Chapter 2
| The Story | The Authors |
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| ...accompanied by incidental harp music and just a bit too much dry ice. He looked around. Where was he? | |
| Stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes populated the room, but it was the two five-foot-high posters of Duran Duran's dashingly effeminate lead singer Simon LeBon that gave it away -- but of course! Esther Schimmelbaum! This was Esther's bedroom... He shook his head. "Damn," he said, "God-damn. I'd forgotten..." He almost felt tears welling at the edge of his vision; he gulped; Stevie gave his hand a little squeeze of encouragement... | |
| The door opened and in came Esther, leading -- Jake gasped -- none other than Andy Diamond, that pipsqueak -- and on a leash, attached to a dog collar girdling Andy's neck, no less! | |
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But -- but -- Esther was his girlfriend, Jake's! How dare she, how, how...his very mind stammered. Stevie gave a little giggle. Esther and Andy had undressed each other, and Jake watched in horror as she unclipped his leash from the studded collar and asked in mockingly, "Have we been a good dog today?" "Arf! Arf!" replied Andy, nodding earnestly. | |
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"Then we get a Scooby-snack!" chirped Esther, slamming her muff into Andy's face with a giggle. What the devil is this? puzzled the aghast Jake -- she'd never spoken to him that way, or acted that way, and she'd never even put out below the waist, but teased him through an entire summer in which painful cases of blue-balls became an almost daily occurence -- but this, this was like a whole different Esther, emitting the first and softest in a series of low, throaty moans as Andy's tongue began to work its magic. "You never took her seriously," said Stevie sadly, "As so she never revealed her true self to you. Esther possessed the most preternaturally precocious libido of all the woman of Hiram Benlevi Synagogue, and you never even knew it. She thought you wouldn't understand. She thought you'd make fun of her." "But -- but I was only fourteen," sputtered Jake. "How was I supposed to know these things?" | |
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"Excuses, excuses." Stevie shook her head mournfully, and took his hand. They floated through the window and up into the sky, and sailed over the houses in that northernmost subdivision of the little town of Woodchuck, New Jersey. Jake thrilled at the feeling of flight, the fizzing and turning in his stomach and the wind in his eyes, and the way Elm Street looked from above. There on his bicycle rode little Peter Goldhamer, the paperboy, tossing evening Globes to his left and to his right, and there was old Mrs. Kuelzer shaking her fist and swearing in Yiddish at him for missing the porch and landing her paper in the bushes again. His heart exbanded like a bellows with love for these people -- these were his roots, his kith, the cornerstone of himself! He adored them. They now began to descend, and he saw his own house before him, spangled with the shifting lights of eventide falling through the swollen umbrage of the oaks. Stevie aimed them for a second-story window which he recognized as looking in on not just his bedroom, but his very bedroom, and his cheeks grew hot with shame and embarrassment as the two of them entered to the truly upsetting site of the young Jake, his Levis pooled at his ankles, humping away for Kingdom Come at the Jergen's-moistened hole he'd made in the synthetic stuffing of an old pillow which he kept hidden away at the back of his closet for such times as this. "Oh, oh, oh!" moaned this 14-year-old Jake almost histrionically; "Esther-uh! Esther-uh! Esther-uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh UH!" Stevie Nicks, Ghost of Masturbation Past and all-around mystic lady, rippling spectrally and tracing finger-circles in his palm, giggled a secret little giggle, not -- as Jake thought -- at the sight of the ardent lad inside, but at the huge poster of her Belladonna album cover tacked to the wall directly over the still faintly-jiggling bed; and Jake (the older one), seeing Jake (his younger self) begin to disengage from the pillow, looked at his otherworldly escort, rolled his eyes, sneered, and asked, not without a liberal dash of sarcasm, "Can we, like, go now?" | |
| "Yes, yes, yes." sighed Stevie. "It's almost time for your next visitor anyway." She took Jake by the hand and they flew out the window again towards Jake's present house. "So what have you learned so far?" Stevie asked. "Not a goddamn thing! I really have no idea what the point of all this is!" Jake answered. Stevie shook her head in disappointment. "Looks like it's going to be a long night for you, Jake." Soon Jake was settled back in his own bed, in his own house, in his own time. When Stevie was safely gone, he wacked himself to sleep. But it wasn't long before the room was filled with a bright red light that woke Jake from his fitful sleep. Held his hand up against the light, squinting to try to see who was there. "Sorry, is it too bright?" said a male voice with an english accent. "Is that better?" he said and the light dimmed to low red glow. "Yes," Jake lowered his hand and got a good look at the ghost. This time the ghost looked remarkably like George Michael. "You look remarkably like George Michael." Jake said. "Yes, yes," the ghost said, rolling his eyes impatiently. "Everybody says that. Well, I am the ghost of masturbation present. Are you ready to go?" "Do I have a choice?" Jake asked. "Not really." the ghost answered, grabbing Jake's hand and once again he was flying over his neighborhood. But this time he could see into people's windows as they flew by which proved to be very distracting. | |
| Jake was certainly in need of some kind of distraction. His perfunctory hand jive had not really abated his intense sexual needs and it felt rather odd and embarassing to be flying through the night sky holding George Michael's hand whilst maintaining another raging erection. He took comfort at least in knowing that George of all people would understand his dilema. they flew onward and upward dodging the occasional chimney and TV antenna that took on an even more ominous phallic signifigance under the circumstances. The night air was chilly and Jake shivered a bit. George said not a word but pulled him on with a grim determination. Jake at last felt the need to speak. "Um...George... uh, can I ask you one question....?" George's grip on his hand tightened into a vice and he "It's part of my community service." he hissed and fell silent again. "Oh" replied Jake. "I see." Before he could say anything more they had arrived at their destination, The Broadway Nightlife Adult Bookstore. With a whoosh George Michael swooped them down and into the open door. Jake's cheeks burned with shame. This was one of his secret haunts in times of need. It was dark dingy and conveniently on the other side of town from all his other haunts so that the likely hood of someone recognizing him was slim. Well, anyone but the disinterested night clerk who knew him vaguely as Mark when he'd get change for the video booths. It was a rather busy night in there. All along the fringes of the store lurked disheveled men avoiding each others furtive glances as they pawed through stacks of "Big Black Butts" and "Over Fifty" magazines. Others coughed slightly as they sidled anxiously out and away from the peep show booths in the back. George's vice-like grip had not let up as he dragged the nervous Jake past a three hundred pound man in dirty sweat clothes who smelled of Listerine and onions. The enormous man was breathing heavily through his nose and twisting a copy of "Teenage Student Enema Nurses" brutally in it's plastic shrinkwrap to get a better view of the front cover action. He didn't look up. Jake's agitation grew. Over in the next aisle he thought he saw one of his Iron Sausage Engineering teacher's aides pondering a shelf of electro-anal torture videos with the dignified demeanor of a judge at a hog show. If Roger Weaver saw him here he'd never live it down. George seemed nonplussed by it all. They stopped in front of a large glass displaycase. "Ok George" stammered Jake, "we're here and I'm about to be mortified. Just what have you brought me here to see?" With nary a glint of mischief in his luminous blue eyes the former Wham! front man merely pointed to the glass case. "That." | |
| Within the case lay the most tantalizingly lifelike Porta-Pussy Jake had ever had cause to behold. | |
| "Masturbation present, get it?" sniggered George Michael. "It's from all of us. Kinda like getting the ole 'A' for Effort." | |
| "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" | |
| "When you see what your future holds for you, believe me, you'll thank me. Treasure this -- it may be all you get for a long, long time..." With this cryptic pronouncement, George thrust a gift-wrapped box -- the Porta-Pussyú -- into Jake's hands and promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke. His last words -- "Sorry, bitch, but I have a new album to record. Don't stroke it too hard and fopr God's sake, keep it in your pants!" echoing in Jake's ears: pants, pants, pants... | |
| And as the last "...pants..." faded into the mists of time so did gift wrapping around device leaving poor Jake standing in the adult bookstore cradling it gingerly in his hands. It was amazingly lifelike in a disembodied way. The dull humming flourescent lights glinted slightly off of the real human pubic hair.( harvested from Phillipine schoolgirls for $.02/oz by its unscrupulous manufacturers.) Its two working orifices would have seemed very warm and enticing indeed if only they had been attatched to an entire woman. Alone they reminded Jake a bit too much of Ed Gein to be particularly arousing. He just sort of stood there in the store staring at it too much aghast to move. "Yo buddy!" came a bellow from the front counter, "Hey, Mark! I don't give a shit what you do with it, but you can't do it here." Jake blanched. The seedy denizens ceased their lurking to stare at Jake a moment before returning to their all important selection processes with a quiet snigger. Jake suddenly found his feet and managed to propel himself towards the door two steps short of a jog. From the corner of his eye he caught Roger Weaver's startled glance as Roger turned to scuttle behind the big case of dildos and cock rings and then he was out the door. The street was dark and empty for which Jake was glad. He was so glad to be free that he almost forgot his cargo. Just about the moment he had remembered and was about to ditch it in an alley he stopped. Maybe he should keep it. Not to use it, of course, but as a sort of weird momento of this night. Jake resolved to keep it. Perhaps, he chuckled to himself, he could use it as a pencil holder or something. It would be so Dada. This thought brought a smile at last to his weary lips and onward towards home he trudged hiding the Porta-Pussy as best he could in the folds of his jacket. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and thought kind and loving thoughts of his pillow. Something stirred in another alley a little further on. It was short and thin and grey. Jake made a mental calculation of the amountof cash he had on him. $6.37. If someone wanted to mug him for that let him, but he hurried his step a bit anyway. The grey spectre began to move closer to him with a little spastic hop hop motion. Jake stopped. Something seemed a bit too familiar about the movement. From the darkeness a pinched helium voice spoke to him. "OK Jake, or should I say Mark, let's go" Jake's shoulders sagged. It wasn't over. The third ghost had appeared. His face was a ghastly pale and his lips a bright and cheerless red. The tattered rags of his too short checkered suit hanging in mute dejection. Even his Alfalfa lock seemed to droop in a deep lost depression. Pee Wee Herman had found him. | |
| Jake knew it was useless to run...having killed the idiotic comedian, as in the past, he would have to reamain haunted for three days and three nights, living with the obnoxious spirit, until its vengeance had been spent. Jake briefly considered ending the horror now, considered stepping out into the bumper to bumper traffic and join Pee Wee in his world."I guess apologizing wont make you go away?" Jake asked, cursing himself inwardly at the desperation he could hear in his own voice. "Ha ha, no" Pee Wee's voice sang back, and Jake cringed.Pee Wee's voice hadn't changed in death, and though he looked like a street urchin, had that happy-go-lucky gray suit, red tie, and ghastly make up, he still had that hazy surreal air about him which proved to Jake that he was really dead. Suddenly, Jake remembered the suvenier from the Porn shop, and held it as an offering to Pee Wee, "Will you leave me alone if I give you this?" He asked, somehow keeping the edge from his voice this time. Pee Wee looked at the sex toy quietly for a moment, and Jake prayed that the comedian's spirit hadn't changed much during the passing of death. A cold breeze snatched at him, and suddenly Jake was standing in the mouth of the alley, alone once more. Suddenly his weariness left him, and instead of heading for home as he had originally planned, Jake turned into the small seedy bar on the corner. A shot of tequilla was just what he needed to celebrate. | |
| Julia watched him enter the bar. In an instant she knew that he was her ticket out of here. Dressed casually, the dark slacks and smooth wrinkle free shirt, covering his muscular body screamed of wealth. He pasued just inside the door, his eyes adjusting to the smoky dim interior. His features were chiseled, high cheekbones, broad brown, square stubborn jaw, covered with stubble, and Julia felt the familiar heat between her legs. She wanted to start pulling her clothes off as she walked slowly across the room. She wanted his eyes devouring her as she moved, watching each muscle move, each slow seductive motion. She wanted to stand before him, completely nude, her pale body glistening in the hazy room, and feel his breath upon her neck as his eyes caressed her every curve, explored her every crevice. She shook her head sadly, knowing that her small fantasy wouldnt happen. Guys like that didnt sleep with girl's like her. They barely noticed girls like her, let alone even thought of sharing the same bed with her. She pulled her gaze off of the stranger, shifted in her chair, feeling her jeans rub against her hot wet crotch, and wondered if just maybe this time it would be different. | |
| Jake noticed her immidiately...the skin tight jeans, the dry fizzled hair from too many blachings, the heavy thick make-up, doing little to hide the old worn look in her eyes. He noticed her hungry looks, but turned away. Women like her were only interested in one thing....money, and Jake worked too damn hard and long to part with any of his over a two-biy used up whore. He stepped through the crowd, his eyes never resting on any one person too long. Garth Brooks crooned from the juke box, pool balls clicked softly together on the green felt tables, the low sound of conversation rising and falling. Jake stepped upto the bar, and motioned to the heavy set balding bartender. | |
| "Buy me a drink?" Jake's head snapped around at the sultry voice. She was a vision, green eyes shining, blonde hair gleaming, and over the smell of liquor and smoke, he could get the faintest whiff of her scent...peaches. " Give the lady another, and I'll take a beer." She smiled at him, revealing straight white teeth, and suddenly Jake got a mental image of those teeth nibbling on his thighs. He ws instantly hard. | |
| The lovely vision then let out a quick and clenched sounding, "Heh heh heh!" and vanished. Standing in her place was the reappeared Pee Wee. "You can't get rid of me that quick" ha said. "I think this is yours" and with that he handed Jake back the now slightly used Porta-Pussy. "Ok Jake let's go" | |
| But the battries fell out | |
| So I kicked the darn thing across the room. It shattered into a million pieices. | |
| I Was so embarrassed. It was the only one of it's kind. I had to make it up to them somehow so I took of my pants. Everyone gasped at what they saw. | |
| It was long and metalic. Though hard and cold it had the warm silky sheen of titanium and it moved smoothly up and down in time with Garth Brooks on the juke box. It was a marvel of miniturized hydraulic controlled prosthetics. Two red laser range finding beams shot out from the two shiny black orbs at the base of the titanium shaft. All of it was radio controlled from behind, concealed in in a neat hygenic rectal implant. The miniture fuel cell powering everything ran on the unlimited supply of methane produced only centimetres away. | |
| But enough about me. Pee Wee grabbed Jake arm with a slightly damp hand and pulled him down the alley towards a door in the far end. The door glowed a dim and phosphorus green. "This way big boy," He said. Jake gave up. The thing seemed inevitable and the only way was to just let it happen and get it over with. This was the third spirit that Stevie had promised and the last. He hung his head and allowed himself to be reluctantly propelled to the door. As they approached the door swung slowly open for them, beyond it was blackness. A heavy dry ice mist oozed out the bottom. "Kinda spooky don't you think?" said Pee Wee. "Uh, yeah" sighed Jake. "Have fun" and with that Pee Wee gave him a shove and Jake stumbled through the doorway. There was nothing on the other side. Just blackness and Jake fell. And he fell some more. and more. and then some more and more. There was no floor on the other side of the door. From deep within the swallowing darkness he heard the rapidly fading voice of Pee Wee as he dropped into the inky blackness, "Watch that first step. It's a doozy!" | |
| Falling through total darkness, Jake screamed & feared for his life. After a few seconds, he hit a warm squishy floor. He just happened to have his cigarettes & a lighter in his pocket. He pulled out the lighter to see why the floor felt so strange. He lit it & looked down to the floor & almost threw up in disguse for he saw what he had always feared. | |
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And then the lights came on. "SURPRISE, JAKE!" screamed his friends and family. Jake looked around. There was something fishy about all this. He couldn't put his finger on it (being rather predisposed, shall we say, to putting his finger on other things) He stared hard for a minute from the floor, and then it hit him: they weren't looking at him. And they were older. They'd lost hair, gained weight, grown wrinkles. They were looking in the opposite direction from him. As he took a puzzled drag on his cigarette, he felt a hard nudge in his ribs and looked down to see a familiar two-toned saddle-shoe. "Nyee-hee," larfed Pee Wee. "Bet your just dying to find out what's behind Door Number Three." "Door Number Three? Whattaya mean?" "Who I am I, nyee-hee? I'm the Ghost of Masturbation Future! And there, behind that door, witness the specter of yourself..." The crowwd pushed the door open and over their heads Jake, now standing, saw what appeared to be a bed swathed in an oxygen tent. From within the opened room came a sound like the whirring of ten-thousand fish-pumps, and the distinctly brimstone smell and chugga-chugga-chug-chug-chug of a well-cared-for Model XJM-37 Series Iron Sausage. He gasped. It couldn't be! It just couldn't! Not him, not Jake, no! It was unthinkable... Beside him, Pee Wee Herman grinned malevolently and let out a horsey snicker... | |
| Then all of a sudden Pee Wee Turned into this weird looking creature. A cross between a Vampire and Frankenstein. Jake gasped and peed in his pants.He could not believe what was happening here. All the craziness. Where did all these weird creatures come from? From behind the doors of course. They probably made their way here from another dimension and Pee Wee was their Doom Lord. " I have to get the hell out of here, now." So he broke off the leg of his mother's coffee table and said, :" Prepare to die,hellscum." With those words he leaped into the air and stuck the leg into Pee Wee's chest. The beast writhed in agony and let out a monsterous scream that could be heard from miles and miles away. Jake thought this was the end and that he had saved humanity from an invasion from hell. But he was wrong. The stake didn't work. He forgot. This was not just a vampire, but some other form of hell spawn. He was doomed and he knew it. He had to think of something and quick. That was when he thought of the present his dad had given him before he died in a plane crash a few months ago. It was an ectoplasmic ray gun. Just a toy, but what the hell at this rate he would try anything. he ran upstairs and took it out of his closet. " Your ass is mine wormvomit. I'm your worst nightmare. You are gonna wish you never showed up on my frontporch." He ran downstairs. | |
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The room quivered and returned to shape. "What the fuck was that?" gasped Jake, blinking. "An outward manifestation of your sordid interior, Jake." "Wha?" "I mean, you claim, you complain even, of how much you want a mature, fulfilling relationship with a woman of quality and character, and yet you've done nothing to bring your own libido out of the latent Dungeons-&-Dragons-inspired form it assumed in your early adolescence. And all that violent fantasy -- tut, tut -- you oughta be ashamed. You still get a woody from the sound of a common Iron Sausage..." Jake felt the white heat of a blush rising to his cheeks. It was true, he couldn't deny it. Pee Wee shook his head sadly -- "You can't say you weren't warned...," then took Jake by the hand and led him through the milling crowd. "Which one do you think you wound up marrying?" giggled Pee Wee impishly. Still unable to see the prone figure in the bed, Jake scanned the faces and ring-fingers of the women in the room until his eyes rested on a porcine, sobbing figure at one of the plastic flexi-windowsú at the head of the oxygen tent. But no -- no no no no no no no NO! -- it couldn't be, he couldn't have -- he looked at Pee Wee, aghast -- Pee Wee nodded, and grinned, and nodded, and grinned, and Jake's head spun, his stomach bucked, it just wasn't possible, not Rhonda Goldfinkel, not Rhonda Goldfinkel, oh no, no, how could he have, what sickness had led him to such a decision, her parents weren't even that wealthy...? And as he stood there shaking his head in disbelief, Pee Wee walked over past the shuddering Iron Sausage to the bed and with one deft flick of his wrist unzipped the oxygen tent. "Geee-hyeee, boys and girls! Guess what today's Secret Word is?" He stood back. Oh no, thought Jake. No. It can't be. It just. Can't. No. I refuse. To believe. That that. Thing. In the bed. Is. Me... | |
| Jake fell to his knees, sobbing. "Oh, when will this nightmare end?" he cried. Pee Wee grabbed a handful of Jake's hair and pulled him to his feet, forcing him to gaze upon his future self. He was pale and emaciated, and he labored for every breath he took. He was naked except for surgical dressing at his crotch. "What's wrong with Buford? What happened to my dick?" Jake sobbed. Pee Wee shook his head reproachfully. "The Iron Sausage is not a sex toy." Jake fell to his knees once again."Oh God!" he wailed. "How could I have sunk to this lowly state? Oh Great Spirit of Masterbation Future!" Jake pleaded, tugging at Pee Wee's high water slacks. "Are these not shadows of things that might come to be? Or is there nothing I can do to avoid this shameful outcome?" Pee Wee only giggled as only Pee Wee can giggle. The next thing Jake knew, he was tossing and turning in his own bed. When he came to full conciousness, he sat up in bed and gazed about his room. It was only a dream, he sighed. Only a dream! He began to laugh. | |
| And he didn't stop laughing until he saw the wet spot. | |
| It wasn't where it was supposed to be. He was wearing underwear. Nothing unusual about that. But they were relatively clean and dry, If he had had a nocturnal emission and this all had been a terrible guilty wet dream they should have been soiled. There was the sound of a toilet flushing and Jake's stomach dropped like the excressences that were plummeting through the buildings pipes to join their brethren in the city sewers. His roomate was in Toledo visiting cousins. He supposedly had the apartment to himself. There was the sound of running water. A few brisk strokes of a toothbrush and then bare footsteps down the short hallway to the bathroom. Jake clutched at the sheets and drew them around him as best he could. With a singular mind of its own Buford reared up to its full height in anticipation of the intruder, while the rest of Jake quailed. the nightmare wasn't over. It had only just begun. The door to Jake's room slowly and silently swung open. There she stood in the door, naked and hairy in all the wrong places. The saucer size nipples of her pendulous breasts eagerly pointing to the lines of her belly. It was Rhonda Goldfinkel. She gave Jake a coy look that came out more like a diseased leer. "Well, Tiger, I'm suprised, but it sure looks like Buford (tee hee) is up for another round." and with that she flung herself at the prone and paralyzed Jake. | |
| Rhonda kissed Buford several times passionatly. Then what? | |
| Then she stopped to get a pubic hair out of her mouth. | |
| And then she resumed. "It all began when I was 62 and lived in Bangkok." I could not resist interrupting her. "Oh, come on. You already told me that one about how you've found Anastasia ashes inside an old samovar". "Don't get smart," she said. "This one is about how I sold the Abominable Snowman's fingerprints to Scotland Yard". | |
| but i had heard that one too. so there was nothing left to do but bash her over the head with my alarm clock. she uttered some pained exclamation, and then the room became silent. nothing could be heard except for the steady ticking. victory was mine. | |
| But even these fantasies and daydreams were not enough to block out the horrible reality from Jake's feverish mind. No matter how much he concentrated on the abominible snowman he couldn't block out the not so gentle scrape of Rhonda's too eager teeth on poor Buford. He began enacting scenes from Driver's Ed movies in his mind. Anything to make Buford calm down. But to no avail. | |
| Why?, he thought as he reached into his small wollen trousers and pulled out a half rotten cabbage. "I was only begginning!" he exclaimed, for this was the exact point that he became asexual. | |
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"What in Sam Hill is going on?" he gasped. "Someone please tell me, for with all this riotous nonlinearity, I am beginning to suspect I have gone entirely mad." Rhonda tittered, munching away contentedly on that noxious old Savoy cabbage while keeping ardent Buford tumescent with a series of brusk yanks. | |
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"Oooooooooow!" wailed Jake. "You're hurting me." "Not as much as it's going to hurt lay-ter," giggled Rhonda, spraying his exposed chest with a slushy mash of semimasticated cabbage-bits. | |
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It was then that the 4 metal tentacles, surreptitiously borrowed from an unaired episode of SPACE: 1999, whipped and wriggled out from underneath the bed, and, as if to add bondage to both insult and injury, Jake found himself lashed to the four bedposts. | |
| "They're heeeeeeee-eeere," intoned Wanda in her best, creepiest Poltergeist waif imitation as her shape began to waver in the air, already breaking aprt before Jake's horrified gaze, the pendulous breasts rising up alongside the head, the whole form splitting apart into three...distinct...shapes, about whom Jake began to feel the most uncanny sense of deja vu... But who? | |
| "Jake, we understand you've got a little problem" began the one on the left adjusting the pipe between his teeth. His satin smoking jacket shimmering in the reflected light from the street. "We understand you, really we do" began the second as he adjusted the tartan lap robe from the depths of his wheelchair. "And we're here to help." said the third whilst picking a bit of stray lint from amongst the forest of chest hair that spilled over his open collared shirt. A vague and sordidly trusting aura surrounded the three as the hung suspended in the air over Jake's bed. Equally vague feelings of relief and recognition filled Jake's limpid heart. "But....But...Who are you?" he finally ventured. "But don't you know us?" they gasped. "We are the masurbator's holy trinity." and starting left to right the formal introductions were made between Jake and Hugh Hiefner, FLarry Flint and Bob Guiccione. | |
| Jake couldn't believe his eyes! The three men who had been most influencial on him during his adolescence were floating above him while he was tied down to the bed. Jake thought about this again and began to feel uneasy. "Well, what are doing here? Surely you're not here to convince me to change my ways? After all if it weren't for you three and your magazines, I wouldn't have masturbated so much (or gotten so good at it for that matter) in the first place and I wouldn't be having these hallucinations now!" Hugh, Bob and Larry looked at each other and shrugged. "Gee, kid," said Hugh. "I guess you're right." "Our work here is done then." said Bob. "Carry on." said Larry as the three apparitions dissolved. "Guys? Guys!" Jake panicked. "You forgot to get me loose from this bed! Guys!" | |
| For a brief second Larry reappeared from the ether and slipping out a fresh copy of "Barely Legal" from under his lap robe he plopped it onto Jake's chest. "Keep up the good work, kid" he said and then just as quickly evaporated. Jake was alone again. The mechanical arms pinning him to the bed unrelenting. And nothing but his private thoughts and the low mechanized wheezing of the machine under the bed to keep him company. At this point he would have even preferred the inept ministrations of Rhonda to this particular brand of helpless immobility. But one is seldom in charge of one's own fate. Beneath the bed Jake's final school project for Iron Sausage Engineering 3.0 purred softly to itself. It's time had come. | |
| but jake decided his life had become weird and twisted. and so he ran. out of the bedroom thourgh the endless corridors and infiant doorways, until at last he approached the gateway to freedom. he opened the door with trepidation, only to be greeted by the sight of a hideous painting, so heinously crafted it was absolutely painful to look at. he picked up the painting and dashed it to the ground, splintering it into millions of tiny remnants of a wretched painting which reminded him only of the world from which he had escaped. he continued walking until he fell into a pulsar, upon which point he was whirled away into another yet distant dimension. he lost momentary conciousness and when he awok he saw it standing before him yet again. | |