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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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