“What about the tie over?”
“What tie over?”
“The tie over between when the Aliens get here and that point at which they are either defeated—or shown to reign superior. The tie over between when they get here and when we leave!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN DURING THE TIE OVER?? Tell me before you leave!”
“Stand to, Negra. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be. Shameful Negra. There ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ tie over. Not before we get a few things straight with them. They came here and they may not have tried to but they left us on our own and in that ownness—ehh—was engendered—uh—and the fact that we were there left ON OUR OWN TO FIGURE OUT EXISTENCE!! That was left as an exercise to the reader, Dr Papa Smurf. And under our firmament, left us to bloom in green and yellow and blue our Petri, called paradise. We call it Chicago, Florida—each one developed for a space—developed so particularly for that space we make ourselves unadaptable with form, slim like film, portable never, snakes/flakes, shady takes doubling one per second every second for a chessboard-sized Scrabble board the size of a game of Upwords—taking that size aboard a SpaceX rocket (SHAM!) bound for the sky (to return) a downwards trajectory of Hitler Youth right here in the Midwest USA there is a HUGE encampment on the right there is a HUGE encampment on the left they are ready on the left they are ready on the right they are ready on the firing line.
“BIG news from down front—eyes on the crowd! Every eye on me, on him!” I indicate the speaker—ho! “E’rybody listen up—SHUT THE FUCK UP your betters are speaking so SHUT YOUR TRAPS and take on some knowledge bitches.” I sit down, myself, on the school’s bleachers, my brain bleeding from the side of my neck I BESIEGE YOU to FUCK YOUR MOTHER, BLEED A LITTLE CHILD if you’re feeling generous SMACK A DOG in the mouth this is built paragraph by ANGRY paragraph on a SKEIN of LOGIC and WISDOM enchanted in a VIAL of BLOOD tacked to my chest between my TRANS™ boobs drooping dropping dangling sweating, sucking my tits sucking my wife xHamster—looked up pussy-licking lesbians made me lick her tits and she came, a cream-loving sow wheezing pleasure, pain—monster woman Annabel you should have been there you would have loved to see it. Annabel you sit on my lap as a little girl (maybe nine) sproutly back straight suck you right up through the middle as Sheth and I watch the game unfold before us a team of White Girls versus a team of Black—good competition, the contest of wills, of physicalities, these bitches’ period products opening up a horror flick with the CRISIS of a YOUTH of an upbringing of a CHILD, DAMAGED in a frying pan a v-ball game of croquet on the grass by the reflecting pool scored by a referee who works with the upper house of congress to (daily) rape men, women, and children they have made a foolishness of themselves and they will not only be remembered this way (and worse) but are known to many in this way now. Angry, incensed = the people. And I don’t know what to do but plug one of these bitches in the proper hole. BLEED THAT BITCH righteous. Dry FUCK A BITCH! PLAY!! PLAY THE GAME!!! Play those straps between your legs, bitch. Play those shoelaces up in your pussy junk. PLAY THOSE SHOELACES, bitch. Tight around those lips when you say it—bitch. Tight around that mouth when you say it— Tight around that ass— Tight around that dick— Tight around it— Tight— Tight— Let me tell you a story, while the vball game plays in the background. A story of a simple man—a cop—growing up in the simple Midwest of America. Making simple decisions, living a simple life. No Beethoven. No great man, like Cortez or Erikson. But a good man—me. This simple man, this good man, was living in the American Midwest having babies being married being a father to my girl. I play softball. Drive a Subaru. I’m not here actually burning up all the leftover ozone in the atmosphere (which is apparently what they have a problem with). I’m just a guy—a little bit of racism. But look, it’s designed with the intention of protecting my family, keeping my neighborhood safe—my daughter, my wife, my neighbor’s daughters and wives—safe from Negro bitches who don’t keep their fingers to themselves. So I’m growing up (all nice like) protecting myself and keeping myself and saving ourselves from the ending (yes—the ending of this book) when all the while you (Sheth) are plotting, sneaking the capture and kill of my daughter—do not speak!—I know it!
“Little news. This is how it happened. There was a day long ago on this planet where some of us had evolved. We got bigger! And we wanted to kill off the other half, to reset the planet, leaving only room for ourselves. But the divine made us stop. Said, You can have the planet but only its inside. To the halflings, will be left the surface of the Earth. And upon 6,000 years hence, the goddess will return and either salvage the runtling race or destroy it. That halfling race is ours. We’re an evolutionary byproduct of some testing some superior race is doing! We don’t matter to them! They’re off in their world doing their experiments on their level. The only reason we exist is they decided not to kill us. Us, living like fools on the outside of this planet, open to asteroids and other aliens who live among us like gods, taking our place settings up—eating whale and crab—swallowing gold for their digestion—would it surprise you to know that all the top spots for existing are taken over by reptiles at gestation?! They’re just so super-smart that they tackle each others’ thoughts about existence. If you’re a member of the species, implanted here at birth, you’ll automatically know by two or three years that your species is the XYZ and they live on planet Xenon over by planet Argon not to mention planet Pluugon™ (that’s a real paradise, all those Pluugonians prancing around the pool in their purple pantaloons). But you’ll never have the kink (not totally) unless you grew up there. And there will be people in engineering but they will be cool. They won’t be like slim-sham shyster uncle Freddie over there with his propped-up life and his propped-up values, going to church on Sundays or (more likely) staying to ‘work from home’ then just opening a beer, never even drinking it, just letting it grow warm on the side table, letting the cable television idle in the background. That’s the kind of chemical engineer we have today. Two-flop, one-flop, done. Ready for a rest before his ‘venture started. In the new world, I hear they will be accessible as human beings too!”
“Do you think they will have giant pets? Giant dogs?!”
“Sheth your ignorance is far beyond my ability to comprehend. When I wake, on the morn, its pillar is visible to me straight above even though its base is a mile away. Glass towers rise for miles above the substrate. The woman is standing there with these glorious breasts (I mean—glorious!) and I’m remembering my time with her, the way she looked me over and said, Let’s get it on, before beating her will into me with the save-the-Earth stuff. It’s really important that we go with the flow, environment-wise. Otherwise you all‘ll fuck it all up and burn your planet down! Fucking bitch is right. We fell for the classic blunder. Tossing nuclear waste into the oceans—real gotcha! moment there! And to tag it, she’s offering up her pooch from this little platform she’s standing on, gagging me to the lurch, monster woman—y’know—ravishing me. Leaving me giggles, punch from the belt up—that feeling right after the orgasm—and she’s all, Boom! Now we’re done fucking, it’s time to save the world! As if these one-off people, me here, Sheth—your fucking Mom—is seeing this stuff, she’s having straight sex with Mr Stars and then at the end he pops it to her—How’d you like to save the universe?”
“And?”
“And what.”
Sheth smiles. “How would like to save the universe?”
“I suppose, by your innocence, that you mean to show adventuresomeness. I don’t think you should. These beings are trying to trick us. They likely want our resources and would leave the rest for dead as they swung back around to sweep up the planets every 6,000 years. Global warming? That’s just the ruse.”
I nip Sheth’s knee with my fingers—a honeymooners’ touch.
“Always, in the military, a ruse. The overt reason. The covert reason. Never let the other guy know your reason. And if he does? By some attachment, if he gets near the source of your truth, you kill him. Press the abort switch as soon as that motherfucker’s in the house. I don’t want no fucking Aliens—let the motherfuckers burn! READ MY LIPS—NO NEW ALIENS! We were comfortable with the illusion that this was our planet given to us by our god to do whatever we goddamned pleased with it. And we’ve chosen to burn oil here, instead of putting gold in our atmosphere. We’ve been locked here the whole time and those little pieces of knowledge that have become ours have been swept under the rug by our government based on some time machine experiments back in the 60s, Kennedy—about all you can assume correctly is that when everyone’s focus is on one thing, your best bet is to look the other way.”