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p T A M e R S H R e W ... vol. 4
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??? ..edited, compiled, prelimanarily perused,
??? felt up, jostled and spell checked by,
Stretch
===================>-WorDs--To---------<====================
===================>----------Be-HaD---<====================
1> "Felino" ... Xann
2> "Untitled" ... Cosmic Coyote
3> "Fingers" ... Stretch
4> "Soulglasses" ... W. Dennis
5> "Untitled" ... Shadou
6> "Tales of the Net: Part 4" ... Watchman 'Tong
7> "The (Extremely Erroneous) Odor-ssey" ... Black Sabbath
8> "Poetic Penetration" ... William Burroughs
9> "HOMER.TXT" ... Homer the Brave
10> "Illusion" ... William Burroughs
11> "In Early Morning" ... Cosmic Coyote
12> "Vampire" ... Xann
13> A portion of the novel, _MOUNT_ ... Brandon Aubrey
===================>-------------------<====================
===================>-------------------<====================
Felino
wendells car, karens car, warming up in coldness dark 430 on the am
dial in homeless hopeless houston.
the invasion from the cyborg star it seemed had finally been
repelled we waved goodbye the coke machines and the pilots were out
of petrol.
so i strolled under the freeway where the homeless men are found
but i couldnt find a single one in the overgrown parking lot.
wendells car, karens car, warming up in coldness dark four lights
delta in the fog of homeless hopeless houston.
**********
i, of course, could not drive them home thru the weeds and asphalt.
not without a suitable exit. there is, however, an office,
abandoned. the foyer is overgrown with vine and steam and tree. a
rainforest cold and misty. large white cat, angry, staring into an
lcd laptop screen. light, green, ambient. turns, glares:
"waste yr talent, twoleg!"
"o? and what talent is that?"
"fully articulated, digitory manipulation!"
"?"
"my god, mann! do you know what its like to live in such silence?
do you know the years? no voice that a mann save you
understands! no usable hand no twoleg to stand you bastard! if
for one day i had yr body and hands...two good hands with which
to write, id change this world...waste yr talent, twoleg!"
pick him up, reassure him.
"you can write thru me, then. come on..."
***********
lift cat, gift cat, felino yr my only friend
write thru me
and let me see
what eternal silence teaches.
further into darkness office, pale, seagreen sunlight
shattered thickened
stainglass dirt
and roach and rat and weed.
!radiant reddress queen awaits; white felina by her side
felines peer
and wave goodbye
and suddenly were alone.
sensual pose and in my nose patchouly strikes me dead
breathe it down
and see the crown
appear with each warm breath:
"you know, jewel, no longer am i afraid to touch you.."
"o?...what are you going to do about it?"
************
[long pause]
white cat! male brat! never satisfied!
unwitting, emulates the womb in everything he tried!
'passion-beast, how ever!'
'passion-beast, how could you!'
'passion-beast o tell us please of the holy womb which made
you!'
'beast flown down from starry ocean to get back into the whale!
please o please tell us yr tale!'
"oedipal. sensual. a pilgrims dream come true."
[no details for you]
[*] (Xann)
Untitled: September 3, 1993
If I had never accepted your affections
My happiness would never have returned.
Had I known the pain of such acceptance
would I have trod so willingly this current path?
My heart brought my mind to states of delight
thought dead since a wedding became a funeral day.
Now,
that tapestry hangs ripped in tattered shreds.
Defying me my arrogance to have dared to love again.
The foundations of the universe stand planted on my heart.
Mocking my feeble attempts to leave the oppressions of loss.
Denying my last dignity.
Departure
Passage needed to end our mutual pain.
In a great depression there are no words
to tell those who must know
when you learn your time has come to leave.
Goodbye.
I never wanted you to feel this pain.
My love will live beyond this passage.
Forever.
[*] Cosmic Coyote
Fingers
This man talked a bit about
a change that was coming over
his fingers.
New lines...
New hair...
And a slight tremor he tried
not to think about too much.
I remember most of our conversation, something about good health
and a strong cock always ready..something about 'something is
happening.' He had a pleasant voice. And at some level his
words affected me greatly. Changed the way I feel about certain
things and situations. Fingers and even toes. Changed the way
I 'process information.'
Words...
It was he that first mentioned 'skin;' he that first mentioned
'cock;' he that first mentioned 'something;' he that first
noticed whatever it was that was happening to his finger.
His words...
This same man talked about
drinking coffee and how,
when pouring,
his girlfriend and he would
comment on the rainbow sheen of
fat-swirls that would bend and
wrap in upon themselves on the surface...
the very same thing
that 'would one day stop our hearts.'
I've seen this...
And now I'm taken with a woman not three feet from where my
fingers frantically crawl over these keys ... oh, horror. And
yet I'm even more taken with a dead man's words ... simple, black
on white, so much like me. The woman will be gone in a moment,
both from my thoughts and my sight, but this dead man's
words--something about a change that was coming over his
fingers--will be with me longer than I, or she can imagine.
[*] (stretch)
Soulglasses
why should i mind what you find
when you look inside of me
i think its kind that yr not blind to who i want to be
why must we always see oceans
how come we never see the sharks?
as we define all our emotions
and live our lives out in the dark-
recess of our brains
stand before the masses
place on yr soul glasses
end the fascination
puke up fabrication
find out who you are
well i wonder, yes i wonder
who you really are
thoughts are bullets in the flesh gun of mann
the dead unloaded we fear them
and give them value in a worthless state
cause someday were gonna be near them
flesh hides monsters inside of us all
although we try not to see them
animals call out and animals crawl out
when you have sex you will free them
animal passion escapes my lips
animal passion im onna trip
animal passion its drivin my hips
animal passion i wanna slip
inside animal you
animal me
i see animal me
inside animal, animal you
one two
animal me
animal you
i see animal me
inside of animal, cannibal you!
[*] (W. Dennis)
--N-O-T-E---------------------------------------------------
For those of you who don't know ... W. Dennis just so
happens to be Xann's uncle ... 'Soulglasses' was sent down
here, from Michigan, via Xann ... Xann claims it's the best
poem ever written. If you didn't get anything out of it,
try reading it again...
--------------------------------------------ED.-------------
Untitled
Now for stream of unthought, whatever comes into my un-mind, my
little hidden organic computer running programs to build an
emotional response through chemical reations......hmmm, nothing but
an animal, a piece of flesh, blood, bleeding hatred, congealed
anger forming scabs of power to protect from the jeers and leers of
fools, and rules to be broken, and breaks to take, breaking away
from the reality i thought a lie, lying in fields of molten
daisies, fiery flowers firing their screams in my direction, my
association notwithstanding, not with standing.......sitting in
rooms, geraniums filled pots of dirt spilled on the carpet, stains
of the larvae breeding, juices of often romanticized insect love
drying on the floor i thought was mine alone. lonely, no, only the
lonely have not anyone, anyone could be everything, a thing to do,
something to occupy my free time, time is an essence, another time,
another crime, another analogy, metaphorically speaking enough
uncounted thoughts, uncollected, organized chronologically for my
benefit, bereft of all but one.................................
[*] (shadou)
Tales of the Net, Part 4: The Armageddon Packet
Bar arrived and padded next to Qux, Baz and Foo. Damn, been
dragging dead horses all day; What a pain, she said.
What was it this time, a new _Rabid Raiders of the Crypt_ game?
asked Baz. He smiled. Or a new font set? quipped Foo.
No, same old thing. `My dog is better than your dog.' Same song,
different verse, she sighed.
Let me guess, said Foo. Ford vs. Chevys? IBM vs. Macs? Democrats
vs. Republicans? Or the old standby - baby vs. tissue?
Baz chuckled humorlessly. Hey, you forgot blacks vs. whites,
PCBoard vs. Celerity, Straights vs. Gays and Telemate vs. Qmodem.
And don't forget: `A woman's place is...'. said Qux, feigning
conviction. They all grimaced at her for that one.
Nope. Immigration vs. Protectionism this time. It was like
firebombs in a fireworks stand once the guy posted it. Everyone
just HAD to set the record straight on that one. No `IMHO' (in my
humble opinion), no `I think...', just BLAM - Believe it or die!
Dig the trenches, load the buffer, and kill the infidels! You'll be
transing them too before it's all over, I would imagine, said Bar.
They nodded knowingly.
I know! said Baz brightly. Someday, someone is going to get it all
just perfect - sort of a combination of everything all rolled into
one post. An Armageddon Packet! God vs. the whole Net! Yeah, it'll
melt down the Net and kill us all. They all laughed for a long
time.
[*] (Watchman T'ong)
The (Extremely Erroneous) Odor-ssey
Use-less-eez trudged onward, his feet riddled with bruises and the
occasional toejam. He had travelled far, and had yet to walk upon his
homeland, Iacoca. Giving up was not an option for him, however, and his
weary feet took him a little farther toward his destination, which was
unknown because he was totally and thoroughly lost. His stomach grumbled,
and his beard had grown unruly, but that didn't bother him now.
Soon enough, a small blur appeared on the horizon. He squinted.
Nothing. He squinted harder. Nothing. He tried his very hardest to see
what it was, and almost lost an eye squinting that hard, but to no avail.
And finally, it hit him.
"I've been staring at the sun too much," he muttered.
With that, he gasped, as something tapped him on the shoulder.
Use-less-eez looked behind him, but saw nothing again.
He realized what happened, and whirled around in the other direction.
He said, "That's a really old joke, you kno..."
He suddenly recognized who he was talking to, and his jaw dropped
several inches (double take has been edited out). The figure before him
was none other than the grey-contact-lensed Pallas Acetominephen! It was
she who had protected him during the fierce battles of the Trojan (no joke
needed here) War, it was she who had given him twenty-four hour relief
when he had migraines, and it would be she, if any, who would bring him
out of this terrible dilemma.
Acetominephen eyed him warily, and said, "Is it you, Oedipus?"
"It's USE-LESS-EEZ! Get it RIGHT!"
"Oh. Whatever. Listen Omnibus..."
"...Use-less-EEZ!"
Acetominephen, not to be stopped in mid-sentence, continued stubbornly,
"...Emphysema..."
"It's... oh, forget it."
"...Oedipus, I've lost track of you ever since the finale of the Trojan
War. Whatever happened to you afterwards?" she asked.
His expression grew two times more weary, mostly because he had already
told his story to at least three hundred people, and he began to relate to
his immortal friend his tale of mortal toil.
"Well, I was inside the Trojan horse, where you undoubtedly saw me last,
and then one of my men let one. We all ran out, holding our noses, fleeing
for cleaner air. The Trojans *snicker* ran in to intercept us, but some
idiot left the Trojan horse in neutral, and it rolled over them like
a rolling pin over dough (great simile, huh?). The Trojans who didn't
come out were laughing so hard they were unable to fight, and we sacked
the great town of Priam. I personally led my men up to the capital, where
our objective was located. We entered the great hall of the king, and
he challenged me to an arm-wrestling match. I shrugged, asked him if I
could use the restroom first, to which he agreed, and walked into the inner
chamber. There lay the object of our entire war. A pair of genuine Dr.
Scholl's Odor-ssey Eaters, the fruit of our labor, was right before me,
and I quickly seized them and ran out the door. Of course, the king
pursued me, but he had put in a few dozen too many grape jelly donuts, and
collapsed in a heap as his stomach cramped. Shakespeare, Othellomenon,
Hidey-Ho, and Sneezy were told immediately that our goal had been reached,
and we withdrew from the great city of Priam. From there we sailed for
forty days and forty nights, until we discovered our navigator Gilligan
was actually a blind Ethiopian named Manchu. We were totally lost. For
another week, we sailed the sea, and on the last night, our only hope had
disappeared when the shuffleboard equipment washed overboard. It must have
been you, my friend, who saved us..."
Pallas Acetominephen looked up from picking her immortal nose, and,
startled, said, "Huh? Er... yeah! That was... me..."
Not to be interrupted, Use-less-eez doggedly continued, "I thought as
much. We sighted an island, and landed. Although we didn't know it at the
time, it was the island of Caeser Palace, and we sent scouts to search the
island. They came back two days later to our relief, and informed us that
they had a very nice casino in the middle of the island at which they had
gambled away several herds of cattle, their ship, and, apparently, their
clothes. I walked to the casino in hopes of having their large
fee paid in small monthly installments, but the proprietor, Poseidon, and
his burly goon, Guido, would not let me. Instead, Poseidon Casino-Lord
took his pay in the form of my crew's lives and our ship, and threw me to
the beerdark sea. I drifted for a long time, not knowing what day it
was because the water had shorted out my Rolex, and I finally landed on the
island we're on now. And, Pallas Acetomineohen, I am now at your mercy.
Without your help, I am as good as gone."
Pallas Acetominephen snored lightly, and then quickly woke up.
"Er... really? What? Can't you just call a taxi, Ustedes?"
Use-less-eez flushed angrily, and then replied, "Nah. No change.
Besides, it costs over four hundred head of cattle for tip alone."
"Well, I'll tell you what. I will take you home myself. But when
you arrive home, you must satsify the gods by microwaving your finest frozen
dinners as tribute. Click your heels together and say, "No Decent Human
Listens To Country Music". And when you arrive home, do as I told you, and
never forget what I have done for you."
Use-less-eez smiled happily, and said, "A thousand thanks, oh grey-
contact-lensed one! Bless you!"
He then clicked his heels together and sputtered, "No decent humans
listens to country music!". A small flash of light, and Use-less-eez was
instantly transported back to his beloved homeland, Iacoca.
EPILOGUE
There really is no need for an epilogue, because, incidentally,
Use-less-eez was instantly transported into the middle of I-45
during rush hour, and was promptly run over by an eight-wheeler
carrying foreign beer like a rolling pin over... oh, never mind.
[*] (Black Sabbath)
Poetic Penetration
I
Lies working their way to news
Zen life The cigarette-like ashes of society
Ashes on the street & on the schools
Will our intelligence walk past us
Wearing Nikes & fear
Walking past houses of paper & glass
& I scream You scream
We have to get out of this place
We have to run
Run far away
& once we get to our destination,
We must run more to get away
From our friends & from our lives
& everything is everything
The world waits to explode
Watch out for the trains
The mother now cries,
Cries for the child that never was
& waits for more
& waits for more
Keeps waiting
Keeps waiting
What a disturbing feeling
I don't know anymore...
II
Penmarks Scratches Jottings
Formed into meaningless illedgable illogical
Words
Passages in time & spirit
Which runs away
Goes away
Let me live again & eat my chili
Corn dog
Call the gardener'd call for the asking
& the giving & the alms
Take the bread away
Throw away the food
The life
III
Surf in the morning
W/ the tide coming in
& the morning dew
& the guns & the blood
Why don't you go away
& why do you stay w/ me
I'm not a very nice person
& you still talk to me
Save your city
Right then
Go away
Amen
[*] (Williams Burroughs)
HOMER.TXT
She wasn't sure why she had come to the forest.
She was an urban type, unaccustomed to enjoying flora and fauna,
and certainly not accustomed to fresh air. But she had come.
It was a small state park, a pocket-sized oasis of green and fresh
and damp in a rural landscape of furrowed and plowed. Her mother
had brought her there as a small child, just before the thing had
happened, the thing she didn't like to think about.
And she was here, thinking about it. Pondering all the what-ifs,
the first tender tears trying to well up in her heart.
'Why did I come here?' she was heard to think to herself. 'Things
were going so well...'
Still she trudged along the well-kept trails, half wanting to go
back to the car and leave, half wanting to go to the place in the
forest, the place where...
She was thinking too much. 'No one can re-live a painful memory in
such vivid detail as I.'
She thought back to that guy, what was his name, the one with the
useless haircut, the one with the keychain that was a little rubber
man-shape with chakras marked in rhinestone... Anyway, she had been
introduced to him at a coffeehouse one time, and had felt strangely
at ease with his gentle demeanour, which was odd for her. She was
usually suspicious of friendly people. Over the course of the
evening, her friends had left her with him, and somehow she had
told this total strange stranger all about her problems: Her
mother, herself...
He had told her to just breathe, and to think only about breathing.
She had laughed a cold laugh in his face, just then, but he smiled
and said, "Well, at least you heard me. You know, most people don't
have the slightest idea what I mean when I say those things. They
usually react like you just did, but they laugh because they can
only see a guy in a tie-dye and sandals.. You laugh because even
though we've been sharing ourselves, you think I'm a fool for
believing these things. Its qualitatively better, I guess." and got
up to get another coffee. He sat back down with someone else,
leaving her comfortably alone.
So, here in the forest, she managed to think about breathing. 'That
guy. I felt so bad about laughing at him afterward...'
So she decided on a whim to take his advice. 'Why the hell not?'
she cynically decided, smirking. 'He'd get a kick out of knowing I
was doing this.'
She walked on, knowing the trail, having walked it a million times
in memory and imagination and dream and nightmare. She walked,
feeling her breathing becoming more even, thinking about her lungs
and her feet and her hair sticking to her neck, her long brown
hair, her inhale, her sweat, sticking to her hair, her exhale, the
muscles in her legs, her inhale... The outside world was a grey
blurred generality. To think about the forest would remind her
of... She concentrated again on her walking and breathing.
Somewhere, somehow, acceptance comes from within. The Gods shoot
their lightning bolts and make the sky crack open like an egg,
spilling a huge yolk of acceptance. It drains into the water supply
and everyone drinks it, and they all know then that what they've
been worried about is crap. Its all crap. Not a cynical crap, but a
humane crap. A crap that you know you can discard, never needing it
again; a crap that in retrospect is all but trivial.
She thought of the path as it stretched in front of her, but she
didn't see it, didn't even feel it as it hit the soles of her
shoes. It was in her memory and imagination. Imprinted by years of
longing, longing for mother, for...
Recoil, reclaim, she began to think about breathing again, in...
out...... in...... and inward it all went. Until she
noticed the panther leading her by about twelve feet. She continued
walking, even though the adrenaline told her to run away, run the
fuck away, move away as quickly as possible. But something made her
retain her even pace, her forward movement. Either the panther
didn't know she was there, or it didn't care.
She had never imagined it this way, and she was almost denying the
reality. She felt the panther. She had never felt anything like
this, from an animal or a person, even her ex-husband. She knew it
was all there, that she wasn't in any danger, but at the same time
her brain cried out the desperate cry of religious zealots,
screaming to her that she make fucking tracks in the opposite
direction.
Her mouth and lungs let out a pitiful grunt of physiological
confusion, at which the panther stopped, its physical grace present
even in stillness. She stopped in fright, in abject terror, the
shockwave realization strapping her body to space. The panther
turned its head quietly around and glanced at her, then resumed its
same pace, even footsteps, an even breathing, in, out, pads
footfalling in even rythm that she recognized, her body recognized,
from some primal genetic memory.
She began to shake, trembling the rivulets of sweat from her skin,
dripping off the tips of her fingers. The temperature seemed to
have risen by about a thousand degrees. Her body locked itself,
every muscle tensed, their combined forces threatening to snap all
her bones.
The forest world became a visual blur. She thought she was going to
pass out, but she did not. All she could see was a swirl of green
and grey and brown, and the lithe form of a very large cat as it
pawed its way along the trail ahead of her. Its rythm reached out
to her, she saw it. It has a physical grasp on her. She felt it
wrap a warm feeling around her chest. It reminded her to breathe,
and she did, and it gently pushed on her back, upsetting her
balance, and her body took an instinctive step forward. After
that, her fear-blanked mind was no match for this vaporous tendril
of incentive which pulled her.
No match.
She found herself riding a machine, a machine that had once been
her body. It leapt and started in uneasy syncopation, autonomic
control systems preventing the vaporous Feeling from causing it to
crash. She wondered at her future, at the thought of a forest
creature pulling her into its lair, there to consume her flesh,
useless frightened flesh.
It was taking her somewhere; where, she could not be sure.
Illogic tore her brain into tiny pieces, a tiny voice inside:
'Where am I being led? Who can save me? I'm scared! Mommy! John!
Help me!' but she was alone, with the cat. On it sauntered, pulling
her like a toy soldier.
Seeming hours later, an etheric blue wave of feeling came from the
panther. It stroked her fears, her muscles. The desperation, the
tension washed from her like a flash flood. Gone.
Gone. She could breathe, she had motor control back. She no longer
saw the green pulling thing, but she knew it was there. She still
could not resist it.
She saw the cat look back, and then her field of vision widened to
see that she was nowhere she had been before. She could not
remember this place from her memory or imagination. She had never
dreamed a place like this. It was still the forest, still
indigenous, still the same, but very... very different.
Then she was released and abruptly fell to her knees. The world
swam, the forest floor seemed to be alive, covered with insects and
other moist things, the trees were tuning forks, vibrating in the
slowest motion, agitated by the breeze. She concentrated and the
cat was an inch from her face, purring.
Then it began to clean her face. The broad tounge coarse, though
moist and pleasurable. Her mind gave up and she fell forward,
arms instinctively embracing the big cat in exhaustion. It lay down
under her, and continued its cleaning.
Her head resting on the wide shoulder, she felt the thrumming purr
of pleasure, saw the contented twitch of the black-tipped tail,
felt the warm tounge making swaths across her neck, then her
shoulders... Then the sound of speaking, only deep from within the
soul of the most ancient of panthers, a feline language, a very
gentle and very deep and very... motherly sound, said, "You are
absolved."
[*] (Homer the Brave)
----Homey-Note--------------------------------------------
Jeez, Homey ... that gave me chills, man. Hope you don't
mind the re-arrangement; the original that you uploaded turned
out to be one *extremely* long sentence ... that's right, one.
Had to manually break it into what you see above. Fkking c00l,
dude!!1!1@
?-?-------------------------------------------------------
ILLUSION
A BLANK MIRROR-GUNFIRE-BLOOD & PUS-WATCH OUT FOR THAT TIGER!-MORE
OF THE SAME-THOUGHTS, ILLEGIBLE, ON WADED UP SHEETS OF PAPER,
LITTER THE FLOOR-SILENCE-A SCREAM-MORE OF THE SAME GO AWAY-LEAVE ME
THE HELL ALONE-GRAB THE GUN-PUT IT DOWN-FOCUS ON THE POET'S
FACE-PICKS UP THE GUN, LIGHTS A CIGARETTE, FLUSHES THE Toilet-I
LOVE YOU-COME HERE-I REALLY DO LOVE YOU-`WILL YOU DIE FOR ME?'
[*] (william burroughs)
In Early Morning
In early morning,
her voice comes to me from the answering machine.
The sound evokes small trickles of pleasure
reminder of happier days.
Happiness now lost with only remote possibility of return.
She speaks to me in ways only a lover can.
In early morning,
our hearts almost meet again
reminding me of feelings which lie buried
beneath a monument of tears, pain and failed attempts to forget.
The memories and feelings cling to my spirit,
deriding visions of a future that might have been.
In early morning,
the sadness retreats a short distance.
Granting relief from pain for all too brief an instant.
Revealing glimpses of happiness now lost.
The sadness endures in her absence
Broken only by her voice when we next talk again.
[*] (cosmic coyote)
Vampire
for seven years in single days
and seven nights in sweet torment
i was
so very
stoned
on that beauty.
a vampires wet dream sucking kiss
a cigarette smoking open wound
follows her memory resident bliss
the whole way to the tomb.
addicted written seduction goes
the friction fades, the answer soon
would it were for me to know
and seal my empty tomb.
a cigarette burns my lungs away
in cliche mocking silent gloom
i need yr memory here to stay
with me inside my tomb.
a vampires written sucking bliss
ill walk beside, despite my wound
and well follow memory resident bliss
the whole way to the Womb.
for seven lifetimes single days
and one night on the Inside, man
i was
so very
stoned
on that beauty.
[*] (xann) ...definitely THE man(N).
A Portion of the novel, _Mount_
by Brandon Aubrey (AKA "Mount") & Lance Hatcher
Oh yes, Harvey Lee had bought many a soul on his
journey, and he was going to buy one more tonight.
Buy it and deliver it in one big rip, C.O.D. Master, goods on
your doorsteps, her soul is yours, you know, used, abused, but
soul still intact. The girl, of course, thought she was Harvey
Lee's lover, and thought Harvey Lee was just a glorified
egocentric rock star, and even thought that the whole business
up on the mountain had something to do with a Christmas concert
or something.
But she was nothing to Harvey Lee. A pretty face and a pretty
body and a decent sex dancer, but not much more. A possession,
Harvey Lee's very own, the one he had never shared with anyone
else. She had been quite a find, a cherubic babe with flair.
Harvey Lee had taken her off the ice rink at sixteen, a literal
virgin, but Harvey Lee had quickly fixed that. Since then,
she'd been just his, his alone, and now, he'd give her up for
his Master and wait and see if his request was granted. But
being a possession, it wasn't a sacrifice, it was just a gift, a
tribute to his lord.
What Harvey Lee really wanted for Christmas was a big fat juicy
bloody great-grandmother of a mutilating, pain creating, hell
raising Earthquake. Satan Clause, won't you take this bitch and
grant Harvey Lee's wish?
John brought her out. She wore a red silk dress, red slippers,
and she was smiling, no clue at all. Harvey Lee even smiled
back.
"Hello, Jessie," Harvey Lee said.
"Howdy, Harvey," she said, smiling. "What's all this?"
"Oh, you'll see, nothing much, just one of my little
ceremonies."
She grinned knowingly, "Out here, in front of everybody?"
Harvey Lee nodded affirmative.
"Kinky," she said.
"Lay up here," Harvey Lee said.
Jessie jumped up on the stone pedestal, and lay down, smiling.
S & M was one of her favorites, exhibitionism being the other.
Harvey Lee took four lengths of rope and tied her legs and arms
down.
Harvey Lee then ripped her dress off of her.
"Harvey," she moaned.
"Shut-up," he said. He turned and looked out at his follower,
all of whom starred with excitement in their eyes. Harvey Lee
wondered if he should make up some ritual ceremony, but decided
against it. Hell, this was between him and his master.
He turned back to Jessie, still smiling, and said softly,
"Jessie, you've been a pretty good bitch. I have to admit that
and thank you. I know you'll have fun where you're going."
Harvey looked up, and spoke to the Master of the Air. "You
know what I want, Master. So I'm giving you this bitch, take
her and give me what I need."
Harvey Lee spoke two e-vil sounding words, and shouted a third.
He pulled a long silver knife out of his scabbard, and clutched
it in both hands, raising it high over Jessie's breast.
Jessie's eyes lit up in mock horror. Damn, she thought,
Harvey's being so realistic!
Harvey closed his eyes and prepared to bring the knife down.
A car honked somewhere behind him, and several people began to
scream.
Harvey Lee turned and looked. The White Cadillac was driving
through the throng of Waste-heads and coming straight at Harvey
Lee.
The Ghost stopped just five yards from Harvey Lee. Galahad
leaped out of the driver's seat.
"Hold it right there, Wilson," Harvey Lee shouted. "One step
and I'll cut this bitch's throat."
Harvey Lee was compromised with the knife in his hands, so he
bullshited. If he could just keep them back a few steps, he
could get his hands free and show them some real power.
Galahad stepped forward, "She's your bitch," he said. "Do what
you want."
Mount and Gwen and Spring got out of the other side of the car.
"Hey," Mount said, genuinely surprised. "I know that chick."
Harvey Lee turned his head and glared at the person he hated
more than any other. "Yeah," Mount said. "I've got something
of hers."
Mount reached into his jean-jacket pocket and pulled out
the panties. He threw them so they landed right on Jessie's
belly. Harvey Lee turned and looked down and saw the initials
embroidered on the panties. 'H.L.'
Harvey Lee went into a fit of rage. Rather then drop his knife
and use his free hands and other-worldly powers, he ran at Mount
with knife raised.
Mount stepped aside at the last moment, and Harvey Lee went
flying, falling into the snow.
Harvey Lee got up, turned, screamed, and dropped the knife.
He raised his hands high into the air.
A burst of electricity leapt from his fingers, straight at
Mount. Mount took an involuntary step back, and then raised his
arm, Black Cross held in his hand.
The rays and waves of e-vil electrons hit Mount, and caused the
Cross to expand into a wave of nothing, a sheet of space that
went somewhere, perhaps everywhere, else.
The Cross grew, but kept its shape. Harvey Lee added intensity
to the flux. Mount stepped forward, pushing the Cross, which
was now dense and wet, forward.
One step at a time, Mount reached Harvey Lee.
Harvey Lee stepped back.
Now, the crowd of Waste-heads were coming at Mount from behind
and from the sides. Galahad and Mount's sisters blocked them
the best they could, but they were only eight. Gwen would
partake in no physical violence.
"I've beat you this time," Harvey Lee said.
And Mount realized he was right. People were running towards
him from all sides. In addition, The Cross had grown to nearly
fifteen feet tall, and was still growing. It took all of
Mount's strength to keep it from toppling over on him.
Mount saw nothing but black, so he never fully realized what
happened. But Galahad saw it all.
From Harvey Lee's side of the Cross, a grayish, wasted,
corpse-like arm reached out slowly, and then a face. Harvey Lee
saw it and directed his beams at it, but it kept coming. Soon
their was a shoulder, and another arm, and then suddenly, a face
and a neck.
Harvey Lee's flux of light was too bright, and Galahad could
not make out the face, but he heard what Harvey Lee said.
The arms reached out through the flux of e-vil electrons and
grabbed Harvey Lee by the shoulders. The figure pulled Harvey
Lee into the Cross, into the hole, through the door.
And Harvey Lee screamed, "FATHER!"
And that was it.
The Cross diminished to its normal size and fell into the snow.
Mount stood there, looking confused, muttered. "What the fuck?"
And the crowd of Waste-heads started slowly to step back, not
sure what had just happened, not sure that they wanted to know,
but knowing they didn't want to have anything to do with Mount
McKinley and his Cross.
Within five minutes, the once cohesive caravan had split into
about five hundred cars fleeing for their lives.
And Mount just stood there, wondering how and why.
Galahad walked over to him, said, "Good work."
Galahad shook his head approvingly.
"I think they shut off the weather," Hope said, pointing out
over the basin of L.A. There, a hole in the clouds had opened,
and another hole to the South, and one way out over the Ocean.
The holes where growing with amazing rapidity, and you could see
the stars.
Gwen walked over to Mount and padded him on the back.
"Good Work," she said.
"What's next?" Spring asked.
"Honey," Galahad said. "The next thing for us to do is to
bring this good, important, powerful, potentially dangerous work
to the world, without at the same time bringing any bad karma
down upon ourselves."
"Just how are we going to do that?" Mount wondered aloud.
"I know," Gwen said. "You do it for Love, not money. For
Humanity, not country. For your posterity, not pride. For
Hope, not fear. You must care, and smile honestly, and believe
what you are doing is right."
"This mission isn't over yet, Mount," Galahad said.
"It's not?"
"No. Sorry, brother."
"Well, I suppose we can't take a long enough break to get these
girls back to their mother, can't we?"
"Why sure, Mount, and there's still plenty of country these
girls haven't seen. Time to see the world."
"Cool," Summer said.
"Yeah," River said. "Screw School. Let's just hang with
Galahad."
Galahad turned to Gwen and asked, "You up for the trip, sister?"
"Well, maybe--"
"I do believe as an equal opportunity religious believer you
should allow young Mount here a chance to convert you to his own
brand of Love and Trust. You Catholic's did it to the Indians,
you owe a karmic debt."
"Well--"
"Yeah, sister, why not?" Winter said. "Mount's never had a
girlfriend, so maybe you could hang out with him and pretend so
everybody won't think our brother is so weird."
"Sure," she said. "I guess I was born for the road."
So the McKinley clan and Galahad the cultural outlaw and the
Angel rolled on down the mountain. After they reached the end
of the mountain road and turned back on the highway, something
began to bother Mount, and he couldn't figure out just what the
heck it was.
They were about halfway back to L.A. before Mount realized what
it was.
"Galahad?"
"Yeah, buddy."
"I hope I'm wrong, but did we, or didn't we leave that babe
tied up there to that rock."
Everyone in the car looked at each other.
"I think we did," Galahad said.
"Yeah," the girls said.
"I can't believe I did that," Gwen said.
"Whoa," Galahad said. "That would have been some heavy bad
karma. Girls, we're trying to set ourselves up for failure.
You should thank the Lord you got such a smart big brother.
Mount, you stopped a bad cycle, that's a good sign for you."
Galahad made a big U-Turn and drove back up to Mount Wilson.
When they got there, Galahad got out and un-tied girl and helped
her put on her tattered dress and helped her into the Ghost.
"That had to be the biggest tease job ever," she said. "What
the hell happened to Harvey Lee?"
No one answered her, no one knew quite how. Jessie turned to
Mount and said, "Thanks for coming all this way to bring my
panties back to me. What the hell did you want them for in the
first place?"
Nine sets of eyes turned towards Mount McKinley.
"Yeah, Mount," Winter said, "What did you want with a pair of
panties?"
"Kinky," River said, "I didn't know you had it in you."
"Mount, baby," Spring said, "You've got seven sisters, if you
wanted a pair of panties, all you had to do was ask. You didn't
have to go to a complete stranger."
Mount met eyes with Galahad through the rear-view mirror.
Galahad smiled a shy, knowing grin, and then turned his gaze
away. He drove on.
"I was on a mission from God," Mount McKinley said.
[*]
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If you dug that, you can download the entire novel from
HoWL (713-862-1415), as well as leave any feedback, sug-
gestions, etc., to Brandon ... he's known as 'Mount' on
the board. He'd dig hearing what you think .. be it
good, bad or indifferent. By the time this issue of Tamer
is released ... _MounT_ should be available in a hyper-
text version. So download it MAN!!
===================--------------------====================
Uh, ... so ends number four. Shit, ... I really slacked on this
one. Sorry it took so long. And thanks for all the uploads. Some
of you probably noticed that everything you sent was not in this
issue ... too much. I'm hanging on to it for number five. Peace..
Submissions: HoWL BBS
713.862.1415