Piecemeal June (3 page)

moving around to get his cock at a more discreet angle. You dont look like youre paying attention. And what do you keep looking down for? Regina lifted her left foot up and the shoe fell off of it. Kevin first saw the bottom of her foot, the pantyhose were linty and worn thin. Then the smell hit him. It was like a series of assassins bullets zeroing in on his olfactory system. He felt assassinated, like Kennedy being dealt a skull-cracking fate of foot-stench. Kevins eyes rolled into the back of his head but then focused on getting the hell out of there. Im okay. Just havent been feeling well lately. He started making his way out of the office. Can we pick this up tomorrow? She gave him that look. It was bitchy and condescending, a look that Kevin was not a stranger to. Normally it would make him pissed but today it just made his erection that much bigger. 23 Jordan Krall Okay, tomorrow then. Bye! She enunciated that last word as if it was a magical spell to send him out of her office and on his way home. Kevin stumbled out of the office and out of the store with a head full of feverish cotton. Outside he leaned against the glass of the video store that neighbored the PetPlace. He had to get a hold of himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he turned his head and looked into the video store. He saw a boy going up and down the aisles with fish in his hand. Kevin knew the fish wasnt the type youd by in a pet store; it was an ugly, foot-long sucker that was still slimy-wet. As the boy stopped at the end of one aisle, he bowed his head and mouthed something. Then with a slap he took the fish and attacked the Drama section with a ferocity that caused the whole shelf to shake. Movies tumbled onto the floor and fish scales flew into the air like rice at a wedding. Kevins breath started to fog up the section of window in front of him. Grey condensation obscured the boys angry fit. Using the sleeve of his shirt, Kevin wiped the glass and saw that the boy was now shoving the fish down his throat. Two store employees were picking up the movies that had fallen onto the ground. The first employee, a busty teenager girl with blue-dyed hair, sniffed a DVD case. Flakes of fish covered her nostrils. The other employee, a fat guy in his mid-20s, was slowly picking up the movies while eyeballing his co-workers cleavage. They both ignored the boy who by now had almost the entire fish stuffed down his gullet. Kevin looked at the girl with blue hair and wondered what kind of socks she was wearing. Out of the blue, a middle-aged woman in a jogging suit passed Kevin and went into the store. She grabbed the boy, who now looked like a sword-swallowing dwarf, and pulled him out of the store while she screamed in a language that Kevin did not understand though he thought it might be Russian or Polish. 24 Piecemeal June What the fuck was that? Kevin was dying to know so he walked into the video store. Excuse me. He looked at the girl with the blue hair. She was bent over and her cleavage was on full display. What just happened? Kevin now looked to the fat guy who still had his eyes on the cleavage. Excuse me! Kevins voice grew loud. What the hell just happened in here? The girl looked up. What? Nothing. Some kid just made a mess. Can I help you? She wasnt at all trying to hide her annoyed attitude. She was still holding the movie that had been covered with fish scales. It was a movie called The Pink City. On the cover, beneath a sprinkling of fish remnants, Kevin could make out a womans face; it was gorgeous, the eyes especially. They were glassy and blue. Kevin took a step closer but the blue haired girl hugged the DVD to her chest. Can I HELP you with something, sir? What movie is that? Kevin had almost forgotten about the boy with the fish down his throat. Can I see that? The girl rolled her eyes and handed it to him. Kevin took the case and brushed the scales off. The cover no longer said The Pink City. Instead it was a copy of Blue Velvet. What the fuck? Kevin whispered and put the case on the shelf. With a sigh, the blue haired girl picked it back up and moved it to its proper place. Kevin walked out, trying to make sense of what just happened. So that was fucked up. Shit, what was wrong with that kid? Meanwhile, inside of the store, the blue haired girl shook her head. Fucking weirdo. Her co-worker concurred. Tell me about it. He scraped up some fish scales with his fingernail, stuck it under his left nostril and inhaled. 25 Jordan Krall * * * At home, Kevin had more pieces waiting for him. It was becoming a routine: the pieces of the sex doll were laid out on his bed in the shape of a woman. At times it was uncomfortable for Kevin; it sometimes reminded him of a crime scene but without the blood and gore. During the past few nights, Mithra had dropped off more pieces and now the only things missing were the head, breasts and vagina. Because the thought of a headless woman in his bed was close to nauseating he got a picture of Yvonne Craig sans Batgirl mask and put that face where the head should have been. He then put the glass eyes over Yvonnes eyes and took a look at his handiwork. The woman in the picture looked at him with an innocent but sexy grin and two eyes that pointed in different directions. That relaxed Kevin just a little bit. He sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted. Shit, what a fucking day. Working at the pet store wasnt that taxing but it was at times extremely mind-numbing. I need a vacation. Though he lacked any real skills, Kevin had always thought hed become something instead of just working somewhere. He especially never imagined himself as a guy whod be working retail. But no money for college meant no education and therefore no great j ob. Because of his parents divorce, his mother had to work two jobs and even then, money was always an issue. College was the last thing on the list. For a brief moment, Kevin thought of his father. The memory was faint, like looking at a photograph negative for a few seconds: his father smoking a cigarette and holding Kevin up to see a fireworks display. Kevin wanted the memory to stir some sentimental emotion but it didnt. His father had left him when he was five and though he didnt harbor a grudge, Kevin also didnt possess any desire to see the man again. The fireworks were always a psychological symbol of the abandonment. Even so, 26 Piecemeal June Kevin felt numb if anything. His put his cheek to the sex doll pieces. They were sweating again. The musky feminine odor slipped into Kevins nostrils and his brain switched to masturbatory mode. He dry humped the foot while covering his face with the hand, glancing up now and again to look at the picture. Sweat from the palm streaked across his face. The glass eyes stared at him and he reached orgasm as he looked into it, becoming entranced with the blue swirls. From behind him Mithra ran out of the kitchen carrying a tarot card in his mouth. He jumped onto the bed and dropped it in front of Kevin. The Ace of Wands, huh? Kevin stroked the cat and picked up the card. Dont you know that youre the only one who knows what these mean? I didnt read the book yet, kid. Mithra answered with a pigeon sound and then ran back into the kitchen. A minute later he came back slowly, dragging something. Kevin looked over. Mithra was lugging a human head covered in long, shimmering brown hair. The eye sockets were two shallow holes that screamed for sight. The cat dropped the head on the floor in front of the bed. Kevin grabbed the glass eyes and delicately inserted them into the sockets. Each of the eyes went in with a sexy, whispery POP! Christ on a crutch, Mithra. Kevin instantly regretted having just masturbated. 27 CHAPTER FIVE Simon, the God of Whores, walked into his fortress in the city of Om-Am. Though most of the citizens considered it a holy place, Simon himself had a lot of self-doubt. He had worked hard throughout his long life to reach his present level of consciousness and being; despite this accomplishment, he never lost humility. Though many called him God of Whores, he knew in his heart that he would always be simply Simon. He stared at his harem. The room was practically a quivering mass of patchwork flesh. Limbs and orifices were tangled in pretzel-like patterns surrounded by centuries-old artwork that covered the walls. Simon walked up to a new member of his harem, a body that possessed five arms, three legs, and a plethora of holes, each awaiting some sort of insertion. With a grunt of approval, Simon took out his penis and stuck it in between what looked like an armpit and an elbow. Adjacent to the elbow was a pink, hairy anus. Simon wet his finger and stuck it in; digging deep in order to see what the Women of the Gati had hidden up there. They were always playing jokes on him, stuffing jade statuettes, gold rings, and sometimes even teeth deep inside anuses, mouths, ears, vaginas, and urethras. Simon really loved the Women; they were excellent workers and were eternal mothers at heart. His own mother had died during childbirth and so all of the bearded Women of the Gati served as surrogates, providing 28 Piecemeal June guidance and sustenance throughout his life. Simons finger probed the anus: no such luck. This time the Women did not hide any prize inside the asshole. Simon was mildly disappointed but was relieved to find that the colon itself was filled with sores that were on the verge of busting. I wonder what disease will sneak out. I could use another one. The very thought of a disease or infection made his erection grow harder. With some more spit and some elbow grease, Simon started to fist the asshole until he was up to his forearm. The gaping hole farted pus and sore juice as Simon fucked the armpit. He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling painting. The painting was a classic one: a black vehicle made of metal and hair being driven by a giant fish. In the backseat, a man and a woman waving, the mans head collapsing outward in sparks of rainbow chunks and the womans face stiff with false worry while she chewed on a piece of the mans skull and brain. Simon half-closed his eyes and said a prayer to King Dallas and his wife, Jackie Skull-Eater. For the next two minutes, Simon squeezed out an intense orgasm that sent his green-yellow seed all over the quivering chunk of harem-meat. Im naming you Ruby Gaping, Simon said to the mass of flesh. It looked up at him with five eyes and two mouths. Thank you, your holiness, the mouths spoke in unison. * * * Simon left his fortress and traveled to the east side of Om-Am where the stench of sex and disease was always thick in the air. Instead of walking the three miles, Simon had decided to take his favorite mode of transportation: the Phord Gracilis, a moving cart made entirely of human legs held together by stringy loops of 29 Jordan Krall blond hair. It was controlled by thought alone. If Simon wanted to go left, the feet went left. If Simon wanted to go right, the feet went right. It was as simple as that. Leaning back on the Phords front seat, Simon took in the sights and smells of the short journey. To the left of him was shop after shop selling everything from candied fish guts to rare tomes; several weeks ago Simon even managed to find an original edition of the Bizarronomicon (though he was disappointed to realize that the rumors werent true, that it was not bound in goat cheese and mustache hair). Then on one occasion he stumbled upon a life-size black bean and tree bark replica of King Dallas himself. It delighted him to no end. There was always a place in Simons heart for these rare treasures. To the right of Simon were a whole slew of business establishments that were the most common in Om-Am: skin oracles. Scraps of flesh harvested from the First World (otherwise known as Scitte-Earth, the land of the unenlightened) were used in divination rituals. Most of the customers were native newcomers from the surrounding villages; they werent aware of the frauds perpetrated by the sneaky business people of Om-Am. Most commonly the skin oracle rituals were gruesome but simple. A sliver of skin from the back of some poor unfortunate human would be stretched across two poles. Candles would be lit and the diviner would claim to see that skins remnant consciousness and use the visions to predict the future. Most of the time it was nonsense but Simon believed that a small percentage really could use those visions in order to interpret and change the future actions of the truth-seeking customers. He himself had tapped into Scitte-Earth on several occasions. Hell, he thought, Ive even tapped into the Third World. Finally he reached his destination: the Orange Dukkha, a two-story tavern that offered not only exotic brews but weekly bare-knuckle boxing matches that satisfied the citizens lust for 30 Piecemeal June primitive First World bludgeoning. It was Simons favorite place to get away from daily responsibilities. Simons childhood friend, Steven Sigil, worked here as a fortune-teller. Instead of flesh, however, he used only a deck of cards that stank of onions and glowed in the dark. Simon didnt just go there to talk to Steven, however. Another one of his friends, Latrina, also worked there. Simon believed that she was one of the most beautiful beings in all of Om-Am, if not the entire Second World. She was tall but wide and had a shaven head that put her perfectly shaped skull on display. Like Steven Sigil, Latrina was a fortune-teller except she used her own body; her back was a large hole of bubbling feces. For the right price, Latrina would go on all fours and have the customer stand over here, looking into her back, into the whirlpool of brown-black divination. The stench was overpowering but her readings were almost always accurate. Her powers did not end there, however. Simon had heard some strange stories though he was reluctant to believe all of them. As he walked into the place, he noticed that the crowd was half of what it usually was. Steven? Latrina? Simon threw his voice into the small crowd. Some faces looked up at him and some nodded in recognition and respect. Simon acknowledged their gestures and smiled. There was a sound from one of the back rooms. Steven poked his head out. Hey, Simon, good to see you! Steven was a very heavy and very sweaty man whom Simon loved as a brother. On this day he was wearing close to nothing. Did you bring me anything? Hmm, did you? Steven collected the wrinkles of First World soles. Simon had often scraped the skin off of the feet of his harem members so he could provide his friend with some souvenirs for his collection. I may or may not have something, Simon winked and dug into his pocket. He brought out a silk handkerchief, unfolded 31 Jordan Krall it, and revealed two strips of almost translucent flesh. Got these off very beautiful feet. Diseased? Stevens face lit up. Yeah. The top of the feet were almost rotting off.