asked Belinda. "I just lost my job and I've got medical bills out the ying yang. Kevin hasn't paid the first dollar in child support since the accident. Besides, it's not like we can put Booger and Tater in a kennel while we go on vacation, though the idea is tempting."

Belinda wondered to herself if all men live in a fantasy world, or just the men she knew.

179. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 8:50:30 AM

Riiiing, Riiing

The sound of the phone snapped Belinda out of her reverie. That psycho psychiatrist she and Kevin had gone to a few years ago had been useless...

Riiing

"ALRIGHT ALREADY!" She reached for the phone...with her stump. She sighed and put down the bottle of Maker's Mark she had bought with the cash she'd traded for her food stamps. Twenty cents on the dollar meant she couldn't buy the fifth anymore. Down to pints. They didn't get her drunk enough.

Riiing!

"hello" she weakly said.

"Hey chicquita! Good news"

Great. Her loser lawyer.

"What is it this time Caesar? I can't afford to pay anymore costs."

"No need my little one handed tamale. We settled with the ambulance company. Seems your hand was worth $120,000."

She sat up. These losers had actually done something???

"You're kidding"

"No. I'm serious you stumpy lil chimichanga. We wired what was left after fees and costs into you account."

"Well... What was left?" She knew it couldn't be good."

"I got the spreadsheet here. 40% to your lawyers. $30,000 for the expert. $12,000 in other costs. That leaves you $30,000. Not bad. I thought we'd do a little better. But they were tough. And that Weigel, she was hot. I'm not sure a jury woulda blamed the poor EMT for porking her instead of saving you."

She sighed.

"Now, we also took a $15,000 retainer for your ADA case against your employer. That's a stron case. By the way. Turn on CNN. Your husband apparently went on a killing spree at an airport and hijacked a plane. He's flying all over the southwest now. When he lands we'll slap him with a subpoena."

She flipped on the T.V.

180. Indiana Jones - 3/25/2002 8:56:59 AM

Irv drummed his hairy knuckles on the desktop. "You know, Belinda, talking to the two of you together is like a Sinead O'Connor-Yoko Ono operatic duo. Know what I'm saying?"

Ms. Weigel paused at the door, her hips swaying from side to side like a slow mambo, though there was no music playing, "Did you need anything else?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Ms. Weigel, could you take Belinda here into the other private room. I want to talk to Kev alone for a minute. Maybe if we separate the two of you we can make some progress."

Ms. Weigel smiled dazzingly at our heroine. "Would you like to come with me, Belinda? And by the way, you can call me Jennifer."

Belinda shrugged. "As usual, it seems I have no choice." The two women walked out of the second door in Irv's office. Kevin noticed that Jennifer had her arm wrapped around his wife.

When the door shut, Irv said, "I think there's something in this here book that'll fix you right up, partner."

Kevin knew what would fix him up: a little two-on-one with him, Belinda, and Jennifer.

181. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 9:02:44 AM

Before she could flip from the Home Shopping Network to CNN, the phone rang again.

"What?"

"I forgot about the subpoena. Since we don't know where he'll land that'll be expensive. I'm gonna withdraw another $5,000 from your account to cover..."

She slammed down the phone.

She went back to flipping channels. Who the hell is that?

click. Click. Welcome to CNN with that real sexy 'ho Paula Zhan. Let's go to hot thing now...

"Good Morning, this is Paula Zhan. Welcome to CNN, Crisis in the Skies."

Belinda heard noise outside her window. She peeked out from behinf the shades. A third van was pulling up. Two others had already raised their satellite antennas. Slimy reporters were talking to her kids.

182. bubbaette - 3/25/2002 9:07:32 AM

"Is your mother home?" the reporter asked Booger.

"You got any money, Mister?" she replied.

The reporter peeled off a $10 bill and handed it to the filthy little crumb snatcher.

"Yeah, mumma's home but she's drunk off her ass, like usual."

183. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 10:08:44 AM

riiing

This time it was the doorbell.

Why did she keep having flashbacks to the session with the psychiatrist.

....wait. Ms. Wiegel. The jogger. They were the same person. Well her lawyer was right, she was damn good in bed.

She heard the door open. Then she heard a herd of footfalls rushing towards her. Too many footsteps to be just Bugger and Tater. She looked at the TV in horror and saw Bugger skipping down HER hallway leading Wolf Blitzer and a pack of other dogs into the living room.

She quickly capped the flask of whiskey and slid it between the seatcushions. Damn no makeup!

184. Indiana Jones - 3/25/2002 11:55:00 AM

Damn good in bed or on a couch.

The two women huddled close to each other out of necessity, sharing a joint--a phallic totem for the penis each lacked.

"Errr...you have one incredible body, Jennifer."

"Well, I'm only helping in this psych office for a little extra money to pay for my mother's medical enormous bills. My real career, my love, is training acrobats."

"Like your acrobatic tongue," Belinda giggled. "I wonder what that jerkoff husband of mine is in there telling Irv." She took a long, deep toke. "Wait a minute...what was that you said about your mother's medical bills?"

"My mom has a terrible incurable disease. She's been flying all over the world in search of something that will save her life....She's been victimized by several quacks, unfortunately. A lot of my income has gone for airplane tickets and bizarre medicines. That's how I originally hooked up with Irv, you know."

Belinda was only half listening. Something Jennifer had said--or maybe it was in combination with the joint--was releasing a long-repressed memory. In her mind's eye she saw a filth-encrusted old man hooked up to a ventilator and heard a voiceover: "Collect call...collect call. Will you accept the charges?"

Now she remembered. That was when her and Kevin's problems had all begun.

185. betty - 3/25/2002 11:56:40 AM

*****************

I'm feeling schizophrenic.

Chapter 6

186. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 12:03:30 PM

...The memory faded into brightness. The brightness coalesced into what seemed a thousand points of lights. Spotlights. Camera spotlights. She came back suddenly to the present and felt a dizziness that could be explained by the drunken stupor.

She had to find Jennifer. She had to explore those memories. Hell, she had to explore that body. For the first time she smiled when she thought about the thick stump where her forearm ended.

She shouldered her way past the reporters and ran down the hallway and out the door, housecoat trailing behind her like a superhero's cape, the ears on her bunny slippers flopping back and forth.

The reporters watched her recede down the street. Puzzled.

Inside the living room Tater fished out the flask, took a swig and pointed at the T.V. "There goes mumma."

187. alistairConnor - 3/25/2002 12:10:54 PM

The scene on the TV changes. Booger yells : "And there goes poppa!"

"... reporting from San Francisco, where the whole city is waiting in apprehension for the rogue 747 which is reported to be heading this way."

The camera picks up the plane, in a steep dive towards the hills of the city. Cut to scenes of panic in the streets, people leaping off cablecars. The plane flattens out over the waterfront, skims across the bay at wavetop height, and passes neatly under the Golden Gate bridge, where rush-hour traffic is at a standstill.

188. Indiana Jones - 3/25/2002 12:30:28 PM

Inside the plane a familiar voice in Kevin's head had revived him and was helping him guide the plane. "Obi Wan...is that you?"

"No, my son, it's me, Pelle."

"Pelle...what the fuck are you doing in there?"

"Remember, Kevin," the voice said, wheezing yet having a James Earl Jones quality that was almost drowned out by the background noise of the massive breathing tubes, "I am your father!"

"My father?"

"Yes, my son. For the last time...will you accept the charges?"

That miserable, damn bitch. That cunt. He remembered it all now. His father on his deathbed, the doctors calling collect from that quack hospital in Stockholm, and bitch-monster from hell Belinda refused to accept the charges. Kevin never had the chance, never had the chance to....

"Noooooooooooo!!!" he screamed with all the despair of his humanity into his pilot's mask.

189. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 1:04:11 PM

The past collided with the present as Belinda rounded a corner at full speed and ran head on into Jennifer Weigel. Grocery bags and bodies flew. Belinda looked up into the crotch of the woman sprawled atop her. Even atthe upeneded angle she recognized her as Jennifer. Desire collided with horror as her memories slammed home.

She was a miserable, damn bitch. A cunt. She remembered it all now. Kevin's father on his deathbed, the doctors calling collect from that quack hospital in Stockholm, and bitch-monster from hell Belinda refused to accept the charges. Kevin never had the chance, never had the chance to....

"Noooooooooooo!!!" she screamed with all the despair of her humanity into Jennifer's crotch.

"Oooh, yes baby." She heard in response.

190. alistairConnor - 3/25/2002 1:04:55 PM

Kevin and Diva puzzled over the Skullfuckers notebook.
Diva was entranced. "Fun stuff! And they sure like exotic places. Kamchatka... that keeps coming up. And Kirghizstan.... How much fuel do we have?" asked Diva, gazing ahead, west into the setting sun.

Kevin made a quick calculation. "Plenty! Take your pick, my dear."

He decided not to tell her that, for all his consummate piloting skill, he had never managed a successful landing with the simulator.

191. zojak quafeth - 3/25/2002 1:23:47 PM

***********

Inside a secure ward at Bethesda Naval Medical Center a priest sat up, his head wrapped in bandaging, a splint on his nose.

"You were very lucky father. The bullet to your head grazed your skull and richoceted. So aside from a one quarter inch deep furow in the side of your skull and a shattered nose you'll be up and about in two, three days tops."

"Luck had a nothing to do with it, my child. And a my companions?"

"Dead. Sorry father."

"I need to get to mya plane immediatamente."

"Father give it a few days"

"NOW. Before I slappa you face."

**********************************

Inside the oval office, the president is seated behind his desk talking to the generals that make up the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The NSA is seated at a couch as well.

"You mean tell me that sum-bitch plinked some of our folks, lassoed an airplane and rode that stallion through the crand canyon and under the Golden Gate Bridge?"

"Yes, Mr. president" replied a general in Air Force blue.

"Damn. We got any video? I'd like ta see that shit. Now, t'ain't no big deal that he sceered affew of dem ho-mos in Golden Gate, but we can't have that shit goin' on. Makes me look ineffec.. ineff.. effeminat..., aw hell. Like I ain't know shit. Let's take er down."

*********************************

192. betty - 3/25/2002 2:50:51 PM

Sitting in the back of the plane, just before the bathrooms, in the aisle seat surrounded by screaming children was Ms. No. She wore dark sunglesses and a black catsuit. The pained expression on her face looked like she had had her share of fun the night before. She was rubbing the side of her head with a right palm "Oh please" she whispered.

Hijacked plane didn't matter, she just wanted those kids to shut up. She took out her bottle of water and swallowed some more pills, just advil this time, but if those kids didn't shut up, if they didn't stop screaming and wailing and acting like it was the end of the goddamn world she was gonna beat them all. Hijacked plane, so what, is everybody a goddamn drama queen.

193. betty - 3/25/2002 4:14:22 PM

Bubba sat next to Ms. No, bouncing her baby, electric with nerves, on her knee. "Shhhh, darlin', it'll be awright." the baby's head was seemingly held on by a string, bobbing about and if Ms. No hadn't been so annoyed with the whole day she probably would have wretched the poor soon to be shaken baby from it's idiot mother. whatever she took a deep breathe atleast it will be quite then.

Bubba was almost in tears "please darlin', please sush, please." Her begging and pleading with a barely cogniscent being was irrational, and this annoyed Ms. No further. Good god, every bitch with a bible and a hole has a kid. This is too much, I gotta go.

Ms. No pulled her elegant body up out of the seat, unfolding the splendour she was frequently happy to share.

194. alistairConnor - 3/25/2002 4:33:21 PM

"Clément! Come back here!"

A two year old poked his head out of a luggage locker and grinned at his mother. Went back to examining the compact video camera he had extracted out of someone's bag, then gaily launched it into the air. It landed, sharpest corner first, on the bald spot of a dozing gentleman, then bounced into the aisle, which was already strewn with an indescribably mish-mash of bric a brac (though to be fair, not all of it was Clément's doing).

With a sigh, Webfeet got up and hauled him out by the feet. He wriggled and twisted and protested, but enjoyed every second of it. She buckled him firmly in, and resolved that, free flight or no free flight, she would definitely take a cruise ship next time.

195. Indiana Jones - 3/25/2002 7:16:03 PM

Irv was stripping down to his purple mesh shorts. "Now that the women folk are gone, Kevin, you and I can talk a little mano y mano."

What the...? Kevin thought. I knew I had this guy pegged. Got news for you, buddy, if I'm making it with anyone it's with your secretary and maybe my wife in the other room.

Irv sat down on his desk, his crotch almost level with Kevin's face, his pimply ass cheeks making gloppy noises on the mahogony. "Tsk, tsk, Kev...it's not what you're thinking, friend. I know the real reason you and your wife aren't communicating. Let me tell you: when you came to old Irv, you came to the best."

He opened the book, lowered his head until his eyes were just two inches from Kevin's and said, "Good man, what you and Belinda need is a little Sexmagick Seance."

196. Indiana Jones - 3/25/2002 8:48:12 PM

Father Don Jexster poured some sickeningly sweet sherry into his wound to sterilize it, enjoying the excruciating pain that resulted, his black Volvo speeding down the expressway like a wingless bat out of hell, weaving among and intimidating the cheap American cars that were so many puny insects to his screaming Swedish nightmare.

The notebook. He had to get the notebook. If it fell into the wrong hands--and likely it had fallen into the hairiest and worst possible hands: Irv!--the universal cosmic fabric was about to start coming apart like loose chads in a Florida canvas.

But surely even Irv wouldn't be foolish and insane enough to invoke the ancient rite of "Sexmagick Seance."

Father Don cocked the sherry bottle so he could feel the bullet wound in his skull with his thumb. One quarter inch deep, eh? That wasn't nothing compared to his initiation into the Skullfuckers.

The next big dose of the sherry went down his throat and into his gullet. Strong, but he needed that...some fortification for the night's work. He tossed the empty bottle out into the darkness and cursed everything holy.

197. alistairConnor - 3/26/2002 9:50:32 AM

At the airport, he quickly learned what he needed to know : his briefcase had not been found, and that nutjob cipher Scott seemed to have hijacked the plane. Of course, Father Don had operatives on board -- the reliable Ivan, for one --but undoubtedly Irv had planted people on the plane too. Impossible to learn who had the upper hand... until he could get within radio range.

His jet's engines were already purring as the car pulled up to the gangway. His crew confirmed, as Jexter had already surmised, that the 747 was heading for northwestern Asia. He had to be there when it landed.

198. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 9:54:44 AM

"Kev, it's time you were let in on a little secret. Or maybe I should say BIG secret," Irv said, nervously swinging his knees together, his white thighs squishing like two shell-less snails with each swing. "You and Belinda are much more important than you'd ever guess."

"What are you talking about?" Kevin said. He cocked one ear toward the other room. Was that a moan he heard? Was that Belinda's voice. No, couldn't be. She never moaned like that.

"Turns out, Kev, from a random confluence of cosmic forces, you and Belinda are the central, universal focus of male and female energy throughout all the galaxies and planes. This leatherbound book explains all of it"--Irv smacked the cover of The Skullfuckers irreverently--"but I'm giving you the Cliff Notes version. So when the two of you are out of whack, everything gets out of whack."

Irv pointed to a diagram, an ancient sketch. "See...this is the D'ar A'l Cock, or House of the Rooster. And here is the D'ar A'l Poule Poussae, or House of the Hen. Right now because of you and Belinda's trouble we have the house of...hell...the scrambled eggs."

That was Belinda. And that other voice must be...Jennifer!

"Anyhoo, as you might have noticed, if we don't get the situation straightened out pretty soon, the entire tomato is going to be rent beyond repair. Time, space, all of it is just going to quit functioning and be one big glop as incoherent as the out-basket on an Enron shredding machine."

Kevin jumped up and ran to the door through which his wife and Jennifer had exited. He pulled hard, but it was locked. Was that a joint he smelled?

199. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 10:31:49 AM

Flight one zero niner, this is Bird of Prey, do you copy

Kevin was immediately snapped out of his reverie by the voice crackling through his headset. He also knew how important that little book was now.

Flight one zero niner, this is the U.S. Airforce. You are being targeted for destruction if you don't turn this bird around and land immediately, you will be destroyed.

**********************
Atthe White House a telephone rings, temporarily distracting the president from his favorite Dukes of Hazard.

"Yello"

It was a call from an undisclosed location. You ordered the plane shot down? Don't be stupid. We need the bok intact you moron. Call of the dogs.

"But, I need to shoot sumpin."

We'll get Iraq in a month. Call off the hit.

"Sheeat. OK."

********************************
Flight one zero niner. This isyour last warning.

Kevin's hands titghtened on the controls. He Looked to the left and saw two war planes. Helooked to the right and saw another. "Father, please help me. I accept the charges."

The planes peeled off.

200. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 10:36:01 AM

A few thousand miles to the east, a black gulfsrtream took off from Reagan National and sped west towards Kamchatka.

*******************

Belinda was back in her own bed, in her own house. Tangled in the sheets with a dozing Jennifer. Slowly, pieces of her memories were clicking into place. Shewas too high, too sated, and too tired to really think about it.

201. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 11:06:19 AM

"It's locked, of course, Kev," Irv sighed. "It's one thing for your other emanation to be stuck in fantasies of piercing feminine landmarks with your jumbo jet penis, but buddy I need you to stay on task with me. Do you realize now, why Judith had to die?"

Judith. Who the hell is or was Judith?

"It was only a stopgap measure, of course, to rebalance the cosmos after the death of your own masculinity as embodied in your father and your inability to overrule your wife's decision not to take his final phone call. So the omnisicient feminine narrator--or Gaia, if you prefer--had to die, too." Irv's eyes brightened again. "Now, however, through our Sexmagick Seance we will restore both Pelle and Judith to life."

Mad. The man was mad.

Irv's finger trailed down the book. "We have you, Jennifer, and Belinda. In her comatose state, Belinda won't be a problem. Now let's see how our other 'ingredients' for the seance are doing." He pressed the button on his intercom, "Mr. Pride, can you bring yourself and our studly EMT in here?"

Country music singer Charlie Pride entered the office, pushing a handcuffed Frank before him.

"Howdy," Charlie said to Kev.

"Charlie Pride? What's Charlie Pride got to do with this?"

"Well, my usual role is token black," Charlie said.

"Nonsense, Chuck," Irv said, slithering off the desk and putting his flabby, hairy arm around Charlie's shoulder. "The ancient ritual requires music, and I just immediately thought of you. You look like you take pretty well to roughing folks up, too, Chuck. I'll have to ask Frank later how you did. No time for chitchat now, though. We have to reach our destination...Sexmagick Seances can't be held just anywhere."

202. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 11:27:46 AM

Remembering the perversion of the "sexmagick seance" almost made him puke. And it firmed his resolve to reach Kamchatka and stop the madness. He leveled the plane off at 30,000 feet, made sure the cockpit door was locked, turned to Irva and smiled.

203. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 11:37:07 AM

Ms. No looked out the window. The plane had leveled off and was flying smoothly. She walked to a secluded location in the back of the plane and opened her little black bag. She removed a rectangular device and flipped the switch. She gave the GPS 45 seconds to lock on, looked at their location and trajectory. She smiled. She reached in and pulled out her satellite phone and dialed a number. "Hello father. Are you well?" Pause. "The fool is flying towards the Kamchatka Peninsula. To the place where the sacrifice need occur. The Kamchatka volcanoes." Pause. "Yes father. I will watch and wait."

As the black jet sped towards Kamchatka the priest smiled and closed his eyes. He would need rest for what was to come.

204. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 11:38:39 AM

Belinda was dreaming she was the only person at a David Bowie concert, and Ziggy Stardust was singing straight to her: Sometimes I feel like / (Oh the whole human race) / Jazzin' for Blue Jean / (Oh, and when my Blue Jean's blue) /Blue Jean can send me....

She was snapped awake by the feeling of tight pressure around her abdomen. She opened her eyes and saw that Jennifer was straddling her, but using her powerful gymnast thighs like an anaconda to squeeze her very life's breath away.

"It's all because of you, Belinda," Jennifer hissed through vicious spittle. "If you just would have accepted the charges, my mother might still be alive."

Belinda could barely moan, "Your...mother?"

"Yes. She might have lived long enough for me to find that cure. There was a rumor about a plant that grew only in Kamchatka. But she had to be sacrificed because of you."

"You...gasp...mean your...choke...mother was...wheeze...?"

"Yes. My mother was Judith!"

It was no use. Belinda couldn't scream loud enough to signal the men in the other room and she couldn't break Jennifer's muscular squeeze. The groans she was making sounded like more sexual moaning. Just when Belinda had given up all hope she noticed two shadowy figures appear at the window outdoors, one figure much taller than the other. Both men had briefcases.

205. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 11:55:39 AM

Belinda woke with a jerk. She felt nauseous. Her head spun and she realized she was sitting up. She couldn't move her arms or legs. She heard the low steady roar of an airplane engine. Her vision cleared and she noticed that she was seated (and tied)in an airplane seat.

"Sorry hon." She squinted at Jennifer. "This won't hurt a bit. You'll wake up when we get there." She inserted a syringe into Belinda's forearm.

"...what? Wait. Where are my kids?"

Jennifer flashed a winning smile. "They're sleeping comfortably behind you. Just relax and take a nap -- bitch." The world faded.

206. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 12:02:41 PM

Three planes, two of them sleek black jets, one a Delta 757 triangulated in on the Kamchatka Peninsula. The 757 would get there first. By over an hour. Unaware of the other two planes racing to catch him, Kevin moved Irva's purple mesh bra and panties from the control panel and smiled. Now this was real secret agent work. He recalculated fuel. They'd make it. But just barely. The voice in his head guiding him, he knew just where to go.

207. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 12:39:16 PM

Wham! Ace's briefcase smashed threw the window while Niner shielded his eyes and cringed.

"Get off our client, slut!" the taller man roared then, tossing the briefcase aside, leapt through the window with all the athletic prowess high school football lends a man in later life. Jennifer knew she was easily his match, but doing battle with him would require releasing the not-yet-dead Belinda. She stood up on the sofa, her long, bare legs truly a sight to behold. She was still totally nude.

"So you wanna play, hunh?" the brunette scowled, her 36-Cs heaving luciously.

The other door swung open, and Irv led the rest of his entourage in. "We have no time for this." He looked at Charlie Pride. "Chuck, take 'em...down!"

208. rubberducky - 3/26/2002 12:51:26 PM

Scott was dazed and confused. He was tied down while the plane was in flames and spiraling towards a fast approaching mountain!

Looking over, he saw Ms. No standing by the exit, book in hand, putting on her parachute.

Muah-ah-hahahaahhaahahahah! she cackled.

"Do you expect me to talk? You've got nothing!" Scott shouted over the rush of the air from the now open door.

"No, Mr. Scott, I expect you to die!" Ms No yelled as she jumped out of the airplane howling with laughter!

She screamed at Scott to die as the plane crashed into the mountain in an explosion so violent that it seemed to knock a filling loose.

Bwah-hahahahahaha

She looked around... oops! Did she laugh out loud? The other passengers on the plane finally turned away and went back to their activities.

"Soon, Scott, soon!" Ms No thought. "I'll have my revenge on you for Vegas all those years ago."

209. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 1:22:17 PM

Belinda awoke from her daze briefly. Jennifer was bent over her, but she was looking away. She started crying. It was just a drug induced dream. Her idiotic lawyers hadn't burst in to save her.

Between sobs, she heard "Chiquita, Ace said Get off her. She's our client. Our money."

Jennifer's eyes widened in horror as a briefcase came smashing down on her head rendering her unconscious.

"This is some nice shit, man. Look at the bar."

"Forget the booze Niner, we need to get this thing back to the right jurisdiction. We have depositions tomorrow."

"Let's go find the pilots, then amigo."

210. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 1:27:27 PM

Ace and Niner ran to the door, stationing themselves on each side. Niner reached into hiscoat pocket. "You break down the door, Ace, I'll make them turn this thing around."

"You have a piece?"

No. Better. A subpoena."

Ace kicked at the with his black Nikes.

Nothing.

He kicked again. And again. After 12 minutes, Ace finally tried to turn the knob. The door swung open. There were no pilots. The plane was flying on remote.

"Ay caramba. I guess we going for a ride homey."

211. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 1:46:56 PM

Irv pulled his coat over his purple mesh shirt. In wind blew cold in Kamchatka at this time ofyear. He hadn't heard from Irva in a while, but he could feel both Kevin and Belinda approaching. He could also sense that irva had Kevin in hand. Literally.

He could also sense the presence of the priest. An evil presence streaking towards him on the wings of the wind.

He shivered.

Soon. The fate of the world was balanced the shoulders of a completely dysfunctional couple.

It wasn't gonna be pretty.

212. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 4:51:16 PM

Charlie was mesmerized by the nude figure of Jennifer, whose bare skin had developed a healthy glow and a slight sheen of perspiration from all the activity. "Golly!" he said.

"Damn but you have to do everything yourself," Irv grumbled. Luckily, he'd learned a few moves from his part-time secretary. A quick series of handsprings transported him in short order across the room where his gym-shoe-clad foot found its target: Ace's groin, causing the ambulance chaser to double over in agony and wretching. Then Irv leaped and tightened his fingers around the light fixture, which he swung effortlessly from and landed with one thigh on each side of Niner's head. A quick cupped hand slap to each of the lawyer's ears at the same time stunned Niner into unconsciousness.

Having easily dispatched his foes, Irv tossed a short robe to Jennifer. "Put that on, hon'. It's cold where we're going, and you'll be needing it....Just one thing..." His eyes suddenly lost their smile, "Don't ever cross me again, you fool. We need Belinda alive."

Charlie leaned over to Kevin. "Heh-heh-heh. You know what I always say."

"Hunh? What's that?"

"You've got to kiss an angel good morning, but love her like the devil when you get back home."

"Alright everybody," Irv barked. "Out to our transportation. And Chuck, save it for the ceremony."

213. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 4:56:50 PM

Chapter 7: Kamchatka

214. zojak quafeth - 3/26/2002 6:13:46 PM

Kevin looked down into the valley of volcanoes. Twenty eight active volcanoes dotted the peninsula. Looking down he saw what looked like an abandoned military strip. The peninsula housed several military installations, relics of the Cold War due to its proximity to Alaska.

Kevin was nervous. He'd never landed a plane before. Irva calmly walked through the cabin instructing the passengers to assume crash positions. She strapped in. The 757 touched down hard and stomachs leapt. The 757 bounced up again. Screams echoed throughout the cabin. The landing gear failed and the 757 slid on it's belly along the runway.

The cabin was flled with the loud screech of fingernails along a chalkboard and the plane skidded along the strip slowing to a stop. Light smoke and heavy silence filled the cabin.

He had done it. He was in Kamchatka. Unbeknowest to him, several others were racing to the same location, his wife, a demented priest he thought he had killed, two skeezy lawyers and himself in Indy's alternate narrative. What would happen when (and if) they all met was anybody's guess.

215. Indiana Jones - 3/26/2002 8:47:25 PM

"The Old Man" had seen through his binoculars that he was going to have visitors...several of them. They would be needing a guide, he reckoned. And he was the best. Though his real love was linguistics, he knew more about Kamchatka than your average Risk player.

Pseudoerasmus would head to the landing strip to offer his services. But first he made sure his pistol was fully loaded.

Just in case.

216. betty - 3/27/2002 9:15:07 PM

Judith was curled up in her bed, hugging a pillow and letting a stream run between her and Pelle. She was sad watching undeveloped characters and pointless plot. Only half way through and they had spent their load. Judith would be called on to clean up the mess.

they had dismissed her narrative, paraded her carcass about town in a black hearse and buried her in guns and deaths and action beyond their ability to control.

Well fine, then they will sit in it!

217. Indiana Jones - 3/28/2002 1:45:06 PM

Once on the ground, Irv instructed Charlie to take care of the "superfluous" passengers, then meet the rest of the pack where a secret stash of fine horses (especially bred for cold climates and mountain climbing) was waiting. Irv knew he didn't have much time before Father Don's ebony jet would make its own landing on the air strip. The Father's powers were great, and even though Irv had the Book, he preferred not to confront the dark master just yet.

"Alright, Irv, I've landed the damn plane, and I've cooperated so far," Kevin scowled, "But before this goes any further, how about filling in some of the missing pieces? Where is it we're heading?"

"You'd best tend to your wife, buddy," Irv replied, glancing toward where the now-cooperative Frank was hosting Belinda's barely conscious form onto a saddle-less black stallion. On the way up she clung to the erstwhile EMT's magnificient build like ivy to a university's clock tower.

"Hunh?" Kevin looked over at Belinda, and felt the reawakened hatred he held for her surge. "Yeah, right....Anyways--" He put his hand on Irv's shoulder in a restraining motion, "I want to know where we're going. Into those mountains?"

"Not just any mountain," Irv answered, then pointed with one of his long, hairy fingers. "See that tall volcanic peak? In the ancient tongue of the Skullfuckers it was known as the Mote. According to Skullfucker belief, it's the navel of the world. In any case, it's a volcano that combines the feminine and masculine energies we need to restore the sundering the two of you have created. The rugged crest jutting proudly toward heaven channels the male...the hot, sulfurous pit below channels the female."

218. Indiana Jones - 3/28/2002 1:46:16 PM

Kevin nodded as eagerness crept into his voice. "So...are we going to have to sacrifice Belinda in the volcano? I'm telling you now that she may be frigid, but she's not a virgin."

Irv chuckled. "No, but by all rights given the trouble you two have caused we ought to require the blood of both Booger and Tater in the ceremony. Actually--"

His explanation was interrupted by the arrival of a ruggedly handsome outdoorsman, his face gaunt and wind-burned by many years in this climate. "So you're going to the Mote, eh? I thought you folks would be needing a guide. Sounds more like you'll be needing a priest or shaman."

"Who are you?" Irv asked, his voice especially wary because of the priest reference.

"Pseudoerasmus," the newcomer said. "And if you're going to stand a chance of reaching the Mote, you'd best be a-hirin' me."

"Is that so?" Kevin was sure he didn't like this braggart.

"Yep...either that or give me the brunette in trade." Pseudo had already noticed Jennifer and the way the cold had caused her nipples to swell to the size of large grapes under her flimsy top.

219. rubberducky - 3/28/2002 2:07:01 PM

a loud, horrible sounding WHACK! echoed through the mountains...

"What'd I tell you about leaving me with the damn jeep while you meet new people?" asked a weekend warrior dressed woman in mock combat gear sold only at the poshest online stores.

"Anyway, my name, as far as you need to know, is Montespan." She stuck out her dirty hand before seeing how dirty it was. Wiping it on her camo pants, she said "Sorry about that, we had a flat and Mr PE here just watched me change it. But, just call me Monte. I just love it and all the vict .. er, visitors to the Mote do."

"Sorry dear," was all Pseudoerasmus could muster. He ran his finger over the stock of his pistol. Oh, how he could taste the joy of one day using it.

220. bubbaette - 3/28/2002 2:36:42 PM

Tater, awoken by the rough landing, had stayed quiet, feigning sleep while listening to the adults. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like the sound of the purple-clad Irv. He'd seen his daddy before in this state and knew it was best to stay clear of him. Mumma was still asleep, and he remembered having been administered a syringe by Jennifer. Though he'd been drawn to Jennifer before the flight, he hated shots with a passion and the desire for revenge burned hot in his grimy little heart.

When the adults had left the plane, he nudged his sister, Booger and whispered a plan into her ear. Momentarily forgotten by the adults Booger and Tater gathered some supplies, crept off the plane and quickly disappeared into the surrounding countryside.

221. zojak quafeth - 3/28/2002 4:59:12 PM

The two lawyers watched the children go from behind the wet bar.

They snuck ut after everyone was gone. They exited the plane and took in the breathtaking scenery. A content smile beamed on Ace's face.

"Yeah. It's mucho bonita here aqui."

"Not the mountains. Look a plane wreck" said Ace pointing to the smoldering 757.

"Hot damn!" They both sprinted towards the plane. Just in time to see Ms. No emerging from the wreckage.

222. bubbaette - 3/28/2002 9:21:30 PM

Booger and Tater put some distance between themselves and the plane and then hunkered down well out of sight. Booger unzipped her backpack and pulled out two guns. "Whatta we gonna do now?" asked Tater. Booger whispered "Unca Jex said to hide out and wait til he gets here."

223. betty - 3/29/2002 2:13:23 PM

Ms. No was singing as she extracted herself from the situation:

Makin out all night in hollywood
you know i'd do 'em all if i could

224. betty - 3/29/2002 3:00:38 PM

Her suit got snagged on a jagged piece of wreck, it was taking her too long to get untangled so she unzipped her body to reveal...

225. PelleNilsson - 3/31/2002 3:10:26 PM

Ensconced in the nether regions of the vast dungeon that connects the government buildings in Westminster colonel Archibald “Pincher” Smythe-Ffaulkes reveived a flimsy from Betty, the new secretary with the shapely legs recently promoted from the typing pool who could, possibly, turn into a smasher if she got herself a pair of contact lenses and let her hair down from the severe bun into which it was currently collected. For a moment Pincher allowed his feeble mind, groomed to near oblivion at Eton and Sandhurst, dwell on that possibility before turning to the matter at hand.

“Looks like something is up in Kamchatka”, he said to his affable, if sometimes insolent assistant, sergeant Andrew “Wombat” Caulkins, “know anything about it”?

“Yes, Sir. Our deep-cover agent-in-place, pseudoerasmus, reported the arrival of several Americans in sleek ebony-black aircraft. But with all due respect, Sir, PE as we call him in the non-com officers’ canteen doesn’t know anything about Americans despite having lived over there for several years. But he’s good at Russians, bears and Siberian aborigines.”

“And that’s why we keep him there”, Pincher said. “One needs to keep up with those aborigines, what, what? So what does the non-com canteen think should be done?”

226. PelleNilsson - 3/31/2002 3:12:35 PM

“We have to send in IndianaJones, Sir.

“IndianaJones? Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you remember the last time we felt we had to ‘send in IndianaJones’? When he invoked the curse of the mummy to have his perfidious ways with the reincarnated Ava Gardner? The havoc it caused us all? The endless paperwork war we had to fight with that Wog Department of Antiquities? Why, even Maggie had be called upon to make soothing noises at that obnoxious fellow, what’s his name.”

“Mubarak, Sir”

“Yes, Mubarak. How clever of you Caulkins. But then you fancy yourself as a clever chap don’t you? Fancy yourself as running the show around here with your fellow under-class chums in the non-com canteen, don’t you Caulkins? Well, I suppose I have to bring the matter to K who no doubt will take it up with T at dinner at Ramblers. And T will feel obliged to consult H over lunch at Saddlers. With any luck the whole thing will have blown over by then. But I tell you this Caulkins. If I ever again, by the machinations of the non-com canteen, find myself in the position as IndianaJones’s case officer I will make your life more miserable than you ever thought it could be. Have I made myself clear, sergeant?

“Yes, Sir. Very clear, indeed, Sir.” But Wombat, when turning away, didn’t quite manage to hide an insolent smile with a hint of expectation of things to come.

228. betty - 4/2/2002 9:01:46 PM

*****************

Chapter 8

229. betty - 4/2/2002 9:12:34 PM

She had been washing dishes for days, engrossed in a daydream that offered neither relief nor comfort from the constant war in her house. Belinda was tired, and you could see it in the way her feet barely left the floor as she stepped forward into the mundane. Her yawn was a cavern of weary motherhood and the glaze in her eyes was the lonely wife. she didn't know how she got through every day over and over again, but hse did it because that's what she did and that's all she did.

She had dreams of being a rock star, of being an artist, of being a writer, or of being the lover of a rock star or an artist or a writer. She didn't think she'd be washing dishes and flushing diapers. And in that moment when she allowed her ego to slip forward and dance with her reality she was sure that she had cancer.

It was a passive agresive suicide fantasy...she could die a slow horrible death, the kind she deserved, and her children would be guilt free, people would talk about her courage fighting that awful disease and fok singers would play concerts to help defray her medical costs. she'd be thrust into celebrity, fulfilling that fantasy and she could die at the same time...It sounded like a good deal to her.

230. betty - 4/3/2002 2:34:28 PM

Belinda rinsed her hands off under the cool faucet and splashed her face. Her eyelids struggled to be open in the face of overwhelming black. she patted her face with a towel, the way her mother had taught her. Belinda was striking, even beautiful, but it wasn't really her, it was her mother. Diets at 10 and 13 and 16, at every moment in between. Nineteen was her next regularly scheduled diet, but she didn't need it, she had started drinking. Beer at first, but she noticed the tug on her zipper and fell for vodka.

231. zojak quafeth - 4/3/2002 3:19:11 PM

She's finally had enough of the psychotic delusions. First she's sitting in front of a computer. Then she's in a car accident and loses a limb. Next thing she knows she's in Kamchatka. Now she's woken up doing the dishes. Despite a few humorous moments, she decided that her life just sucked. And it made less sense than Jexster.

She emptied an entire bottle of valium, all her prozac, and some Drano into a blender. She topped it off with a pint of vodka and some orange juice.

She pushed the button to grind the pills into tiny bits. She tasted it and cringed. She tossed in 2 scoops of orange sherbert and blended it some more.

She poured the Sherbert death shake into a tall malt glass, slid a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon CD into the player and sat back on her bed. She slurped down the shake and cleaned the inside of the glass with her finger. All gone.

She slid into oblivion and died.

THE END

232. Erinys - 4/4/2002 1:20:02 AM

Then she looked over her life and was pleased with what she saw....happy, happy....sad, sad, it was life.

233. Indiana Jones - 4/4/2002 11:29:04 AM

Her real concern as she felt the great beast of a horse laboring between her thighs was what kind of wife and mother was she? For that matter, what kind of person was she?

Earlier she had fantasized about drowning her children, and then later one of them had beaten her with her own dismembered hand. Or had that really happened? Now she had no idea where her children were while she was on some expedition to a volcano in a place thousands of miles from home.

And when she looked around at those traveling with her she realized she had had sex with most of the adults in the party, despite the fact that she had met them within the last week. Or maybe it was months ago. She just couldn't remember.

She was certain, though, that it was more recently than she'd made love to her own husband.

Why did everyone hate her so much? Because it was all her fault, she guessed. Both her heterosexual lover and her homosexual lover had at least fantasized about killing her because she was in someway related to their respective parents' death.

Was she really that much of a bitch?

Irv seemed to have explained some of what was going on to Kevin, but no one had told her a damn thing. It was too hard to figure it all out, so instead she wondered why the one person in this group she really want to jump the bones of--Frank--hadn't yet succumbed to her charms. For that matter, Pseudorasmus wasn't too bad, either, if pussy-whipped.

234. Indiana Jones - 4/4/2002 4:06:19 PM

"Here is the entrance," Pseudo yelled above the suddenly rising wind, when they reached a cave that ran into the mountainside. "This is the only known way into the Mote. Many have entered, but only three men are known to have returned to tell the tale. None of them made it all the way to the Mote's core."

He climbed down from the horse. "We can't ride these in. Despite their training and breeding, they'd go crazy as soon as they smelled the fetid air of the Mote. We'd lose all our gear and perhaps be thrown and trampled. We'll have to go on foot."

He walked to the cave mouth and moved his hands along the strange markings all over its edge with a look on his face of a long ago memory. "As I was saying, only three men went into this cave and came back out. One of them is in an insane asylum, and you're looking at one of the other two."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "And the third...?"

Pseudo cleared his throat and spat, seemingly in disgust. "We won't talk about him."

235. Indiana Jones - 4/5/2002 10:23:33 AM

"Excellent, then," Irv said. "It appears we have chosen our guide wisely. And all those unfortunate souls you mention who came before operated under a distinct disadvantage to our little band."

"What would that be?"

"They didn't have this!" Irv let Pseudo have just a glimpse of the Skullfuckers' tome.

Even the laconic face of Pseudo couldn't help but betray interest, one eyebrow raising almost as much as that of a well-known professional wrestler. "Is that what I think it is?"

Before Irv could answer, they heard a scream. "Jennifer!" Kevin yelled in recognition.

All the males in the party except for Irv--even Charlie Pride--with one accord rushed to the brunette, who seemed to be struggling with some vicious, gnome-like dweller of the deep. Despite her years of athletic training, a surprise attack by the creature from behind had allowed it to implant its fangs firmly in her neck before she could react.

Kevin was the first to her side and boldly smashed the creature with a nearby rock. Stunned, it let its pitbull-like grip go and fell to the cave floor.

The rest of the men were looking for something to finish bashing the monster's life out when Belinda ran forward. "Wait, that's Tater."

236. Indiana Jones - 4/5/2002 10:23:52 AM

Irv scowled. "Chuck, I thought you took care of all the passengers."

Kevin picked up his son's crumpled form in horror, but found that the boy was at least still breathing. How had Tater become so transformed? Was this the infant that he had watched come into the world as a fresh new human being? The one he had such hopes for? He remembered how cutting Tater's umbilical cord was a transforming moment of his own life. Or so he thought at the time. Now he could barely recognize the brutish animal rasping in his arms.

Irv interrupted Kevin's musings. "Give the brat to his mother to look after. We have no time for this delay. We must enter the Hall of the Fallen."

Back at the landing strip, Father Don's plane touched down.

237. betty - 4/7/2002 11:14:14 AM

Ms. No the mercenery, crouched behind the wreckage of her ride here, was armed with a few guns, a bullwhip and purple mesh undergarments. Irv told her this would be an easy defeat...men of the cloth and all that. She smiled as the bubbling father exitted the professionaly piloted plane...cakewalk!

238. Indiana Jones - 4/8/2002 10:39:41 PM

It would be a cakewalk because Ms. No was in fact in the employ of Father Don Jexster. As a mercenary, she had sold out to the highest bidder. Additionally, there was the little matter of wanting sweet revenge on Kevin for their past history.

Father Don seemed to glide effortlessly across the landscape, as though his feet never came in contact with the rough terrain. "Ahh, Ms. No. My pleasure, especially seeing as how much of your lucious shape is revealed because of the damage done to your garments by the crash and extracting yourself from the wreckage. If not for my...ah... proclivities and of course my vows I would be feeling such temptation now." His syrupy voice became only a small note harsher. "Did you manage to procure my stolen merchandise for me?"

Ms. No lost a little of her icy composure. "Too many unforeseen variables I'm afraid. The ruptures in the space-time continuum are getting worse...so bad that planning and executing a plan is like programming a computer while on acid."

"I see." The bullet wound in Father Don's skull throbbed and bubbled. "That is most unfortunate. I would have thought one with your reputation--"

Ms. No took a step back as Father Don glided ever closer. "Wait! I know where they went."

"Oh, but I already am quite sure of where they're going." The priest moved closer still. "And so I have little time to dally with you. Tell me: how stands your soul with God, my child?"

239. betty - 4/9/2002 8:32:03 PM

"Better than yours, I'm sure," she planted the ball of her foot into the bullet hole. A flexibilty that should have made her an amazing lover if she hadn't taken a vow of celibacy for her own benefit. Emotional and physical entanglements slowed her down. Resistance was futile, but for half a second it was a lot of fun before the bullet kicked into the side of her head and her lithe body pounded into the ground.

240. betty - 4/10/2002 3:26:20 PM

One of Father Jexster's proclivities had reached out with God's hand and a speeding projectile to end the shepardless lamb's life. It was violent and ugly like dark roots growing under platinum hair. Ms. No could only lay there, gravity pushing her agnostic body deeper and deeper into the sturdy earth. But no one stopped to observe the finality of death or to pontificate on the meaning of life, the good Father stepped on her suddenly frail body and snapped bones with his sweaty obesity.

241. Indiana Jones - 4/10/2002 9:24:54 PM

Far away a telephone rang. "Collect call, for 'Indiana' Jones. Will you accept the charges?"

A somewhat slurred but otherwise nonchalant voice answered on the other end: "Of course. I always accept the charges. That you, Wombat, you old pirate?"

"Yes, it's me, Jones. No time to talk really--and not just on account I want to save your pennies. How fast can you board a plane for Kamchatka?"

"You're forgetting, Wombat, that I'm not in the adventuring game anymore." Wombat thought he heard female giggling on the line. "Tenured professor is a much more sensible avocation for a man my age, you know. Don't know why I ever left the cozy confines of my university campus and classroom to go chasing around the world after lost archaelogical treasures." More giggling.

"What if I told you that your old rival Pseudorasmus was involved?"

Jones stood up, and Yamila, his Argentine graduate assistant slid off his lap, bouncing her tight bottom roughly on the hardwood floor of the professor's manse. "Dios mio!" she exclaimed.

"Pseudoerasmus? When you mentioned Kamchatka I should have known. The last time I saw that yellow-bellied scoundrel was at--"

"Yes, your ill-fated Mote expedition. Well, he's guiding another party there now. And we think they have the book with them."

More of Jones's salt-and-pepper hair seemed to turn gray as he set his brandy snifter down on the carved mahogany end table and patted Yamilia's sulking head. "Tell me, Wombat. This party he's leading...would it happen to have either a fellow named Irv or a Catholic priest among its members?"

242. Indiana Jones - 4/10/2002 9:25:06 PM

"As a matter of fact it did, Jones. I think both of them are in the vicinity. What do you make of that?"

Jones laughed and drained his brandy. "If that's the case, we're too late. If they have the book and they're already in Kamchatka, there's nothing we can do. It's all over."

"What do you mean it's 'all over'?"

"Just that, Wombat, old friend. Dunno about you, but I always knew what I would do in such a situation."

"Eh?"

Jones's voice suddenly seemed distant. "Yamilia, angel, where were we?"

The line went dead.

243. Indiana Jones - 4/11/2002 12:50:23 PM

Down in the cavern, Kevin was wondering just how much he should trust Irv. Maybe the mesh man's callous attitude toward his son had set him off, but he no longer was sure who the bad guys were and who good guys were in this story. Most of all, he wasn't sure which he was, either.

Belinda was taking care of Tater. The kid would be okay--just knocked the wind out and stunned him.

But where was Booger?

"The Hall of the Fallen," Pseudorasmus announced grimly. "This is where the remains of many who entered the Mote but failed in their quest lie: Ms Greer, Fielding, Spudboy, Angel-5, and of course my former lover Candide...to name but a few."

A most foul stench pervaded the air. "And there is one other denizen here that you should all be aware of. Neither dead or alive, but somewhere in between." Pseudo's last sentence echoed in the dripping cavern above the constant low rumble of the volcano itself.

"What's that?" Jennifer asked.

"It's supposedly bad luck to even speak the name," Pseudo said. "But then I've never been a superstitious man. You must all keep a look out for the creature known as--at least in one of its incarnations--Rosetta Stone."

244. judithathome - 4/11/2002 12:55:04 PM

A sudden chill enveloped the cavern, as though the very utterance of that dreaded name had frozen time and tide.

245. bubbaette - 4/11/2002 1:13:35 PM

The gollum-like wraith, covered in slime, oozed from beneath a rock, hissing.

246. betty - 4/11/2002 1:31:05 PM

Belinda looked to Erasmus, words running back into her gut, so terrified of this creeping beast. He took a moment to respond to her terror, "Just ignore him. He will go away."

247. judithathome - 4/11/2002 3:07:40 PM

But that is what they always used to claim at the Mote, Belinda thought, and just look at the mayhem he caused there!

248. bubbaette - 4/11/2002 3:25:52 PM

Tater started yelling and pointed at the oozing wretch while tugging on Belinda's sleeve. "Kill it Mumma! Kill it quick before it multiplies!"

Kevin picked up a large rock and bashed the hissing creature in the head. It immediately decomposed leaving only a ghastly stench.

249. betty - 4/11/2002 3:41:11 PM

"You troglodyte!" Erasmus screamed. "Do you even know what you have done?"

250. theDiva - 4/11/2002 3:45:08 PM

"You...are an IDIOT," he muttered through clenched teeth.

251. betty - 4/11/2002 3:58:12 PM

Kevin shifted his eyes and his weight, even with a rock he could not beat the bleeps on a screen that the psuedo philosopher occupied.

"There ae people following us. I know, or knew, how to handle that creature, but the people following us, the people who will eat your common little dick for an appetizer before they move onto your wife's inner vessel didn't. And now..." the fragrence was growing stronger and there were bubbles on the floor where a rock had attempted something brutal, "now, he will be after us. A rock. you shit flinging monkey."

Nobody said anything it that moist vault.

"Grab your kid," Erasmus demanded "and make sure that vile little twerp doesn't slow you down or else Rosetta Stone will be eating French Fries for dinner."

253. PelleNilsson - 4/11/2002 4:05:04 PM

Colonel “Pincher” Smythe-Ffaulkes returned from the meeting with the Permanent Undersecretary a flush on his pallid, unhealthy cheeks. “Well”, he said, “ operation Return of the Undead is on and you, sergeant, will be in charge of the IndianaJones side of things”.

“But you will be in overall charge, Sir?” said “Wombat” Caulkins, kind of hopefully.

“You’ve spent what, 20 years?, in the Service and you’ve learnt nothing? I’m of the Smythe-Ffaulkes, Lords of the Manor of Gwerdcchlyn, blood relatives of the royal families since the Plantagenets, members of all the gentlemen’s clubs in London, Stewards of the Cheltenham Race Club. If the shit hits the fan the full load will stick to you, not me. Now get on the blower to Indiana.”

Later:

“I talked to Indiana, Sir. He turned it down.”

“Why?”

“He says that if the party is what he believes it is and they have the book and they are guided by PE the thing is lost already.”

“Indiana is going soft, is he?”

“Well, Sir, it appeared that he had … a girl … close by … so to speak …, if you get my drift, Sir.

“He needs his spine stiffened then. Take this (scribbling furiously) authorisation slip to the archives. Dig out the files on the Great Mummy Fraud. Indiana is a professor of archaeology now, right? His university would renounce his tenure in two seconds flat if they knew.”

“Yes, Sir. He also mentioned something or someone called the Rosetta Stone.”

“Did he now? That’s strictly need-to-know, sergeant. We’ll cross that nasty bridge if and when we have to.”

254. betty - 4/11/2002 4:33:37 PM

*******************

chapter 9

255. Indiana Jones - 4/12/2002 9:21:44 PM

The three scientists, Drs. Raskolnikov, Slackjaw, and Alazman worked in another location of the government buildings in Westminster, a laboratory as hidden in the ministry's budgetary bookkeeping as it was in the labyrinthine halls of headquarters. The three believed they had achieved a breakthrough in the matter of transportation just a few weeks ago, a breakthrough that Colonel "Pincher" was certain would be necessary if the immediate mission was to have any chance of success.

Of course the new technology hadn't been adequately tested, and the use the colonel had intended for it was far out of the normal parameters in any case. But even an Englishman occasionally has to hoist up his gonads and roll the dice.

As usual, Slackjaw and Raskolnikov were explaining the science of the device in excruciating detail. Slackjaw: "So you see if you calculate these six relatively simple differential equations, apply Godelstein's Theory of Spaciousmaximus--remembering, of course, the definition of NP Complete and the trick to solving Fermat's Last Theorem--well, it's childplay really."

Dr. Alazman interrupted: "You loathsome bags of fecal matter, get to the fucking point. I have smoiches time to get home, strip naked, and type on two separate message boards simultaneously, using my toes on the second. And if either of you had dicks with a circumference greater than your laser pointers, I wouldn't be in such a horny state."

She turned to the Colonel. "What we've done is derivative, building on the work of brilliant Professor Stumbo, who disappeared mysteriously a few months ago. Perhaps his disappearance is related to the mysterious new phenomenon that has allowed us to make such a leap forward...."

256. betty - 4/14/2002 3:48:58 PM

Of course Stumbo was brilliant he had a huge dick. And, of course, the real reason Alazman was in such a state was because where ever Stumbo was, his dick was too. Their affair hadn't been especially torrid but it was completely satisfying. She had been divorced for years, since her starter marriage to the amazing looking Arab man she could barely picture in her head imploded. There was nothing horrifying in it's ending, just the realization that they were too young and too fast and thank god they didn't have any children together.

So Alazman kept ranting and Pincher didn't stop her and eventually she took a breathe and apologized, it being her time of month and all.

The Colonel had been ignoring her anyway, the only reason she had been put on this assignment was because Stumbo had requested it and now that the good scientist had walked, she was only there to fill out her clothing. It was good for morale to keep a good looking woman around...It made the men want to work late.

"Excellent Work Dr. Alazman", but he looked above her head at the men standing behind her who were looking at her ass.

257. zojak quafeth - 4/15/2002 12:10:59 PM

Forgotten in the wreckage of the airfield were the two lawyers, Ace and Julio.

They had seen Ms. Noextracting herself from the wreckage, but were more interested in representing the estates of the dearly departed. They had spent the last 3 hours sifting through IDs of people whowere clearly the victims of gross negligence by the airlines. They hadn't noticed the bullet holes.

"Shit Julio."

"What the problem Ace. We have 72 new clients. Ka-ching!"

"Witnesses. We should've interviewed the people leaving the scene."

"No problemo. They went that way. Let's just hop those two burros and follow. I got my dictaphone and lotsa batteries."

"Those aren't burros youi stupid spic. They're yaks."

"Burro, yak, it got a back. Let's go."

The trail in the snow was clearly marked and easy for even two city slicker lawyers. In a few hours the opening on the side of the mountain grinned evilly at the two yak-riding lawyers.

258. rubberducky - 4/15/2002 1:51:15 PM

Even though the matter transportation device was in the test phases, there had been a lot of tests. "802 tests, to be exact" thought Doctor Henry Brown or 'DocBrown' for short.

"People, this has to work this time." DocBrown said to his hard workers. Drs. Raskolnikov, Slackjaw, and Alazman all knew he was telling the truth. Could DocBrown succeed where the legendary Stumbo had failed? He'd given his all, dammit, and still he couldn't measure up in their eyes.

"Who is the next test subject?" inquired DocBrown.

"Um, a loud mouthed man named Elliot." offered Dr. Alazman.

"Okay, bring in subject elliot803, then".

Elliot was brought in bound in plastic cuffs. "Get those off of him at once!" DocBrown bellowed at Dr. Raskolnikov.

"But, sir, they are his and he insisted he wear them!" Rask pleaded.

Rolling his eyes and nodding DocBrown replied, "very well, just get him to the platform."

"My rights are being violated! Every. Fucking. Day." Elliot screamed as if he was at a keyboard on some internet posting board.

"Activate the device!" DocBrown commanded.

Hmmm. No explosion this time. Could DocBrown have succeeded after all?

259. theDiva - 4/15/2002 1:56:53 PM

youse are killin me here

260. PelleNilsson - 4/15/2002 3:12:35 PM

As Pincher walked back through the interminable culverts with their greenish fluorescent light he mused. Unbeknownst to all but a select few, very few, very select, Pincher’s show of stressful harassment after his meetings with the Undersecretary was just that: a show, a charade. He, Pincher, was the one doing the harassment. He was the one calling the shots, the fulcrum around which the great events turned. As successor to Christopher Marlowe and Sir Francis Walsingham he was one of only two men with unlimited access to the Queen at any time. Not that he used it. Pincer didn’t like chatting up silly old ladies. On the few occasions he had been in her presence his manliness had been disturbed by the thought that, in some theoretical way, she was his superior. It had almost disappeared into his body. He never felt like that with Maggie. But then she had balls like a bull. To bad she’s gone gaga. Then came the wimp and now the present upstart. He talks a good game but when the going gets tough he is sure to crumble under the weight of those damned leftie backbenchers.

Next he thought about the delectable little Dr Alazaman and juxtaposed her in his mind with the slimy intriguing Wonkers. Always smiling, always cooking up plots in the non-com canteen. For a mission like this wouldn’t he be better off with a scientific assistant? Mmm….

The latest report was that the Erasmus party had entered the cave and the two American legal clowns were yakking their way there. If Slack and Rask got their thing together Pincher would be there to greet them if and when they re-emerged. And not only he. He had organised a posse of ferocious Moties, members of a little-known cyberspace tribe.

261. zojak quafeth - 4/16/2002 9:10:24 AM

Boom!

Ace and Julio covered their eyes at the blast emanating from the tunnel entrance. The smoke cleared and a naked figure limped towards tem covering his privates.

"This shit always happensto me. Total fucking oppression!"

Ace stared. "Elliot?... What the..."

262. Indiana Jones - 4/16/2002 8:47:14 PM

From the lost journal of Dr. Gilgatroid Stumbo:

April 16, 20xx

A breakthrough at last! Of course I would have made it months ago if not for the distraction of Khaval. Not only is the exotic lass insatiable, but she refuses to let me think about my work during sex. Without her repeated yells of "Concentrate, Jumbo!" I would have solved those triple integrals nights ago.

Strange, that bird. I like the Jumbo nickname, but her demand that she have my mind while she enjoys my body is almost too much. I don't care what she's thinking about. Seems she mentioned she fantasizes I'm a young Charlie Pride or something along those lines.

Women. Every lover I've ever had has seen nothing wrong with picturing some virile stud while we make love, but then demands my full attention when I would so much rather have my intellect engaged in more useful activities.

I readily admit their need to fantasize. I'm not, outside of that singular feature that earned Khaval's nickname, all that different in appearance from your typical research scientist. Why can't women admit to my needs?

Regardless of what I'm thinking about or she's thinking about, it's not as though we're thinking about each other. I'm a busy man, and if she wants sex so damn often, she's just going to have to face the fact my mind may be elsewhere. As for hers, I don't begrudge her whatever helps. Well, as long as it's not those duffers and mental midgets Raskolnikov or Slackjaw.

Now, about the breakthrough...

263. Indiana Jones - 4/16/2002 8:47:30 PM

The lost journal of Dr. Gilgatroid Stumbo, continued...

Those steadily building tremors in the spacetime continuum do seem to be radiating from a point here in the US to a nexus in the volcanic regions of Kamchatka. The endpoint makes some sense, I suppose, but why a little suburb in New Jersey would be the origin is anyone's guess. For that matter, why even Earth?

Those are questions for another day. What's important is that I've discovered a way for cross-positing the Mr. Coffee here in the laboratory with a few simple wires and transistors to detect where the fissure lines are radiating. And they are everywhere! Growing worse, too....

Further, if my theory is correct, these fissure lines represent rapid transit modes for moving matter about through both space and time. Like the Berlin Subway system, getting where you want on them will not be easy, but it may be doable.

On the other hand, the slightest misjudgment or miscalculation could smash a person's molecules into a particularly dense area in the continuum, causing a total instantaneous disintegration of the test subject.

If, as my calculations almost make certain, the whole cosmic quilt is about to unravel like nothing since the Big Bang, then perhaps my device will be useful in finding whether there will remain any "safe zones"--line segments in (hopefully) earth's portion of the continuum that will remain somewhat intact. A place and time where a research scientist could live out his alloted years in preserved logic and rationality, you know.

Haven't decided yet whether I'll take Alazman with me or not.

264. betty - 4/16/2002 10:19:32 PM

Eliot hadn't bathed for days, and as shysters often have poor hygiene themselves, neither of the infinitely named attorneys at law noticed the bouquet of scents drifting beneath their noses. However the yaks, who have some questionable odors of their own, did and promptly died.

the ambulance chasers took down all the information they could gather on the beasts and wondered off into the mountains looking for next of kin.

"Make that 74 new clients!" Julio high-fived Ace.

265. Indiana Jones - 4/17/2002 9:49:43 AM

Indiana Jones sat bolt upright, breaking the "butterfly-caterpillar" position of the extended Kama Sutra. (In addition to their other research projects, he and young Yamilia were composing a sequel to the original Vatsyayana work, complete with personal photographs.) "Que es eso, mi carito?" the Latin beauty murmured.

"Damnation. I wonder if Wombat knows about Dr. Stumbo's work. If only I'd thought to mention it sooner. It's the one chance the Cambridge boys have of getting an agent to Kamchatka in time."

"Kamchatka? Is not this the place you told me never to speak of? Is not this the place of 'el Mote'?"

Jones frowned. "Yes...well, I don't like to think back to what happened there. But I suppose none of it really matters now that there's a good chance that...ahem...never mind what there's a good chance of."

Yamilia massaged the muscles of his shoulders and trailed her soft, full lips along the nape of his skin. Despite his years, Indiana Jones was a fit man with the physique of an athlete half his age. "Tienes muchos secretos, mi amante."

Jones ran one of his large yet skilled hands through Yamilia's thick hair in the way that always made her purr. Yes, he had many secrets, and when a man accumulates too many secrets it's best he take some of them with him to the grave. No need to expose the arcadian Yamilia to the evils of the world just yet. If they--or at least she--somehow made it through the coming upheaval, if some sort of life went on for her, she'd learn soon enough of wickedness. In the meantime and if they were both doomed to perish, her innocence and beauty were memories he wanted to take with him preserved and unsullied into whatever came next.

266. Indiana Jones - 4/17/2002 9:49:50 AM

He was old, too old to go adventuring into Kamchatka and trying to save the world. Wombat and Pincher were good men. No one was irreplaceable. Someone always stepped in to fill your boots no matter how big an imprint you left when you walked.

Soon, he and Yamilia were making love again. Pleasing her was like playing the pinata game without a blindfold, and when he won the air filled not with candy from exploding paper mache but with her cries of "Ai, yi, yi...Carlos...ai, yi, yi."

Jones chuckled to himself. My secrets, eh? Who was "Carlos"?

While Yamilia slept, Jones felt his memory returning to the doomed Mote expedition he'd made several years ago when he'd lost his best friend, Hashke--and when his other lifelong friend, Ozzie Nelson, had wound up in an insane asylum. It had all been because of the coward, Pseudoerasmus....

267. PelleNilsson - 4/17/2002 11:40:16 AM

Indiana found himself in front of the cave. He nodded curtly to the assorted bods already there and stared intently at the door. Indiana knew all about cave doors, or so he thought. He stepped up to it and let his large, yet skilled and supremely sensitive hands run over its smooth surface trying to locate hidden levers and pressure points. Nothing. He spoke to it. He used all the spells and charms of yore he had learnt in a long career of grave robbing. As a final resort he spoke the Ultimate One, the one that had once opened the way into the Balrog’s lair, the one taught to him by Gandalf himself at their last meeting before the Master set sail from the Gray Havens, the real one, not the gibberish that fool Tolkien wrote up. The door trembled but didn’t yield.

Dejected, Indiana sat down and patted 873 pockets before he located the brandy bottle and took a healthy swig.

A speck of dust on the horizon quickly became larger and larger. Finally, a strangely clad man on a yak emerged from the cloud. “Hi”, he said, “I’m Uzmakk, Lord of the Steppe. This is my yak Edmund. You look dejected, mate. What’s up?

“The door won’t open.”

“What? This door?”, said Uzmakk and gave it a hefty kick. It opened.

268. Indiana Jones - 4/17/2002 12:25:00 PM

Yes, the door had been one problem, but that was the least of it. That and the fact he'd managed to fill only one of his 873 pockets with fine cognac. But then he'd not expected to need a good drinking binge when he first went on the expedition.

And he blamed himself for not forseeing what would happen. Despite Pseudo's considerable skills as a tracker--the man, after all, could sniff a wet bush and detect exactly which breed, gender, and age of dog had urinated on it--engaging him as a guide knowing the insane jealousy that burned within his heart was damnably foolish. Ozzie, poor bastard, had warned Jones: You don't steal a woman as fine as Candide from a Pashtun half-breed and not expect consequences.

Even so, they had come so close to success; they'd even evaded Rosetta Stone and almost reached the notorious Chamber of CalGal, infamous as the ancient site of the ritual of Sexmagick Seance. Then came Pseudo's betrayal, from which only Jones and Ozzie had managed to escape alive.

Now the traitor was leading another expedition. And he had the book, which meant he'd almost certainly succeed. Well and good on him, except for the two other figures who loomed over the situation and were more powerful than Pseudo could comprehend. Obviously he was just a Pashtun pawn in a game of cosmic forces that he couldn't hope to control.

Thinking of pawns, Jones wondered for a moment who the male and female acolytes were in the almost certainly upcoming ritual, and if they had any idea what their role was to be. He shuddered and knew there wasn't enough brandy in the world to wipe from his imagination the horror that was in store for them.

269. zojak quafeth - 4/17/2002 12:39:19 PM

Jones' reverie was thankfully interrupted by a knock at the door.

He became less thankful when he saw who was at the door. "Wombat?"

"Sorry about this old chap." He handed Jones an envelope.

"What is this Wombat?"

"Sorry." Wombat visibly blushed. "Please know that I have no choice in this. Nor does Pincher." He sighed. "These are copies of the files on the mummy fraud. Pincher will release the originals to the relevant officials if you're not on your way to Kamchatka in the next 8 hours. Here's a plane ticket and two flasks of the best brandy I could find. I'll see you on the plane. I have no choice. Neither do you."

Jones stared at the papers in his hand.

270. zojak quafeth - 4/17/2002 12:48:47 PM

He slowly turned, closing the door, pondering his dilemma, head held low. His eyes met the two most exquisite feet, and traced their way up the shapliest legs he'd ever seen. Yamilia. In her favorite, short, short purple mesh robe.

"Mi cara. Who was that? Come back to bed." She smiled. He blanched.

271. Indiana Jones - 4/17/2002 1:44:57 PM

Jones stared longingly at Yamilia. "Wombat, you don't realize the gravity of this situation at all, do you? My 'reputation' or anything else won't really matter within a few hours. Or a day or two at most. So blackmail is really out of the question."

He turned his back on Yamilia momentarily and faced the British special officer. "Now what Stumbo was working on might just give you--us--a ray of hope. That's the only way to get someone to Kamchatka in time."

272. PelleNilsson - 4/17/2002 2:03:46 PM

The open door revealed a sickly greenish light. A foetid stench emanated from the interior of the cave. Indiana shuddered. He knew that stench. Was it possible? Was she here? The Diva, the Shemonster who devoured a man in 873 milliseconds and spat out his dried-out carcass like a melon seed? As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light his suspicions were confirmed. There, at the right of the entrance was a heap of emaciated bodies, their skulls grinning at him.

“You guys better go in first”, he called to Ace and Julio, “do bring your writs with you” ( wits being a moot point, he chuckled internally).

273. rubberducky - 4/17/2002 3:08:00 PM

SIGH

Elliot had had enough.

"It's hoooottttt and I'm tirrreed" he whined in that naselly voice that most adults usually reserved for mocking children. "Where's FloydsSoupIsGoodPilotBeard? Here's ALWAYS here to carry me when me wittle toesy wosey gets a boo-boo."

The lawyers looked at each other with a smile. Both at once screamed out "ABANDONMENT!"

274. zojak quafeth - 4/17/2002 6:47:29 PM

"Kamchatka? I will not let you leave me my love!"

Indy looked longingly at her. Her heaving breasts caused the material of her robe to part a little more with each breath.

"Do you hear me?"

He placed his finger on her lips.

He turned to Wombat. He noticed Wombat staring at Yamilia. He wrongly assumed it was her body that had so enamored Wombat.

My god, purple mesh? An agent here too? No wonder that damned priest is so cocky.

"Wombat. Can you get us to Stumbos lab now? A plane will be too late."

"I am coming too."

"Yamilia, no."

"You cannot stop me Indiana."

"Indy, if we fail it won't matter where she is" said Wombat. Besides, I'd rather have her where I can see her he thought.

Within 25 minutes they were working their way through the sewer system towards Stumbo's lab. They could have been ready in 5, but Yamilia looked way too tempting to simply allow her to change without what might be one last very entertaining ... quickie.

275. zojak quafeth - 4/17/2002 6:51:30 PM

Meanwhile in Kamchatka, julio and ace were skipping cheerfully trhough the tunnels, arm in arm "We're off to see the wizard..."

They were happy because they were being guided by the incomparable Indiana Jones... they thought.

It was a Pseudo Jones. But they were completely unaware of the changes wrought in Pseudo after his earlier betrayal of Jones. he could shape shift at will now. He wasn't sure what he would do with the morons traipsing in front of him. Offering them to theDiva might be the answer.

276. PelleNilsson - 4/19/2002 1:53:04 PM

Outside the cave Uzmakk squatted on the ground chewing on a date as he ruminated on the day’s events. “The Americans are strange people”, he thought, “so … hasty, so .. over-confident”. He rose and kicked the cave door shut while uttering a few words in The Language. That door would stay shut.

Uzmakk knew the cave as his own pocket. First, the party would have to pass the Shemonster’s lair with its army of Ass Waxers and Wedge Fitters. Then came Betty’s S&M Parlour with its many enticements and exciting gadgets. Finally they had to find the secret passage skirting the Pit of Fire and Brimstone, stoked 24/7 by Kuligan the Righteous. At that point they would find themselves in the Hall of Ordeal where the endgame would be played out.

Uzmakk fed some dates to Edmund and continued his ruminations. There was a curious lack of symmetry here. Two parties had entered, there should be three. Was it the real IndianaJones he had seen or had he confused him with somebody? And where was Pincher? He usually turned up in situations like this. Uzmakk decided to hang around for a while. He had the time. The steppe was eternal and he was part of it.

277. Indiana Jones - 4/19/2002 1:53:28 PM

While wiping his sandals of the evidence of his crime, Father Don Jexster considered engaging his victim in the act from which his order drew its name but knowing that he was playing catch up with Irv he dared not stay for even a quick dalliance. Irv had the book and both dupes, Kevin and Belinda. If Irv reached the Chamber of CalGal nothing would prevent him from performing the ancient ritual of Sexmagick Seance. Neither he or the priest of course intended to enact it in accordance with the prescribed fashion, as was done of old before the ancient founder of the Skullfuckers, Cazart, had prophesied a way of perverting its purposes.

Foolish and colorless shamen, holy men, had periodically used the ritual with the avatars of male and female energy to heal the cosmos and restore its balance by reviving the eternal Pelle and Judith. It had taken an intellect with the overweening ambition of Cazart to reveal the more potent use of the magic--not for healing but for utter destruction. And that had become the mission of the Skullfucker order: to wait patiently for the next time that the healing ritual was required and ensure not only that it didn't take place, but that instead the head of their order, the heir of Cazart, would twist the rite and...

While thinking, Father Don had been gliding away from the plane wreckage and the late Ms. No, toward the volcanic Mote and looking about for its entrance. Just now, however, he'd heard an unexpected sound...like a young child. Then he saw her: Booger, all grubby, scared, cold and alone.

"Someone...please...help me," the stricken girl was wailing without comfort.

278. Indiana Jones - 4/19/2002 1:53:56 PM

Ahh! the offspring of the acolytes. This was a fortunate card to fall into the Father's hand, especially if he played it right. He certainly could use allies--or anything else that would strengthen his cause. Despite being heir to the order of destiny, he still would have to contend with Irv, and soon. Presently Irv had everything except Father Don's superior knowledge of the dark forces and how to invoke them.

Adopting his most pacifying demeanor, Father Don approached the huddled girl child. "Oh my...my what ever do we have here? Come here, my poor angel, and tell me all about your troubles. Rest assured, I'm going to do my best to help you."

279. betty - 4/22/2002 9:27:50 AM

She slipped her snotty self into his arms.

The Father looked at her childish cheeks and for a moment saw the depth of good that fills a soul and in the middle of his vision he wrapped his powerful arms around her, one on her head, one on her body and in that tranquility, that utter stillness of soul he fought every thought and urge he had. He left her head on, picked her up and carried her like a groom carries his bride through the door.

280. zojak quafeth - 4/22/2002 10:11:25 AM

Meanwhile, back in the tunnels...

Julio had had enough. He had barely escaped with his life. His law partner was dead or dying at the hands of some horrible creature he had mistakenly thought was Indiana Jones. he shuddered as he recalled the moment. He and Ace had skipped with such carefree attitudes into theDiva’s lair. She had smiled. Pseudo Indy had cackled. He didn’t realize that theDiva’s smile was for Julio and Julio alone. “My short little chorizo. How I have longed for your embrace.” Julio smiled back and smoothed back his hair. What was left of it. Pseudo Indy roared. And he reached for the closest thing within range. theDiva threw Julio over one shoulder and her skis over the other. She made for the exit. As Julio bobbed down the tunnel on her shoulder he heard his partner scream horribly followed by a sickly wet ripping sound as Pseudo pulled Ace’s arm from his shoulder like a chicken leg from a thigh and began to beat him Ace with his own arm. Subpoenas fluttered uselessly to the floor as Ace’s screams faded to sobs and the sobs to silence.

Oh well shrugged Julio, now he wouldn’t have to share fees. Or theDiva. This was one HOOOOOT chick! “AY CARAMBA!”

His war/love cry echoed throughout the mountain as theDiva burst forth from the tunnel and flew through the air, Julio balanced on one shoulder, skis applied to her feet with a free hand. Below three yak-herders stared in awe at the spectacle and pointed!

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a plane”

The oldest and wisest of the three shook his head. “It’s theDiva. And her lover. And she’s coming down that mountain jumping like she’s in some kind of fucked up Nordic combined. Time to get the hell out of here!”

281. bubbaette - 4/22/2002 11:00:24 AM

"Time to heat the wax", thought Diva, as she trundled the poor oblivious lawyer to his doom. "Time for the wedgie to end all wedgies".

282. Greyfriars Bobby - 4/22/2002 11:05:39 AM

Diva had just docked the Four Flusher at the marina in Saint Pete when this frosty, washed-out blonde came waltzing down the dock, batted her mink eyelashes demurely, and told me she was desperately in need of my services.

283. rubberducky - 4/25/2002 2:38:47 PM

"Marsha?" Diva gasped!

"But, but you're dead!"

284. rubberducky - 4/25/2002 2:43:48 PM

"Where is Jennifer! My daughter must be around here somewhere!" MarshaMe snarled.

She reached over and adjusted the right strap to her dress and made sure to tuck in her purple bra...

285. PelleNilsson - 4/25/2002 3:15:34 PM

The ageing Travis McGee had acquired the nickname "Diva". He hung out in the bars pestering the guests with tales from the past. But now he was dead meat. Thirty years ago the sight of MarshaMe's curvy body would have stimulated him into devising various strategies aimed at getting close, real close, to it. Now he couldn't be bothered.

"Jennifer left for some caper in Kamchatka to provide moral support or prayer breakfasts or something like that", he said. "The usual bunch of heroes and misfits are there already, or so I hear. If you want to save her from a fate worse than death you'd better go too. The agency up the road will do you a nice package deal with an optional lead coffin for the return journey."

286. ivan osokin - 4/26/2002 8:01:40 AM

MarshaMe imperceptibly began imitating the gestures of Diva. While Diva prattled on methods of dying, of dying hair, of dying a die, of hiding dykes and heidi fleiss, MarsheMe had already matched up with Diva perfectly. She realized that the thousands of dollars spent on seminars on NLP would finally pay off. She started to slow her breathing down and slunk her shoulders sadly...Diva did the same.

"...i don't know, Marsh...it's all so depressing."

"a therapist once told me about a confused person who tried desperately to change their identities...who knew it wouldn't work. they wound up just standing still..."

"wow...it's much better than trying to fight..."

"the therapist said, 'think you want to kill yourself...so do it." MarshaMe gently replied in what would have appeared to an observer as a strange inflection of a rhetorical point.

Diva stood motionless.

"i'm going to get jennifer...you can just make yourself dead." and with that MarshaMe hobbled away...her prosthetic wooden foot sounding like clogs on the wooden pier.

Diva's mind was now sullen and brooding and contriving rationlizations about death and books about death and the book of the dead and the deadheads and--skullfucking. how trivial it all was. the head was the place where death lived...fucking the skull could only be a pathetic attempt to copulate with immortality...why didn't he see this earlier?

diva began walking slowly on the short pier...muttering something about taking a long walk...

287. ivan osokin - 4/26/2002 8:01:59 AM

a television on one of the bobbing dingys was blaring the latest news..."former porn star, miniature dollhouse collector, world-class conguero,snake-handling cultist, simpsons character, and eccentric thousandaire ivan osokin has decided to retire to a monastery in thiland. the farang wants to go to a wat. coming up next in buddhist sports, the mahayana mavericks upset the tallahasee tantrics, taking them by surprise with their mandala handling skills..."

288. ivan osokin - 4/26/2002 3:02:26 PM

meanwhile, in a new subplot...an aging copy of baudelaire's "paris spleen" was lying in a bundling bed next to a whorish thesaurus...smoking a rolled up bazooka wrapper filled with dried pork rinds. he turned to the paginated strumpet...she who fills the night with other ways to say evening...and says, "Quelle admirable journee! Le vaste parc se pame sous l'oeil brulant du soleil, comme la jeunesse sous la domination de l'Amour." (insert subtitle in yellow helvetica font: "What a lovely day! The vast park swoons under the Sun's burning eye, like youth under the domination of Love.")

the seductive lexicon of different ways to say dictionary buttoned her colophon and began to collect her belongings...a bookmark, pencil shavings, dried tea or coffee stains, traces of sugar and household milk, much cigarette ash, very fine black debris picked and flung from typewriter ribbons, decomposing library paste, broken aspirins...

just then the scene flickered and snapped...the slapping of the broken film against the rotating spool was all that could be heard. the theater went dark, then the house lights came on. a few of the more ennui-ridden students merely smoked another galloise, while the young capitalists began to curse loudly. this was paris, 1968. goddard's new film, "Assommons Les Pauvres" ("Let's Smash the Beggars") was in its third week at the smokey, former burlesque theatre "le merdumonde" near the rue git le couer. the film had been played over and over, around the clock, due to its popularity with the university bohemians who had taken to the streets.

289. ivan osokin - 4/26/2002 3:09:40 PM

the theatre began to empty as the projectionist with the pointy nose began to kick the aging projector and curse in his native greek..."gamuti malaka ban-a-eeya!" students poured out in a slinky paris drawl, each of them analyzing the film...

"he stole that last scene from the american pynchon...that stuff was all on tyrone slothrop's desk."

"fuck you. he is a national treasure...if anything, pynchon stole his book from jean-luc...i mean, gravity's rainbow hasn't even been written yet...it's not going be written until 1973"

"i don't care...if foucault can steal his ideas from some characters on the internet Great aMotian novel, then goddard could steal from pynchon."

the argument went on as they walked to the cafe metro to drink espresso, smoke, and brood...cutting the air with sparse sarcasm and trying to fuck every neurotic french chick who happened by, carrying her copy of Hyde's History of Pornography: Uncensored French Version. the two men continued arguing as they sat down...all through the evening...into the next day...for weeks...years.

it's 2002. a crowd has gathered at the cafe metro...the stench of old man death steams out like apple pie on a window ledge, attracting the scum of paris. one of the arguing men has died.
his last words were, "if only i had a purple mesh beret." upon hearing these words, the proprietor dialed a long-distance call to someone in the states and whispered, "jaques de molay, thou art avenged!"

"finally....jeezus fuckin'-h-christ! 30 fucking years waitin' for those two frogs to shut their fucking existentialist yaps. 'bout damn time. my daddy's been waiting for this since he was head of the CIA...just think about all that shit we had to do to keep busy...flooding the ghettos with crack, performing human sacrifice on leftover hippies...i had to get THIS job 'cuz my daddy said it'd be the only way to let me get away with murder..."

290. alistairConnor - 4/27/2002 6:11:26 PM

A phone rang in the small New York office of a high-tech law firm. "E-Sat Law. Jon speaking... You want to patent a... teleportation device? Sure. You don't happen to have a time machine too, Mr... Stumbo? Where are you calling from, sir? Ah, Moscow. Well, Mr Stumbo, US patent law requires a great deal of documentation, I don't see how we can handle this from..."

WHUMP. The building shook slightly. Like a plane breaking the sound barrier. But it came from his waiting room. Jennifer on the intercom : "Jon! Call the police! There's a naked man in here... uh... never mind."

291. betty - 4/29/2002 9:29:21 AM

Jon took a moment to finish his laugh, about a man with a teleportation device, about a secretary who sounded like a clucking chicken when she sucked his cock. He took his navy blue jacket off the back of his leather chair and wrapped it around his white button down. Everything was his. Just after he buttoned the double breasted closed he jerked his head and right shoulder together. His neck cracked a little bit and he repeated this on the left side.
He puffed out his chest and walked in to the reception area, preening for Jennifer, hoping for a lunch date, but she already had one.

Jennifer was stroking Dr. Stumbo's jumbo member and asking if there was anything she could do for him. More she was thinking about what he could do for her. Jon was having difficulties. One out of three times he couldn't get it up and though it was a handsome arrangement, convenient and finacially lucrative, she was getting impatient with his impotence.

292. betty - 4/30/2002 4:25:07 PM

Jon turned around, like a dancer pulled by a string, to leave the room. Dr. Stumbo called out "Jon, I'm here about the matter transportation device, I've made an appointment for after lunch."

293. ivan osokin - 5/3/2002 8:57:35 AM

Just then, Dr. Stumbo's Jumbo Member, which he called "Mumbo Yojimbo" ejaculated through the door jamb, thereby impregnating the entire office.

294. ivan osokin - 5/3/2002 9:10:49 AM

If not for the interjection of the Matter Transportation device, the Great aMotian novel would have died...for it had been on life-support and was dying of wampeter's granfalloon, a limp-foma caused by digital digitalis.

the matter transportation device had been accidentally turned on by watching jennifer's large-lipped mouth drooling fellatio like a philatelist licks stamps...though the clucking really irked the machine. the device transported kurt goedel's body into terry riley's body, then grabbed this amalgamous blob of genius and transmitted it into a copy of Hesse's "Das Glasperlenspiel", which was then foist into the back pocket of a catholic priest who had a fetish for sex with nuns (he believed in eugenics and felt that the only perfect catholic would be one whose parents could get away with both scolding them into abstinence while simultaneously molesting them), who then read the book and discussed it in his sermon that next week.

coincidentally, all the characters of this novel had been present at the sermon, each of them for their own reasons. the entire front row was a purple mesh blob.

295. ivan osokin - 5/3/2002 9:27:28 AM

The sermon had been captured on tape as churches were now on videotape surveillance by the Concerned Hypocrites of Religious Iniquity, Sinfulness, and Torture.

A transcript was later presented at the arraignment, and is reproduced here:

"Dearest Flock...imagine if you will, a world in which existence was a series of keystrokes. Each keystroke a divine emanation of God.

And imagine, then...a world in which we are...each and every one of us...a series of keystrokes appearing on a screen that only we can see.

Now imagine what happens to this world when it no longer acknowledges the will of God? it becomes chaotic and abyssmal...a mote...surrounding the soul from reaching God.

And what if this mote becomes confused with God? And what if these living keystrokes begin to think they are creating things on their own? Well...it's happening friends. And it's called fiction.

Yes...the world is being transformed through keystrokes into a novel about a mote.

are you going to jump in that mote novel? will you be A-Motian novelist too?

i hope not. for nothing can bring you to christ quicker than accepting him as your text.

for the next ten minutes, i will only use one keystroke...the key of 'c', which i will repeat in the 'key of c'.

cccc ccc ccc cccc ccc ccc cc cc cc cc cccccc ccccc ccc cccccc ccc cc cccc cc cccc cc cccc c c"

The sermon went on like that until MarshMe, Diva, Jon, Ivan Osokin, and the potential characters not yet written, decided that they had to put a stop to this senseless semantics. by consensus they decided that a few things were needed right now. First, they needed to return to their story...becuase it was the only source of their own recognition. Second, they would have to refrain from jumping into other Mote threads out of boredom.

Third, they would have to stop Ivan Osokin from writing anything else

296. ivan osokin - 5/3/2002 9:29:03 AM

but osokin wasn't going to let the consensus of unreal characters stop his onslaught. if they didn't want him here, he'd move the story elsewhere...cleverly disguising it as comments posted on mote threads.......

to be continued?

297. Indiana Jones - 5/3/2002 11:16:59 AM

Tap, tap, tap. Charlie Pride was hammering a spike into the cave wall so that Irv's group could attach gear for the next ascent of their journey. After entering the cave, they were now having to struggle up to reach their terminal goal of the Chamber of Calgal.

What did the sound remind Kevin of: the hammer of an old-fashioned typewriter hitting the same key over and over again--or the eternal refrain of a nail being driven into all-too-human flesh?

Things were falling apart again. Maybe bashing his own son in ignorance had snapped Kevin out of his festering psychosis or perhaps the psychosis had only worsened. But he was at least aware of how disjointed reality was fast becoming. "Papa," a small voice was saying to him--not the old voice of his father, Pelle, but the barely-able-to-speak of his son, Tater, from just a few short years ago.

It was when Kevin had first learned of his father's fatal cancer. He remembered so well the telephone conversation with his sister, who broke down in telling him. Kevin listened to her, determined not to share in her uncontrollable sobbing, mastering the situation by writing on yellow Post-its the details she provided. "Six to eight months without chemo and radiation...two months more with..." The phrases appeared from his hand one after another as meaningless as last week's grocery list.

Later, he repeated it to Belinda, and though he did so at the usual cacophony of the dinner table, he thought he'd been subtle enough to obscure the worst from the children. Tater disabused him of the notion. "Papa," his son begain. "It's a long time before you die, isn't it?"

Kevin sat down his beer and tried to focus. "We hope so, son."

And then Tater said with a seriousness and weight to his words that his father had never heard before: "Because I'm not done growin' yet."

The hammer rang again, and Charlie gleamed in the torchlight with sweat. "It's finished," he said.

298. rubberducky - 5/6/2002 1:17:09 PM

"Roll On Mississippi" he said. "I'm Just Me; Pride Of America."

"That's My Way," he whispered. "We've got to get done so I can get some Burgers And Fries."

299. Indiana Jones - 5/7/2002 9:30:12 PM

"Pay no attention to him!" Irv snapped uncharacteristically, his usual charm faltering. "Idiot....Just hurry up and get the rope in place."

"What are you so nervous about?" Belinda asked.

Pseudoerasmus lit a cigarette and gazed unblinkingly at Jennifer as he talked. "I think I know. It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a certain priest would it?"

Whatever that had slipped for a moment in Irv's demeanor was gone, replaced with the permanent expression of jaunty candor he wore like a snake's eyelid. "Heh-heh. Me? Worried? Not on your life!"

Charlie walked toward Irv, his hammer swinging easily in his almost 70 year old hands. "You know, you don't have any cause to talk to me like that."

300. betty - 5/8/2002 2:21:17 PM

Charlie looked like Irv had imagined John Henry to. Busting down a machine and congratulated with death. Charlie was swinging that hammer at nothing in particular and Irv was wondering 'bout his intentions.

"what have you got in mind for that hammer, Charlie?" Irv's voice calm and on key.

"It ain't the hammer I got a mind for." Charlie needed to remind Irv, in his destinctly rural way, of just who was controlling the manhood in the increasingly warm womb they had wound themselves into.

Irv was a gifted actor, a man for all reasons, and his internal monologue buried itself deeper into his bowels, one day he would shit it out. "I'm sorry Charlie," a smile too sly to be genuine, "You know I couldn't do this without you." And that may have been the only honest thing that Irv has said in all of Judith's corpse. He could not do this without Charlie Pride.

301. betty - 5/8/2002 3:34:11 PM

****************************

Chapter 11

302. zojak quafeth - 5/9/2002 11:01:18 AM

Outside the volcano, an icy calm prevailed. At the summit, staring into the dormant cone stood a figure out of legend. Black oil coat, black shirt, black wrangler jeans, black stetson. A northerly kicked up blowing back his coat and and his two greying red braids. Under his coat were two chromed Colt .45 six-shooters. Willy Nelson pulled down the red bandana, took a swig of Jack Daniels and tossed the empty pint into the cone. The wind obscured the sound of breaking glass. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fatty, struck a match on the bottom of his boot and managed to light the joint before the wind extinguishedf the match. He inhaled deeply, held his breath and thought "I always hated that bastard Charlie Pride." His spurs could be heard jingling over the volcanic wind as he descended down the slope of the cone into hell.

303. zojak quafeth - 5/9/2002 11:07:29 AM

Halfway across the world, somewhere in Europe I think, an identically dressed and stoned Waylon Jennings sauntered down the street in search of a matter transportation device.

304. Indiana Jones - 5/20/2002 10:55:47 AM

"Great jumping jehosophat," Tater murmured in his delirium. "What's with all the old guys and their corny music?"

Belinda held him closer and placed her remaining hand on his fevered brow to cool it. She'd gone from being the patient to being the nurse. It looked like trouble was brewing in River City. Charlie still hadn't put the hammer down.

305. Indiana Jones - 5/20/2002 10:56:00 AM

Irv twitched a little, and a drop of perspiration dripped through the purple mesh air holes in his shirt's armpits. This was getting too damn complicated, too many factors to juggle. He needed Charlie and couldn't just waste him here--or could he? If only the priest weren't breathing down Irv's neck and he had time to think. Of course the coming disintegration of the time-space continuum also added its own pressure. If he was to achieve his plan, he couldn't dawdle over another angry black man.

Just then a hideous tentacle shot down out of the chamber above them and entwined itself around Frank's neck and lifted the hapless EMT off his feet like a hangman's noose. "Gurgle, gurgle," the handsome coxcomb tried to explain his predicament.

"Fraaaaaank!" Jennifer yelled and leaped forward, kicking the tentacle with force and accuracy that would have done Chuck Norris proud. It was ineffective, however, and the gymnast fell backward on the hard cave surface with a Batman-style "OUFF!" No one else even had time to react before the tentacle vanished back into the Chamber of Calgal with its choking prey.

"Sacre bleu, diable était-il celui?" Pseudo said, momentarily lapsing into one of his other two dozen languages in excitement.

"You should know, coward," a new and masculine voice thundered in the cavern. "You watched it devour better men--and a woman--than you."

"Jones!" Pseudo hissed. "What demon's whorehouse did you come from?"

"He...he...just materialized," Kevin said and was proved accurate as in sharp succession Wombat and Yamilia too beamed into the cavern.

Yamilia and Jennifer glowered at each other with almost as much hatred as the two adventurers, Jones and Pseudo. "Many happy reunions, eh?" Wombat winked.

306. PelleNilsson - 5/20/2002 2:56:32 PM

Meanwhile, in the dungeons of Whitehall, Pincher had gone quietly mad over the pressures of the Cave. Officially he was recuperating from pneumonia in the safe house at Cheltenham, unable to receive visitors, In reality he had been fed a poisoned muffin by Phyllis, then carefully wrapped in wire netting and weighted down, as a final act of respect, by an anchor from the venerable H.M.S. Belfast and lowered into the muddy waters of the East India Docks where he would soon be devoured by the ferocious eels of the lower Thames.

The acting Supremo of British Intelligence – he would remain “acting” until a year from now, or so, when it would be announced that Pincher had finally, after a valiant battle, succumbed to a devastating illness. A distinguished service over the coffin filled with last year’s edition of the Greater London phone directory would be held in Westminster Abbey, the coffin later to be interred next to his predecessors in the little-known Admiralty Churchyard off Fish Street in the City.

307. PelleNilsson - 5/20/2002 2:58:22 PM

Where was I? Yes, the acting Supremo, Pelle Nilsson, fondly known as The Conqueror following his legendary exploits among the hill tribes during the time of the Aden Protectorate. Pelle pondered the situation in the cave, Then he rose from his chair, perambulated his office a couple of times and pondered some more. He sat down again, pushed the Talk button on the intercom and asked Phyllis to get a car to take him to the Tatlers. Once there he ordered a gin&tonic and pondered. Then he pondered on his unmatched ability to ponder. Finally he came to a decision. The time was right for a period of Masterful Inactivity. He would need to watch the outcome of the battle between the steely Jones and the eely Pseuder. Besides, he had a trump card up his sleeve: Uzmakk of the Steppe, still squatting outside the cave, feeding dates to his sturdy yak, Edmund. The folks in the cave probably saw him as another tribesman. Little did they know.

Having come to a decision, Pelle ordered another G&T and turned his attention to the Times’ crossword.

308. Indiana Jones - 5/29/2002 9:21:03 AM

From above the glowering Yamilia and Jennifer, Jones and Pseudo, the groans and shrieks of Frank could be heard, echoing throughout the cavern, along with eely slurping and an occasional cracking.

"Good Lord, we have to help him," Kevin said and started to clamber up the makeshift ladder he'd constructed by throwing some rope over the spikes Charlie had hammered into the wall.

"You're a braver fool than I took you for," Irv hissed. "But you can't go up there. Just as I need the Negro, I need you too. Simma down, just simma down."

"No, no, Kevin, don't go." Belinda lamented.

A particularly loud crack like a femur snapping gave Kevin pause. "What are we going to do then...just stay here and be picked off one by one?"

Jones's eyes glowed with anger in the shadow of his fedora. "Maybe that's just as well, considering the alternative. Has anyone explained to you just what Irv's intentions are once he enters the Chamber of CalGal? Go ahead, Pseudo, tell them what that book is good for."

Instead, Pseudo launched a wild swing at Jones's jaw, which the latter ducked easily, and the two fell to the ground, punching, kicking, and biting. Yamilia used the distraction to begin sidling around behind Wombat, with her eye on his pistol holster.

Jennifer spotted her, however: "Oh no you don't, bitch!" Once again she flew through the air with a war hoop and locked her muscular thighs around the back of the Argentine beauty. The two also rolled themselves into a ball and all four fighters found themselves tumbling down a slight decline into a nearby pool of mud. In an instant they were covered with it, the women losing more of their already scanty clothing in the process

309. DualityMe - 5/30/2002 11:39:05 AM

Despite the muddled pit of ooze Jennifer found herself in, Jennifer, teeth locked around Yamilia's wrist, suddenly had a moment of clarity. She pictured the slimy tentacles that had descended from the ceiling and lifted the hotty Frank to his death, and realized that the feeling that had come over her wasn't fear or gloom-No, she had been damn happy that at least one of these superficial walking penises had finally gotten what was coming to him. As a matter of fact, she was pretty tired of being the sex object in this novel, used and abused like nothing more than a peice of meat to feed the oversexed masculine swines.
"Yamilia, stop, wait, hold on!! I've got an idea." She uttered through a mouthful of mud so only the Amazon bitch would hear her.
Yamilia loosened her grip on Jennifer's neck and was momentarily still.
"Hey, I don't care if you like poofing that old man, Indiana, but I'm sick of being treated like a dog for them to kick or fuck whenever they want. I think we could get the Skullfucker and take over this operation ourselves. What do you say?"

310. Indiana Jones - 5/30/2002 12:40:51 PM

Yamilia's grip retightened. "What kind of an eembecile do you take me for, puta? Do you tink Senor Yones has never told me of the love the two of you once shared?"

311. Indiana Jones - 5/30/2002 1:42:17 PM

Meanwhile, Father Don Jexster was counciling the young Booger. "Just ahead, little one, a very bad man is waiting. Well, he's sort of a man." Father Don glided along with Booger dangling from one of his hands, her thin legs barely grazing the cave floor.

"I just wanna go home," Booger said. "Won't you please take me home?"

The fresh bullethole scar on the priest's face pulsed until it looked as though it might erupt like the frothing volcano they were passing through. "Yes, yes, surely, my crumpet. But you do want your mother and father safe and sound, don't you? We have to save them from that terrible Mr. Irv and his purple mesh."

"Is that the bad man you're talking about?"

"Oh no, you dear sweet child," the priest laughed bemusedly. "Irv is much scarier than what lies just ahead. You must stay very close to me. If you do that, I can protect you."

Booger had aged beyond her years, especially in the past few days--as a single lock of gray now showed--but the priest's words and a growing stench in her nostrils caused her complexion to turn a whiter shade of pale. Without the priest even using the name, she heard it echo in the neurons of her young brain: "Rosetta Stone."

From out of the shadows it seemed to gather itself like so much translucent goo materializing into a humanoid corpulence. Then, on spindly legs beneath a maggot's body it began to stalk toward them.

In a motion that appeared all the more powerful because hitherto the priest had acted to gently in the presence of the young girl, Father Don threw back his cloak and stretched wide his withered arms. "Yog-Sothoth Mor-on Pupedastain!" his voice rattled the cavern walls with almost as much noise as the endlessly writhing lava.

312. ivan osokin - 5/30/2002 3:39:01 PM

but instead of the dark squid himself, riding the back of leviathan, pushing up through the gurgling sludge of american soil and slithering in the cave...instead of he who is not to be named...father don only managed to evoke one of the minor goetic entities, Vapula, the sixtieth spirit...a lion with wings...who can make men all knowing in Handicrafts and Professions.

Father Don was stunned...but was instantly able to crochet and make string paintings. as his hands wove pentagrams on rigid heddle looms that materialized spontaneously, booger burst through the giant construction-paper-glued-macaroni-barriers which protected the priest and ran out of the cave.

Before she realized where she was running, she looked down...a large "GULP!" appeared over her head as she felt down at her feet...there was nothing there. she let out a feeble, "yipe", and plummetted...missing the bullseye left there by the coyote but hitting the ground and leaving her body impression on the surface. she lie mangled 4 feet below. popping her head up, she felt a large lump beginning to rise like a termite mound on her head.

to the side, laughing her ass off, was betty...the legendary moterian. she had let off some steam by trashing dualityme in the inferno, fending off accusations that it was really her lust slave ivan, and wanted to jump into the novel to see how it was going. she was just about to end this chapter when she decided to see what would happen to father don and booger.

meanwhile, father don had knit himself into a pickle and couldn't escape the felt cocoon he had made. in a last gasp, he uttered the words..."decoupage"...and fell to the ground, his wooly cocoon motionless.

313. Indiana Jones - 5/30/2002 4:26:45 PM

Cocoons don't kill, however; they only lead to metamorphosis. And unlike Gregor Samsa, Father Don wasn't destined to spend the rest of his literary days as a cockroach. Instead, after only a few motionless seconds, the cocoon rent open and a giant preying mantis burst out, its inscrutable head still bullet-scarred and with a clerical collar around its neck.

314. ivan osokin - 5/30/2002 4:39:14 PM

Father Don Mantis...now ravenous and 13 feet high...clicked his mandibles at the thought of Booger, who was now walking across the lonely desert with little more than a canteen of water and a map of greenland given to her by betty...who thought it was better than nothing.

315. Indiana Jones - 5/31/2002 10:54:22 AM

"Curse that stupid wench...she's always interfering in my plans," Father Don thought. "Yet happily a fat morsel still lies within reach."

In giant mantis form Father Don had no problem scooping up the maggot-like Rosetta Stone creature in his forelegs and then severing its pinhead with a quick snap of his powerful mandibles. Because his victim's neural center wasn't located in the head, however, it continued to twitch and squirm until Father Don had almost entirely devoured it.

316. Indiana Jones - 5/31/2002 10:57:08 AM

After licking down the last bits of his repast, Father Don's next move was to use his mantis wings to fly down the dropoff to retrieve Booger. The aged priest wasn't about to let his trump card get away so easily, despite betty's machinations.

317. ivan osokin - 5/31/2002 11:23:00 AM

There was a colorful commotion down below, near the adobe villages that stood sternly on the landscape. The Native American "Booger Dance" was happening, starring Black Ass, Long Prick, Rusty Asshole, Long Haired Pussy, and Piercer. Father Don Mantis, hungry and determined, tried to ignore it but spotted an obvious white person in the midst, wearing some kind of purple outfit. Looking closer...his bulgy eyes focusing their fovea on the figure, he realized it was Booger.

"Makes sense..." he thought.

He decided to wait behind a hill until the event was over. The men wore masks and chased the women around furiously...demanding that the girls succumb to their wishes. People in the audience fought hard to stop them, but the masked men were too randy to be stopped. then, one by one, each man introduced himself to the audience and described himself through dance. the one known as Long Prick did the best dance, it seemed, and got the most applause. From under his woven skirt he produced a massive clay phallus, which was filled with water that he squirted out onto the women.

Booger had hitched a ride with one of the men a few hours earlier, now they danced together under the spraying clay peter. Eventually, her purple mesh top came off and they fucked to the rhythms of frame drums and bells.

Mantis was tired of watching and interrupted by slicing the man's head off as he ejaculated.

"How Burroughs of you!" sneered Booger

318. ivan osokin - 6/3/2002 10:28:11 PM

time froze. for a moment, nobody was sure what was going on. someone needed to summarize the story quickly or the characters would become lost in a sea of faded confusion.

319. Indiana Jones - 6/4/2002 10:27:26 AM

Upon closer inspection, Father Don's compound eyes had deceived him. After all, even though Booger had developed a lock of gray hair from the stress of recent days, she was still much too young to be impaled upon a spraying clay penis or bonked by a wild Asiatic tribesman--at least in a highly moral tale such as the Great aMotian Novel. Instead, she and the mantis's late repast had limited themselves to a suggestive dance reminiscent of a cross between the lambada and a Czech polka.

Still, the native Kamchatkans were an orgiastic bunch, and tasty too, Father Don concluded. Hence, he didn't regret overmuch that his subliminal desires and depravity had been fulfilled only in wishful-thinking land. His ravenous insect hunger fully sated, Father Don was stoked for his coming confrontation with the mighty Irv. He scooped up Booger from where she was puffing on a doobie supplied to her by the late Kamchatkan graduate of the Fred Astaire dance studios, desposited her on his armor-like green back, fluttered his magnificient wings, and began scaling the cliff side as easily as Count Dracula.

320. Indiana Jones - 6/4/2002 10:28:34 AM

Atop her insect mount, Booger watched wisps of lovely purple smoke rise around her and sang, "When a girl reach the age of 18, she begin to think she grown...."

321. Indiana Jones - 6/4/2002 10:48:51 AM

Back in the cavern, Jones finished his thrashing of Pseudo to find Jennifer and Yamilia locked in a fight to the death. He retrieved his fedora and pulled enough of Pseudo's coughing face up out of the mud so that his defeated foe wouldn't asphyxiate. His own heavy breathing reminded Jones why he was retiring from all this nonsense.

"Now no need to fight over me, girls," he grinned--his teeth shiny white amidst the caked grime on his face--as he waded back in to separate the two naked, mud-smeared bodies.

322. PelleNilsson - 6/4/2002 1:07:04 PM

Meanwhile, in the dungeons of Whitehall, the air was full of pondering.

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