The Space Noir Bar, Michael Marino [people reading books txt] 📗
- Author: Michael Marino
Book online «The Space Noir Bar, Michael Marino [people reading books txt] 📗». Author Michael Marino
Revolution! It happens in the best of families. And you say, you want a revolution...that’s all well and good, but, ask yourself, do they all work as the warranty suggests, or is the reality that they are a worse curse than what they've replaced?
As a political and social scientist, I register a negative-two, positively, or lower on the Richter scale, and yes, no social scientist degree, and yes, no -ologist attached anywhere in my name, cart or horse, fore and aft, so don't anticipate any salivatory revelations or orgasmic illuminations in this piece, this, this peek through the peephole of history at the paths followed in revolutionary orbit in a rebellious solar system of social issues and rights of the people. I am merely a dumpster diver in the overflowing trash bin and clutter that has lived blissfully ignorant and comfortably numb on political issues for 35 years.
Writer’s words aren't gospel, although some writers will claim they are the second coming of Jesus H. (Hemingway) Christ, truth is...forget the words, and realize it is between the lines, between the sweaty sheets of literature, that you'll find the message, as well as the white space between the words...or what a writer doesn’t write but actually omits, that tells the story and pieces the puzzle together. The old one hand clapping Zen hipster zinger.
Somewhere, soon after overthrow and the mask of reform is ripped from the face, the revolution and it's leaders reveal themselves for what they are and the people’s message soon gets trampled by the very same crowds who not long before, stormed the Winter Palace..the fever of revolt is usually followed by the fervor of excess and executions, retaliation replacing revolution, and the monologue of a demagogue’s diatribe turns into a comintern compost of collective constipation.
Revolution is an internal family affair...like incest its best kept hidden away in the closet of the trailer. It's a social fabric that has torn, and in time inbred, ready to come apart at the familial seams it seems. It's a case of weird Uncle Hector fucking his 13 year old first cousin dressed in a sheer see-through frock behind the barn, why? Because he can, and the resultant child is a mutant, born with three heads similar to a freak farm animal on display at some roadside rattlesnake farm.. Revolution is not like war where the factions are delineated by a "border" and participants from outside the "family."
Nope. Revolution is a good old fashioned down home brother sister fuck. Which brings me to my point about keeping a revolution hot and juicy and alive after it's initial success...it needs the social version of KY jelly to keep it aroused to achieve what it craves....a social orgasm of formidable change of epic proportions. Don't be confused either, nor mislead with the term "civil war" ... no war is civil and when two same family sides parry, it is rebellion...nothing more, nothing less....
As we neared the 10 square blocks of the Kotex Vortex I noticed the neighborhood, was contained far away from the main bordello boulevard of the Eroti-bot entertainment district. Can’t have a revolution screwing up the screwing now can we?
It was a small walled big balls city-state on it’s own, inserted as a tempestuous Tampon into the vagina of daily planet life containing the flow of revolt and absorbing the estrous cycle of anarchy it produced. The outer layer of the walls of the Labia’s were completely surrounded by watch towers, armored personnel carriers and armored personnel as well. Sporadic gunfire came from inside the confines of the G-Spot Ghetto as it was also known. It was now or never our chance to penetrate the Labia’s outer and inner wall that acted as protection and a stronghold..perhaps a bad choice of words. Perhaps not!
We had mapped a location in the wall near the wide expanse of Urethra Franklin Boulevard
were rebel Labias would enter and leave, in and out, unnoticed by the guards. The hidden entrance was called the rabbit hole, and you had to be as mad as a hatter to go in there under the present circumstances, but seeing as being killed by three other competitors for the falcon seemed our only other option, we opted to follow an imaginary rabbit into Robtias Rabbit Hole and begin our adventures in Revolution Wonderland with a full rebel army of notorious victorious clitoris at our disposal.
As we entered the devastation of a once vibrant section of the city known as the Kotex Vortex I was sickened by the ruin that surrounded us. Buildings leveled in many cases, some emaciated resembling a lost work of art by an ancient artist named Picasso, famous for placing on canvas an ear where an eye should be and juxtaposing a penis in place of a brain. Two heads to his amazing talent were better than one, and frankly I tend to favor the advice I get from my below the belt brain, although it has been the cause of contention on numerous occasions.
The rumble of laser artillery created a landscape of rubble in an attempt to level the revolt and bring it to it’s knees but, to no avail. In fact, it fed the freedom fighting frenzy with an increasing vehemence and hunger for revenge and victory among the PMS driven felonious female felons of the Kotex Vortex’s Labian Underground.
Sporadic Labian sniper fire was being returned in exchange with hit or miss results as we crouched low in the dark wending our way to the relative safety of the rebel headquarters. As we nervously kept out of harms way, I couldn’t help mulling over in my head the puzzling parting words of Narco. “Find the Rabbit and you’ll find the falcon!” Was it the fat man’s attempt at Zen one hand clapping crap? A punchline by a cheap comic at an improv club? Or...did it actually have meaning and merit?
I repeated the words over and over, in an attempt to make sense of it under my breath, quietly, yet audible to Asrini and Maddie. Asrini tossed me literary life preserver first as I was a man overboard and over my head in strange waters in the middle of a revolution that had nothing to do with me.
“The Rabbit, Mr. Yucatan is a person..not a thing,” she began. Damn I wish she’d call me Doc so the sexual gap with close causing our ignitions to spark. “The Rabbit is the codename for the Labian leader.” Now we were adding more confusion on top of an already confusing situation, codenames always threw me a curveball and bang….here was another one.
“Why “The Rabbit”? I queried in a haggard, tired voice. I was bushed and beat and still hungover. Someday I’ll get my ass into rehab if the urge to place myself in a state of mental urban renewal ever overcomes my desire to tranq myself into my normal sated state of mental urban decay.
At this juncture Maddie chimed in. “She started the revolt inadvertently, through her public speaking against Erotobtization of females and was arrested by the authorities, then released, but now felt she had a mission to follow as the practiced increased and more females were rounded up from the solar system.”
As we crossed the war zone this woman, this rebellious Rabbit began to take shapely shape and come into machete sharp focus as clear as a set of night vision binoculars aimed at the night time bedroom of a female exhibitionist masturbating under the glow of a faded yellowing street lamp.
Maddie described her with what I felt was a more than appreciative tone that hadn’t gne unnoticed by Asrini either. She was, according to Maddies description a Venus de Milo prick teaser with a gorgeous set of super legs, a voluptuous expansive chest ready to explode in a volcanic eruption of heaving cleavage with a bikini wax look south of her border. Christ I was already ready for a second coming. She sounded like the eighth sexual wonder of the world. An iconic beauty complete and replete with combat skills that would make a Navy Seal look like a wimp and a mastery of martial arts that Mr. Miyagi would be proud of. Not to mention a knock down drag out sexy rear-end that could only be described as Mounds of Joy and breasts that could double as two of the finest pinnacles of the Colorado Rockies, perfect for climbing to plant your flag on her mighty twin peaks.
On the sexual battlefield apparently she was one hell of a frisky fondle of perfect body proportions. She could attract a female as well as a male and anything inbetween. She was a military strategist who gained cult rebel status of iconic proportions and appeals to both genders. Her bi-sexuality appeals to the gender bender fan base as well. I couldn’t wait to meet this rebel with a sexual cause sporting a three speed Atomic Thruster. I couldn’t help imagining her as an Erotibot, chauvinist dog that I am.
Find the Rabbit and you find the falcon. Now it made sense...the Rabbit had the falcon and everyone who wanted it wanted to find her as well. Paybacks are a bitch. I also got the impression that Asrini and Maddie wanted to find this rabbit, but for different reasons still unclear.
What was clear was that the Rabbit had gone underground...deep underground and we all had something to lose if we failed...our lives. As we finally arrived at the Labian headquarters we were about to enter and go down the rabbit hole. As we forced the damaged door open I couldn’t help pondering...how the hell did Asrini and Maddie know about the emergency entrance and exit to the Kotex Vortex? It was a secret right? How could Maddie describe her in such detail from rumor and hearsay, with Asrini assenting t it’s perceived authenticity? So many questions...no answers. Either way, she was a remarkable feminist and rebel leader from all accounts. Find the Rabbit and you’ll find the falcon..find the Rabbit and you’ll find the falcon..it was now clear and simple. I was either about fall into a bizarre wonderland or open the door that led to the Ninth Gate of Hell...
Comments (0)