The Space Noir Bar, Michael Marino [people reading books txt] 📗

atmospheric transference for the Oxygenisis Project,” she explained with an accent I couldn’t put my finger on. Sounded Slavic, Eastern Bloch Head with a twinge of Rus from Old Moscow, and lets face it...Moscow girls really knock me out.

 

“The goal was to develop a way of replacing a colonized planet’s atmosphere, which could be hydrogen, ammonia or pure nitrogen, and replace it with oxygen utilizing its indigenous elements to cannibalize its own atmos and replacing it with oxygen to replicate Retropolin conditions through a code named protocol, Oxygenisis,” she explained as confidently as explaining finger painting to 1st grader. If she were a teacher I know I would have had a school boy crush on her and wanted now to clap her erasers and dip my fingers in her paint bowl. Class is now in session.

 

“Com Red Intel became suspicious when we found a lot of the research was missing from the computers and at first we suspected an alien agency had breached our security, but we found no evidence of that,” her voice now excited and raised a high note or two as the plot thickened. “We assumed then it was an inside job and switched our focus to Dr. Ghia who alone knew the entire process whereas the other sci guys only worked on phases of it not knowing the whole, only a small piece of the puzzle,” her voice saddening now at the oversight and lack of vigilance on the part of the Intell agency.

 

Now the story took another turn and got downright bizarre. “He left the agency under a shadow of suspicion, but we had no proof to arrest him,” she demurely said. A chance to subject a subject to torture had passed and obviously spoiled the Lubyanka limbo party.

 

Dr. Ghia began to morph into a megalomaniac and surrounded himself with a cardre of cosmic misfits who he controlled through Soma and charisma along with an all you can eat buffet of fear and intimidation. It was a comic cosmic cult of a deadly whistling in the graveyard nature. He also changed his name to Narc Marx as an ode to his growing drug dependency and to pay homage to Harpo Marx and Karl Marx, who I believe were a famous 20th Cent slapstick comedy team whose act consisted of a confusing confluence of proletarian pratfalls and comic totalitarian one liners and rim shots. Now that’s entertainment!

 

Let’s face it Killer Cults have two major components in order for it to grow and prosper by attracting adherents. First, you need a charismatic charlatan who acts as carnival barker to lure and seduce a following into buying a ticket to his or her freak show.

Second, you need followers. These can be found everywhere. Just look for the weak among the populous, those who seek but will never find what it is they are looking for and worse attribute of all to me...the need to follow! To acknowledge that you need a leader, is let come to the surface all that “I need a daddy as I was lacking one in my childhood” crap. The meek nor the weak will inherit the earth..Snake Plitzken and Mad Max will.

 

Get these pathetic psyche’s spinning on their mental axis-asses into the religio-sociological orbit of a sociopath’s solar system and the immediate gratification they have long sought is now being bought and paid for through allegiance and obedience to the gravitational pull and shift of the predators bullshit.

 

The end is usually the insane same, whether it’s from the Branch Dividian conflagration to crush Koresh in whacked out Waco, Texas or at the Jim Jones Club Dead Hard Rock Kool-Aid Cafe in a jungle to getting marooned and mooned by Rev. Sun Myung Moon in a compound a Long Wang or Suc Muc Dik 500 years ago. . Oh, if while reading this and you get thirsty….I just made a fresh batch of delicious Kool Aid..CHEERS!

 

Ground Control to Major Tom...Ground Control to Major Tom? Do you Read Major Tom? (static and silence) Retropolis...we have a problem!

 

The next Hale Be Bopp a Lula Comet UFO is ready for take-off...please fasten your safety belts put on your Nike gravity boots and our stewardess will be along with your choice of refreshments including vodka and pineapple juice with a cyanide followed by an arsenic chaser with whipped cream and phenobarbital..so lay back, relax and let the good times roll. As Nike used to say in old telly adverts...”JUST DO IT!!!

 

Narco’s plan was to use a space disc ship he had designed to hook up and back end the comet’s gravitational pull as a propellant to give them the thrust they would need to escape Retropolin gravity and set a course for Titan, the largest moon of Saturn which had a rich atmosphere, deadly, but easily converted through Oxygenisis to transform it in an agricultural paradise for a sustainable food supply. Early explorations had shown that water also existed on Titan s half the battle was won already. Saturn was in the beginning stages of colonization so Titan was the perfect jumping off point to begin is power surge to expand his burgeoning empire.

 

This was not a James T. Kirk led expedition in search of Klingons. Hell, no this Final Frontier was lodged deep space nine in the illusory world of Space Balls (“We are all Assholes!” cult condominium community association of the outer fringes of mental illness.

 

He took so much Soma and loaded up on tranqs that he began worshipping a rotating disco ball and pulsating dance floor with a Nubian giant girl with a bald head singing dressed in a silver tin foil space suit? I had the same vision once...but blamed it on the peyoticite and Soma combo I ingested earlier in the evening in the Venusian impersonator bar.

 

Trekkies beware. This was Mr Looney Bin and he told and convinced his followers that the Jefferson Star Ship he was ready to fuel up was now ready and they should all prepare for a one way ticket to ride to Titan.

They dressed in Johnny Cash cruise wear chic black uniforms with armbands as backstage passes to the Big Bopper Hale-Bopp concert in the sky. As Jimmy Buffet said..”it’s 5 o’clock somewhere” and Happy Hour was at hand….up up and away underway.

 

Meanwhile Hale-Be Bop a Lula Bonnie in the Sky with Diamonds did embark on schedule” and Titan and the universe was now within his grasp (he is now President and Supremo of Antaria which he conquered overnight with help from the Toho Robot Armies. Now he wanted to control Robotia and the Tohos.

Eliminating The Tohos would not be easy, to defeat them he needed a little help from a little friend...the deadly but fabled Strip Tease Falcon...and he would stop at nothing to gain it and the power it could generate. Soon he would hold the key to universal domination...but first he had to find the Falcon..and Asrini Pemalang and Maddie Harry both held the key to it’s discovery...and I was now an expendable pawn in a cosmic tug of war chess game...and I ain’t no Hale Bopp Bobby Fisher!

Chapter Sixteen - Joel Faberge: The Fabulous Fabulon

 

Asrini and Maddie were in a highly animated state. They had worked together in deadly dangerous situations displaying heaping platefuls of daring cosmic kosher chutzpah guaranteed to excite the senses, not to mention the Soma fueled hallucination of the hydraulic heaven of their rear ends rotating on my axis. hey managed to preserve their combined galactic sexuality with an invisible force field protective thong. These two were a deadly secret spy weapon...I’d talk believe me, no doubt about that and they also have a scented a weapon of mass and ass destruction in the form of a secretion they unleash from the vaginal quadrant vaginal. It happens at certain times of the month when she gives off a heavenly scent of estrogen. As she is busy marking her territory with her vaginal perfume the male is not only erotically entranced, but, is held as a sexual captive in a garden of estros. Sex researchers have found, and this makes sense, she arouses best when she is emitting her scent strongest just inches from the males nose, as well as that of the Lesbos Lesbians under the same spell! You go girls!

They, as all females of the species will do in most public settings, excused themselves to “powder their nose” together. Never once did I ever leave a table with Sandoz or Arthur and say “We’re going to take a leak” What is that all about? "Excuse me sir. Where are you taking that leak? I saw you try to steal it now where are you going with it" as though we're shoplifters at Leaks R Us. "Uh, nowhere, I meant to pay for it, not steal it. I'll put the leak back so that way I can leave a leak and not take one!" I would never take a leak ...honest...never. Maybe someone will invent an auto seat..you know like the light switch thing..clap your hands once and the seat goes up...clap twice it comes down..perfect for Father’s Day along with a card that says..."I do give a shit about you darling!"

I have also heard through the rumor mill, numerous complaints about the males non-compliance when it comes to putting the seat back down after we have taken a whiz if ever there was a whiz that waz...you ain't the whizzer of Oz so put the seat back down, very carefully, with great care. It has the crushing power the jaws of an alligator that could lop off a piece of your prized territory! So stand back and let 'er drop...be a man...slam it down...yell, “HELL YEAH” at the top of your masculine mountain and man up...go right up to HER and in your best defiant manly voice..look her square in the eye and say..."I put the seat down Honey, so don't be mad." That'll show her.
Why is it called a public “restroom?” (Who the hell rests in there? I just want to get in and get out before the guy next me decides to open a conversation with me I don't go in there to powder my nose or any other part of body..well, maybe once but that was in San Franciso and I didn't want to shine! Beware the Rise of the Auto Toilet Machines..it's here now John Conner!

Take your stance in front of the gaping yaw of the urinal...carefully unzip so as not the Bobbitize yourself on the way up when done...then you let loose...a fine stream that could snuff out a fire in Smurfland. When you're done..zip and go..and wait..this is the cool part..as you turn away from the urinal..it senses you and flushes automatically. It knows more than it lets on...it has you marked and tagged for extermination. I once went back to peek in the empty restroom after it flushed and swore the toilets were toiling and talking among themselves about their day..."All day Mac, zip, unzip, and they gotta be cute about it and aim for the drain openings like it was a firing range and their trying to qualify for sharpshooter or something. And that one guy, did you see him?