|The Story||The Authors|
|I leapt out of my chair, spraying gin and tonic across the carpet. I had had the horrid flash that I was not only stuck in a rut, but that I had been able to almost convince myself that I enjoyed the monotony. It was time to start over...with a new haircut! If putting your self into the hands of a trendy, none too bright student of cosmetology wasn't a way to jerk yourself back into a life of variation, then forget about it. You'll stay in that blasted chair for the rest of your life.|
|So thats what I did. I sat in that chair. The cushons all worn down, like my backside, it has been a while since I have gotten up.|
|I reached for the channel selector, but it was too far away.|
|So I called my girlfriend to go get it, but she only gave me a big fat nothin'? What is that all 'bout?|
|I mean... I support her for 5 years while she's getting over her "big tragedy", and the thanks I get is her to hang up on me? It's not like the goat and I were doing anything, we were just talking. Then, I go to her house to talk to her in person, and, get this, she had hired a body guard! At that rate, I was never going to get it back, so I had a small chat with her parents...|
|I was pretty surprised her mother hadn't kicked the bucket by now. She pretty much just gave me the same load of bullcrap she's been feeding everybody for the past twenty-five years- only this time she interjected more often with fits of hacking, coughing, shaking, wheezing, and more than her usual dose of curses and obsceneties placed at strategic points in the conversation. Her old man sat there the whole time and didn't hardly say a word. Yeah, after he finishes his breakfast cigarette he says (to no-one in particular), "I gotta get to work." grabs his tux and heads out the door. I had half a mind to follow him, but those security guys at that casino... they don't like me.|
And at just the point in the reoccuring nightmare where the giant Frosty
Penguin that is running the blackjack unzips the suit to reveal herself to be
Claudia Schiffer dressed entirely in orange marmalade and extends to Matthew a
long wooden spoon to spank her with for letting the Chiuhaha eat the dice
(which were it turns out just Mentos with spots on them), the whole casino
began to shake violently.
"Oh My God! It's an earthquake!",thought Matthew, as he reached forth to grab the tastiest morsels of the marmalade to stop their quivering. (They were making him kind of seasick)
The room spun, the floor heaved and he awoke to find himself sprawled on the floor in front of his La-Z boy, shirt front damp with drool and the hideous grin of Jeremy Crink leering at him. A carefully surgically gloved hand prodding him mercilessly into consciousness.
"Matty", he crooned, "Oh Matty, wake up sunshine I got a present for you. Oh Mattheunuch, uh...I mean, Matthew take a lookee-loo at what yer ole pal Crink's got for you." Matthew groaned and tried to shrug off the pestering hand. The acrid smell of rubber not helping settle his stomach.
"Fuck off, Jeremy"
"Is that any way to treat an old and dear friend who had naught but the best intentions? I brought you something, the very thing that you need most in this your hour of need. The hour you'd most rather spend wallowing in the bottomless depths of drunken self pity. Sinking into a morass of unfufillable desire and pining for those long lost days you weren't getting laid in either. Today, my slobbering emasculated pathetic friend, I bring you Purpose! The possible of what you are and what you CAN BE!!"
"Leave me alone. Crink, I don't feel good."
"But Ah, I say, AH-A! Feast your wide irised globes on this!" and from somewhere behind him Crink produced a large heavy book with Christian Cults From the Rennaissance To Today emblazoned on the cover over a photo of a primitively carved figure of a woman with a snake crawling out from between her legs and suckling one of her breasts.
Crink rapidly flipped it open to a predetermined page and thrust it under Matthew's bleary vision. The chapter heading at the top read "The Skoptzy"
In front of him lay a photo of a naked human. Ostensibly it appeared male. But then again...the features were peasant-like and soft. Large hands. The nude body itself looked more like that of a prepubescent girl with a small triangle of pubic fluff. But it was a man. And more importantly, something essential was missing in this picture. He had no dick.
"Oh god", Hickey started to blubber,"if I want to look at something like that I'll just go to a fucking mirror. Why the fuck do you want to show me something like that for, you bastard!"
"Why, me lad? Because this is your destiny. These folks believed that the only way to stay pure enough to get to Heaven was to lop of the naughty bits and pray a lot. And even with out dicks the Skoptzy managed to keep up a credible cult following in Russia through the 18C to the freakin' Thirties. Don't you see it yet?"
"See what, you sick piece of shit?"
"You're DESTINY The Divine Holy Order of The Golden Eunuch. A personal cult of your own."