Xenophobia


The inside was dark.  Derek McNeal flicks on the overhead lantern and mutters, “Ah, that’s better” as he presses the button for acceleration on his X5 Vehicular Model No. 211 Special.  The gray sleek turbo car tracks and shifts into the appropriate highway travel lane based on speed, distance, and number of other traveling vehicles.  At this hour, there were few.

Derek grunts as the sleek pieces of metal slip and slide back into place below his seatbelt.  It wasn’t exactly a very comfortable way to relieve oneself and took some getting used to, but his bladder appreciated it and so did his watch.  The automatic relief disposable bin prevented him from having to stop in one of the highway’s few Relief Stations along the way.  A good thing since many of the Relief Stations now housed several techno gangs who operated solely on looks.  If they didn’t like the way you looked then you died.  If they did, they’d keep you.  Not exactly welcome choices.

Now personally comfortable, Derek presses the automatic refill button to take care of the car — his sleek fiberglass steering transportation machine.  Passing by one of the thousands of gray towers zigzagging along the edges of the eastbound and westbound lanes, Derek hears the command bark through the loudspeaker in front of him.

A metallic voice yells “McNeal, Derek.  What type of automobile fuel would you like today?”

Derek responds with a gruff “Premium.”

“Premium, 12.5 gallons as usual?”

“Confirm.  12.5 gallons,”  Derek replies.

“12.5 gallons beginning … now.”

Derek grabs the slick oblong shaped wheel to brace himself for the impact as a giant arm-like shape juts out of the nearest Highway Tower and races towards him.  A few seconds later, he feels the arm connect to the refuel bin on top of the car and he hears the hiss of air, water and a mixture of fossil fuels being dumped into the rectangular 5” by 5” cubed space.  The Tower Arm bends and jerks with the movement of his car now heading up a hill and almost out of sight of the fill station.  He would have to flip up his hazard lights and hold the car in motion if the fuel dump didn’t finish in time.

Just as this last thought crosses his mind, the electronic voice comes through again saying “McNeal, Derek.  12.5 gallons premium.  Complete.  Would you like to dump your personal waste cartridge now?”

“Yes, dump personal waste cartridge.   Confirm,”  Derek mumbles back to the electronic box.

A few seconds later, he feels the Tower Arm detach itself only as another Tower Arm from the right side of the Highway further up attaches itself underneath his vehicle.  In less than five seconds, the electronic voice spits back  “Personal waste cartridge dump complete.”

“Thank you,” Derek automatically responds.

“McNeal, Derek.  Thirty-six credits will be deducted from your account.”

“Thank you,”  Derek replies again.

“Anything else?”, the metallic female voice queries.

“Yes.  Two beef Hot-dogs.  Mustard.  French Fries.  Onion Rings.  Cola — large.”

“McNeal, Derek.  Those are not foods on your approved dietary catalog.  I will need an override code, please.”

Laughing, Derek gleefully answers with “X12365.  Now can I have my junk food, please?”

“X12365.  Approved code.  Order being prepared.  Please wait.”

Sighing, Derek releases the wheel letting the automatic drive operation take control again.  He presses some buttons on the side door until he gets his driver’s chair in the correct position.  With his thick clumsy fingers he manages to squeeze his hand into the side pocket again pressing a series of buttons until his objective has been achieved.

“Ah, no that’s even better,”  Derek whispers as he feels the automatic heat sensors press and mold into his medium framed body through the leather material of the chair.

About the same time, the electronic voice returns saying “McNeal, Derek.  Order complete.”

“Thank you.  That will be all the service I require for now,”  Derek answers.

The voice responds with “Thank you.  McNeal, Derek.  Sixteen more credits have been deducted from your account.”

Popping the Mustard-Hot-dogs-French Fries-Onion Rings-Cola pills into his mouth, Derek mumbles another “No, thank you.”  The flavors explode in his mouth as the tiny white pills dissolve in his saliva.  Eventually he swallows only to burp still tasting remnants of hot-dog and greasy oils used for creating the French Fries and Onion Rings flavored food tablets.

Fully satisfied, he reaches above him flipping the switch marked “Music – Relax.”  Soon the soft sounds of airy instruments fill the slender car that could accommodate only two passengers including the driver at a time.  No one but Derek had ever traveled in his car.  There had never been a need.

Reaching up above him again, Derek jiggles and presses a few more buttons until the digital numbers read thirty minutes.  “That should be enough time,”  he says aloud as he presses yet one more button whose feature is scheduled to go off after thirty minutes elapses along with the alarm.

Leaning back into the soft chair, Derek shuts his eyes as sweet music swells all around him heightening his senses.  He barely feels the shifts and turns as the car zooms at mid-speed towards his destination.

 

Automobile travel had not always been this convenient, he recalls.  Almost thirty-five years ago as a child he remembers his parents had had to actually drive their cars and use maps, real bathrooms and stop at Fast Food restaurants if they were hungry.  Long dead now, his mother and father probably wouldn’t have been able to adjust to the New Society — the New Way.  They were better off being dead — those who did not, could not, or would not adjust were eliminated just as easily as personal waste was disposed of now.

His thoughts jangling around him, Derek jolts back into reality as the car’s internal electronic voice barks “Alarm.  Time Elapsed.  Please return to an upright state.”   As soon as the mini automatic arm and mirror charge from the dashboard, Derek is forced to sit up straight as the electronic razor begins to glide up and down his hard chiseled face.  Soon a comb moves back and forth automatically through his short black locks, and he winces only a little as tiny splashes of after-shave are sprinkled onto his newly shaven skin.

He takes a large breath of filtered air knowing what is next as the aluminum panels slip and slide around him forming airtight seals in a temporary compartment just below his neck.  He takes another deep breath.

He relaxes completely as he feels his black t-shirt and retro blue jeans sliced and removed from his body by the same automatic arm.  The clothes would be turned into the Tower Clearinghouse to be reworked and returned to him later in a brown paper mail-drop at his four room Apartment allotment off Central Avenue in ABQ, New Mexico — it had been shortened from Albuquerque years ago since spelling had become too difficult for what was left of the New Society’s inhabitants.  Now, everyone human used abbreviations for almost everything.  To his friends, he wasn’t Derek or McNeal but simply DM.  Easier to remember.

Thinking of his friends and the last time they’d reserved a Racquetball allotment pass, he grits his teeth as he feels his fit form being washed and scrubbed with lukewarm water and a soap cleanser.  The vehicle manufacturers had not yet figured out a way to get the car shower’s to produce really hot water.

He winces again as the water suddenly disappears to be replace by volumes of hot air drying his lightly tanned skin in seconds.  Tanning was not allowed, but for an inhabitant with dark features a few degrees of skin burning was acceptable since it was believed their bodies were more immune than those of fair-haired, fair skinned inhabitants.

A few moments later, the panels slip and slide returning to their previous positions only to reveal Derek now in a neatly pressed white turtleneck, black slacks, black hiking boots and a sliver timepiece and monitor secured around his right wrist.  Derek was left-handed — considered a flaw in the New Society but acceptable due to easier identification since there were not so many lefties among the inhabitants.

Wriggling around to a comfortable position, the Car Massager and Music Mosaic Surround Sound automatically shut down as the car’s built-in electronic speaker informs Derek he is five seconds away from his destination.

As the car pulls into the Tower Country Club’s overhang temporarily stopping motion, Derek locks down the theft pattern by whispering his middle name, Dean, into the tiny microphone in the steering wheel.  In the New Society no one had middle names so inhabitants often made them up for security purposes or for fun.  He smiles automatically as the inhabitant valet — a novelty in the New Society’s all electronic, all computers age — assists him from his vehicle.

Moving a few short steps and taking another deep breath — this time of unfiltered outside air, Derek presses the button for entrance into the Tower Country Club.  He knows what lies ahead of him and he is none too thrilled — at least sixty minutes of false and exaggerated celebration for his forty-first birthday party.  Only a few of his friends would be here — most would be inhabitants hired by the country club to make the party seem more realistic.  If he were a lower inhabitant instead of an upper one he might have some co-workers in attendance as well.  But, Derek had been fortunate –  he did not have to work for a living.

Biting his lip, Derek plunges inside the steel gray interior of the round sphere building wishing he had an automatic arm or electronic voice to guide him through all the necessary social graces and expectations for the next sixty minutes.  Every minute would be monitored and broadcast to the lower and middle inhabitants so they could see — since they were required to watch — what the life of an upper inhabitant was really like and aspire to it.

On the other hand, Derek could not afford any slip-ups or mistakes on his part — he being required to act accordingly unless he wanted to have credits deducted from his account.  Too few credits would mean banishment to the middle or lower inhabitant status.  And once banished below status there would be no return to the upper level ever.  The New Society believed once one attained or was born into upper status one had to behave correctly in order to stay or one would lose the privilege completely.

Putting on his best plastic smile and finding his firmest handshake, Derek enters the brightly lit ballroom.  A novelty orchestra also hired by the Country Club plays Big Band music.

As he glides towards the center of the crowd-filled room where a spotlight will be flung on him and his arrival announced, he suddenly realizes that ever since he’d been a teenage inhabitant in virtual High School he’d always hated — been afraid of inhabitants he didn’t know or rather strangers.  Unable to stop himself, the answer to his fear begins to cross his threshold of thought.  Without warning, he feels a sharp pain in his right wrist emitting from the silver timepiece/monitor.

Suddenly, Derek jerks his arm and body as the pain rocks him into reality.

A sharp voice echoes around him saying “McNeal, Derek.  Stop it!  You are not allowed to think.  Return to your previous state.”

Wildly looking around the damp cement cubed cell with a ceiling over forty feet above him, Derek twists his head a fraction taking in the long steel bars to his left preventing his exit and also glimpsing several similar cells scattered throughout down the long stark hallway.  He notes the gray and white distorted fuzz emitting from the 40 inch TV screen buried in front of him in the cement wall, and knows it will be used in an attempt to control his thought patterns.  So far it hadn’t worked.

He tries to twist his body further around when another jolt to his wrist — this time twice the voltage — shocks him back to a complying state.  Quickly, Derek flings himself back down on the cement cot keeping himself perfectly still.

“Prisoner X12365, McNeal, Derek.  Please comply,”  a metallic voice screams in his ear.

Derek repeats  “Prisoner X12365.  McNeal, Derek.  Will comply,” softly but firmly.

Maybe he was a captive here and maybe he was only daydreaming again, but he would never comply.  He might be afraid of the New Society’s leaders, but he would never tell them what they wanted to know.

The Shielded

I don’t like to think of it as “running”. No, let’s call it “traveling with the intent of avoiding a specific party”.

What you call it doesn’t matter, I guess. What does matter is that the Abunari have tracked me through six states up and down the Atlantic coast, and I need to keep moving.

I’ll assume you think that the Abunari is something like the mafia, some family organization geared toward money and corruption and a skewed view of honor. You’d be terribly wrong. The Abunari is ten times what the mafia could ever be with no clear understandable motivation. At least what the mafia does can be understood; the Abunari do what they do simply for the hell of it.

I guess with that much power it’s understandable.

I attacked one of them. They have this hobby of taking over largely public vehicles and crashing them into things. They like to watch your thoughts panic and bounce frantically around your aura as you see death approaching you, as you begin to comprehend that your life is terminating.

They live for that moment of clarity you experience right before impact. It feeds them.

I happened to be on that bus one of them overtook in Virginia. And I happened to notice that he didn’t even realize I was there. I looked him straight in the face. He looked right through me.

The Abunari do not “see” like you and I “see”. They perceive the world through something they like to call Visual Telepathic Energy. In essence, they don’t see you, they see your thoughts. Think something along the lines of thermal energy goggles.

I can’t explain it, but for some reason, they can’t see me. I have some sort of VTE shield, and they can’t penetrate it. That’s why the one on the bus couldn’t see me pull out the handgun I carry for protection and shoot him directly between the eyes. Now, of course, this didn’t kill him, but it stunned him long enough for us to toss him onto the road at 60 miles per hour. That didn’t kill him either.

I assume that’s why they want me so badly. It gives them something to chase, something to experiment on when they eventually catch me.

How are they tracking me? I can’t say that I’m entirely sure about that myself. My theory is that they can see me through other people’s VTE. Sure, they never had a clear basis for what I would look like to them, but I’m sure the one on the bus caught glimpses of me, even though he had no idea where I was or what I was doing. Using that, they simply follow me through the people that see me, those who happen to see a ratty, skinny, dirty young woman scaling scaffolds and running through shadows, those who happen to see me hop a bus to wherever.

That’s just a theory, though. I cannot claim to fully understand the Abunari. As I said: all that matters is that they’re tracking me, and I’ve got to keep moving.

All I care about is staying ahead. All I care about is finding others like me, other Shielded, so that maybe we can start a resistance. The Abunari want to tear this world apart; I don’t feel inclined to let them. There are more out there, somewhere, and I’m going to find them.

So I’ll keep moving. Be on the lookout for a woman in the shadows, beyond the perception of everyday life. That’s where I’ll be, preparing to fight.

Will you?

Deep Wood

 

Deep WoodDeep in the woods stands a cabin.  Occupying this cabin is a man who appears almost inhuman.  He came to be in this cabin through a rather unusual ordeal.  He’s a vengeful soul, constantly paranoid and very suspicious of other people.  To venture near is not for the faint of heart!  You might even say he’s a bit insane, but alas, he was not always like this.  He was once a normal person.

His story begins a long time ago while living with his parents.  A relatively normal childhood with his share of hardships and high points.  His parents were highly professional and highly respected in society, often attending functions leaving the boy home by himself.  It’s not that they didn’t care, it’s more they were incapable of dealing with his adventurous and seemingly free spirit.  He was always off exploring and getting into mischief that would force his parents to conjure up explanations to the town.  They eventually grew tired and impatient of his ways after a few years and there became a huge gap in communication and the family unit began to crumble.  Then, the incident occurred!  One clear night while his parents were out hobnobbing, he ventured outside to investigate strange lights he saw outside his bedroom window.  He searched and searched but came up empty.  Then, without warning, three aliens ambushed him and took him to their ship and took off!  Once inside, they strapped him down and performed test after test for what seemed like an eternity.

Meanwhile, his parents arrived home and without even checking to see if he’s home in bed, swiftly went off to sleep.  Finally he was returned home, exhausted and weary.  Whatever was done up there had him anxious and untrusting of just about everyone and everything.  Unable to rationalize or comprehend what just happened, he decided to turn in for the night.  He slept cautiously.  As morning came around, so did he.  During breakfast he emotionally conveyed his encounter to his parents.  Alarmed, and full of disbelief they felt necessary to confine him to a mental institution.  Hurt and feeling betrayed, the boy eventually went mad from being alone.  While inside, he vowed unconditional revenge on his parents and those aliens who did this to him.

Years went by as he planned and plotted his escape and revenge plan.  By now the boy became a young man and his hatred and intensity grew.  Meanwhile, his parents eventually forgot about him and went about their business.  A mistake that he would not let them get away with.  He grew stronger and stronger, waiting for the perfect time.  Finally, the time came to make his escape!  Before the guards even figured out what happened, he was gone.

His first order of business, find his parents.  They were not exactly hard to find either, just find a high class function!  He stormed into the room looking like a mad man would if he was locked away for fifteen years!  All the people scattered and fled, leaving his parents standing there amazed and puzzled.  He strolled over to the buffet table and grabbed a knife and proceeded to charge towards his parents.  They ran out, but not before he was able to slash their arms as they weaseled their way out his clutches.  He yelled after them, vowing to find and exact his revenge!  He, himself ran off into the woods and eventually stumbled upon an abandoned cabin where he settled and planned his rightous victory.  Few people ventured near, mainly out of fear and the ones that did, he made absolutely sure they thought twice about it!

It was a hot, lazy summer day when hikers stumbled upon his cabin.  Horrified and startled, they backed off when wildly approached by him.  Still, however, they were intrigued and mysteriously drawn to him.  The strong summer heat made him weary and unstable.  He began to have frequent hallucinations.  He would frequently begin to barricade himself inside as if he was surrounded by something.  When people drew near, he would speak in an unearthly tongue!  One crisp and cool evening, while cooking dinner for himself, he noticed figures outside his cabin.  He opened his window and immediately felt a wave of anger and adrenaline surge over him!  The very same aliens that abducted him as a child were now standing right outside!  He grinned with delight and prepared himself for a battle he was waiting for his whole life.  The battle was epic and waged on throughout the night with fire from his weapons and alien fireballs lighting up the clear night sky.  When it was all over, he had prevailed.  All that was left was to find his parents, or perhaps, they find him.

He waited and waited and the seasons turned until the following summer came around.  Again, the same two hikers appeared.  He was waiting!  In their first encounter, he had noticed the scars he had inflicted on their arms years earlier.  He brought them inside and he and he could tell their hearts and health were growing weaker.  He told them he had a present for them and asked them to follow him to the other room.  Upon entrance into the room, a loud THUD was heard as they literally dropped dead from shock and horror at what they saw!  In their final seconds they became a believer as they watched the lifeless alien bodies dangle from the cabin rafters, mutilated and swinging in the soft breeze from the little open window.  He had an overwhelming sense of accomplishment along with a huge grin on his face!  He sat the bodies in chairs towards the back of the room where they are facing the alien bodies.  He closes the door and goes off to sleep.

He never came out much after that and no one knows what became of him or what truly lies inside that cabin.  Whether he stll lives or not is unclear and shrouded in mystery.  There are many beliefs and theories as to what has become of him.  There are those that insist he died and his ghost lingers and haunts the cabin and you can hear the bodies swing if you listen closely.  Others say the aliens turned him into a freak of nature: half human, half alien.  Also that the cabin is a cover that hides the spaceship and secret lair.  Then there are those that say he still lives but is so deranged that he seems other worldly.  Which one is true?  There’s only one way to find out, IF YOU DARE!

If you are venturing out into the woods, be sure to not be alone in case you stumble upon a rickety cabin.  If you find you are brave enough to enter, be prepared for what you might find for you may just drop dead from fear and doubt from what you see!  Tell everyone you meet that when jogging, hiking, or just plain exploring to remember: deep in the woods stands a cabin.  Occupying this cabin is a man who appears almost inhuman.  He came to be in this cabin through a rather unusual ordeal.

 

conversation between butterfly and caterpillar

 

CATERPILLAR recognize me

BUTTERFLY (turning away glances over shoulder) excuse me

CATERPILLAR i’m you before you transformed

BUTTERFLY get away you sleazy worm

CATERPILLAR you can’t be serious look at me i’m you

BUTTERFLY look at you? euwwwh you’re a sticky slug with too many legs (pause) i’m exquisite fluttering colorful poetry a celebrity with huge fan base wherever i fly people recognize admire me Full Story

His Fellow Man

 

His Fellow ManA sharp sting, screaming violent voices all came down around him. He clutched his chest! He had been
shot! He dropped to the ground!.. His thoughts burned in his mind with contempt, bolting his mind into reality.
He was dying and he could do nothing to reach anyone for help. There were two bodies sprawled on the
ground in front of him. One other lay along his side. How many of his relatives had suffered this devastating
demise? Why did he believe tactics for their last chance of survival was to be restrained in a damp and musty
hole in the ground? Was this not supposed to save them?

Time, what length of time did it take? Would it ever be resolved and by whom, that these human forms died
so needlessly, as did so many others? They had already suffered, before passing into the place called peace.
They waited patiently for the moment of escape into a safe and better world that was steadily being destroyed
by man. What was Heaven? He was positive it was better than this.

He was content, only with the fact, that he was the last to remain alive. Scant time left for confirming this
reality. He was truly thankful that the woman he loved so dearly had preceded him in death by minutes. Her
suffering was ended. The two innocent, physically healthy children that lay so still on the brown, dusty ground
yet not a breath of life between them. All were a fun-loving family. They understood, only too well, death could
befall them. The eminent danger and the possible lack of a full future life, Why was this? It was because of the
invasion warnings that came from the newspapers, television and radio. The last few months all had been
deluged with references about invaders. Their fears everyday were magnified.

Oh, yes, he was their leader, a thoughtful, modest, intelligent business man. Most of all the Father and
protector of this close-knit family. He could barely see now, through the mist of his pain, the form of the woman
he so proudly lived with and loved. He longed to reach out and touch her body. She was still warm. He lie
motionless with no real desire. to increase his discomfort and his own mental and physical pain. Nor did he
try. Many more favorable memories flashed through his mind. It brought a piercing smile to his lips.
Lenny, his lovely daughter, a tomboy. Her given name was Arlene. It did not fully describe her. Her boyish
personality hid all her feminine attributes. She was only fifteen. So naive, but ready to accept the threats
connected with the so-called forthcoming invasion. To gain her survival, she had suffered along with the
restrictions. Fourteen Days. They all had endured a drastic life change and terrible confinement.
Duck, his delightful son, lie, as if asleep on a bed for an afternoon nap. His left hand over his head. His
cheek resting on the cold wet ground. Small in stature, but a big man at heart. He too had already
experienced life, laughter, sorrow and strict confinement. This all within his seven years.
Breathing was becoming more difficult. Time was now a matter of minutes to remain conscious. Lost of any
new societies of man. He and his family. All gone. It was ironical, after all those days of restraint. The suffering
of all the discomforts of the dark room, the hiding, confined to a point of mental breaking in that stinking bunker,
only to come out of the ground, sprouting like a tree in the spring, vital and enthusiastic to have life begin
again, wandering for a mile or more among the dead and debris, to look upon who they knew as their fellow
man. They did not recognize the family. Their voices, in perfect unison pelted his ears, “Shoot them, kill them,

they are the invaders!”

THE END

By: D. Hassen

Mind power techniques

There is a series of mind power techniques that can be used to counter attack various situations in life, as we journey on this earth we are bound to come across some extremely difficult situations. It is understood that there are different kinds of situations some are simple while some complex Full Story

UP IN SMOKE

Rated R

“BITE ME! BITE ME!! BIIIITTTTEEE MEEEEE!!!” is what I have heard for the past eight months every Tuesday night between eleven and midnight. Mr. Nakamura loves Fiona because she’s the only one willing to put up with this crazy ass “pain for pleasure” thing he’s got going for himself. I will never understand, even though I’m a guy, how you can ever feel good by having your dick chomped on. As much as I don’t want to think about it, the thought comes back to my mind every Tuesday night.
I roll over in bed, trying to get myself into a happy place so I don’t punch the wall again and interrupt the freak fest in the next room. Last time I did that Ananda wasn’t too happy with me. But she forgave me; she understands that living in a whore house has its ups and downs, even for someone like me. I love it when the girls walk around half naked; it’s the damn customers that get to my head. All that damn screaming and hollering just to bust a nut is ridiculous.

Think, think think…..think man, think! Finally, I get a good visual fresh from this morning. Wendy “Jesus is Alright with Me” Mumford, the preacher’s daughter. Someone that squeaky clean will never look at me, ‘specially if she knew the rumors were true about me staying here. It would amaze me to see her naked. It’s different from seeing the chicks here bare assed-I expect it, but to see Wendy? My my my………aaaahh, Wendy’s tits. Yeah, Wendy Mumford’s glorious tits. Saw them jumping around in gym today. I pray for the day her shirt decides to quit that bitch so I can see what kind of nipples she has. Living here has turned me into a certified nip-ologist, if there is such a thing. If there isn’t, there should be, cuz then I’d be one rich son of a bitch. Imagine that: eighteen year old fuckn’ billionaire. Sounds good to me. What doesn’t sound good is Mr. Nakamura meowing like a damn cat in heat. I’m not officially a man yet (still can’t buy a beer legally), but I know men aren’t supposed to do dumb shit like that. No wonder he has to pay somebody to fuck him–who the hell wants to have sex with Fluffy?

I still remember when my life was hell, still remember going home to my dad, the animal that drank and lived in front of the TV all day. He’d work the mid-shift at the paper mill, and then get blasted until the sun came up. I remember when his hours got cut back and he complained for a month about how I needed to get off my lazy ass and get a job. He was such a sweet cuddly father. I remember havn’ to go get him every other Friday from Ananda’s place, where I am now. He was hooked on Paloma, didn’t care if nearly half his check was going to her, just for the sake of him banging her until he passed out. The trillionth time I went up to Ananda’s to fetch my old man, we got into a scream match-think we might’ve scared off some customers that night. He called me a ‘good-for-nothing spawn of my mother’ after I told him I didn’t think I needed to work, I mean, we weren’t in the poor house but we were doing okay with what he was getting at the mill. I could take all of that, every gin soaked word, until he said my mother died because she knew she had birthed ‘nothing but another useless bastard’ into the world, which made me pound him so hard I ended up breaking my hand. He was still conscious, saying I was ‘dead to him’ and that ‘if I didn’t get a job then he would kick me in the street’. Next thing I know I was working here, just fixing drinks and stuff for the clients while they waited to feed the horny devil in their pants. I think Ananda felt bad, especially after dad died two months later, and knowing I really didn’t have anyone else, she insisted I could stay here as long as I stayed in school. I didn’t like school, still don’t, but being homeless and dumb isn’t something I ever wanna know about. Seven months later, and I’m still here, still trying to getting a grip.

I can’t take it anymore. I’ll go see what Ananda’s up to. I could sure go for one of her crazy ass stories, or at least some vodka and tea. I get up, stretch a bit, and turn my head in search of my boxers. I like sleeping naked; if only I could do everything naked. I wonder whose bright idea it was to wear clothes anyway, I mean, dogs and monkeys don’t wear clothes so why the fuck should I? Oh yeah, damn law, that’s why. My boxers must’ve slid onto the floor while I was flipping like a fish in the bed, trying to drown out that Japanese wailing next door. I don’t feel like looking for ‘em, so I’ll just grab some from my drawer.

“Hi sweetness,” Ananda says before standing up to give me a kiss and a hug. She’s always been warm towards people, and she was especially fond of me since I don’t down what she does or look at her like a criminal. After all, prostitution is illegal in Delaware.
“Hey Ananda. What’s good at the bar for tonight?”

“Mr. Roboto keepin’ you up again baby?” She chuckles. What a sweet chuckle it is.
“You know he is. Can’t you move him to another room?? Can’t he come earlier so I don’t have to keep hearing that shit?? It’s ruining my beauty sleep Ananda, it really is.” I have asked her this before, so I already know what’s about to come out of those thin pink lips of hers.

“Now Demetri, you know I done told you that Mr. Sake up there is one of my best customers, and I’m not gonna let a shift in time run off good money like that. Why don’t you listen to that zoop I gave you?”

She’s always mispronouncing anything current. She’s only thirty-eight but a bit out of touch. Just the other day I found out she thought an MP3 was a new STD. What would she ever do without me around? “It’s a Zune Ananda, and I can’t fall asleep to music, you know I need quiet,” I say with an ounce of mercy in my voice. I know it’ll work on her. It has to if I ever wanna wake up on the right side of the bed on Wednesdays ever again. Maybe I need to make a puppy dog face too. I do.

She’s looking at me with those caramel eyes, then says, “Okay sweetness, I’ll run it by ‘em before he hits the street tonight. I promise.” I believe her.

“Thanks Ananda, you’re the best, but you know that already.”
She chuckled again. “Stop it Demetri or I’ll have to thank you properly.” She just winked at me. She’s been doing that a lot lately, but I figure she’s just messing with my head. With all those licorice waves of hair, that nutmeg skin, and thickness the girls at my school could only dream about or see in rap music videos, why would she want me? I mean, I am pretty hot, but, nah. No way. Is she a cougar? Cougars are hot. But a madam cougar is a whole other story.

“Okay Ananda, slow down girl.” We both laugh out loud, then Ananda pulls a bottle of vodka from the bar and a small shot glass that reads on the front You Look Like I Need Another Drink in faded red letters.
“Do you have any sweet tea to put with that?” I ask. I loved some sweet tea and vodka. Something about it made me relax. If only it came with a good night’s sleep.
She put her hand on her hip while slowly nodding her head, now making an expression of disappointment. I think I might be shit out of luck with the way she’s looking at me right now.
“Sweetness, you should know better than that! I always have some of my sweet tea ready for you…..and I’m not just talkn’ ‘bout what’s in the fridge.” She lets out a ball of rolling laughter. She’s giving me a case of the scareds big time–was she drinking before I got here? I search for a bottle of alcohol of any kind. Nothing, not even a scotch glass. She’s never flirted beyond a wink with me before, so I don’t know what her deal is right now.
I need to say something to stop this weirdness from going on…. In an attempt to break the awkward silence, I finally say, while she’s still cracking herself up, “Okay, well, how about that drink Ananda?”
Looks like she’s getting herself together, still chuckling as she mixes the two sweetest nectars of Heaven together. Did she have some ‘E’ or something? This shit is from the Twilight Zone or something.
Ananda slides the glass to me over the cherry wood bar counter. I’m look at her, but before I can get the ‘Thank You’ out my mouth I see her tongue, charging like a raging bull, crashing into my mouth. Oh. My. God. Is this really happening?
I can taste the Italian wine she had earlier, Barolo, her favorite. I’m tense….but now I just have to let my body go with this. If this was going to happen…..then it was going to happen. Who am I to disappoint fate? But I have no idea what I’m doing……I don’t know anything outside of gettn’ down while I’m on RedTube, the best free porn site I’ve ever found. Truth is, I’ve been too scared to bang anyone, though I’ve had many offers. I always lie to the guys, saying I’ve had my fair share, but only in my wildest dreams. Was this a dream? It has to be……….

Ananda stops kissing me long enough to whisper “You have school in the morning….off to bed now.” Then one final tongue thrashing. I’m rock hard–she sees this and laughs wildly. Is this a game to her? I have to get out of the kitchen.
Embarassed, I quietly stutter “Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh uhkay, I mean, okay.” I’m racing to the stairs, I almost knocked over Tandy, though she could’ve just as well pummeled me with those meat balloons of hers-do they really make bras in a size E? Her specialty is role play, and from what I’ve seen and heard through the door of her room when she forgets to shut it all the way, she’s quite convincing as a slutty secret agent and undersexed house wife.

“Watch it Demetri or I’ll shit on you! You might like it!” She hollers as I run up the staircase. I couldn’t get to the bathroom fast enough. Sure, I could’ve used the one downstairs, but I fear Ananda might get to me there. I used to have a serious crush on her, but then I snapped out of it once I realized she was more like an aunt, a mother even to me, and that it wasn’t right. Now everything I used to feel is coming back, and my hard on is telling me so.
Finally manage to get to the bathroom; the door is closed. I open it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Paloma and Mr. Duran are screaming so loud I’m sure all the glass in the house is broken. I’m screaming too, only not out of shock but disgust. Mr. Duran is on his knees, level with the tub, drinking red bath water, lapping it up like a dog. Red bath water? What kind of fuckery is this? Do I even really want to know? I do!
“What the fuck is this!” I demand, mostly out of panic then curiosity.
“It’s my bath water and my blood,” Paloma says loudly, still half screaming.
I’m trying to calm down, but get fired up again when I realize she said her blood. “Wha-what? Did this ass bag cut you?” I dart my eyes at Mr. Duran , feeling my fist tightening.

“No no no no Demetri! It’s my menstruation, you know, my period,” she says coolly, as if this kind of shit was your everyday bathroom routine. Mr. Duran is nodding his head in silence, while he still looks as if he’s been caught spiking the punch at a school dance. He should have been hiding his face since now I know what kind of freak he is, though I should have suspected before when a week ago he picked up a case of raspberry jam from here……fuck, that wasn’t jam!

I feel the need to vomit, so I do.
“Oh Demetri! You’re gonna have to clean that up honey. Hurry, it’s quite rank.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I’m running, looking for the closet with the bleach and mop. I find it, then rush back to the bathroom. Mr. Duran is still there, finishing what he had started before I barged in. I clean like the wind, and am now heading back to my bedroom. I wasn’t aroused anymore–Count Duran and Paloma took care of that.
I slowly turn the door knob and, sigh just to relieve the stress of the night. Didn’t work. Oh well, at least now I just need my bed since I’m sure Mr. Nakamura is gone. At last, some shut eye!
I’m taking my boxers off again. I don’t want to see them until the morning. What time is it? Alarm says 12:49 am. I turn the light on.
“Heeeeyyy boy!”
“AAAAAHHHH!!! YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME GIGI!”
“Damn, nice ass you got, front looks good too.” Gigi giggles wildly. She’s been after me since the day I moved in here. She was the first one, besides Ananda, to make me feel at home. She’s always playing grab ass with me, and I don’t mind since she always gives me cash here and there if I give her a good full body massage. I think she wants another one tonight–or did she? Her body is amazing, and I enjoy every part of it, but I feel too beat to give her a massage.

“I’m too tired to give you a back rub Gigi, I’m beat. How about after school tomorrow I fix up that stellar body of yours?”
Gigi chuckles, then says, “I don’t want a massage tonight.” She stops talking. She’s looking at me with those green eyes, her tits practically leaping out of her size-too-small satin cami. To be forty-two, she was quite hot, like Demi Moore hot. I always get hard when massaging her. I couldn’t help it. Plus she let me touch her tits, so, it was all good.
I look back at her, hoping she says something to break the uncomfortable silence. Feels like we’ve been staring at each other forever. Ok, I guess once again I need to start talking.
“What is it that you want then, Gigi?” Silence again, and she’s still holding that gaze. Now she’s slowly rubbing her breast. Jeez. What is this, seduce Demetri night?? I feel my penis inching. Shit!
Gigi opens her legs, revealing black crotchless panties. I bet she just finished using them on some client. They look clean, though. She starts rubbing her glorious vagina……oh no. I’m totally hard now.

“Come,” she practically whispers. I’m still standing a few feet from my bed where she’s lying on my Iron Man sheets. Was I too old for Iron Man? I’m too scared to move. I don’t know what she’s gonna do to me. Oh. My. God. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Ok, I need to chill, need to be cool about this. I have a hot ass milf in my bed, and I’m just standing here like a star struck teeny bopper backstage at a Justin Bieber concert. Think man, think!!!! She keeps touching herself!!
“I said come, Demetri. Don’t you want to go to sleep? You look a bit tired, have you been working h-a-r-d today?” She starts laughing again. Damn it, why won’t you go down!!

I take one step, another, another, just taking my time in case I trip and break my dick off. No one wants a dickless guy.
I jump. My door just opened loudly. It’s Ananda.
“What the hell is this, Gigi?” She says. Her face is twisted up like a lasso.
Gigi stops touching herself. Her smile melts to a frown. Oh shit, is there gonna be a catfight? Cuz that would be hot!
“Ananda, my dear, I’m just showing the boy how I warm up my customers.” She was lying soooooo bad.
Ananda relaxes her arms and face. She starts walking to my bed, pushing me gently to the side. She bends over and kisses Gigi, practically eating her face off. What in the hell is this?!
Now Ananda is lying in bed with Gigi. I can’t take this. I think I’ll just go get a drink.
“Where do you think you’re going?” They both say almost at once. I jump from shock.
“I’m a little thirsty, so…..I, uh, I uh, I want-“
“Get in bed, you have school in the morning,” Ananda says gently while looking deeply into my eyes. Man she is hotter than ever tonight.

“Um, there’s no room for me.”
“Sure there is.” Gigi smirks. She was on fire herself.
I still can’t believe this! My first time, and with two women! I need to pinch myself. Ouch!
I start back over to my bed. Two ageless beauties are lying there nude. They both move over to make room for me. I’m in the bed now, still hard as a rock, shaking a little bit. This is just all too much for a virgin!
Gigi looks at Ananda-Ananda looks at Gigi-they both look at me, smiling like two little kids up to no good. But this was good. So good, it can’t be real, but it is! Ananda is rubbing my chest now…..Gigi starts kissing me–this is great!
I need air, all this kissing has taken the life outta me. I’m trying to pull away, but Gigi won’t let up. I keep trying–it’s like she’s forcing me to stay. I’m trying to talk, but it comes out muffled with her mouth all over mine. I feel a burning sensation on my feet….now my legs…..my waist….my chest…..what’s happening to me? The burning is in my throat now–I’m coughing.
“At last, a fresh virgin soul to absorb!” I hear Gigi cackle.
“So tender it is, mmmmm the sweetness of it……” Ananda’s voice.
“Another few months of beauty–no age, no sickness, no feeble bones or minds!”
“I’m sorry Demetri, we like how you helped out around here, made us feel better on some of those hard days, but we like your youth more. We need your soul to live, to stay beautiful.”
I manage to get a raspy word out “Bitches!!”

They both start laughing. I’m dying while they’re laughing, nice.
“Thank you for the compliment, but we’re actually a hybrid of succubi……never mind all that. This will be over soon.”
I feel the inferno all over me, and as I watch these two look over me, without guilty eyes, I realize that the worst thing about dying, is dying a virgin. I need help more than I ever needed it before. As much as I hate saying this, I wish dad were here to save me now. He was a piece of shit, but he was my piece of shit.
“Sayonara demons!” yells Mr. Nakamura after he lets himself into the room. He’s steadily holding a crossbow, aims and shoots Ananda then turns and fires at Gigi, both in the chest, straight through the heart. A tornado-like black funnel pours from their gaping mouths, the sound of thunder nearly shakes the room. The funnel disappears without a trace, and the hot bodies it came out of were nothing more than ash and sulfur.
Mr. Nakamura runs over to me, placing his hand on my chest, “You’re going to be fine Demetri, just get up slowly.” The burning was almost gone, and my lungs filled with air. I say, “What the hell was that?”
“Your welcome.” Mr. Nakamura says sarcastically.
“Sorry and thanks man. I’m just trying to figure out what just happened.” I realize I’m still totally naked, so wrap my Iron Man sheets around my waist.

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, but thanks for the thought. What just happened here is a long story, but I can try my best to tell it without too much confusion. First off, I am a demon hunter, have been for the past twenty-six years since my wife was killed by a Rakshasas demon. I moved to Delaware about four months ago on a lead from a fellow demon hunter about a succubi nest in Wilmington. Cat houses and strip bars are usually places you find most succubi since it’s easier to lure young men. Even though I was getting my fill here every Tuesday, I was also on the lookout for any clues that would help me track and destroy these creatures. I finally got my answer when I overheard Ananda placing a big order for patchouli and corn oil- succubi use patchouli and corn oil to maintain the freshness of the new skin they obtain after gorging on a virgin soul. They could have killed you sooner, but it had to be on the night of a full moon in June, and since the drop of young men coming here halted the usual quarterly soul feed schedule, they had to use you. I’m sure they liked you a lot, but they were getting desperate and needed new souls to feed on or their true age would show, which is unacceptable among their culture.”

This was all sounding like a wacked out dream you get after you smoke pot, but I knew he was serious. Seeing him kill them was real. Seeing the tornado was real. The burning sensation was real.
“Do you understand Demetri?”
I hesitated, “Yes. But what do I do now?”
“You come with me. I think you would be valuable as an apprentice. There’s been another succubus sighting in Seaford, and with some training from me, you’ll be ready.”
I didn’t know what to say really. Now I truly had no one but the guy who enjoys being bit on his junk. Research my ass. I won’t get anywhere in school, barely passing half my classes. Maybe a demon hunter is my true calling. Maybe this was the beginning of my end. This is a good time to visit Seaford: lots of bikinis and babes there.

note card story/ in the lions den…

While sleeping in the lions den, I awoke dramatically to discover my hair was on fire! As I’m freaking out trying to grab the fire extinguisher that queer politician from Jersey pops out of nowhere! “I can help you,” he said rather sweetly. But “aaaahhhhhhhhhh!” was all I could manage to say because Full Story