A Symphony unto Oneself

Chapter 2

The Story The Authors

Within the case lay the most tantalizingly lifelike Porta-Pussy Jake had ever had cause to behold. Philip

"Masturbation present, get it?" sniggered George Michael. "It's from all of us. Kinda like getting the ole 'A' for Effort." none

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" none

"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... Philip

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. Lanark

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. Katie

The Story	The Authors
Within the case lay the most tantalizingly lifelike Porta-Pussy Jake had ever had cause to behold.	Philip
"Masturbation present, get it?" sniggered George Michael. "It's from all of us. Kinda like getting the ole 'A' for Effort."	none
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"	none
"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...	Philip
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.	Lanark
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.	Katie

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