Losser murders Lard’s PR Consultant Hos in unconscious sex act
Aaaaahhh, when last we left them, Welsh Losser, just back from Venus, was headed aggressively toward PR Consultant Hos in Boss Lard’s office in what seemed like a fit of jealous rage.
But what the idle reader has missed, without which this story cannot be continued, is nowhere to be found in these Commix, so a Detached Narrator will presently fill in the essential pieces after which Jack Step will pick things up again (or maybe he’ll just file this story and pick things up in Part 3).
For you see, O, idle reader, there is no one way to tell a story, and this telling will be yet another of those ways.
For at that very moment, Welsh Losser had charged at Hos like a blind rhino and in one swift movement of no more than a second’s duration, snapped his neck like a twig, prompting Boss Lard to say:
Hey there, Welsh! You just snapped Hos’s neck like a twig.
And Losser answers: Nyeeea-a-a-a-glplshoo, I don’t know what came over me, Boss Lard. By the way, why are you suddenly speaking in an approximation of literary English?
There have been complaints, is all Lard replies, after which he immediately states: But Welsh, I mean, you just killed a man. What am I supposed to do with his body?
Well, Boss Lard, at least you won’t have to pay him that undisclosed retainer – nyug, nyug, nyug, nyaooorashmenny haaaaarrr…!!!
That’s just fine, I suppose, says Lard, but hey, by the way, just as you broke his neck, what was that thing you did with your mouth? It’s like you kissed him or something as you did it; looked pretty damn sick, if you ask me.
No one’s asking you, Lard, and in any case, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.
Hmmm… Boss Lard murmurs, broadcasting his no little displeasure at Welsh Losser’s sudden unembellished unlapdoggy tone, wondering whereof it ariseth.
Detached Narrator: But it’s not that Welsh Losser lied to Boss Lard when he said he didn’t know what Lard was referring to regarding what looked like Losser’s open-mouthed kissing Hos as he killed him. For that moment had been programmed into Losser’s genes at a precise moment during his sexual encounter on Venus, of which he also had no inkling, and to which he had been tempted by two demons who accompanied Losser on the Venusian trip and who want possession of Losser’s vanity contract with Satan to become famous on Earth, the only copy of which is safely annexed in the Kyiv Commix section of this website.
For you see, when on Venus, the demons poked and goaded Losser’s frightened ass toward a purple field swaying with what the prophet William S. Burroughs called ‘green boy/girls’ “from the sewage deltas of Venus. The colorless vampire creatures from a land of grass without mirrors” (see “Nova Express,” page 57 of the Penguin Modern Classics edition, 2010***).
Not different in this sense from other humans, Losser found the perverse pull of these creatures irresistible, and as he took hold of one by the neck, its mouth suddenly covered Losser’s, prompting Losser to automatically snap its neck – which was the desired biological reaction, as the snapping and death orgasmically released a sex spore down Losser’s gullet, where, unbeknownst to Losser, it would gestate in his stomach toward its next maturation phase, after which it would need the first host’s dead victim to survive toward birth out of the corpse.
Unaware that he was being used, Losser had transferred the spore by mouth into Hos when he killed him, thereby giving his unborn semi-Venusian offspring a chance at the Earth life for which it had been released by its green Venusian boy/girl progenitor past Welsh Losser’s fat, slurpy mouth and down his throat.
When Boss Lard dumped Hos’s body on a toxic waste dump outside Kyiv, he had unwittingly supplied the spore in Hos’s corpse with the prime conditions for its birth.
Little does Boss Lard now know how lucky he is – as it could have been him hosting Losser’s little Venus sex spore instead of Hos.
This story is continued in Part 3. There, in an entirely fresh meeting in Lard’s office between Losser and Lard, Losser has been completely humbled by a story he has found about himself in Kyiv Commix predicting what would become of him in 2053 – namely, on the 100-year anniversary of what was perhaps his ill-fated birth…
Filed by Jack Step, June 24, 2013
*** From pages 92-93 of the same prophecy (used, without permission (and what are they going to do about it?…))
Lee woke with his spine vibrating and the smell of other cigarette smoke in his room – He walked streets swept by color storms slow motion in spinal fluid came to the fish city of marble streets and copper domes – Along canals of terminal sewage – the green boy-girls tend gardens of pink flesh – Amphibious vampire creatures who breathe in other flesh – double sex sad as the drenched lands of swamp delta to a sky that does not change – Where flesh circulates stale and rotten as the green water – by purple fungoid gills – They breathe in flesh – settling slow in caustic green enzymes dissolving body – eating gills adjusted to the host’s breathing rhythm – eat and excrete through purple gills and move in a slow settling cloud of sewage – They are in pairs known as The Other Half – the invisible Siamese twin moving in and out of one body – talk in slow flesh grafts and virus patterns exchanging genital sewage breathe in and out of each other on slow purple gills of half sleep with cruel idiot smiles eating Terminal Addicts of The Orgasm Drug under a sign cut in black stone:
The Nature of Begging
Need? – Lack.
Want? – Need.
Life? – Death.