Chapter 2

Son, you are one more beaverbustin' sonuvabitch! Melody J. J. Badbox said and squeezed her legs tighter than ever around Texas Bill Garver's quivering asscheeks, rewarding him with another monkeyhand grip from her bad bad box. Texas Bill let his semi-hemi jump once in her cunnyslit and her violet eyes lit up like a beer sign in a shotgun bar. I mean I've been reamed and rimmed and gouged and flatfucked and boogie fucked buttfucked fistfucked nosefucked chinfucked footfucked and fingerfucked, I've been fucked by life and the Times -- the New York Times that is--and Hogan's goat and a whole passel of police dog poochies, the United States Marine Corps, the Navy and Army and the Air Force, too, all 500-odd members of Congress (and some of them are damned odd!) I've been gangbanged by a pack of motorcycle hoods, and I've pulled a trail for the Green Bay Shitpackers, I've gone south on a whole troop of Boy Scouts of America -- grubby little bastards with hair on their palms! And even after all of this I'd be more'n glad to sign an affidavit to the effect that Texas Bill Garver is the best lay in the universe!

Texas Bill frowned in the funktank gloom, an inverted smile cracking the granite facade of his West Texas cowboy chops.

Then I take it you ain't been exactly faithful, he said. Been fuckin' around behind my back, eh?

Melody J. J. Badbox had forgotten the old bromide that desecration is sometimes the better part of valor and plowed on fulltilt boogie with all the gory details of her innumerable sexual encounters much to the consternation of Texas Bill. As she jabbered she gave Tex an occasional jolt of cuntlip snap, and his face melted from Mount Rushmore to the Black Hills of South Dakota.

So you screwed everybody in two universes and now you drag your shopwork ass back to me, said Tex in the cuntsmell.

Oh shitfuck, Bill honey, none of them meant a goddamn thing -- and besides I'm talking in a figurative mode don't you know!

Is that the truth?

Why you silly ole mamapacker, loot at this! She pointed to her nipples, huge and pink and swollen and resembling naugahyde sewing thimbles or tiny shotglasses sprayed over in glitterpink funk. Ain't no man but my own sweetmeat Texas pudpusher ever make these boogers jump up like that. . .why you made me go off four times before you even put it in!

I really made you lookoff?
Texas Bill asked, his voiced choked with a glob of awe mixed in with the grits and gravy in his E-major vocal cords. He'd heard of it but never seen it before.

I'll tell you the truth you bigdicked Texas bullhorn, one time you made me thinkoff!

GOD ALMIGHTY!
Texas cried.

I wouldn't shit my favorite turd, Melody J. J. said. Once after we'd parted company in the other place I started to thinking about your big cuntsticker and the orgasms commenced to flog my ass like a faggy British headmaster! I came so much I finally had to leap into a tub of ice water just to shut down, thought I was going to up and die!

(
But hold on here.)

Let us examine for a moment the reality of what is or is not transpiring right before our eyes and lobes.

Who am I? That's of no importance right now. Let's just say that I am whoever controls the handle in this particular time and place. I'm controlling it right now and if you can't handle that I would suggest a long walk off a short pier until you Stetson floats.

Wait, let me adjust the handle and program up what it is. That's how it's listed in the banks, "What it is, Part whatever." Real cool system I think.

First piece of info...Texas Bill Garver, studhoss and bullfucker from the West Texas Plains.

Readout:
Texas Bill Garver. Formerly known as Harvey Austin Peacock. Born Rooster, Rhode Island August 12, 1997, the son of Ludlow and Anna Peacock, both of whom worked as chicken pluckers in a canning factory. A small, frail child who grew into a small frail man. Educated at the Rooster Institute and was employed as an auditor at the Rooster gristmill. Sexual preference: homosexual. Had few contacts and usually resolved problems of lust with a well-thumbed copy of "Boy-A Pictorial Essay." Murdered on September 17, 2040 during a homosexual liaison with two sailors.
By god, the plot thickens! Get that stunned look off your face son, we've got things to do!

Let's see now. . .Miss Melody J. J. Badbox, universal sexqueen and flatfucker. Built like a brick shithouse with the corners knocked off. Let's get her up on the reel and see where it is she's coming from.

Melody J. J. Badbox. Formerly known as Mildred Pringle. Born Butte, Montana, Free China December 25, 2005. Both parents died before her birth and she was carried to term via artificial means. Pringle was raised in an oriental convent by a radical Hungshu priestess named Li Ching. Escaped from the convent at the age of 20
and joined the anti-Chinese Max Gault Freedom Brigade. Died by her own hand June 1, 2040 to avoid capture and torture execution, was technically a virgin at the age of 34.
Well ain't it a bitch! Things seldom are as they seem, in fact never are. But what about our friend Johnny Boy? You asked for it, I already know. I can stand it.

Johnny Boy. Formerly known as fetus. Implanted in the womb of Esther Munoz, a barfly and part-time hooker, during an act of violent rape at the hands of a fieldworker named Hector Valda. Valda convicted and died in a knife fight at Soledad Prison, Territory of Northern California 2042. Fetus AKA Johnny Boy aborted at Barrio General Hospital in East Los Angeles, Republic of Southern California May 14 by Dr. Eduardo Cruz via a combination of saline injection and suction. Short term and drain flushed.
Ain't it a bitch, again? Yes, there's more, but no, not Grovener, not now. We'll save him for another time. Again, things are seldom the way they appear, complications always arise.


So nobody showed up for your pisscall eh? Minerva said to her spouse. He sat in the cavewall funksweat condensation bred from the collision of cool rock and hot tunacunt fumes. Her wrinkles moved like spider legs as she talked, making her broken face appear to forever changing and transmogrifying from one tragedy into newer and more treacherous ones, if such is possible.

Need I say I expected nothing less, Grovener sighed. After all I am only the leader of this shitcamp, as it were. . . The man in command. I am saddled with a blight of malcontent rejects who think nothing of defying every order I chose to issue, I am further damned with a witless wonder of a wife who deigns to spend her wretched broken-faced days lying upon a pallet and diddling herself into colonic spasms with a disgusting creature of lust. A wretch who tosses orgasms into the corners of what I can only loosely call a home, it is, if memory serves me, what one would have called a pig's stye in the other place! And why should I be so sad with frowns creasing the outer edges of my wartlips? And what else is new?

You don't have to be so snotty about it.
New cracks and crevices walked her shattered chops.

And on top of all my other problems I have that new wild cunt, Ms. Melody J. J. Badbox who is without a doubt a real pisseroo, all hooked up now with that insane trouble maker Texas Bill Garver, who has been nothing but problems since he came on this shitfarm and who will be even more trouble now, being as he is under the spell of the gloryhole of Ms. Badbox, that violet-eyed bitch! And you wonder why I'm pissed off all the time and using 50 frogs a day and can't get enough wartjuice! And to top it all off they keep changing the rules in the middle of the game, nobody in Command gives a shit about those of us out here wasting away in the boonies! And to really frost the fucking cake I heard today that Senator Bloomburg, that insane senile motherfucker who promised me a whole case of Cuban Cuplegs, has come over to this place and is now on line at Shitcamp Six, so there goes my fucking Cuplegs! What a shitty life I have!


Johnny Boy floats in cool blue gloom with motepeepers locked down and braindreams of the other place and time:

"Hello there! Who are you?"
"I'm Egggal. . .You?"
"They call me Spermdude."
"You look kind of like a tadpole."
"Yeah I guess I do. Back there are millions of us."
"No shit?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't shit you...bunch of us."
"Should we get together and do our thing?"
"Might as well, we got orders to follow."
"Right, dude. We'll make a nice little girl!"
"Impossible."
"Why's that?"
"I'm a Y. If you want a girl have to wait for an X. There's a bunch down the hill."
"Well, I kinda like you, ya know."
"No shit?"
"Yeah, I think you're cute."
"Well I'll be damned!"
"You want to do it?
"Why the hell not. What do we do?"
"You just slip through my bodywall."
"You mean just jump right in there?"
"Yeah, that's the way it works."
"What about foreplay, I heard something about that."
"We don't need it. Just hold your nose and jump in."
"OK, here I come ready or not!"
"Wow! How's that feel to you?"
"I feel a little swollen but it ain't half bad."
"Yeah, nice and cozy, real homey."
"I'm glad you like it, Spermdude."
"Uh oh."
"What's wrong?"
"Something's happening, we're splitting!"
"It's just cell division, don't worry. It's normal."
"Why don't they tell us about such things. Kind of scary."
"Just relax and enjoy it."
"Yeah, by god we did it, we're making something!"
"Yeah we are. But I won't be able to talk to you much longer."
"Why, have I offended you? Sorry if I did."
"No silly. We're turning into a boy. I can't say much more."
"Why?"
"If I do he'll be a fag."
"Is that what causes it?"
"Yes. Some Egggals have problems knowing when to stop."
"OK, but it's been nice meeting you."
"Same here. But have to go now. Bye."
"Bye yourself.
Man oh man! Things are sprouting off me in this dark and juicy world! Weird little transparent things, knobs and bumps and pinklumps! Strange blue lines running all through my juicy pinkness!

I'll bet I look like a Georgia roadmap! I can turn my partially-formed eyes back inside my partially-formed head and see my partially-formed brain and it has a few partially-formed thoughts inside it!

There is a squiggly pink snake hooked to my belly and beneath that is a much smaller pink snake. The snake on my belly is sucking things from somewhere and giving them to me. I don't know why, I don't even know this snake as there's no one to properly introduce us. But for some reason he's doing a great job!

I kind of wish that Egggal hadn't split like she did, but I guess that's the way things are done. Least I won't end up sucking cocks in theater balconies or dropping my pants in public parks. I'm going to be an All-American football star, after while I'll become either a space captain or King of the World. Haven't made up my mind yet.

Oh shit, what's this? Something is damned well wrong! Getting hot in here, my new pink skin is burning! I feel like I'm melting! There's a new snake coming up from somewhere below, a shiny, ugly snake. . .It's pulling me all out of shape! Oh lord, there goes part of me, just flew off and went right into the shiny snake's mouth! What a bummer, pieces of me are flying off everywhere and it's hot as hell! There they go, all my little knobs and sprouts, devoured, eaten, gone!

Bye bye, Mommy's cuntwalls.

Hello, sewer lines.

Ain't it a bitch?