Archive for stars

Star Trek ing

Posted in fiction, Weird with tags , , , , , , on May 7, 2009 by benwaysrustyscalpel

The days are not frigid or sweltering; but confined in longing for abstractness. The days have ways of sinking away in colors seen too many times. Shades of the universe are simple and limited. Electro suns are mechanized by corporate worlds for the generation of mass funds. Income slides down the hungry gullet into the mother fiery pit of insanity that is earth. Where still the conquest of the mind isn’t promoted, as old bio-mechanical nation statesmen sniff brandy on their verandas. Caring nothing for the self inflicted shackling of the common man. Greed like black matter splatters across solar divides, connecting all the human conquests with taint. Man has made that which incubated its own existence, with grease and sweat and science; but bliss lays hopelessly away, a spectacle like the stars of an earthly childhood.

Asteroids scatter tastelessly across the black sea. The ocean is endless. When a being leaves the earth and initiates the transformation to living amongst the stars, they morph from a creature of emotion and soil, to a monster of pure stimulation. There’s no conquest for frank, greed although present, is ultimately as meaningless as, say, rage was on earth.

Out of the field of minerals Bison Bob hovers like a moth to the flame of life. (Bison Bob was a nihilist, and in a dashing show of conviction, developed the neural combustor. A sound wave emitter that destroys brain cells massively and then gradually in order to preserve unconsciousness, and simultaneously preserve biological longevity.) The neural combustor warbles Bob’s chins like a pudding jackhammer. He gurgles at frank, pointing playfully at his crotch.

Happiness like a foul liquid pours into the black sucking hole of endless want. Frank holds it fragile, breaking in its essence, flowing away from invisible leaks. He rolls slightly left and rinses in debris; meditating, holding premise star-ward. Pockmarked moon sways to a depressive symphony. A choir pines for times when games were played, social games of give and take. Mental dams that dispersed chaos sociably. A stream of antidepressants uncoils into his brain (pulse strips spider web through ear cartilage); but chemicals can only make secreted mental obstacles shine with a sickly shimmer.

Confined ice sweat, thickly woven polar blankets, trapped in a tissue constructor. Focus runs and screams, but has little endurance struggling against the vastness of the stars. Frank presses a button on his wrist pad, and his depression stabs into space in a hypnotic light show.

“Hello Frank”

“Hello suit”

“You are feeling lonely, and confined to you’re thoughts”

“Yes, suit”

“Would you like to schedule a visit with the traveling mother?”

“I suppose so.”

“Imagine a bark mosaic, seething and foaming, dripping with fresh rain water. A trickling creak gurgles against wet leaves and dirt. The mother seethes and foams for you.” The sound of a forest buzzing in the rain amplifies through his suit.

“Yah.” he sighs.

“Your serotonin levels have approached even and your heart rate is normal. Brain function indicates you will tire of my description, and ultimately recede back into a depressive state. Farewell.”

“Do one thing for me.”

“Yes Frank?”

“Please implant foreign consciousness one hundred twenty three.”

“This will be the last time.”

Walking, fresh growth, cool air, nostrils twitch with pleasure. Sun seeds in the heart. Bounty is everywhere to be had. Soil crunches under a rubber soul. Joints compress, cartilage strains and pulls. Trees, great ancient monoliths, life emulators, soil suckers. Fields of them stretch in chaos, slanting against the wind and rain, the sun prisms through in a sad mist.

A girl, red hair and acne scarred face, sits humming into the woods. She’s love and worry. Death controls all of her features, pushes lust out of her pores. Frank resists rubbing his leg against hers.

A mountain crumbles in the far off lonely distance and sun light rains through the dust storm of her laugh. Her mouth open cry: rain to an aching soul. Slender twig body feels like pain in rough hands. Frank prospers, overwhelmed. She smiles, and emits a sliver of light the likes of which a man could never make with grease or sweat.

The Pony Don’t Lie

Posted in fiction, Life, spiritualism, Uncategorized, Weird with tags , , , , , , , on May 5, 2009 by benwaysrustyscalpel

Josh Scobee walks out the side of the fishery munching on uncooked cod. Face grizzled and flecked with fish flesh. Waltzing puffy eyed down the block pinching little rivers out. “Oh my sweet baby I miss you” he squeaks to himself. “I miss you so much”

Jim the mechanic holds a shotgun to a nun and screams “By the saint’s cunts, there is no god” and blows the nuns brains into Josh Scobee’s face. Flittering, filching, light swelter, flesh splatter; “oh babe please holds it close for me.”

“Fucking got nun on my cod!”

“Can’t we all just get along”, the nun says picking her brains off of the ground. “In the name of the father the son and the holy fuck, don’t point that shit at me again, that  shit hurt. Anyway tell me, why did you blow my head off?”

“Well you were looking at me all judging and calling me wrong with your eyes!”

“Oh sweetie, my sopping wet nun pussy does crave the cock. You see, penises are fluttering like a million smelly butterflies; and because large erections doth flurry about like snakes through the grass of my mind.  I have no space for judgment there. All things in life not directly related to penises are very strictly taken word for word from the bible. Do you think it a bad practice?”

“Well I suppose they are virtuous rules, but how can you consider yourself a woman under god if that’s all you think about?”

“God is the feeling of a big one deep in there. God is squirting five yards onto your man’s suit and having his whole office smell  pussy the next day. Glorious, glorious muscle contraction.”

“I like the way you jive, say I was to offer you a deal my little Vatican lady…”

“I’m listening?”

“My penis needs resurrection, ya’ dig.”

The nun’s gown shreds down the middle and her tits flop to either side. Belly flesh is careened apart in a mushroom of acrid smoke. Her pussy lips flap like hawk wings, slathering pussy spittle in all directions. Jim recites “Oh father lord in heaven hallow be thigh name.” face drawn in the premature dusk.

“Now hold on just one second” The local sheriff intones from the saddle of his jet black pony. The pony rears and unloads a steaming pile onto the asphalt. Sheriff dismounts with the moon haloing the nun’s fractured skull. “Now you look here. I done heard them gun shots. I done heard that groanin’ and a gruntin’” “And I wants to know, who thinks they can get away with some typa’ shenanigans on my watch?” He spits tobacco at Jim’s feet. “Jim, you bess be telling me why that shotgun smokin’?” “Why this here lady under gods bleeding copiously and convulsing like LA in an earthquake?” “Why my dick is suddenly stiff with anticipation of your story?”

“Sheriff, there aren’t no laws here, and you done  decided to question me on the wrong day!” They both draw and the sheriff’s head caves in. The pony rears up and takes a pack of camels out of his ass hole. Lights one up and stares at the moon with shiny pony eyes.

His big buck teeth seem to be grinning but he don’t feel nothin’ but contempt. “You humans don’t befit the gifts evolution gave you. Any time I choose I can stick my dick in something, blow a load mighty quick and be on with it. I enjoy looking at the stars Jim. Do you understand that? The grass feels like heaven against my lips.” His mouth trembles with emotion. ” Any one time I open my eyes I see a network so complex I could spend a lifetime looking, and wouldn’t be done finding. You done think you can put a fence around us, ride us, and you think the same thing about your brothers and sisters. When are y’all gonna’ live free? See that moon? You only gonna’ see it maybe twenty more times full. And your life is as bright as them stars. Yous’all just a Buncha’ ignorant asses.”

“Did you see me just shoot the sheriff in the face. I say fuck the order too!”

“That’s just the beginning. You gotta fuck the order that’s inside you. Then you gonna’ start to see clearly for the first time.” He drags deep burning down to the butt. “Peace.” His voice calls out as he sinks into the asphalt.