Wednesday, September 5

kids: meet blobbo. blobbo has to die...

the surest way to get into jail is to be part of a particular species that isn't particularly appreciated in your particular locale. committing a crime can be particularly helpful too, but isn't particularly necessary. just being hated usually does the trick.

but here i am: i thought i was hated, despised, unpleasant to all, but i can't get thrown into the brig. what did i do right? why am i being rewarded? why does god love me?

what won't anyone hate me?

right, well... if i can't get in on my own, i'll have to get in on somebody else's own. time to find a fat alien of less-than-noble birth.

so let's list out my options, shall we?

option the first: find some gigantic blobbo, cut 'em open, climb inside, stick my hand up his brainstem (or neuron glob or whatever the fuck blobbo's have for a nervous system) then play him like a marionette, walk right up to the jail, tell 'em i've just exterminated a whole floor of richkids and i'm deathly afraid of spacesponges, spit in the guys face, masturbate on the floor, then attempt to run away while screaming like a little girl.

sounds good. let's go with that one. i just happen to know not just any blobbo, but the blobbo.

blobbo works in the fitness levels. he himself is not in what you'd call particularly good shape (according to our clearly outdated and cultural-conditioned standards of beauty), but, he assures me, on his horrible planet, his own revolting physiology makes him quite a prize. why do i know all of this? because i met blobbo years ago, in a vain attempt at making myself more attractive in the (even more pointless) endeavor of trying to get the cute little galactopus girl to sleep with me. he was in charge of operating the decontamination  machines outside the radon baths (i prefer to drip-decontaminate... the machines always leave my delicate skin taut-and-dried-and-itchy-feeling...) we got to chatting, and he's a pretty decent guy. their home world is kinda low-grav, low-density, and they don't really have shapes as such, but when they get crammed into a mostly-normal environment like we have here, the increased-pressure sort of congeals them into a roughly humanoid shape. now... since you can see right through them, they are forced to wear muumuu's, which means i will be able to yank on his brain stem, and nobody will be the wiser.

except for blobbo. he'll be in a galaxy of pain. poor thing. poor meat-blob-puppet.

my meat-blob-puppet.
mine mine mine

i head to the gym. blobbo's down there. he's snivelling. 'no i don't want you to nervejack my brain. this isn't cool. i thought we were friends. blahblahblahblah.'

he actually did say 'blahblahblah' because that was when i looked around to make sure nobody was watching us (there were a couple of old-timers in the radon baths, who didn't give a fuck about anything. good men,) ripped open that gel-man's muumuu, leapt inside and grabbed his brain.

i figured i could get him to say something more sophisticated than that, but every time i poke his mind, all i get is 'blahblahblahblah.' the harder i poke, the sadder it sounds.

seems like a confession will be too difficult. and fuck me... do i have to piss! it's been ages, and my bladder is swollen, pushing down on my prostate, making me mildly aroused. it's so squishy and warm inside of blobbo that, well, you'd forgive me for some gentle erotic thoughts. but no... not today... today we bravely go to prison to save spajjy and the universe.

i guess. fine. i can piss soon enough.

i try the other part of the plan - the bit where i make blobbo abuse himself in front of the authorities. there is one major issue with this: i have no idea where his genitals are.

this plan isn't working out too well. about all i can do is grab and walk.

so it's back to the old smash-n-grab.

but what to smash and what to grab. let's see... who has made my life unbearable on this station? which of the inmates of this zoo do i want to punish? who has been the hardest, the cruelest, the.... oh wait...

captain spacefuck just walked in for a steam... i mean a smash and grab.

only in this case, it's smash the skull, grab the brain. blobbo's gel-hands are shockingly hard. well... shocking for captain spacefuck. don't worry, handsome. you'll get your brain back. just as soon as i'm done with it. you hardly used it anyway. har. har.

the two old-timers throw a little more heavy water on the granite in the sauna. the window steams up. they didn't see nothing. they just want to sit and steam their lives away. who can blame them? who are they and where did they come from? why so open minded? no time to worry about that right now: gotta get this brain up to the security office before it starts to cool down. brain-replacement technology works only so well: i figure he's got a window of about 2 hours before he'll suffer any serious permanent damage.

blobbo is resisting my mind-marionetting. i ease up on him, let him speak his own voice, instead of the strangled gargles he's been emitting, fighting my control.

'bring the body.'

smart blobbo. very smart blobbo. they might think i just took this brain from the morgue, not technically a jailable offense.

with spacefuck's brain in one hand and his limp body noodled over the arm, me-controlled-blobbo, dapper in our severe black-and-white muumuu look more like a waiter, presenting a fine dish at a table, rather than a psycho, de-braining people in saunas.

the crowd in the hyperlift shies away. but they say nothing. of course not. what would you say?
'oh excuse me, you know you're really not supposed to be doing that. can't you read the sign? no brain-scooping?'
'oh really, i had no idea, thanks for the heads-up, i'll just put it back in and everything will be cool. you look nice. want to get dinner sometime?'
'i'd love to. i'm feeling like offal tonight, dunno why?'
'sounds grand. pick you up at 8'

no. that conversation would not happen.

so me-and-blobbo-and-spacefuck-and-spacefuck's-brain get off at the security level. there's all manner of lost souls here: whores and pimps and dealers and lost kids and lost tourists and lost everything. processing takes a while, as you might suspect, what with everybody being so fucking lost.

nobody is really paying attention. i see mal-aka out of the corner of blobbo's eye: he must have been on a jag, because he's heavily sedated, as far away as possible from the other inmates, lying on the floor. some poor schmuck sees the room around him and figures it's a good place to take a nap. one hypnagogic twitch later and the fool loses his left arm. blood on the wall. that'll teach him. razor-sharp wings, tetchy nerves, and close proximity make a terrible combination.

i make blobbo sweep the trash that's in the line in front of us away. spacefuck's body flaps about like a towel. we get to the front. fuck me do i have to pee!

'crime?' the concierge asks, staring directly at us. she sees without seeing.

i force blobbo to lean forward and peer directly into her eyes.

'crime?' she asks again, annoyed.

i toss spacefuck's brain up in the air and have it land on her desk. she glances at it, looks back at me/us, then hits a button on her console. nobody else seems to give a shit about this. every other time i've been to the brig, it's always a disaster. today, there's a quiet, bored susurrus permeating the room.


a guard comes up to us and leads us away down to the brig. i wonder if this happens a lot and i've just never noticed it.

'hey!' the concierge shouts.

all of us turn around. i'm worried blobbo's muumuu gusted in the wind, revealing little ol' me down here in his bowels.

'you forgot this.' she's holding the brain. the robot returns and collects it. we continue down the hallway, with tiny offices branching off. inside each is an innocent man, pleading his case with bored bureaucrat. the scales of justice, my how they tip.

i'm terrified i'll be discovered in here. partly because that means (if my assessment of the situation is correct) i'll be given a fucking medal and sent on my way a hero for 'apprehending' this dangerous killer. and also because i really, really have to pee. and i can't just pee inside of blobbo. never mind the cruelty... every drop of this precious urine is for spajjy's thirstyspongy body.

 by and by we get to holding. i can see a bulge in my abdomen. it's growing in front of me. it's horrifying.

we're put in. the guard goes off with the brain and the captain.

all i can think about is peeing. or trying to short-circuit every single part of my brain and body that keeps me (vaguely) connected with human civilization.

it's been a while since i've been here (i'm guessing) so i do a quick scan with blobbo's eyes.

it's a large room. very large. a quarter the size of hangar 23. rows and rows of benches, of varying width and length to accommodate varying alien posteriors. spajjy won't be there. he'll be wherever he can get moist or stay in darkness so he loses as little juice as possible.

we walk along the corners of the room. a lot of the other inmates are sleeping. nobody seems much interested in us.

there... there in the corner. a shrivelled, crusty, hard yellowish-square. practically white, the salt leftover as his vital fluids evaporate.


i make blobbo run.

it's him. i erupt from blobbo, tear my pants off, close my eyes and let go...


the absence of pain is indeed pleasure. i don't care what anyone says.

i'm almost done when i hear the sound. it's a dry, coughing sound. like pine-needles rattling around a tumbleweed while a fan blows old-person skin-flakes at it.

i hold my pee. briefly. there's a bit left. i listen.
 'over here, you idiot!'

i open my eyes. blobbo is passed out next to a very wet, very gross, very asleep creature in a yellow jacket. it sits in a  pool of my urine.


i look over to the sound.

spajjy is lying, crumpled and tiny, barely noticeable. he's usually quite big, the size of several men, but now he's hardly a shoebox. i cradle him. his voice is sawdust on leather. it's rocks being dragged by the wind on a waterless world. it's emptiness.

'pee on me, asshole!' he manages to hack out.

i squeeze a drop or two on him. there's nothing left.

i've killed him. i've failed him.

tears pour from my eyes. well... not really pour, but a couple dribble out. i wipe them off with spajjy's dessicated corpse. that part instantly rehydrates. but it's nothing. a drop of water in the desert.

'blarglgjeoiwjoirthjlsdf' i hear.

blobbo is waking up.

blobbo is moist. he's a gel-man. gel-men are all kinds of moist.

i grab spajjy and run over to blobbo. he's been a good sport about this, but... you know what... everybody's gotta go sometime. i cram spajjy directly up blobbo's ass.

with the sound of a large, slow, wet bowel movement moving in reverse, blobbo's face starts to suck in. so does the rest of his body. inside, you can see spajjy slowly growing. the tempo crescendos... now exponentially... the horror on blobbo's face is comical... turn that frown inside out, you old jelly-bastard... you're doing some good today.

spajjy bursts forth from blobbo's corpse, subsuming it as he erupts back into being.

vigorous. yellow. moist.

my friend.

'hiya spaceman. how ya been?' he sticks out a big splooshy hand.

'just fine. you?' i shake it. it squarshes a bit.

he says 'can't complain. listen. we need to talk. it's about the universe.'

i fucking knew it...

No comments:

Post a Comment

what the fuck is your problem?