Boston Posh
Page 34
“That reminds me. You owe me one liver. I’d take that one, but it’s wino crap, can’t even think except its drunk—I doubt it remembers how to process food anymore. What the hell do you need it for anyway?”
The Forks hovered over to the middle of the room. “Come and sit down,” they called.
Malone and Posh did so.
“Among us Forks,” Lord Tav said. “P-Liver is the symbol of authority. It belonged to the last human ruler, ergo, it symbolizes the continuation of his rulership.”
“It’s just a drunk organ,” Malone said. “It doesn’t mean shi—”
“Actuality doesn’t matter anymore in this world we’ve created. What does is symbolism, interpretation, perception. We, ferramenta sapiens, don’t think like you humans do.
“All you need understand is this: as long as the president’s liver is here, we’re King and Queen of the world.”
Malone nodded. “Okay, but you soon won’t have anything left to rule if the dragons keep roasting and eating everyone.”
He remembered then the dragon supervisor Forks who’d helped him. “Hey, you’ve always known that they come from Traven, haven’t you?—I mean the dragons.”
Both Forks laughed; the room lighting shimmered off their prongs.
They kept laughing. Sara nodded to Malone. “They do. They also like the current state of the world. Are very pleased with it, in fact.”
The cutlery king and queen’s laughter melted into an all-suffusing melody, a visible sepia liquidity that dripped down the room’s curtains, a sheet of molten gold that flowed over the room’s surfaces.
Both Forks now altered their positions. Prongs interlocking with hers, Lord Tav lay atop Lady Yaz on a sofa.
His slid his body over hers, his prongs through hers.
“They’re having sex,” Sara whispered lasciviously to Malone. “The urge comes on them occasionally, and is irresistible. We’re expected to politely not notice, that’s all.”
Malone smiled tightly.
The humming in the room grew louder and louder. Lady Yaz’s breasts now glowed like monster rubies in the light.
“I hear major orgasm coming on,” Sara Fischer said. She slipped a hand between her thighs, began rubbing herself.
Malone looked from the copulating Forks to the masturbating sexagenarian. “What’s this about the Forks liking the current state of everything?”
Sara’s reply was anecstatic gasp, then a crescendo of moans as she reached orgasm, dipping wet fingers deep into her splayed sex to milk her sensations to the fullest.
Posh—looking like a decaying photograph in the mahogany light—whispered into Malone’s right ear. “The Forks are responsible for the New Past: the dragons and dinos, Traven, the trangels, the wormen, the ODs . . . everything.”
“But why?”
Posh sighed. “They say humanity’s forked everybody long enough, and now it’s their time to fork us in return.”
Malone nodded. It was as good/stupid an explanation as any he’d yet heard. The horrible revelation didn’t shock him. He’d been through too much insanity—had become inured to further oddity.
He looked at his blood arm, then at the hole in his belly, then at the fucking Forks. “And my new liver?”
On the table P-Liver burped its empty bottle off itself. The bottle crashed and shattered on the floor. P-Liver began snoring.
“My liver,” Malone repeated, louder.
“Lady Yaz gasped beneath Lord Tav. “Oh, damn you, human!”
“I’m not being a pain in the butt.”
“You are, you are!”
Malone caught Sara’s warning glance. He leaned in close to her, and whispered. “Remember we’re supposed to not notice them having sex? That’s all I’m doing—not noticing.”
“We’re having a young girl for dinner tonight,” Lord Tav said in a tiger-striped voice. “You can have her liver as a replacement for yours.”
Sara Fischer saw the look of disgust on Malone’s face. “They didn’t kill her. She was a terrorist—anti-wealth fundamentalist fanatic—blew herself up in an attempt to destroy my house.”
“We however sensed her presence in time and controlled the blast so it only destroyed her head,” Lord Tav added. “Her body’s still . . .” the Fork gasped from the effort of maintaining a conversation while his sensory prongs were violently atingle.
“Okay,” Malone said. “I’ll take it. I just hope she wasn’t a drunk like P—”
“Oh fucking shut up, Malone!!!” Lady Yaz shrieked, dropping all pretense of unnoticed lady-Fork modesty. “I’m trying to fucking cum here!”
She gasped louder, much louder, as did her partner. Her metal breasts lit up like light bulbs.
The room’s sepia tint blew out into a shit-colored crescendo, an explosion in an extinct photographer’s darkroom.
For a brief moment, both interlocked Forks were illuminated transparencies—odd-shaped bones and organs visible within them—then they were normal superhuman creatures again.
Beside them, Jefferson Lincoln’s liver burped an alcoholic bubble.
The End
About the Author
Wol-vriey is Nigerian, and quite tall.
He currently resides in a state of uneasy stalemate with his threatening-to-thin-beyond-redemption hair, and believes there actually are things that go bump in the night.
Wol-vriey recycles the ridiculous into reasonable reality for the reader.
His WEIRRRD philosophy?
WEIRRRD = Warp/Write Everything into Real-istic Ridiculous Readable Distorted Dream Dimension Descriptions.
Wol-vriey blogs at:
http://oddityfarm.wordpress.com
Other Books By Wol-vriey:
The Bizarro Story of I
Meat Suitcase
Chainsaw Cop Corpse
Vegan Zombie Apocalypse
Vegan Vampire Vaginas
Vagina Mundi
Melanie Nemesis Catchpole
Bizarro 101
Boston Corpse (Bud Malone #2)
Novellas and Short Stories By
Wol-vriey:
Big Trouble in Little Ass
A novella featured in
Westward Hoes
Forever Ago Sunshine
A short story featured in
The Big Book of Bizarro
Find this and other great books at:
www.BurningBulbPublishing.com