Thursday, May 3

a new, unexplored form of self-abuse

i suppose a lot of people fantasize about meeting themselves... they go on about how delightful, how magical, how wondrous it'd be to see another version of them, alike in every way, yet different in so many ways too... how it'd answer that eternal question of nature or nurture. how they'd finally be able to see themselves as the rest of the world sees them... what a chance to grow, to learn, to experience what it is to be an individual... to finally know yourself. it'd be grand.

this is all code... what they really, really want to do... and i have witnessed this many times in my travels... the one thing they absolutely want to do... is to have sex with themselves.

i know what you are thinking... you're assuming that your perverted spaceman here took advantage of his alt.self in some monstrous farce of the tender act of love. that he snuck into his berth at night with handcuffs, a mask, some filthy robo-porn, and, just in case, a dirty sock soaked in ether.

that because he lives in the same exact berth in another version of space, the key fit easily, and made no noise.

that because he knows flapjack's sleeping behavior, it was easy to know what time he'd be deep in an apnea attack and would be, effectively, dead.

that he knows his own sleep patterns so well, so it'd be easy to rouse himself in order to arouse himself... and knowing all his own erogenous zones, it'd be so simple, so natural, so normal...

that the perverse thing to do would be not to do it.

yes, of course i thought all those things. but so did the other me.

so when the two of us met in the hallway, creeping around with ether, handcuffs, pornography, and the beginnings of an erection, something about the whole thing didn't seem to be so attractive any more.

then we went back to zargle's and got drunk as fuck... and if there's anyone better to drink with than yourself, i can't imagine who that might be.


  1. Buntain_spaceid553780084 May 2012 at 15:44

    I was going to tell you a college tale about a girl named Jordan, but, instead, I will redirect my joy in the direction of your rouse/arouse play on words. If you had drenched a 'cow's blouse' in ether, and shoehorned it in there, I would've bought you some space candy.

  2. you know i love spacecandy


what the fuck is your problem?