(The Devoted Attendants)

giselle 101415a~


P - RESIZE 300~

rotocol on behalf of my Wedding Entourage is left to Etienne the young Captain of Our Guard.  Etienne is officially chagrined because I, Giselle, a daughter of the King do not properly represent the King.  And yet I carry Etienne’s yearning eye as I ride away.  Chanson my beloved horse needs no urging to pursue poor Magge into the Monastery courtyard.  The four acolytes who had been signified by the commanding finger of the Thirteenth Monk lead poor Magge away.  Together we arrive at the Infirmary which is a separate house.

        The acolytes gently dismount Magge from her horse.  A tear is forged by me for each of poor Magge’s sharp inhalations.  As they lead her inside they remove from her the hooded cloak that is heavy with dampness.   Revealed on the back of her garments is a dark cloud of stain.  The wounds from her whipping are exhaling her very life.

        With shocking boldness the four acolytes do conspire and then do remove all of Magge’s attire.  She is being held naked and barely conscious next to a stone pool of gently steaming liquid.  There must be a furnace below or within the stone.  The acolytes remove their own clothing while balancing Magge in a skillful ballet.   They step into the pool, lowering Magge in a cruciform pose.  Magge starts with a gasp as the warm unctuous water slowly submerges her body up to her neck.  Her eyes are rolling now and do not seem to focus.  Her eyelids descend slowly as my own eyes yet widen in anguish for her.

        The acolyte who steadies Magge’s head against his shoulder and cheek speaks to me soothingly, saying ~ These waters are a medicinal concoction.  They extinguish putrefaction and bind the skin. ~

        Another, younger, acolyte is steadying Magge’s legs and he speaks enthusiastically, saying to me ~ These waters also preserve the dead for burial. ~

        The first acolyte glances at me and then he glares at the younger acolyte and he hisses, saying, ~ You mean for Resurrection, Quattuor!  I am sorry Your Highness.  Quattuor is young and yet unenlightened.  Your Highness, I am Tredecim, and we are all servants to The Incorruptibles, servants to Your Highness, and servants to God. ~

        Quattuor, whose pride is now injured, speaks, saying, ~ But servants to Tredecim first of all! ~

        They laugh gently at Tredecim’s predicament.  I speak to them, saying, ~ Are all of you named as Latin numbers? ~

        They all nod and mumble affirmatively, saying, ~ It is a Rite of Humility, Your Highness. ~

        The acolyte at Magge’s left hand speaks, saying, ~ I am Duae. ~

        The acolyte at Magge’s right hand speaks, saying, ~ I am Sedecim. ~

        I now watch Magge’s face slowly transforming from death mask to sleeping maiden as her body imbibes the warm medicinal bath.  For the first time since her excoriation I have a whisper of hope for Magge.






<for previous chapters, search “whisper” on my blog>

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“Death is nothing at all … Nothing is past, nothing is lost

One brief moment and all will be as it was before

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again.”

 – English theologian Henry Scott Holland


        I am Judice.  It is a golden morning.  The upper-desert breeze is cool on my face and it whispers in my ear.  I hear a bird singing.  I take a deep breath.  Sitting so still is hard.  But I can see why those hairy guru weirdos like it.  You can see things you never noticed.  The desert is so delicate and sharp.

        Here he comes.  At this distance he looks like a bouncing ball!  He is golden with shades of grey like the morning desert all around him.  How funny.  He’s bouncing on all fours like a cartoon coyote.  He’s glancing left and right like he’s saying good morning to other desert critters.  He’s still coming towards us.  I hear the bird singing.

        Jacey told my mom and dad that coyote skins are going for about $30.  This coyote is young, big and healthy.  He should be worth even more.

        The coyote suddenly stops and seems to be staring in our direction.

        Coyotes are very keen on noise and movement and they have great noses.


        I hold my breath.  I hear the bird singing and it sounds too loud.  But the coyote decides to continue in our general direction at an angle far to our right.  I bite my lip to keep from snickering because he is so funny as he bounces on all fours, la-dee-dah.  But I keep my eye and my rifle as one and the same.

        Jacey blows softly on a little closed-reed coyote caller, making a sound like a jackrabbit in distress.  We all keep rabbits to eat.  I remember how surprised I was when I found out they scream.

        The coyote stops again and stares in our direction.  He is face-on towards me.

        “Now,” whispers Jacey, the word barely rising above the cool desert breeze in my ear.

        My rifle sounds like a door slamming in that peaceful desert.  I smell a sweet savor.  I see a mist of blood burst from the coyote’s right shoulder under his chin.  He drops on his side and rolls onto his back.  It isn’t like in the movies.  No dramatic staggering.  It’s like he was snatched down by the earth to witness the sky.  His head rolls from side to side in slow motion.  I suddenly imagine that I can hear him thinking, “Oh, my God, what happened to me?”

        There are several reasons for hunting coyote.  If you enjoy hunting it allows off-season hunts… they are a nuisance in some areas

        Coyotes seem to become more active right before a storm front moves in.

        Jacey hugs my shoulders and kisses my chin as we get up and go over to the coyote, “I love you, Judice.  Jesus loves you.”

        The Christian Harvest Outdoor Ministries offers fully guided hunts in a delightful Christian atmosphere.

        Jacey is the Student Ministry Team Leader.  Jacey would have to be impressed with this kill.  I really like her.  This has done it, I can tell.  She was saved at the age of ten, but I want Jacey to like me as more than just another Self-Confrontation Disciple.  I want to be special.  This coyote showed her I can do it.

God blessed them. God said to them, “Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the sky, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

        Jacey is looking down at the coyote’s final volitions.  The cool desert breeze pets the coyote’s fur.  It is a fine kill.  The coyote’s fur is truly golden with shades of grey.  And Jacey never looked so beautiful.  The golden morning, the sweet silence, the perfect kill: This moment is so perfect for us.  I just want to kiss her skin.

        I embrace Jacey and she pretends to be startled.  I kiss her chin.  I try to kiss her mouth.  She pretends to push away.  I hold her dearly.

        Jacey cries, “Stop it, Judice!  What are you thinking?”

        Jacey struggles backwards, staring wide-eyed into my face.

        Jacey cries, “For God’s sake, what is wrong with you?  For the love of Jesus, are you a God damned lesbian?  Leave me ALONE!” and Jacey forcefully renounces my embrace.  Her face is now red-veined meat contorted in revulsion.

        I cry, “Jacey, what?  You don’t hate me!  We love each other!  You said so!” but Jacey covers her mouth with both hands and whips her head side to side, denying me.  Denying everything I offer her.  Everything.

        What have I done?  “Oh, God,” I gag as fall to my knees.  Why are you forsaking me, Jacey?  I am crying, “Why are you doing this, Jacey?!”  Oh, God, oh, God, here comes pain.  Such pain!  I am crying.  I am going to vomit.

        Jacey is slowly backing up, abandoning me.  Jacey doesn’t care.  I hiss breathlessly in pain, “Don’t you care at all?”

        I pick-up my rifle, rising onto one knee, “If I can’t have you…”, now what am I going to do?!  I scream, “What am I supposed to do?!”

        I aim the rifle at her, the barrel is shaking, my eyes are burning.  Jacey raises her hands and clasps them in front of her face as she backs up.  Suddenly, she falls down backwards and then turns over and scrabbles away on her hands and knees screaming, “Help me, Jesus!”

        I glance down at the coyote as he gazes so peacefully into eternity.  I turn my rifle, taking the muzzle with my left hand and I hold it into my right eye pressing it against the skin of my closed eyelid.

        With my right thumb on the trigger I vow my final volition, “ ”






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17 come apart - crop1



          La Faculté is an exclusive restaurant on the campus of the private Lejeune Women’s College.  In this dining room the walls are antiqued brick.  Tall arched windows with their sheer curtains provide an ambience of casual elegance.  The variously sized round tables all have white tablecloths.  There is the usual mix of clientele: Professors, Donors, Alumni, and their special Invités.

          A young woman enters the room escorted by the Maître d’.  She causes a ripple of attention because she is young and wears a tasteful red dress but also because she wears a pair of wrap-around sunglasses; most unusual.  She turns her head pensively as she walks; she is apparently a student; most unusual.  She is soon seated at a table for two, yet alone, choosing to face the entrance to the dining room.

          Minutes later the Maître d’ escorts a more mature woman along the same pathway toward the young woman’s table for two.  The mature woman causes a ripple of attention because so many persons at the restaurant appear to know her.  She nods graciously left and right, but with only a half-smile, seeming preoccupied, and then she is seated at the young woman’s table.  They stare at each other.

          The mature woman speaks first, “I’m so glad you are here, Leandra.  How are you?”

          The young Leandra leans forward and raises her sunglasses which reveals that her eyes are surrounded by bruises, greenish with healing, “This is how I am, Narissa.”

          Narissa MacKenzie, Ph.D., the Dean of Women’s Studies, looks downward and says very gently, “I reserved this table as you requested.  I was happy that you picked the place to which we came on our first night together, Leandra.”

          Leandra hisses, “I picked this place so you wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of your admirers who think you are so perfect.”

          Narissa’s shoulders slump, “Leandra, you know how sorry I am.  I haven’t been able to live with myself these past weeks.”

          “I can’t live with you anymore, either,” Leandra decrees.

          Narissa whispers back, “Please don’t say that, Leandra, please.”

          Leandra continues, “How could I have been so wrong about you?”

          Narissa pleads, “Haven’t I been good to you?”

          A tear glistens below Leandra’s dark glasses and she scratches it away quickly, “You met me when I didn’t believe in myself.  I trusted you.  I needed you.  You gave me your confidence,” then Leandra’s voice rises and trembles, “You gave me your love.”

          Narissa adds, “I still do, Leandra.  You know I love you.  Back then I saw a wonderful young woman who was lost and full of doubts about herself,” Narissa gestures toward Leandra with open palms, “Look at what you’ve become.”

          Leandra says coldly, touching her sunglasses, “I’ve been looking at myself for weeks.”

          Narissa stutters, “I, I didn’t mean that.  I meant…”

          Leandra continues, “You make me feel like I’m crazy; like it’s me,” and then Leandra seems to be talking to herself, louder and louder, “Everybody thinks you’re so perfect; oh, sure, how could it be you?  They think I’m to blame; that I’m crazy.  They can’t see what I see.  Well fuck them.”

          Heads turn at the nearby tables.

          Narissa leans in and bows to Leandra, “OK, OK.  There is no need to be agitated.”

          Leandra opens her mouth wide, “Agitated?  You mean like a mental patient?  Like you were that night…?”  Leandra is savoring Narissa’s discomfort.

          Narissa begs, “Leandra, I thought you didn’t want a scene.”

          “What I didn’t want is another fucking violent scene from you.”

          Narissa gives a false smile and whispers, “Please, Leandra.  People are looking.”

          “Oh, really?  And what do they see?  The perfect Dean MacKenzie of Women’s Studies quarreling with a silly graduate student?  Well, study this,” and Leandra makes a V-sign with her fingers and sticks her tongue between them.

          Narissa grows apprehensive, “Is this why you wanted to meet here?  To humiliate me?”

          “You are the one who wanted to meet.  I just picked the place, Dean MacKenzie.”

          The background noises clink and rattle into Dean Narissa MacKenzie’s ears like a train is coming.

          A waitress steps discretely into the conversation gap, “Dean MacKenzie, Chef Perello will prepare for you a special meal of Herbed Yogurt and Crepes, if you please.”

          Narissa is grateful for the distraction and she smiles and nods.

          “And what will Miss be having?” asks the waitress, bowing slightly toward Leandra.

          Leandra asks with a straight face, “I hear that you serve Bourré de Merde here?”

          The waitress is stunned, “I’m… sorry, Miss?”

          Narissa is aghast, but salvages her smile with effort, “Joking.  Always joking.”

          Leandra mercifully concludes, “I’ll have a glass of your best champagne.  That’s all.”

          “Very good,” says the waitress as if saying “Thank God”, and she departs their table.

          Leandra taunts Narissa, “Well does my French meet your standards yet?  God knows I only want to please you.”

          When the glass of champagne arrives Leandra drinks quickly half of it, and taunts Narissa again, “Oh, I’m sorry, was that not the perfect way to drink fine champagne?”

          Suddenly Narissa’s gaze changes as if she too is raising a pair of eye shades, “You need to remember, Leandra, if my position is threatened because of you, then you can be damn certain that all of your ‘achievements’ since you have been with me shall be exposed.”

          Leandra rallies defensively, “What I have achieved I have earned myself!”

          Narissa sits back, tasting blood, “Oh, really.  And just who will believe that?”

          Leandra falters, “You fucking bitch.  You’re the one who kept me isolated, pretending to shelter my confidence.”

          A dignified woman approaches their table as Narissa, who saw the woman in the corner of her eye, concludes with a saccharine non sequitur to Leandra, “So now you can be anything you want to be,” and then Narissa looks up at the dignified woman as if surprised, “Oh, hello, Rebecca.”

          “Dean MacKenzie, I just wanted to tell you how proud we all are of your Lejeune Achievement Award.  I look forward to the ceremony,” and then she respectfully departs the table.

          Leandra mumbles, “Better make sure she didn’t leave her nose in your butt,” and then pointedly, “I’m already gone, Narissa, and you just can’t accept it.  Let. Go.

          Suddenly a thought strikes Leandra, “Won’t your crazy mother be attending that ceremony?”

          Narissa bristles, “You little tramp.  You wouldn’t dare.”

          Leandra pretends to muse, “Hmmm.  I might sit right next to her.  I’m sure we would have a lot to discuss about you.  She and I have a lot in common: we both have screwed you,” and Leandra sneers.

          Narissa slaps the table making both the silverware and Leandra jump.

          Heads turn.

          Narissa trembles.  Her eyes flash with acid tears.

          Suddenly Narissa has a look of terror as if a trap door is opening beneath her.  She topples forward onto the table, banging it hard with her head, and rolls onto the floor.  Leandra screams.  Others are screaming, “Call an ambulance!”

          When the Emergency Medical Technicians arrive, Leandra rides with Narissa in the ambulance, insisting with a lie, “I’m her niece.”

          “She needs me.”






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 13_van dieman's land 2, CROWD LOWER crop1


        The first day of the year was cold and rainy. I awakened onboard Marten’s yacht, confused. New Year’s Eve had been the usual balmy night in the middle of Melbourne’s summer.

        I know I am alone now. I sit on the edge of the bed, naked. I light a clove cigarette, the nastiest habit I could conceive until last night. My eyes chase the edge of the storm inland. I see the illumination of distant lightning. All the moored boats are rolling with the thunder and the storm-swell in the bay.

        Last night begins to creep back to me.

        I had gone to The Spice Trade bar. I was joking with the voluptuous blonde bartendress. She was wearing a bronze name tag that said Real Sheila.

        “Why ‘Real Sheila’?” I asked before I gulped my gin and tonic.

        “Because all of the tourists used to ask me ‘Is your name really Sheila?’ and so my co-workers began to call me ‘Real Sheila’”.

        She looked past me and smiled. I turned to look over my shoulder. Approaching was a lovely young woman with a dark complexion and wavy raven hair. She was wearing a short silk skirt. My first thought was about lifting that skirt over her head.

        She sat down right next to me, so I was either sexy or insignificant. I gave her the most sang froid “Hello” I could restrain. “My name is…“

        “Where is your wife?” she asked without looking at me.

        That was like a kick in the coconuts. Without thinking I answered, “Fucking my best friend in California.”

        I had picked the farthest point of civilization away from that previous life yet here was this stranger sticking it back to me.

        She glanced at me and said, “I’m sorry. You still have that married look.”

        I shriveled in bitter acquiescence. She glanced at me again, “I’m Dyanne.”

        I said lifelessly, “I’m Allen”. Real Sheila put an elegant glass of champagne down in front of Dyanne without being asked.

        Onstage, ContraBand began to blow a typhoon of music. I was actually relieved when this big swinging dick came up to Dyanne and spoke beside her cheek, over the music. She stood up to go with him to the dance floor. She turned back to me and spoke into my ear, under the music, “Will you watch my stuff for a minute, please?” Her breath validated my testosterone at least.

        I looked at her purse and her glass of champagne and I soon felt like kicking my pride right out of there. I looked up. Real Sheila was setting down a tall dark iced drink in front of me. “I ordered gin and tonic,” I said with frustration. “What’s this?”

        “This is a Taser. This is where you want to be, trust me. First one is free.” Real Sheila looked out onto the dance floor. I followed her eyes to Dyanne undulating in that short silk dress. Real Sheila’s eyes were reflecting my own animal cortex. I suddenly wondered which of us was more turned-on. How could I compete with that?

        I sucked the Taser like it was a Coke. Where the ice displaced the liquid it was the color of blood. The surrounding liquid was black. I felt piquant flashes in my throat that were carried away by a savory effervescence. That Taser went down far too easily. I leaned toward Real Sheila and shouted through the music, “You’re right. Give me another one, ok?”

        Finally, half-way through the second Taser, I was sure I heard a “click” and then everything about that night became cozy. I had a vision from Cat On A Hot Tin Roof where the tormented character Brick had waited for that same “click”. I never understood what it meant until that moment.

        Dyanne returned, shining, “Thanks for watching my stuff.” Smiling, “What do I owe you?”

        My mind gridlocked. I tried a sly grin.

        “Oh, God, Sheila. You’re feeding him Tasers?” She sipped her champagne.

        Real Sheila shrugged, “He was threatening to put a stick up his ass.”

        I cringed but I was laughing. I didn’t care.

        “What do you do, Allen?” asked Dyanne. I was enthralled by the logic of her inquiry.

        “I work sales for an American company that sells veterinary medicines here. I just moved here, actually. May I ask what you do?”

        Dyanne ignored my question and asked me, “Do you like it here?”

        “I like visiting the ranches, I mean the ‘cattle stations’, in the countryside.”

        Dyanne chuckled, “A real California jackeroo, eh?”

        The thought of California was suddenly like being flushed down a toilet. It must have showed in my face. Real Sheila was there saying, “Here, I’ll trade you for that stick,” and she handed me another Taser.

        After that, I just remember our conversations being so wrenchingly profound that I wanted to cry but I don’t think I did.

        “She was everything to me. I was so devoted to her. Was it wrong? Is it unnatural?”

        “Maybe you bored her by being such a slave.”

        “My momma always used to say ‘Too thick don’t stick’”.

        Around 10PM Real Sheila leaned toward Dyanne, saying, “I’m off. Let’s go to your place and watch the fireworks.” She winked at me, “You too, jackeroo.”

        We navigated out of The Spice Trade. By then I had become a pair of eyes floating between them. I think they both had their arms around me. I was sure I was holding both of them around the hips.

        We came to Dyanne’s car. It was a sporty little orange Tesla. There were only two tight seats inside. “Cool!” I said after considering the implications carefully. But instead they helped me to lie back upon the sculpted trunk, resting my head against the roof of the rear window.

        We drove slowly down the crowded street. Faces passed steadily above me as if they were viewing an open casket. Why were they laughing? I was the Martyr of Love. I remembered being rocked side to side and trying to anchor my stomach to the unmoving stars above. I could hear Dyanne and Real Sheila laughing behind me inside the car. I must have dozed off. Eventually, I realized that we had arrived at the bay.

        They helped me onto a long dock. “Why are we at the docks?” We stopped in front of a moored boat. As my eyes focused, it became a small yacht! On the stern was written the name VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.

        Real Sheila giggled, “Permission to come onboard?”

        “I will insist.” Dyanne then said to me, “This is where I live.”

        I stammered, “On a boat? Why a boat? This must be really expensive. Dyanne, please, may I ask you what you do?”

        She replied, “A rich Dutch bloke I know, Marten, is letting me stay here.”

        Real Sheila asked Dyanne, “Where is Marten tonight, anyway?”

        “Some-fucking-where in India.”

        Once onboard, they sat me in a chair and they went below. I swiveled to look over the side. My mind bounced out into the bay with all the lights and commotion.

        I heard Real Sheila and Dyanne returning and they giggled as they swiveled my chair back around. I swear they were now wearing only bra and panties. OK, why not? I found myself standing swiftly erect and undressing myself down to my shorts.

        We embraced as a trio. Our kisses met at a point between the three of us. Real Sheila disengaged just enough to remove Dyanne’s bra. Then she let her own bra fall. My hands drifted down between their panties and their smooth cool bottoms. I knelt slowly, pulling the panties down with me. When the panties dropped below their knees and fell to the deck, Real Sheila and Dyanne both stepped out of them. The two of them embraced tightly and kissed.

        Still crouching between them, I sipped nectar from one and then the other of them as they slowly gyrated. It was Dyanne who began to twirl her fingers into my hair. I slowly rose back up. Dyanne turned to face me and pulled down my shorts, taking hold of me. Real Sheila moved behind Dyanne, kissing her neck and helping to lift her onto me. I held Dyanne’s bottom while Real Sheila pressed against my hands. I began to caress Real Sheila with my knuckles.

        And so we divided ourselves and shared everything.

        I became aware of the New Year’s midnight by the thunderous crackling of the skies and the canopy of colorful fire that blossomed above us and reflected in the bay.



        Last night has crept away again. That’s all I can remember right now.

        The storm-swell is becoming stronger and VAN DIEMEN’S LAND is starting to roll so much that I must get out of here before my hangover reaches my stomach. I find my clothes and pull them on and step overboard to the dock, leaving VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.

In the smattering rainfall I start the long walk back to wherever I live now.






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 POPE 1 - crop1 - resize 1 - dscf9623


        My name tag is called Michelle Cook.  Friends who know me call me “Heidi” because I still hide the fact that I’m lesbian.

I’m here in Lhasa, China, for the annual World Unity Council (WUC) presentations.  I work for the Global Water And Power Administration (GWAPA).  We control the clean water and the fusion power distribution for the entire globe.  Well, almost.  I’m the Director of Consistency.  I’m supposed to present our annual proposals.

Lhasa was once thought to mean “place of the gods” but we now know it meant “goat’s place.”

I’m saying this to the girl next to me at the bar, “It is 2084.  Israel was destroyed over a half-century ago.  Jesus is still a no-show.  The Vatican abdicated to a monastery somewhere in the Himalayas.  And the world didn’t go to any Hell.  In fact it is better off.”

I down my Collade and beckon the bartender for another.

The WUC convenes here in Lhasa every December twenty-fifth in honor of the birthday of our true savior: Heo Seong, the North Korean who brokered the World Unity Revolution.

I am saying, “We are no longer driven by the old superstitions.  The world has evolved into the liberation of peace.  We are ruled by Peaceful Consensus.”

The red haired girl to whom I am talking is clearly Chinoise (she said her name was Bling), and she is saying back to me, “You memorized well in school.  But you all bow down to Death.”

Bling takes a contemptuous sip from her breast flask in a way that just fucking turns me on instantly.  Her kind refuse to drink the beverages sanctioned and distributed by the WUC Bureau of Nectars.

It was her leather jacket with the Pope Fuckers logo that attracted me to her in the first place.  She is a cultivated female companion of the Pope Fuckers.  The Pope Fuckers control a big region of the Himalayas and the Tibetan Plateau.  They are the last to resist the World Unity Revolution.  The WUC has delayed the Illumination of the Pope Fuckers because they grow and distribute so efficiently the WUC raw materials for drug recreation.

Bling had said, “Yeah, they delay our ‘illumination’ because they can’t ‘illuminate’ us.”

I ask condescendingly, “Really?  Why not?”

Bling snaps, “Because we have the free-thinkers.  Our counter measures are always ahead of the dumb bureaucratic beast that paws at our freedom and our dignity.”

I roll my eyes, “The real world has moved beyond the illusions of freedom and dignity.  Didn’t you ever learn about the economic havoc and dislocation and suffering that was caused by the collective illusion of free choice?  Freedom?  Dignity?  As if humans were not social animals, as if everything they did, especially what they considered to be the freedom of will and the dignity of autonomous choice, was not predetermined by prior experiences, prior teaching, forgotten. and when rediscovered, arrogated as an individual achievement?  For Seong’s Sake, Bling, our very language and the way we conceive is learned collectively.”

Bling and I are interrupted by a gracious and beautiful WUC Social Servicing representative.  The Social Servicer says to me as she glances at Bling, “Just in case you need an ‘ice-breaker’ this evening, or if either of you should decide that your ‘goals’ are not the same, please accept my card.”

Her card calls her “Muo Dau”.  I smile.  That is Chinese for “silent prayer”.  And there is her number.

Was she just guessing that I was a lesbian?  Maybe it didn’t matter to a dedicated worker.  Well, bless the discretion of the WUC Social Servicers.  To think: that was illegal before the World Unity Revolution.  And who else would consider a three-wheeler an “ice breaker”?

When the Social Servicer strolls away Bling takes another suck on her breast flask and mutters, “Love of Stability is the root of your evil.  You want to crystallize evolution.  Stability.  It is your god.  And the most stable thing of all is Death.”

I respond, “We control evolution rationally.  Conservatively.  No one is left behind to fend for themselves.”

Bling says, “You think you were educated because you went to Yale.  Well, well, Michelle.  The Pope Fuckers accessed and downloaded the sealed archives at Yale.  Your ‘world unity’ economy is based on what were once the economies of criminals.”

I thought she was just trying to fuck my goat and I responded heatedly, “The old world economies were based on uncertainty, turmoil, and dislocation.  The real criminals were the business lords who fought one another with people as their arena.”

Probably because we are raising our voices an armed WUC Paxman approaches me and asks, “Everything OK?”

I answer casually, “No problem here.  Friendly debate.”

WUC Paxmen are the only ones who bear weapons.  It is a relief.  He says, “Easy on the Collade, ladies.”

Bling has contemptuously turned her back to the Paxman.  The Paxman takes a quick glance at her and moves along.  He almost seems apprehensive if not afraid.

Bling resumes her argument, saying, “The economy of your World Unity Revolution is alcohol, sex with strangers, recreational drugs, and games of chance.”

I respond, “Nectars, Servicing, Remedies, and Probability Management are all conducive to world stability.  Through the WUC everyone can afford what they desire.  There is no need for the chaos of material consumerism and the competition for things that are not necessary,” and I conclude with the powerful, “and everyone is happy.”

Bling responds, “You mean: no one resists.”

I have to laugh, “Bling, you are determined if nothing else.  Determined to feel alienated from humanity.”

Bling sneers, “I am what is left of humanity.”

Bling is adorable, dangerous.  I’m so wet I’m going to slide off of this bar stool.  She’s looking at me.  What is she thinking?  Is she thinking the same thing I’m thinking?

I say, “Do you… want to get out of here?”

Bling reaches her hand up my leg.  Oh, Seong.  Oh, Seong.  Her fingers negotiate my panties.  I start to lean forward to kiss her but I stop and I whisper, “Not here.  Come to my suite.”

As we discretely walk to the elevator I am amused that one of the proposals in my WUC presentation is to be the negotiation of rights for the Himalayan watershed.

Bling does not remove her Pope Fuckers jacket but she removes her leather trousers.  Her legs are white, smooth, cool and hard like marble.  I smoke her red fur.

Bling then laps me slowly, steadily like I’m the best ice-cream cone ever.  She puts her arms around my thighs.  I hear myself moaning.  Bling balances the tip of her tongue on my bean and rocks it like she’s trying to balance a button.  I am making sounds I have never made before.  She plunges her fingers into me and hooks my ledge while she continues to lap, lap, lap.  The electricity must go somewhere and I am screaming and I can’t shed the electricity fast enough and I am shuddering I am flailing I am going over the waterfall I die, again, again, again.


        I am weightless, gently drifting on the bed.  Bling has arisen and she is pulling on her leather trousers.  I gaze at her white legs at her sweet red fur.

        I ask Bling, “Will you be coming to the conferences?” I smiled and said, “I know I have.”

        Bling seems to think carefully and then she says, “That is why I’m here.”

        There are overtones of the intensity that Bling had applied to me.

        I say hesitantly, “Good.  Good.”

        Bling turns to me and I think we will kiss good-bye but she instead raises both hands over me and then she gestures a sign of a cross over her breasts.  And then she abruptly leaves.

        I call after her, “Will we… see each other again?”

        Bling says as she closes the door of the suite, “We’ll see.”

        After she is gone I luxuriate on the silk sheets.  I reach down to pleasure myself, thinking of the things Bling did for me.

        I reach under my ledge and suddenly I feel a warm gelatinous mass.  I try to rub it away but there is a stunning radiance of pleasure.  What did she put in me?  The mass is absorbing into me.  My waves of pleasure are increasing.  Oh, Seong, Oh, my Seong.  What did Bling do to me?  A parting gift?

        Now I am afraid as the waves of pleasure are coming faster, more and more intensely, so fast, Oh, Oh.  The waves of pleasure are becoming a tidal wave.  What is happening to me?!

        I am shuddering.  I am shaking.  As I am about to scream there is a jolt of intense release that paralyzes all of my muscles.

        My mouth is open like lock-jaw.  My chest suddenly feels as if it is exploding.


        The Director of Consistency, Michelle Cook, was found dead today in her hotel suite, the victim of a fatal orgasm.

        Authorities are seeking a red-haired woman wearing a ‘Pope Fuckers’ jacket who was seen leaving the hotel bar last night with Ms Cook.

        Pope Cinis Cineris III has issued condolences and prayers for Ms Cook’s family and for all, as he put it, “the lost sheep”.



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SAPPHO 2_ Édouard-Henri_Avril_(24)


        Listen to me well, there, Horatio, ol’ pal, while you dream of things in heaven and on earth, do you want to know how fucked-up I am?

        The girl I love, my soul mate, yes, I said it: my soul mate, laugh all you want (I used to), she’s gay.

        So, OK, I’m a student at CSU Fullerton, a Botany Major, and I’m waiting outside my Introduction to Shakespeare class, first day, when here she comes down the hallway.  She’s wearing a snug cashmere sweater and a short skirt.  She’s got long hair, long arms, long legs, and she’s beautiful.  She has a pointed nose, a pointed chin, and her facial features are all sharp and defined.

        “Like facets,” I’m thinking as I imagine how I would sketch her face.

        She walks right on up to me and asks, “Shakespeare?”

        I pinch the corner of my eyeglasses, lifting them and settling them back onto my nose, and I say, “Yes.  Professor’s late, I guess.”

        She says, “I’m Sapphire,” and she seems to pause expecting a predictable reaction.

        I say, “Hey, Sapphire, I’m Aaron.  Sapphire: what a great name.”

        Sapphire says, “For a stripper, right?”

        It is too perfect.  I have a dollar folded in my shirt pocket and I withdraw it and hold it toward her, asking, “Are you a stripper?”

        Sapphire laughs and asks, “Only a dollar?”

        Then I am a little embarrassed at my sudden boldness and I put the dollar back into my shirt pocket and I say the only thing I can think, “I’m a Botany Major.”

        Sapphire asks, “So, are you planning on working for one of the new marijuana companies?”

        I grin and say, “Yeah.  Quality Control.”

        Sapphire smiles and sticks out her hand and says, “Pleased to meet you, then, I’m a Marketing Major.  You don’t forget friends, do you?”

        I do not hesitate to grasp her hand.  I think to myself, “Friends?” and then I hover in my mind above myself and sketch this situation: a gorgeous girl that I have just met is actually talking to me first, and she is being right up-front with me and then she is letting me touch her?

        Then Sapphire asks enthusiastically, “Hey, have you seen that new movie Gravity?”

        I reply, “No, not yet.  I thought it was just going to be all special effects and no story.”

        Sapphire closes her eyes and says, “O-o-oh, it is not,” then those lovely eyes pop open and she says, “Yeah, it does have great special effects.  See it in 3-D, for sure.  But the story is so up-close and personal.  It is about survival.  You think you are right there.  It is intense!”

        It was all like the way I’m talking to you right now.  Like two good friends.  I was saying, “Really.  I was wondering why George Clooney would take second billing in a movie.  I thought maybe he bankrolled it.”

        Sapphire said, “I don’t think so.  Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so go see it for sure.”

        The whole situation was up-close and personal.  It was like an out-of-body experience for me by then.  I look like that actor from the ‘50’s, Wally Cox, and there I was chit-chatting with this total babe who was in the Megan Fox league.  I couldn’t quite assimilate it, but it was easy to talk to her.

        Other people were showing up and waiting for the class.  I saw people flashing glances at Sapphire, of course, and then looking quizzically at me talking with her.  A real Odd Couple.  The Professor finally showed up and we went in and found seats.  Sapphire deliberately sat right in front of me and turned and smiled and said, “Let me know how you like Gravity.”

        The Professor called her name for the roll, “Sapphire Curry?”

        What a perfect name.  She was Hollywood-ready.

        The Professor called my name for the roll, “Aaron Bender?”

        I might as well have been a banker with my looks and my name.

        The next time class met, Sapphire and me were early again and I talked to her about movies in general.  I spend a lot of time at theaters on a weekday night so that I might have the entire theater to myself.  Turns out she liked action movies as much as I did.  She was such a gorgeous tom-boy.

        I was saying, “I haven’t seen Gravity, yet, but I’m going to make time this week.”

        But Sapphire seemed a little preoccupied so I asked her, “Everything ok?” and she replied, “Oh, yeah.  I just misplaced my keys this morning and I’m trying to think where I could have left them.”

        I went for it, swallowing a rock in my throat and asking, “Hey, Sapphire.  You want to, to go to a movie, or something, some time?”

        Sapphire gave me a pained smile and replied, “Oh, Aaron.  I’m, I’m seeing someone.”

        I held myself together and said breezily, “I hope you know that you have ruined my day completely,” and I returned an embarrassed smile.

        Sapphire at least lowered her eyes demurely and smiled appreciatively.

        Well, of course.  There it was.  Nice try, Aaron.  The world made sense again.  Oh, boy, what a fucking relief.

        Sapphire didn’t just abandon me, apparently, and she said sweetly, “I saw Runner Runner.  I hate to say it, but Justin Timberlake was good.”

        I gave her a mock look of incredulity and I said, “I’ll have to see it, now,” and then I made a sad puppy-dog face at her and I added, “Alone.”

        For some reason I didn’t feel demolished by this strike-out.  I still felt that I was in the game; still felt like we were sharing…something, I don’t know what.  Anyway, call it a delusion; I didn’t think that there was “no chance”.

        When the class ended I was walking out beside her, not saying anything, but still with a gooshy warm feeling, some kind of emotional connection, as we stepped into the busy hallway.

        Suddenly there was this other beautiful girl who came right up beside Sapphire and arrested her momentum.

        This beautiful girl said to Sapphire, “I found your keys,” and she handed them to Sapphire.

        Sapphire said, “Oh, Chloe, thank God.  Where were they?”

        Chloe smiled and said, “I found them between the couch cushions.”

        Then Chloe kissed Sapphire full on the mouth and said, “OK, gotta go.  See you tonight.”

        Sapphire smiled and then glanced at me and she turned and walked away down the hall muttering to me, “Later,” without turning around.

        Oh, my God.  My stomach fell.  I just stood there in the middle of the hallway, being jostled.

        The next class I got there early again.  Sapphire was coming down the hall.  Even at a distance I was looking into the sparkle of her eyes.  She stood before me and said, “Hey.”

        I said casually, “Hey.”

        I forced a smile.  She hadn’t committed a crime, I reasoned.  Then the self-pity voice in my head just had to say, “Except stealing your heart for the fun of it,” and I argued with the little wimp, “Fuck you, how is this her fault?”

        Sapphire said softly, “Want to talk about it?”

        I said, “Hey, it’s OK.  You don’t have to say anything.”

        Sapphire said, “I like you, Aaron.  I wasn’t trying to hide anything.  Well, I guess when I said I was ‘seeing someone’ I was being…”

        I said, “Hey, no, no.  It’s OK, really,” then I grinned and shook my head, “It just figures.  Would it help if I wore a dress?”

        Sapphire laughed.

        I said cheerily, “Hey, I finally saw Gravity.”

        Then we talked about it until everyone else showed up and we went into the classroom.

        I had to laugh at myself for thinking the classic, “Too bad she’s gay.”

        Yeah, too fucking goddam bad for me.

        Next class Sapphire wasn’t there.

        I couldn’t stop thinking about her and for the next two classes she was AWOL.  Me?  I was Absent With Out a Lesbian, I thought bitterly, chastising myself for not letting go.

        When she finally showed up for the class again, she was late and she didn’t look at me but I saw she had been crying.  Can I tell you how that made me ache?

        I followed her out of class and, striding beside her, I said, “Sapphire, what’s wrong?”

        Sapphire said with a quivering lip, “I don’t want to talk about it,” but then she said after a moment, “Chloe and I had a terrible… a terrible fight,” and she grimaced as she fought to restrain bursting into tears.

        I said, like I was trying to put out a fire, “Hey, c’mon, that happens to every…couple.”

        Sapphire said, “She was cheating on me.”

        I could only say, “Oh, shit.  I am sorry, Sapphire.  Do you want to talk about it?”

        Sapphire tried to smile and she said to me, “No, thank you Aaron, but, but no,” and then she hustled away from me.

        That night I lost my job.  I was working nights at a sheet metal fabricator.  It was good money but it was extremely boring standing in front of a press all night.  I was almost relieved to be let-go, because I was living on four hours sleep a night.  But now I would use up my savings really fast paying rent.

        Next class I was early as usual and I was really happy just to see Sapphire approaching.  But she looked drained and depressed.  It was exacerbated because she was so beautiful.  It wasn’t right.

        I said, “Hey.”

        Sapphire sighed, “Hey, Aaron.”

        I asked, “How’s it going?”

        Sapphire shrugged and said, almost crying again, “It is over.”

        I said, “Oh, shit.  I am so sorry, Sapphire, really.”

        Sapphire said, “Now I have to find an apartment,” and she shook her head.

        I felt a burst of cold adrenaline in my chest and I just blurted, “Sapphire, I just lost my job and I could use a roommate.  Just for a while.  Until I find another job.  You are more than welcome…”

        Sapphire looked at me and started to say, “Aaron, I don’t think…”

        I interrupted, “Just roommates, Sapphire.  I’m not stupid,” then I joked, “Well…”

        Sapphire snorted a laugh and then covered her mouth and squeezed an urge to cry.

        I said, “Think about it.  You’d be helping me.  We wouldn’t be the worst roommates ever, right?  I’m gone a lot.  I have a great DVD collection!  I won’t have any problem with, with…”

        Sapphire said, “My being left-handed?”

        I grinned and said, “Yeah.”

        Sapphire said, “I really don’t know, Aaron.  It would be weird.  I don’t think you realize…”

        I said, “I realize that we are friends.”

        Where did that come from?  It was brilliant and sincere.  I guess it was true.  We were friends.  There it was.

        Sapphire said softly, “Thank you, Aaron.  I’ll think about it.  I will.”

        A week later she moved into my apartment.  The only problem was: I knew I loved her.

        Remember what you had said?  “You’d be in love with her even if she ate small children.  This is every guy’s fantasy!  She’ll be making out with her dates right in your living room.”  Well, that sure wasn’t my fantasy.

        Remember you had warned me?  “Don’t try to keep her like some kind of pet.”

        I had protested, “We are friends.  We’re just helping each other through a situation.”

        Sapphire liked sports a lot more than I did.  I rarely was interested until playoffs but she was a baseball fan.  I found that out before she moved in and I ordered the cable deluxe sports package just for her.  Of course I pretended like I had it all along but after a few questions I knew she realized that I wasn’t a sports fan.

        Sapphire wasn’t just a sports fan.  She walked the talk, or should I say ran the talk.  She participated in the Tough Mudder race.

        Tough Mudder events are hardcore obstacle courses designed to test your all around strength, stamina, mental grit and camaraderie. With the most innovative courses, over one million inspiring participants worldwide to date, and more than $5 million raised for the Wounded Warrior Project, Tough Mudder is the premier adventure challenge series in the world.

        When Sapphire told me about it I knew I would have died as a participant but I was still chagrined when she said, “The race is next month.  Want to come and cheer for us?”

        She told me about her Tough Mudder training workouts.  I decided that I couldn’t procrastinate any more my resolve to get in shape.  I wrote down the workout.  She smiled at me as she dictated, “Three times a week.”

Light Jog

Grapevines (running sideways)

Side skips (each way)

High knees

Butt kicks

Spider push-ups (lifting knees to elbows)

Jumping jacks

Squat and press with a weight

Skip rope for two minutes

Mountain climb (on hands and feet with a slippery piece of paper under your feet)

One minute rest


Turkish Getups (holding weight with arm straight)

Run for two minutes

Crawl Outs

Ski jumps (side to side)

Side plank dips

One minute rest

Plank climbers

Leap frogs

High knees

Pull-ups with shuffle

Quick feet (run in place, drop and do a push-up)


One minute rest

Butt kicks


Run for two minutes

Triceps dips

Jumping jacks for two minutes

Scissor jumps

One minute rest

Run Burpees

Towel pull-ups (chin-ups with towel)

Run two minutes

Squat jumps

Ski jumps (side to side)

Side lunges

One minute rest

Warm-down stretching

        I asked Sapphire if we could work-out together and she grinned and said hesitantly, “OK.”.

        Sapphire looked so good, glistening and making it look easy.  I was like a little brother trying to keep-up.  She laughed at me sometimes.  She goaded me like a coach.  But it was fun.

        The event that year was held in Los Angeles.  I drove her there and Sapphire met up with her seven “girlies” as she called them, her team.  There were guy teams too, of course; firemen, cops, jocks.

        Four hours later I was there at the finish line to cheer her on.  She was cut and scraped and covered with mud.  After all the “girlies” had hugged and, yes, kissed, Sapphire came over to me, still breathing hard and she said, “I was electrocuted, bleeding everywhere, cramping in muscles I didn’t know existed, and definitely saw a bright white light on several occasions.  Ten miles!”

        Sapphire went with her “girlies” to celebrate.  I told her not to mind me and I drove back to the apartment alone.  She didn’t come back until late Sunday.

        Sapphire had a flex-time job with a staffing agency; she was a “headhunter” for client firms and she said, “I’ll try to get you something.”

        Well, I was in better shape physically but mentally I was more retarded than ever: I would think about Sapphire when I jacked-off.

        I forced myself to go to a club and I actually got laid but I still was thinking about Sapphire the whole time.

        Too soon Sapphire was seeing someone new.  Alexandria.  One of her “girlies” had stepped up their relationship.  Alexandria reminded me of the actress Scarlett Johansson.  Under any other circumstance I would have felt damn lucky to associate with her.

        Sapphire was still cautious.  Her breakup with Chloe had scarred her and she was taking it all a lot slower and (I was glad) she didn’t want to rush and move in with Alexandria.

        Did I tell you that Sapphire kept the two cats that she and Chloe had?  Chloe didn’t care about them and Sapphire couldn’t handle them since they were a reminder of their relationship and she couldn’t bear to take them to the pound, so I said that I’d adopt them.  They became mine technically: Butch and Femme.  “Cute” in a way.  Sapphire didn’t think that Alexandria would like her to own reminders of her previous relationship.

        I used my generosity to “cash in” and ask Sapphire about lesbian relations.

        Sapphire said, “There is no rule that one has to be a butch and the other has to be a femme.  We are normal people who love each other.  And there are no gender definitions just because one works and one stays home.”

        Alexandria understood why Sapphire had moved in with me but she was jealous, or suspicious, I think, of my reasons.  I thought that she went out of her way to demonstrate that Sapphire would never think of me “that way”.

        Alexandria sat on the couch with Sapphire and we three were watching The Matrix again, a classic that Sapphire said was one of her favorites.  The lights were low.  Alexandria sat against Sapphire with her arm around her and looked at me and bluntly asked, “So, what do you think of lesbians?”

        I did my best diplomat impression and I pontificated, “Um, I think it is normal.  Ever since there have been people there have been gays.  I think it is just a natural outcome of the shuffling of the genetic cards in sexual procreation.  There is a spectrum.”

        Alexandria challenged me, saying, “So gays are just unavoidable fall-out?”

        Sapphire looked at me.

        I said quickly, “No, no.  Traits cost energy and they are not maintained in nature unless they are either totally neutral in survival benefit or they are positive in survival benefit.  Gays have always been here.  In fact, since even a neutral trail is hard to ‘justify’ in terms of evolutionary energy, I think that it must be essential to humanity, to the sexual process.”

        Alexandria seemed a little annoyed that I was being so reasonable in front of Sapphire and she suddenly asked me, “So, are there gay plants?”

        Sapphire laughed and I followed, thinking fast for an answer and after a moment I just said, “Well, there is my graduate thesis!”

        The atmosphere calmed and we went back to watching my DVD of The Matrix with the lights down low.  But out of the corner of my eye I saw Alexandria turn Sapphire’s face toward her and kiss her deeply.  I saw the sparkle in Alexandria’s one eye on me, like she wanted me to watch.  Then Alexandria slipped her hand up Sapphire’s thigh and under her skirt and she began to finger-fuck her.

        I got up as quickly and as gently as I could and I went to my room and shut the door and laid myself down on my bed and took deep breaths and tried to think about anything else.

        I noticed pretty soon that Sapphire and Alexandria were always drinking wine, always celebrating something.  They were excited to be together.  I could see that Sapphire was starting to feel carefree again.

        At the same time it seemed that they were always crying about something, like they were looking for reasons to be emotional.

        I also heard them having sex almost every night.  Sometimes (since I was now getting buff with Sapphire’s workouts) I’d actually score at a club and bring my date home and we’d listen to Sapphire and Alexandria and then we would both get worked-up.

        I was starting to look forward to those times when Sapphire would get worried wondering why Alexandria hadn’t answered a text message, or why Alexandria was so late without calling.  It was those times I would be her sympathetic ear or her shoulder to cry on.

        What the hell was I?  Don’t answer that.

        But a few months later it happened.

        Sapphire suddenly said to me one evening as she and I were watching my DVD of Avatar, “Aaron, we need to talk.”

        I thought apprehensively of the old Seinfeld line about relationships, “Nobody needs to talk,” and then I said, “OK?”

        Sapphire gave me a radiant smile and said happily, “Be happy for me.  I have big news.  Alexandria asked me to marry her.”

        While my mind went “What?!” my mouth just opened.  After a million microseconds I said enthusiastically, “Whoa, that is great.”

        I initiated a hug like I was grabbing a life preserver on a sinking ship.

        Sapphire was beaming at me and I sensed she had more news but in the ensuing breach of silence I asked, “So, so tell me, when did this all happen?”

        Sapphire said, “Alexandria and I have been talking about it for a while.  She asked me yesterday.  It was so beautiful.  We were at her apartment and suddenly there was a strange noise coming from the kitchen…,” she paused and put her left hand fingertips to her quivering lips and continued, “Alexandria pretended to be concerned and we both walked into the kitchen and, and all my girlies were there and they all started singing I Think I Want To Marry You, by Bruno Mars, while, while Alexandria got down on one knee and proposed to me,” and then Sapphire couldn’t speak any more without crying and she held up her engagement finger with the beautiful ring that sparkled like Alexandria’s eye that night she started finger-fucking Sapphire right next to me.

        I said with my frozen glee, “That is just great.  Really, really great.”

        Then Sapphire got serious and she took my hand and said, “Aaron.  There, there is something I want to ask you.  I talked about this with Alexandria and we made a deal.”

        I was thinking, “What?  Best Man at a lesbian wedding?”

        Sapphire said, “We want to have a child.  As soon as we can.  Aaron, Alexandria said she is OK if you want to be the sperm donor.”

        While my mind went “What?!” my mouth just opened.  After a million microseconds I said, “What?!”

        Sapphire looked me in the eyes and said, “Don’t you see?  We can make good what could never be between us.  I do love you, in the only way I can, Aaron, but we can never be.  You know that.  I think I know how you really feel and I want to give you the only happiness that I am able to give you.  If you can agree.  If you can’t, I will understand, but I will be sad, Aaron, honestly.”

        I flapped my lips and stuttered, “What, what does Alexandria think of that?!”  All of my emotions were colliding in my brain pan, in, in… a fiery curry, and I began to laugh.

        Sapphire thought I was making fun of Alexandria and she said to me, sounding to me a little hurt, “Alexandria said that she would agree to this under one condition…”

        And then I realized why she sounded hurt as she began to hurt me, saying, “Alexandria says we must agree never to see each other again.  And you must not, cannot have anything more to do with the child…or me.”

        How far did the world spin while I just sat there blinking at Sapphire?

        Sapphire said, “OK, I know that’s a lot to take in, Aaron.  If you want to be the sperm donor just tell me in the next couple days, OK?  OK?” and she kissed me lightly on the lips.

        I was just blinking like a toy, sitting there.

        Sapphire then said, “I’m going to be staying at Alexandria’s from now on.  I’ll be gathering my stuff over the next couple of days.  You have been a true friend, Aaron.  Aaron?”

        I congealed enough to say, “Yeah, yeah.  Yeah.  No problem.  Sure,” and I waved like a mechanical toy as she went out the door.


        I looked dumbly at the TV screen and Avatar and I actually wished I could have a female avatar so that I could then be with Sapphire.  That was the extent of my grasping at straws.  Either way I was going to lose Sapphire and I knew it.  This was it.

        Time to grow up, Peter Pan.

        The next day I stayed home and I tried to grow up.  To know that Sapphire might bear a child of mine was the only ember of love that I could possibly hope for.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so unbearable.

        That evening I laid myself back on my bed and was staring at a kaleidoscope of myriad memories on my dark ceiling.  I heard the front door open.  Sapphire had come back for something.  I heard rustling as she must have been gathering a few things.  There was a strange noise coming from the kitchen.

        Then Sapphire came into my bedroom, backlit by the golden kitchen light.  She wore a token transparent baby-doll nighty.  I was reduced to a pair of eyes on top of a Louisville Slugger hard-on.  She stepped straight toward me.

        She was holding two big glasses of wine and she said, “Don’t worry; I’ve had two myself already.”

        I took my wine glass but I just set it on the nightstand and I reached for her and she knelt onto the bed and embraced me.  I squeezed her too hard and wolfed her tongue and fell back and she exhaled through her nose and made an alarmed “Mmmm?!” sound and then we both snorted wetly but I plunged back into her mouth.

        With an inebriated astuteness she lectured to me in husky whispers about the electrical connection between her nipples and her vagina.

        She guided me precisely to her G-spot.  I had always thought that it was just a legend.

        Time became heat and humidity and sweat and softness and tongue and teeth.

        Sapphire suddenly grabbed and held my wooden bat.  She knew when I was swinging for the fence too soon.  She held me against herself in a seventh inning stretch and she actually spoke softly and coolly about baseball.  I laughed at her clever little joke.  But she made sure that the game went extra innings.

        There is a botany term dissilient which means “bursting apart; bursting open”.  Sapphire and I were at last extremely dissilient.  I couldn’t know for sure if Sapphire had faked-it.  I prefer to believe that she had not.

        I gasped with certainty, “That was a baby!”

        Sapphire smiled and whispered to me, “If it’s a girl, I’ll call her Ruth.”

        I wasn’t invited to the wedding and I was kind of glad, anyway.

        The last time I saw Sapphire she was jetting-off on the back of Alexandria’s motorcycle after saying good-bye to me.  She had surreptitiously nodded at me and I knew that she was pregnant.  I felt blue, like crying.


        I now have been married and divorced three times.  It was always the same: I was “emotionally unavailable” and I was “never satisfied”.

        Lately I have been daydreaming and hoping that one day I’ll answer a knock at the door and then standing there will be the child that Sapphire and I share.



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Sentenced to chain-gangs,

Words will surely set you free.

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2.  Where_the_Hours_Clanged_and_Fell

3.  Kenny_in_the_Crosswinds






9.  Dr._Seuss_and_Dos_Equis



12.  PAPA_GOOSE_-_”Rabbit,_Monkey,_and_Little_Girl”



15.  aDVISe_FrOM_A_fRIEnD

16.  PAPA_GOOSE_-_”Under_the_Stove”

















31.  The_Lickitty_Splitz

32.  Nothing Rhymes with Month, Silver, Orange or Purple









41.  We_met_in_the_4th_grade



44.  tHe_pUnK_cRitiC’s_NotEbOOK




48.  Professor_LeJeune’s_Substitute






54.  PAPA_GOOSE – “The_Wolf_Who_Cried_Boy”

55.  A_YOUNG_WIVES’_TALE_-_”Suzie’s_Bullet”


57.  PAPA_GOOSE_-_”El_Burro_Viejo_(The_Old_Burro)”



60.  A_YOUNG_WIVES’_TALE_-_”Palmdale”


62.  The_Diary_of_My_Mentally_Ill_Brother

63.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_1_&_2

64.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_3,_4,_&_5

65.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapter_6

66.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapter_7

67.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapter_8

68.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_9_&_10

69.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_11_&_12

70.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_13_&_14

71.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_15_&_16

72.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_17_&_18

73.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_19_&_20

74.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_21_&_22

75.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapters_23_&_24

76.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapter_25

77.  Servant_Of_The_Scorpion_-_Chapter_26

78.  The OS Wednesday Fiction Club for 8/3/11 – CLOSING TIME

79.  The OS Wednesday Fiction Club for 8/10/11 – CONTROLLED BURN

80.  OS Fiction Weekend Club for September 2-4 – JOURNEES INDESIRABLES

81.  WhisperYour Name Into My Heart – Chapitre II –DANS LA FORÊT DE VIEUX HOMMES

82.   OS Fiction Weekend Club for September 9 – 11 – A TOWN CALLED BAD WEATHER

83.  The Outlaw Honey Moses and THE INDISCRETIONS OF KATE GRODY

84.  Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre III – COUPS DE LA QUEUE DU DEMON

85.  OS Fiction Weekend Club for September 16 – 18 – The Outlaw Honey Moses and THE ONE BAD HABIT OF REX RAMSEY

86.  OS Fiction Weeked Club for September 23 -25 – Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre IV – CHANSON

87.  OS Weekend Fiction Club for 9/30/11 to 10/2/11 – THE POUNDING OF NAILS

88.  OS Weekend Fiction Club for 10/7-9/11: A PIANO IN THE WOODS

89.  Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre V – LE GRAND GUERRIER


91.  OS Weekend Fiction Club for 10/14 – 16/11 – MISS GAIDO

92.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club 10/21-23/11 ~HIDING OF THE FACE

 93.  Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre VI – LE TREIZIÈME MOINE

 94.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club 10/28-30/11 ~JUST GHOST TO SHOW YOU


96.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 11/4-6/11 ~ THE EARTH ALSO MOVES

97.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 11/11-13/11 ~ THE COUNSEL OF FEARS

98.  Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre VII – LES ACOLYTES

99.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 11/18-20/11 ~ VENGEANCE IS MINE

100.  The Outlaw Honey Moses and JUBILEE DUNBAR

101.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 11/25-27/11 ~ LA SCIENCE DE GUEULE

102.  Servant Of The Scorpion – Chapter 27 – Mateo, Marcos, Lucas, and Juan

103.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 12/2-4/11 ~ THE TWO FIGURINES

104.  The Outlaw Honey Moses and THE PASSOVER BANK

105.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 12/9-11/11 ~ THE CUTTERS LOUNGE – CARLA

106.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 12/16-18/11 ~ EUPHORANASIA

107.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 12/23-25/11 ~ INFINITELY BLUE

108.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for NeW yEaR*s 2012*THE END OF YEARS



109.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 1/6-8/12 ~ VAN DIEMAN’S LAND

110.  Whisper Your Name Into My Heart – Chapitre IX – LES VOIES D’HOMMES (The Ways of Men)

111.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 1/13-15/12 ~ A YOUNG WIVES’ TALE: LORELLA SHIEKH

112.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 1/20-22/12 ~ THE NARROW WOODS

113.  The Outlaw Honey Moses and THE DOG NAMED PUSSY

114.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 1/27-29/12 ~ ALAMOUD THE GOAT

115.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 2/3-5/12 ~ I JUST FELT LIKE IT

116.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 2/10-12/12 ~ MAN AND WOMAN DROWNING

117.   Whisper Your Name Into My Heart ~ Chapitre X – LA CHANSON DE LA MÈRE D’ESPRIT (Song of The Spirit Mother)

118.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 2/17-19/12 ~ SEE SPOT READ

119.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 2/24-26/12 ~ TOUCHING


121.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 3/2-4/12 ~ THE CUTTERS LOUNGE ~ THE SILVER STOGIE AWARD

122.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 3/9-11/12 ~ HEY THERE LONELY GIRL

123.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 3/16-18/12 ~ ANNA SYBILLA

124.  Servant of the Scorpion – Chapter 28 ~ ARMS OF FIRE

125.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 3/23-25/12 ~ COME APART

126.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 3/30-4/1/12 ~ THE RAGGED CLAWS OF MICHELA PIATTA

127.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 4/6-8/12 ~ UNDERGROWTH WITH TWO FIGURES

128.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 4/13-15/12 ~ ANGEL FALLS

129.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 4/20-22/12 ~ DUST AND DREAMS

130.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 4/27-29/12 ~ COLD, HUNGRY, NAKED, WET

131.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 5/4-6/12 ~ LAMBA RISING

132.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 5/11-13/12 ~ THE BEAST OF TIN CAN BEACH

133.   The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 5/18-20/12 ~ WALK THE YARD

134.   The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 5/25-27/12 ~ TWILIGHT IN PARIS

135.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 6/1-2/12 ~ FLASH DRIVE

136.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 6/8-10/12 ~ DINNER WITH MY MENTALLY ILL BROTHER

137.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 6/15-17/12 ~ DADDY’S DOLL HOUSE

138.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 6/22-24/12 ~ CROSS COUNTRY

139.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 6/29 – 7/1/2012 ~ CEVICHE

140.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 7/6-8/12 ~ ORCHARD OF THE GOLDEN APPLES

141.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 7/13 – 15/2012 ~ You are HERE

142.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 7/20-22/12 ~ HUNTING FOR YOUR SKIN

143.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 7/27-29/12 ~ I HAVE NEVER BEEN


145.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 8/3-5/12 ~ SPESHUL OLYMPICS

146.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 8/10-12/12 ~ The Cutters Lounge – A REALITY TOO FAR


148.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 8/17-19/12 ~ APPOGGIATURA

149.  The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 8/24-26/12 ~ POLARITY (TOO OLD TO POLE)

150. The OS Fiction Weekend Club for 8/31-9/2/12 ~ WORD TO THE WISE


152.  OS Fiction Weekend for 9/28-30/12 ~ ROLLING THUNDER

153.  OS Fiction Weekend for 10/5-7/12 ~ THE EDEN REUNION

154.  OS Fiction Weekend for 10/12-14/12 ~ SMALL TALK

155.  OS Fiction Weekend for 10/19-21/12 ~  CHÂTEAU DE CHATS

156.  DRAGGL


Cleek -à>>>pequeña publicita<<<



157.  OS Fiction Weekend for 10/26-28/12 ~ OUT OF SERVICE

158.  OS Fiction Week for 10/31-11/4/2012 ~ THE GRAVES OF LOUIS GAROU





163.  EVERY DAY ABOVE GROUND (Chapter 1)



166.  (Farewell when OS failed) LOVE TO YOU ALL, MY SISTERS AND BROTHERS


168.  EVERY DAY ABOVE GROUND (Chapter 2)


 170.  EVERY DAY ABOVE GROUND (Chapter 3)






 173.  Goodies On Demand


 175.  ECCLESIASTES 20:13




179.  ADOLPH MEISTERMANN (Carl Reiner Writers’ Contest Entry)

180.  THE END OF THE HOUR (excerpt from Adolph Meistermann)

181.  THE BAD BOY BLUES (excerpt from Adolph Meistermann)

182.  LAUGH THROUGH TEARS AGAINST HIS WILL (excerpt from Adolph Meistermann)

183.  GOD COUNTS HER TEARS (excerpt from Adolph Meistermann)

184.  CITIES OF REFUGE (excerpt from Adolph Meistermann)






190.  The Apples of My Eyes





195.  Whispers In My Left Ear




199.  I’M A GUY

200.  BRÛLÉE

201.  GIN FLY





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