Angel Tears

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by ananya michaelides

Chapter 4

  The Epiphany

  The short man slaps my face against Dog Hag's pubic. It is sweaty. His penis is alert and hard. It was the drug. This would be the time his doll would have called him 'cosmic penguin'. She is not here. She is 10 feet away from us. She is not alone. She is definitely not alone.

  She has the 6-member thug team around her. Two of them eating out of her thighs. One devouring her chest. Two others holding her arms, and the oldest of them all with a long white beard entering her. She is hypnotised with the punch, earlier. She is in peace.

  Dog Hag doesn't stop me from mouthing his penis. He has larger concerns dealing his sight and senses. He is handicapped. He cannot move, and though I was alright anatomically, my limbs were numb. Not my tongue, however. The moment his penis entered my mouth is when I learnt it was only my tongue in my overall body that could perform its due function. My taste buds had enhanced with the drug.

  This was bad for me, especially now.

  If there was only a way I could save his doll with just my tongue’s enhanced taste buds. If.

  My fellation on Dog Hag if stopped would mean that Dog Hag would go on to receive the stimulation of the barbed log on his head. I know. The short man would fuck us all, if the situation and his fancy demanded without much demanding.

  On that count, it did not matter what or how his penis tasted. His doll turned white and green. Like a large piece of glow stick. A glow stick the six men wore and twisted and turned and broke; broke into two pieces. Just as how I saw the earth being broken into two pieces earlier. A wet, cut tomato.

  Dog Hag lost all the syllables. He now could not pronounce any word. He spoke like an animal learning to speak the human language. His sounds meant nothing to the short man acting dog for his masters who were ardently trespassing the emotions of an act of nature, the purest of it all - Sex – if only it is consensual and primevally mutual.

  I lift my face to Dog Hag and say, 'I kissed your girl.' He immediately hears it. Like how you drop a piece of bread to your dog and he catches it to show you his new skill. Dog Hag frowns. The short man pushes me back to Dog Hag's hips. Just then, I catch a glimpse on Dog Hag's neck. Right below the chin. In an intricate calligraphy the letters 'Just' etched. In English. I understand. He stands to the right. She stands to the left. They are ‘Just Yours’. Maybe he doesn’t like the Egyptian picture language. Me, once on his hips, I tilt my head to Dog Hag. He cries seeing me. Looks ahead. Cries harder seeing his doll. She is no longer how she was earlier. Earlier, the one who explained her Egyptian tattoo on her neck.

  His doll is cut into two pieces, just as how a glow stick would, if it is bent and twisted too much. The fluorescent chemicals pour out of her cut body and instantly one after another snatch the feet of the 6 thugs that have broken her. Chop chop, all the 6 thugs burn as if they are being bathed in acid. They have their moans. It is the best sound I can hear. Better than any trance set ever I had jumped to. Watching their skins being burnt was like watching a sunset from a mountain top. Cherished it.

  Dog Hag pushes me away from his lap. He limps to stand. The short man, who is overwhelmed by the secret divulged by his masters, puts himself on a flight mode. His ready-to-run stand is brought under surprise by Dog Hag's uppercut. The short man is thrust into the air. Not high. Medium high. Way below his height. Falls in the approaching liquid from the broken girl.

  The glowing chemical liquid snatches him. Unlike the others, the short man doesn't burn. He is dismembered, somehow painlessly. Then, dissolves. Dog Hag stands on one foot. Right. His doll flowing in phosphorescent liquid stops at his foot on the ground. Stands erect as a cobra and lasers through his penis. His penis falls on the ground. Like the tail of a lizard when it is cut, in accident.

  He falls back. His penis misses his body and blood and brain. But doesn’t look like it misses his heart, for it beats on the ground and dances without it, anyway.

  His Doll approaches me. She no longer has that foul smell. She doesn't have any tattoos. She is just plain and green and white. Enlightened.

  She is godly and unbiased. Crawls to me as I sit staring at her on the dry pool's diving board fence, where she and I had kind of sat earlier and talked all sorts. She touches me. I do not burn. I do not dissolve. Neither is there any code that has been activated to launch my dismemberment. But the act of me dousing under her flowing liquid does not stop. I am covered. A chameleon. A fluorescent chameleon. In her fluorescence. Just like that, I am her.

  You think I do not know who you are? I do. You kept me because when you fucked me the first time, you learnt I was a virgin. Had I not been, you'd have gone in the hunt of that virgin, you'd always wanted to fuck. I know all about you, fucker! Don't I? All you do is hunt and fuck virgins. The tattoos on my neck I did not want them. But? I had to get them, because you wanted them on me, there! I even got my clit pierced. Because you wanted them to be. I got my tits pierced, because one night your friend from Bangkok came down and he was high and you were much blown out than he was and then? Then, you'd allowed him to fuck me and pierce my tits. It was always about you! You were nothing but the son of weed. I picked you up, sorted and gave a mike in your hand. Now, you have the audacity to fuck every girl, who has never been touched.

  Chapter 5

  I Understand

  'What was that?' I ask tasting the diamond shaped paper on the tip of my tongue.

  'Angel tears.' She says.

  I tell her. 'You have some deviously divine names!'

  ‘Sometimes it makes you cry when you have it.’

 


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