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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 CJ Parker IV The Fakery of the "Perils of Pauline"
Date: Sat, 30 Sep 2000 04:11:19 -0400
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Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction
http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00)
http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00)
http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon
http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 9/24/00)
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher.
TxM6 Hyperfiction Novel: CJ PARKER IV
Fakery in the Perils of Pauline
October 17, 1982:
Today was all day of the millennium following
the heroin OD death of Lara Klein half sister to
CJ Parker. God did not win. Pain got the best
score marked by the plot master as perfectly
impossible but delicious.
Lara, 15 had the street name "Baby" but Miss L
refused to quit on life. Collapsed and extended
like a twist and shout accordion, Lara lived
three years as the child whore of a man who
stole her from another. CJ could do nothing
about it.
Lara was the stronger of the two sisters. She
held CJ while the older sister cried unhappy
that she could not help. While Lara waiting
for the man to come and claim all she had
earned. Sucking a line of cocks did pay part of
the premium on the rancid dick insurance she had
purchased last year as a joke, but now seemed
quite straight.
CJ in her altruism gave Lara more money before
she left her sister alone to face the devil pimp
she had acquired. CJ wished she had the courage
to simply take that working World War II .45 she
hid in her middle drawer covered with silk and
raise it up on his arm for balance and then
simply blow the fuckers away one by one.
Sometimes weakness breeds flights of Rambo
foolishness. No one is a coward or a hero unless
they plot their daily bread. When CJ gave the
money to Lara, CJ knew that Lara would give it
to her pimp. CJ reasoned perhaps that way Lara
might be beaten tenderly.
When Lara died, CJ Parker stopped shooting horse
for a few extra hours and for the 532nd time she
quit making an act of resolution. That was all
the mourning that CJ could afford. "My body
demands attention," she said. Five hours later,
sweating, feeling nausea, CJ sucked two dicks in
a half hour and was coming down two hours later
pulling her body literally off the floor where
she caught ten minutes sleep. Need all the
strength in the world, she said. Have a date
with a man who likes to suck shit out of my ass
and then for every kiss I sustain with him for
five minutes or more, he pays me $500 per kiss.
I must also pretend that I don't smell it. If I
screw up my nose once he gives me half the
money. When he smacks my ass while I suck him, I
pretend it turns me on to suffer subjugation.
The 72-year-old man, Paul, would pay five times
the standard BJ rate. CJ didn't have time to
mourn her sister by pretending she was above
that kind of fake possession. You can't always
do straight blowjobs with a rubber you pull
quickly over the prick and beg the man by
massaging his balls to stay sober and come
quicker. Sometimes you have to put your ass on
the ground, spread your legs, open your cunt
lips and let some man fill you with his stinking
crap. By the time he has done you twelve times
on the two-week trip, you are sucking him in the
moonlight and loving his toothless jaw on your
nipples.
ON OCTOBER 17, 1991 at about 2 AM
Mostly clean the reformed hooker CJ looked for
an honest loving (I wasn't back in the game or
doing shit), as she put it, got myself raped,
and beaten almost to death, and back again."
"Every October 17th I remember my sister's death
and mourn for my own life," CJ thought as she
dressed too quickly wearing the same dirty
clothes she had word last night. She knew she
stank, but she needed to get out of the house
and shoot some photographs of dying animals.
They make me feel clean, she said.
Magical escape. The spirits saved me. Police
came. True spirits gave me back to life. Why me?
The true spirits had enough of the game, the
Gadfly said. Time to stop Genesis.
No, I will remember and not remember Maria and
her brother, Antonio. Imagine, she said years
later, fucked up by a bitch and her faggot
pussy. Couldn't pick them out. Showed the cops.
No one could find them. Not really criminals. No
Rap sheet.
"I didn't do anything," CJ said. "I couldn't
stop him. I was an old friend of murder. Have I
told you that before? One thing I know is true.
Never mix sex with dying, although after I shot
death, I was weak in my thighs and felt that
sexual pulse that drives you mad unless you
scratch it. I rubbed it with some oil and put
the long neck in a noose pretending to be
strangled. Able ordered me to die. He said,
don't worry. No more fretting over what you
cannot control. I did not die.
Can you stop your breathing? Can you imagine how
easy it would be if I grabbed hold of your balls
with my hand and rip your dick with my teeth
while I sucked it? When you came, I would mix
the blood with the goop and drive you madder as
the ocean floor quickens and you bleed to
orgasm. It could be lovely, don't you think to
die as amorphous pigment strewn as dust in the
universal sky.
It would be raping the abstract noun of your sex
to make it into mud pies. Taking your cock in my
hand, I offer it to some higher force symbolized
by raising my arms. Taking your sex dropping
into an industrial blender with ph 6.6-phosphate
buffer and blending it while you scream rape,
would give the freaks their orgasm. CJ listened
to Abel as he carved letters in her arm with a
sharp hobby knife.
He's a good man. Let him alone, CJ said when
interviewed after regaining consciousness.
Abel is not as bad as some who would take
without inflicting pain. Unless you know the
screams, you have not lived in the suffering. If
you are able to place yourself in an orderly
arrangement of lives, then you can track the
crystalline faces you create by the tension
between the fantasy and the marked down letters
of the actual event as recorded by some
character we name arbitrarily TRUTH.
"I wanted you to feel my heat. It felt perfect,
CJ told her sister Lara. Yes we possess the same
waves. We speed into each other like blood into
our multiple hearts."
"I liked that line, CJ wrote to her dead sister
with her mind acting as pen. After I wrote it, I
felt our skin and wanted to save the line for a
poem.
When I write you Lara I set what I feel down as
words but when I write something that seems
perfect I am amazed by how we are layers of
those waves on the ocean of orgasmic beaches
marking the placement of the harmony and the
necessary dissonance. Is that too sick my twin,
Lara asks CJ?
Who wrote that, Lara asked her sister seeing how
the words were ground as a message in perfect
typography on the painted sandy beaches?
"Lara, you were unconscious." I called 911. I
watched the self-beating. I didn't hear all the
layers of that action. I had no idea what truly
happened until the morning when I saw Lara cold
and stiff.
I stood in your deadly circle Lara. I left
confused about space and sequence. I know I was
there, but I didn't see, he said. Couldn't know
how the temporal displacement figured in the
story of multiple murders and darker sex where
all that is given is stolen but gladly
surrendered.
Tabby a good man, I told the Gadfly like a fool.
I didn't know Tabby was the Gadfly as all the
spirits. He plays the multiple roles and never
misses a line.
Tabby always helped. No drugs. No sex. I liked
him, had hoped he would really care. Not take
care. I can take care of myself. Just to be
there and talk. He called the cops. Right. When
will he come and visit. I know he's hurting
about my return to the scum vats.
Police questioned Tabby, called him the
defrocked Priest. They didn't know you couldn't
be "not ordained. "Tabby was wonderful 4x4
times. Good cop/bad cop/switching, confusing.
Want killers ass. [Do they really?
Can't pin it. No useable evidence. Certain as
the forensic data, that he did it.
No, never shall I pass this way without loss, CJ
sang wanting Lara to come alive on the spot and
make her sisterly orgasm faster and harder. Who
can't remember lust? Was it us alone or all of
them outside gathered in the cathedral watching
God stain the wall deep blood.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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