* * * * *
The rest of the world was forced to listen to the ramblings of a bloody drunk missing most of his scalp and a voice that sounded uncannily similar to Casey Kasem. The televisions that played the incessant Skank Cluster commercials in the camps, inexplicably changed and the words of Nietzsche found the ears of millions of outraged Skank-souls. Prostitutes in cars conducting blowjobs and other acts of fetishized sex were swarmed with the readings of Plato. Coitus ceased as the Skank possessed people began to writhe in varying forms of agony. Those that were too high to react violently simply flopped about like a fish on the verge of a terrestrial death. Hidden Siren screams and Banshee wails filled the streets of the world in a cacophony of anguish. Raster’s reading of The Republic ended long before Tuggy finished but during the course of four hours, the globe was engulfed with pain. Then, there was silence.
* * * * *
After Tuggy finished the last lines, “…And to repeat in conclusion what I said in the beginning: man would rather will nothingness than not will,” he bluntly gave the commands that Raster much more eloquently mentioned an hour or so prior.
“Now, all of you get your hands on a copy of Plato’s The Republic and Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals and read them to the people that are still fucked up.” He took a deep breath and rested his head in his hands, feeling a strip of his exposed skull.
“Are we finished?” asked the anchor.
“Yeah, we’re finished. Kill those cameras and come over here, I could use a hug.” Tuggy was surprised with himself – he was feeling very un-grim. He was overcome with emotions. He felt empathetic for all the poor, living Skank Clusters that were consumed for their deliciousness. He felt grief for all those that died at the hands of Skank addicts. He felt a wave of despair wondering if the plan actually worked.
“By the way, my name is Susan.”
“I know your name; I used to watch your broadcast.”
Susan held Tuggy and nestled his face in between her bra-covered breasts. Her nipples were hard, and Tuggy noticed.
“Look,” said Tuggy, “this might not have worked and the world may end up in a permanent state of shit. If that happens, I don’t see the point of going on.” He seemed serious. “Do you think we could just make love?”
Susan smiled down at him, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m on the rag, but if you don’t mind a little blood, then I certainly wouldn’t mind.”
“Look at me – do you think I’m bothered by a little blood?”
She pushed Tuggy back and the chair rolled away from the desk. She straddled him and kissed him deeply. Their tongues encircled each other as the taste of white corpse paint, lipstick and blood created a taste sensation that reminded Tuggy of those Skank Clusters he once adored. Susan knelt down and took Tuggy’s penis out, placing the stiffening member in her mouth. It tasted funky and smelled ripe, but at least he shaved his balls.
“I want to eat you out. I want to make you feel good,” whispered Tuggy in a sensual tone he never thought he was capable of creating. She led Tuggy by the cock back over to the desk and made him lie down on it. She unhooked her bra, freeing the perky orbs of tender flesh. Her nipples were pierced with vertical bars, which she momentarily pinched and yanked at. She climbed on the desk and stood over Tuggy as she lifted her tan min-skirt and jerked out her tampon. She tossed it over her shoulder, landing directly on top of Tuggy’s scalp, and squatted over his face. He buried his mouth into her vulva, lapping up thick clumps of brownish-colored blood and runny juices. Susan reached behind her and stroked his cock as Tuggy hungrily munched away, occasionally nibbling on her outer lips. She began to shudder and plunged herself down on Tuggy’s shaft, rhythmically bobbing up and down.
“Tuggy, what the fuck?” said a familiar voice.
Their heads whipped to the side to see Raster standing behind the barricade of pallets and barbed wire.
“What are you guys doing?” Raster asked, realizing it was a dumb question but not knowing what else to say.
Susan stood up and hiked her skirt back down, hopping off the news desk.
“What does it look like you cock-blocker? Damn, man we were in the middle of passion.”
“Passion? What are you talking about? Since when did you ever feel passionate about anything?”
“Sorry to interrupt guys,” Susan interjected, “but I suppose I need to get back to covering the latest updates and see if your idea actually worked.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Tuggy. “Take care, Susan.”
“You too – Tuggy, was it?”
“Yeah.”
“Take care, Tuggy.”
They exchanged smiles and shared an intense stare. Tuggy put his meat back in his pants and climbed over the barricade, rejoining his friend.
“Raster, let’s go home and see if we saved humanity.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
As they walked back to the car, Raster saw the raped girl with the knife in her neck, dead, but no sign of the man in the flannel shirt.
“Maybe we can finally watch Thunder Warrior II,” Raster said. “And what the hell happened to your head?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
* * * * *
Back at their apartment, they both plopped down on the couch, surprised everything was still there and not stolen or vandalized. A noise like a squeaking mouse could barely be heard.
“Do you hear that?” asked Tuggy.
“Yeah. Do we have a rodent problem now?”
“Shh. I think it’s coming from the couch.” Tuggy stood up and lifted the cushion. “Ha! Lookie what we have here!” He bent down and picked up a Skank that must have fallen off a cluster. She was yelling something about medical coverage and taking someone to court. It appeared that one of her tiny legs was broken. Tuggy almost tossed her in his mouth, out of habit, but something prevented him from eating her. Instead, he opened the front door and set her on the porch. “Now scram, you little bitch!” He slammed the door shut and sat back down. “Raster,”
“Yeah?”
“I gotta tell you what happened to that naked blond by the bookstore.”
“What about her?”
“When you went to get the car, she asked me to kill her.”
“You killed her? What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Shut up and listen!” He paused. “She snapped out of the Skank trance long enough to ask me to kill her and I gave her my razor. She sliced herself open and bled to death to join the dead dude she was next to.”
“Why did you let her kill herself you sadistic asshole?”
“It had nothing to do with sadism – it had to do with compassion. She couldn’t speak, she just motioned to slice her neck so I figured she wanted to die and be with her lover, or whatever.” Tuggy was having a hard time vocalizing his newly-found compassion for humanity.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because who knows if the shit we read actually worked? Maybe it was only temporary or maybe it just made everyone realize life isn’t worth living without anarchy or hedonism.” Raster could see the outlines of tears in Tuggy’s eyes.
“Well, Tug, there’s only one way to find out.” He reached for the remote. Susan sat behind the news desk with red smudges over her lips and a less-than-stellar bun in her hair.
NEWS FLASH:
It appears the global dominance of Skank Clusters has come to an end. Just moments ago, we received reports that mass suicides were occurring all over the world. The people who were affected by the disease brought on by Skank Clusters took their own lives in a sudden display of bloodshed. No one knows the reasons why millions, if not billions, of people tragically decided to end their lives today but one thing is harrowingly clear – if we truly are what we eat, then we are all nothing more than dead meat. This is Susan Lismond at Channel 36, signing off.
The last thing Susan did, on what at this point was global television, was set her purse in front of her, pull out a Gloc
k Model 38, put it in her mouth, and squeeze the trigger. Her head convulsed and smacked the desk with a geyser of blood and brain matter spouting from the back of her skull.
“What have we done?” Raster asked in a tone so quiet, he could hear his friend’s heart beat.
Tuggy sat wide-eyed and silent for several minutes. “When I saw the look in that naked chick’s eyes, the way she wanted to die - I saw that being morose was no way to live. There has to be more to this stupid existence than feeling pain, wishing pain, causing pain. It used to sound like all fun and games to me, but now…but now I realize that actually wanting to feel the touch of death is no way to live.”
“So I guess this is it, eh Tuggy? So much for our attempt at saving humanity. Do you think what I think you’re thinking? It’s our turn, isn’t it?” Raster asked rhetorically.
“Yup. Quite a bummer, buddy. Just when I wanted to start living, the end closes in.”
They took a good long look at each other as if actually seeing their kindred spirits for the first time. Tuggy grabbed Nietzsche and Raster grabbed Plato and both left through the sliding glass door at the back of their third story apartment, heading for the roof.
THE END
About the author
Jason Wuchenich lives in Sacramento, CA with his wife, Courtney and their dog and two cats. He has a degree in graphic design. By day, he works for a marketing agency. By night, he thinks of strange things – some of which he writes down. Other times, he turns these strange thoughts into clay golems and sends them out into the world to influence others to have strange thoughts. Sometimes, he eats broccoli. He has a strange fascination with facial hair.
He is better known to most as “Wookie.” Not really because he stands a gangly 6’4”, but because he has a general distrust of droids and is infamous for throwing extravagant temper tantrums when he loses at chess. He also makes the famous “Wookie-gurgle” when he yawns.
He likes heavy metal. A lot. Especially Motörhead. He also likes strange movies. He doesn’t feel it’s important to list all his influences by name.
He is currently working on his next novel “From the Decay Fence” (LegumeMan Books).
You can find him on MySpace, Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter (although he thinks the latter is rather silly).
LegumeMan Books
http://www.legumeman.com/
Extreme and/or Unusual Fiction for Extreme and/or Unusual People
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Table of Contents
STINKY INCUBUS
SKANK CLUSTERS: FOR SALE!
Dinner Bell for the Dream Worms Page 8