p T A M e R S H R e W ... vol. 4 ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ..edited, compiled, prelimanarily perused, ¿¿¿ felt up, jostled and spell checked by, Stretch ===================>-WorDs--To---------<==================== ===================>----------Be-HaD---<==================== 1> "Felino" ... Xann 2> "Untitled" ... Cosmic Coyote 3> "Fingers" ... Stretch 4> "Soulglasses" ... W. Dennis 5> "Untitled" ... Shadou 6> "Tales of the Net: Part 4" ... Watchman 'Tong 7> "The (Extremely Erroneous) Odor-ssey" ... Black Sabbath 8> "Poetic Penetration" ... William Burroughs 9> "HOMER.TXT" ... Homer the Brave 10> "Illusion" ... William Burroughs 11> "In Early Morning" ... Cosmic Coyote 12> "Vampire" ... Xann 13> A portion of the novel, _MOUNT_ ... Brandon Aubrey ===================>-------------------<==================== ===================>-------------------<==================== Felino wendells car, karens car, warming up in coldness dark 430 on the am dial in homeless hopeless houston. the invasion from the cyborg star it seemed had finally been repelled we waved goodbye the coke machines and the pilots were out of petrol. so i strolled under the freeway where the homeless men are found but i couldnt find a single one in the overgrown parking lot. wendells car, karens car, warming up in coldness dark four lights delta in the fog of homeless hopeless houston. ********** i, of course, could not drive them home thru the weeds and asphalt. not without a suitable exit. there is, however, an office, abandoned. the foyer is overgrown with vine and steam and tree. a rainforest cold and misty. large white cat, angry, staring into an lcd laptop screen. light, green, ambient. turns, glares: "waste yr talent, twoleg!" "o? and what talent is that?" "fully articulated, digitory manipulation!" "?" "my god, mann! do you know what its like to live in such silence? do you know the years? no voice that a mann save you understands! no usable hand no twoleg to stand you bastard! if for one day i had yr body and hands...two good hands with which to write, id change this world...waste yr talent, twoleg!" pick him up, reassure him. "you can write thru me, then. come on..." *********** lift cat, gift cat, felino yr my only friend write thru me and let me see what eternal silence teaches. further into darkness office, pale, seagreen sunlight shattered thickened stainglass dirt and roach and rat and weed. !radiant reddress queen awaits; white felina by her side felines peer and wave goodbye and suddenly were alone. sensual pose and in my nose patchouly strikes me dead breathe it down and see the crown appear with each warm breath: "you know, jewel, no longer am i afraid to touch you.." "o?...what are you going to do about it?" ************ [long pause] white cat! male brat! never satisfied! unwitting, emulates the womb in everything he tried! 'passion-beast, how ever!' 'passion-beast, how could you!' 'passion-beast o tell us please of the holy womb which made you!' 'beast flown down from starry ocean to get back into the whale! please o please tell us yr tale!' "oedipal. sensual. a pilgrims dream come true." [no details for you] [*] (Xann) Untitled: September 3, 1993 If I had never accepted your affections My happiness would never have returned. Had I known the pain of such acceptance would I have trod so willingly this current path? My heart brought my mind to states of delight thought dead since a wedding became a funeral day. Now, that tapestry hangs ripped in tattered shreds. Defying me my arrogance to have dared to love again. The foundations of the universe stand planted on my heart. Mocking my feeble attempts to leave the oppressions of loss. Denying my last dignity. Departure Passage needed to end our mutual pain. In a great depression there are no words to tell those who must know when you learn your time has come to leave. Goodbye. I never wanted you to feel this pain. My love will live beyond this passage. Forever. [*] Cosmic Coyote Fingers This man talked a bit about a change that was coming over his fingers. New lines... New hair... And a slight tremor he tried not to think about too much. I remember most of our conversation, something about good health and a strong cock always ready..something about 'something is happening.' He had a pleasant voice. And at some level his words affected me greatly. Changed the way I feel about certain things and situations. Fingers and even toes. Changed the way I 'process information.' Words... It was he that first mentioned 'skin;' he that first mentioned 'cock;' he that first mentioned 'something;' he that first noticed whatever it was that was happening to his finger. His words... This same man talked about drinking coffee and how, when pouring, his girlfriend and he would comment on the rainbow sheen of fat-swirls that would bend and wrap in upon themselves on the surface... the very same thing that 'would one day stop our hearts.' I've seen this... And now I'm taken with a woman not three feet from where my fingers frantically crawl over these keys ... oh, horror. And yet I'm even more taken with a dead man's words ... simple, black on white, so much like me. The woman will be gone in a moment, both from my thoughts and my sight, but this dead man's words--something about a change that was coming over his fingers--will be with me longer than I, or she can imagine. [*] (stretch) Soulglasses why should i mind what you find when you look inside of me i think its kind that yr not blind to who i want to be why must we always see oceans how come we never see the sharks? as we define all our emotions and live our lives out in the dark- recess of our brains stand before the masses place on yr soul glasses end the fascination puke up fabrication find out who you are well i wonder, yes i wonder who you really are thoughts are bullets in the flesh gun of mann the dead unloaded we fear them and give them value in a worthless state cause someday were gonna be near them flesh hides monsters inside of us all although we try not to see them animals call out and animals crawl out when you have sex you will free them animal passion escapes my lips animal passion im onna trip animal passion its drivin my hips animal passion i wanna slip inside animal you animal me i see animal me inside animal, animal you one two animal me animal you i see animal me inside of animal, cannibal you! [*] (W. Dennis) --N-O-T-E--------------------------------------------------- For those of you who don't know ... W. Dennis just so happens to be Xann's uncle ... 'Soulglasses' was sent down here, from Michigan, via Xann ... Xann claims it's the best poem ever written. If you didn't get anything out of it, try reading it again... --------------------------------------------ED.------------- Untitled Now for stream of unthought, whatever comes into my un-mind, my little hidden organic computer running programs to build an emotional response through chemical reations......hmmm, nothing but an animal, a piece of flesh, blood, bleeding hatred, congealed anger forming scabs of power to protect from the jeers and leers of fools, and rules to be broken, and breaks to take, breaking away from the reality i thought a lie, lying in fields of molten daisies, fiery flowers firing their screams in my direction, my association notwithstanding, not with standing.......sitting in rooms, geraniums filled pots of dirt spilled on the carpet, stains of the larvae breeding, juices of often romanticized insect love drying on the floor i thought was mine alone. lonely, no, only the lonely have not anyone, anyone could be everything, a thing to do, something to occupy my free time, time is an essence, another time, another crime, another analogy, metaphorically speaking enough uncounted thoughts, uncollected, organized chronologically for my benefit, bereft of all but one................................. [*] (shadou) Tales of the Net, Part 4: The Armageddon Packet Bar arrived and padded next to Qux, Baz and Foo. Damn, been dragging dead horses all day; What a pain, she said. What was it this time, a new _Rabid Raiders of the Crypt_ game? asked Baz. He smiled. Or a new font set? quipped Foo. No, same old thing. `My dog is better than your dog.' Same song, different verse, she sighed. Let me guess, said Foo. Ford vs. Chevys? IBM vs. Macs? Democrats vs. Republicans? Or the old standby - baby vs. tissue? Baz chuckled humorlessly. Hey, you forgot blacks vs. whites, PCBoard vs. Celerity, Straights vs. Gays and Telemate vs. Qmodem. And don't forget: `A woman's place is...'. said Qux, feigning conviction. They all grimaced at her for that one. Nope. Immigration vs. Protectionism this time. It was like firebombs in a fireworks stand once the guy posted it. Everyone just HAD to set the record straight on that one. No `IMHO' (in my humble opinion), no `I think...', just BLAM - Believe it or die! Dig the trenches, load the buffer, and kill the infidels! You'll be transing them too before it's all over, I would imagine, said Bar. They nodded knowingly. I know! said Baz brightly. Someday, someone is going to get it all just perfect - sort of a combination of everything all rolled into one post. An Armageddon Packet! God vs. the whole Net! Yeah, it'll melt down the Net and kill us all. They all laughed for a long time. [*] (Watchman T'ong) The (Extremely Erroneous) Odor-ssey Use-less-eez trudged onward, his feet riddled with bruises and the occasional toejam. He had travelled far, and had yet to walk upon his homeland, Iacoca. Giving up was not an option for him, however, and his weary feet took him a little farther toward his destination, which was unknown because he was totally and thoroughly lost. His stomach grumbled, and his beard had grown unruly, but that didn't bother him now. Soon enough, a small blur appeared on the horizon. He squinted. Nothing. He squinted harder. Nothing. He tried his very hardest to see what it was, and almost lost an eye squinting that hard, but to no avail. And finally, it hit him. "I've been staring at the sun too much," he muttered. With that, he gasped, as something tapped him on the shoulder. Use-less-eez looked behind him, but saw nothing again. He realized what happened, and whirled around in the other direction. He said, "That's a really old joke, you kno..." He suddenly recognized who he was talking to, and his jaw dropped several inches (double take has been edited out). The figure before him was none other than the grey-contact-lensed Pallas Acetominephen! It was she who had protected him during the fierce battles of the Trojan (no joke needed here) War, it was she who had given him twenty-four hour relief when he had migraines, and it would be she, if any, who would bring him out of this terrible dilemma. Acetominephen eyed him warily, and said, "Is it you, Oedipus?" "It's USE-LESS-EEZ! Get it RIGHT!" "Oh. Whatever. Listen Omnibus..." "...Use-less-EEZ!" Acetominephen, not to be stopped in mid-sentence, continued stubbornly, "...Emphysema..." "It's... oh, forget it." "...Oedipus, I've lost track of you ever since the finale of the Trojan War. Whatever happened to you afterwards?" she asked. His expression grew two times more weary, mostly because he had already told his story to at least three hundred people, and he began to relate to his immortal friend his tale of mortal toil. "Well, I was inside the Trojan horse, where you undoubtedly saw me last, and then one of my men let one. We all ran out, holding our noses, fleeing for cleaner air. The Trojans *snicker* ran in to intercept us, but some idiot left the Trojan horse in neutral, and it rolled over them like a rolling pin over dough (great simile, huh?). The Trojans who didn't come out were laughing so hard they were unable to fight, and we sacked the great town of Priam. I personally led my men up to the capital, where our objective was located. We entered the great hall of the king, and he challenged me to an arm-wrestling match. I shrugged, asked him if I could use the restroom first, to which he agreed, and walked into the inner chamber. There lay the object of our entire war. A pair of genuine Dr. Scholl's Odor-ssey Eaters, the fruit of our labor, was right before me, and I quickly seized them and ran out the door. Of course, the king pursued me, but he had put in a few dozen too many grape jelly donuts, and collapsed in a heap as his stomach cramped. Shakespeare, Othellomenon, Hidey-Ho, and Sneezy were told immediately that our goal had been reached, and we withdrew from the great city of Priam. From there we sailed for forty days and forty nights, until we discovered our navigator Gilligan was actually a blind Ethiopian named Manchu. We were totally lost. For another week, we sailed the sea, and on the last night, our only hope had disappeared when the shuffleboard equipment washed overboard. It must have been you, my friend, who saved us..." Pallas Acetominephen looked up from picking her immortal nose, and, startled, said, "Huh? Er... yeah! That was... me..." Not to be interrupted, Use-less-eez doggedly continued, "I thought as much. We sighted an island, and landed. Although we didn't know it at the time, it was the island of Caeser Palace, and we sent scouts to search the island. They came back two days later to our relief, and informed us that they had a very nice casino in the middle of the island at which they had gambled away several herds of cattle, their ship, and, apparently, their clothes. I walked to the casino in hopes of having their large fee paid in small monthly installments, but the proprietor, Poseidon, and his burly goon, Guido, would not let me. Instead, Poseidon Casino-Lord took his pay in the form of my crew's lives and our ship, and threw me to the beerdark sea. I drifted for a long time, not knowing what day it was because the water had shorted out my Rolex, and I finally landed on the island we're on now. And, Pallas Acetomineohen, I am now at your mercy. Without your help, I am as good as gone." Pallas Acetominephen snored lightly, and then quickly woke up. "Er... really? What? Can't you just call a taxi, Ustedes?" Use-less-eez flushed angrily, and then replied, "Nah. No change. Besides, it costs over four hundred head of cattle for tip alone." "Well, I'll tell you what. I will take you home myself. But when you arrive home, you must satsify the gods by microwaving your finest frozen dinners as tribute. Click your heels together and say, "No Decent Human Listens To Country Music". And when you arrive home, do as I told you, and never forget what I have done for you." Use-less-eez smiled happily, and said, "A thousand thanks, oh grey- contact-lensed one! Bless you!" He then clicked his heels together and sputtered, "No decent humans listens to country music!". A small flash of light, and Use-less-eez was instantly transported back to his beloved homeland, Iacoca. EPILOGUE There really is no need for an epilogue, because, incidentally, Use-less-eez was instantly transported into the middle of I-45 during rush hour, and was promptly run over by an eight-wheeler carrying foreign beer like a rolling pin over... oh, never mind. [*] (Black Sabbath) Poetic Penetration I Lies working their way to news Zen life The cigarette-like ashes of society Ashes on the street & on the schools Will our intelligence walk past us Wearing Nikes & fear Walking past houses of paper & glass & I scream You scream We have to get out of this place We have to run Run far away & once we get to our destination, We must run more to get away From our friends & from our lives & everything is everything The world waits to explode Watch out for the trains The mother now cries, Cries for the child that never was & waits for more & waits for more Keeps waiting Keeps waiting What a disturbing feeling I don't know anymore... II Penmarks Scratches Jottings Formed into meaningless illedgable illogical Words Passages in time & spirit Which runs away Goes away Let me live again & eat my chili Corn dog Call the gardener'd call for the asking & the giving & the alms Take the bread away Throw away the food The life III Surf in the morning W/ the tide coming in & the morning dew & the guns & the blood Why don't you go away & why do you stay w/ me I'm not a very nice person & you still talk to me Save your city Right then Go away Amen [*] (Williams Burroughs) HOMER.TXT She wasn't sure why she had come to the forest. She was an urban type, unaccustomed to enjoying flora and fauna, and certainly not accustomed to fresh air. But she had come. It was a small state park, a pocket-sized oasis of green and fresh and damp in a rural landscape of furrowed and plowed. Her mother had brought her there as a small child, just before the thing had happened, the thing she didn't like to think about. And she was here, thinking about it. Pondering all the what-ifs, the first tender tears trying to well up in her heart. 'Why did I come here?' she was heard to think to herself. 'Things were going so well...' Still she trudged along the well-kept trails, half wanting to go back to the car and leave, half wanting to go to the place in the forest, the place where... She was thinking too much. 'No one can re-live a painful memory in such vivid detail as I.' She thought back to that guy, what was his name, the one with the useless haircut, the one with the keychain that was a little rubber man-shape with chakras marked in rhinestone... Anyway, she had been introduced to him at a coffeehouse one time, and had felt strangely at ease with his gentle demeanour, which was odd for her. She was usually suspicious of friendly people. Over the course of the evening, her friends had left her with him, and somehow she had told this total strange stranger all about her problems: Her mother, herself... He had told her to just breathe, and to think only about breathing. She had laughed a cold laugh in his face, just then, but he smiled and said, "Well, at least you heard me. You know, most people don't have the slightest idea what I mean when I say those things. They usually react like you just did, but they laugh because they can only see a guy in a tie-dye and sandals.. You laugh because even though we've been sharing ourselves, you think I'm a fool for believing these things. Its qualitatively better, I guess." and got up to get another coffee. He sat back down with someone else, leaving her comfortably alone. So, here in the forest, she managed to think about breathing. 'That guy. I felt so bad about laughing at him afterward...' So she decided on a whim to take his advice. 'Why the hell not?' she cynically decided, smirking. 'He'd get a kick out of knowing I was doing this.' She walked on, knowing the trail, having walked it a million times in memory and imagination and dream and nightmare. She walked, feeling her breathing becoming more even, thinking about her lungs and her feet and her hair sticking to her neck, her long brown hair, her inhale, her sweat, sticking to her hair, her exhale, the muscles in her legs, her inhale... The outside world was a grey blurred generality. To think about the forest would remind her of... She concentrated again on her walking and breathing. Somewhere, somehow, acceptance comes from within. The Gods shoot their lightning bolts and make the sky crack open like an egg, spilling a huge yolk of acceptance. It drains into the water supply and everyone drinks it, and they all know then that what they've been worried about is crap. Its all crap. Not a cynical crap, but a humane crap. A crap that you know you can discard, never needing it again; a crap that in retrospect is all but trivial. She thought of the path as it stretched in front of her, but she didn't see it, didn't even feel it as it hit the soles of her shoes. It was in her memory and imagination. Imprinted by years of longing, longing for mother, for... Recoil, reclaim, she began to think about breathing again, in... out...... in...... and inward it all went. Until she noticed the panther leading her by about twelve feet. She continued walking, even though the adrenaline told her to run away, run the fuck away, move away as quickly as possible. But something made her retain her even pace, her forward movement. Either the panther didn't know she was there, or it didn't care. She had never imagined it this way, and she was almost denying the reality. She felt the panther. She had never felt anything like this, from an animal or a person, even her ex-husband. She knew it was all there, that she wasn't in any danger, but at the same time her brain cried out the desperate cry of religious zealots, screaming to her that she make fucking tracks in the opposite direction. Her mouth and lungs let out a pitiful grunt of physiological confusion, at which the panther stopped, its physical grace present even in stillness. She stopped in fright, in abject terror, the shockwave realization strapping her body to space. The panther turned its head quietly around and glanced at her, then resumed its same pace, even footsteps, an even breathing, in, out, pads footfalling in even rythm that she recognized, her body recognized, from some primal genetic memory. She began to shake, trembling the rivulets of sweat from her skin, dripping off the tips of her fingers. The temperature seemed to have risen by about a thousand degrees. Her body locked itself, every muscle tensed, their combined forces threatening to snap all her bones. The forest world became a visual blur. She thought she was going to pass out, but she did not. All she could see was a swirl of green and grey and brown, and the lithe form of a very large cat as it pawed its way along the trail ahead of her. Its rythm reached out to her, she saw it. It has a physical grasp on her. She felt it wrap a warm feeling around her chest. It reminded her to breathe, and she did, and it gently pushed on her back, upsetting her balance, and her body took an instinctive step forward. After that, her fear-blanked mind was no match for this vaporous tendril of incentive which pulled her. No match. She found herself riding a machine, a machine that had once been her body. It leapt and started in uneasy syncopation, autonomic control systems preventing the vaporous Feeling from causing it to crash. She wondered at her future, at the thought of a forest creature pulling her into its lair, there to consume her flesh, useless frightened flesh. It was taking her somewhere; where, she could not be sure. Illogic tore her brain into tiny pieces, a tiny voice inside: 'Where am I being led? Who can save me? I'm scared! Mommy! John! Help me!' but she was alone, with the cat. On it sauntered, pulling her like a toy soldier. Seeming hours later, an etheric blue wave of feeling came from the panther. It stroked her fears, her muscles. The desperation, the tension washed from her like a flash flood. Gone. Gone. She could breathe, she had motor control back. She no longer saw the green pulling thing, but she knew it was there. She still could not resist it. She saw the cat look back, and then her field of vision widened to see that she was nowhere she had been before. She could not remember this place from her memory or imagination. She had never dreamed a place like this. It was still the forest, still indigenous, still the same, but very... very different. Then she was released and abruptly fell to her knees. The world swam, the forest floor seemed to be alive, covered with insects and other moist things, the trees were tuning forks, vibrating in the slowest motion, agitated by the breeze. She concentrated and the cat was an inch from her face, purring. Then it began to clean her face. The broad tounge coarse, though moist and pleasurable. Her mind gave up and she fell forward, arms instinctively embracing the big cat in exhaustion. It lay down under her, and continued its cleaning. Her head resting on the wide shoulder, she felt the thrumming purr of pleasure, saw the contented twitch of the black-tipped tail, felt the warm tounge making swaths across her neck, then her shoulders... Then the sound of speaking, only deep from within the soul of the most ancient of panthers, a feline language, a very gentle and very deep and very... motherly sound, said, "You are absolved." [*] (Homer the Brave) ----Homey-Note-------------------------------------------- Jeez, Homey ... that gave me chills, man. Hope you don't mind the re-arrangement; the original that you uploaded turned out to be one *extremely* long sentence ... that's right, one. Had to manually break it into what you see above. Fkking c00l, dude!!1!1@ Ä-Ä------------------------------------------------------- ILLUSION A BLANK MIRROR-GUNFIRE-BLOOD & PUS-WATCH OUT FOR THAT TIGER!-MORE OF THE SAME-THOUGHTS, ILLEGIBLE, ON WADED UP SHEETS OF PAPER, LITTER THE FLOOR-SILENCE-A SCREAM-MORE OF THE SAME GO AWAY-LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE-GRAB THE GUN-PUT IT DOWN-FOCUS ON THE POET'S FACE-PICKS UP THE GUN, LIGHTS A CIGARETTE, FLUSHES THE Toilet-I LOVE YOU-COME HERE-I REALLY DO LOVE YOU-`WILL YOU DIE FOR ME?' [*] (william burroughs) In Early Morning In early morning, her voice comes to me from the answering machine. The sound evokes small trickles of pleasure reminder of happier days. Happiness now lost with only remote possibility of return. She speaks to me in ways only a lover can. In early morning, our hearts almost meet again reminding me of feelings which lie buried beneath a monument of tears, pain and failed attempts to forget. The memories and feelings cling to my spirit, deriding visions of a future that might have been. In early morning, the sadness retreats a short distance. Granting relief from pain for all too brief an instant. Revealing glimpses of happiness now lost. The sadness endures in her absence Broken only by her voice when we next talk again. [*] (cosmic coyote) Vampire for seven years in single days and seven nights in sweet torment i was so very stoned on that beauty. a vampires wet dream sucking kiss a cigarette smoking open wound follows her memory resident bliss the whole way to the tomb. addicted written seduction goes the friction fades, the answer soon would it were for me to know and seal my empty tomb. a cigarette burns my lungs away in cliche mocking silent gloom i need yr memory here to stay with me inside my tomb. a vampires written sucking bliss ill walk beside, despite my wound and well follow memory resident bliss the whole way to the Womb. for seven lifetimes single days and one night on the Inside, man i was so very stoned on that beauty. [*] (xann) ...definitely THE man(N). A Portion of the novel, _Mount_ by Brandon Aubrey (AKA "Mount") & Lance Hatcher Oh yes, Harvey Lee had bought many a soul on his journey, and he was going to buy one more tonight. Buy it and deliver it in one big rip, C.O.D. Master, goods on your doorsteps, her soul is yours, you know, used, abused, but soul still intact. The girl, of course, thought she was Harvey Lee's lover, and thought Harvey Lee was just a glorified egocentric rock star, and even thought that the whole business up on the mountain had something to do with a Christmas concert or something. But she was nothing to Harvey Lee. A pretty face and a pretty body and a decent sex dancer, but not much more. A possession, Harvey Lee's very own, the one he had never shared with anyone else. She had been quite a find, a cherubic babe with flair. Harvey Lee had taken her off the ice rink at sixteen, a literal virgin, but Harvey Lee had quickly fixed that. Since then, she'd been just his, his alone, and now, he'd give her up for his Master and wait and see if his request was granted. But being a possession, it wasn't a sacrifice, it was just a gift, a tribute to his lord. What Harvey Lee really wanted for Christmas was a big fat juicy bloody great-grandmother of a mutilating, pain creating, hell raising Earthquake. Satan Clause, won't you take this bitch and grant Harvey Lee's wish? John brought her out. She wore a red silk dress, red slippers, and she was smiling, no clue at all. Harvey Lee even smiled back. "Hello, Jessie," Harvey Lee said. "Howdy, Harvey," she said, smiling. "What's all this?" "Oh, you'll see, nothing much, just one of my little ceremonies." She grinned knowingly, "Out here, in front of everybody?" Harvey Lee nodded affirmative. "Kinky," she said. "Lay up here," Harvey Lee said. Jessie jumped up on the stone pedestal, and lay down, smiling. S & M was one of her favorites, exhibitionism being the other. Harvey Lee took four lengths of rope and tied her legs and arms down. Harvey Lee then ripped her dress off of her. "Harvey," she moaned. "Shut-up," he said. He turned and looked out at his follower, all of whom starred with excitement in their eyes. Harvey Lee wondered if he should make up some ritual ceremony, but decided against it. Hell, this was between him and his master. He turned back to Jessie, still smiling, and said softly, "Jessie, you've been a pretty good bitch. I have to admit that and thank you. I know you'll have fun where you're going." Harvey looked up, and spoke to the Master of the Air. "You know what I want, Master. So I'm giving you this bitch, take her and give me what I need." Harvey Lee spoke two e-vil sounding words, and shouted a third. He pulled a long silver knife out of his scabbard, and clutched it in both hands, raising it high over Jessie's breast. Jessie's eyes lit up in mock horror. Damn, she thought, Harvey's being so realistic! Harvey closed his eyes and prepared to bring the knife down. A car honked somewhere behind him, and several people began to scream. Harvey Lee turned and looked. The White Cadillac was driving through the throng of Waste-heads and coming straight at Harvey Lee. The Ghost stopped just five yards from Harvey Lee. Galahad leaped out of the driver's seat. "Hold it right there, Wilson," Harvey Lee shouted. "One step and I'll cut this bitch's throat." Harvey Lee was compromised with the knife in his hands, so he bullshited. If he could just keep them back a few steps, he could get his hands free and show them some real power. Galahad stepped forward, "She's your bitch," he said. "Do what you want." Mount and Gwen and Spring got out of the other side of the car. "Hey," Mount said, genuinely surprised. "I know that chick." Harvey Lee turned his head and glared at the person he hated more than any other. "Yeah," Mount said. "I've got something of hers." Mount reached into his jean-jacket pocket and pulled out the panties. He threw them so they landed right on Jessie's belly. Harvey Lee turned and looked down and saw the initials embroidered on the panties. 'H.L.' Harvey Lee went into a fit of rage. Rather then drop his knife and use his free hands and other-worldly powers, he ran at Mount with knife raised. Mount stepped aside at the last moment, and Harvey Lee went flying, falling into the snow. Harvey Lee got up, turned, screamed, and dropped the knife. He raised his hands high into the air. A burst of electricity leapt from his fingers, straight at Mount. Mount took an involuntary step back, and then raised his arm, Black Cross held in his hand. The rays and waves of e-vil electrons hit Mount, and caused the Cross to expand into a wave of nothing, a sheet of space that went somewhere, perhaps everywhere, else. The Cross grew, but kept its shape. Harvey Lee added intensity to the flux. Mount stepped forward, pushing the Cross, which was now dense and wet, forward. One step at a time, Mount reached Harvey Lee. Harvey Lee stepped back. Now, the crowd of Waste-heads were coming at Mount from behind and from the sides. Galahad and Mount's sisters blocked them the best they could, but they were only eight. Gwen would partake in no physical violence. "I've beat you this time," Harvey Lee said. And Mount realized he was right. People were running towards him from all sides. In addition, The Cross had grown to nearly fifteen feet tall, and was still growing. It took all of Mount's strength to keep it from toppling over on him. Mount saw nothing but black, so he never fully realized what happened. But Galahad saw it all. From Harvey Lee's side of the Cross, a grayish, wasted, corpse-like arm reached out slowly, and then a face. Harvey Lee saw it and directed his beams at it, but it kept coming. Soon their was a shoulder, and another arm, and then suddenly, a face and a neck. Harvey Lee's flux of light was too bright, and Galahad could not make out the face, but he heard what Harvey Lee said. The arms reached out through the flux of e-vil electrons and grabbed Harvey Lee by the shoulders. The figure pulled Harvey Lee into the Cross, into the hole, through the door. And Harvey Lee screamed, "FATHER!" And that was it. The Cross diminished to its normal size and fell into the snow. Mount stood there, looking confused, muttered. "What the fuck?" And the crowd of Waste-heads started slowly to step back, not sure what had just happened, not sure that they wanted to know, but knowing they didn't want to have anything to do with Mount McKinley and his Cross. Within five minutes, the once cohesive caravan had split into about five hundred cars fleeing for their lives. And Mount just stood there, wondering how and why. Galahad walked over to him, said, "Good work." Galahad shook his head approvingly. "I think they shut off the weather," Hope said, pointing out over the basin of L.A. There, a hole in the clouds had opened, and another hole to the South, and one way out over the Ocean. The holes where growing with amazing rapidity, and you could see the stars. Gwen walked over to Mount and padded him on the back. "Good Work," she said. "What's next?" Spring asked. "Honey," Galahad said. "The next thing for us to do is to bring this good, important, powerful, potentially dangerous work to the world, without at the same time bringing any bad karma down upon ourselves." "Just how are we going to do that?" Mount wondered aloud. "I know," Gwen said. "You do it for Love, not money. For Humanity, not country. For your posterity, not pride. For Hope, not fear. You must care, and smile honestly, and believe what you are doing is right." "This mission isn't over yet, Mount," Galahad said. "It's not?" "No. Sorry, brother." "Well, I suppose we can't take a long enough break to get these girls back to their mother, can't we?" "Why sure, Mount, and there's still plenty of country these girls haven't seen. Time to see the world." "Cool," Summer said. "Yeah," River said. "Screw School. Let's just hang with Galahad." Galahad turned to Gwen and asked, "You up for the trip, sister?" "Well, maybe--" "I do believe as an equal opportunity religious believer you should allow young Mount here a chance to convert you to his own brand of Love and Trust. You Catholic's did it to the Indians, you owe a karmic debt." "Well--" "Yeah, sister, why not?" Winter said. "Mount's never had a girlfriend, so maybe you could hang out with him and pretend so everybody won't think our brother is so weird." "Sure," she said. "I guess I was born for the road." So the McKinley clan and Galahad the cultural outlaw and the Angel rolled on down the mountain. After they reached the end of the mountain road and turned back on the highway, something began to bother Mount, and he couldn't figure out just what the heck it was. They were about halfway back to L.A. before Mount realized what it was. "Galahad?" "Yeah, buddy." "I hope I'm wrong, but did we, or didn't we leave that babe tied up there to that rock." Everyone in the car looked at each other. "I think we did," Galahad said. "Yeah," the girls said. "I can't believe I did that," Gwen said. "Whoa," Galahad said. "That would have been some heavy bad karma. Girls, we're trying to set ourselves up for failure. You should thank the Lord you got such a smart big brother. Mount, you stopped a bad cycle, that's a good sign for you." Galahad made a big U-Turn and drove back up to Mount Wilson. When they got there, Galahad got out and un-tied girl and helped her put on her tattered dress and helped her into the Ghost. "That had to be the biggest tease job ever," she said. "What the hell happened to Harvey Lee?" No one answered her, no one knew quite how. Jessie turned to Mount and said, "Thanks for coming all this way to bring my panties back to me. What the hell did you want them for in the first place?" Nine sets of eyes turned towards Mount McKinley. "Yeah, Mount," Winter said, "What did you want with a pair of panties?" "Kinky," River said, "I didn't know you had it in you." "Mount, baby," Spring said, "You've got seven sisters, if you wanted a pair of panties, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to go to a complete stranger." Mount met eyes with Galahad through the rear-view mirror. Galahad smiled a shy, knowing grin, and then turned his gaze away. He drove on. "I was on a mission from God," Mount McKinley said. [*] ===================--------------------==================== If you dug that, you can download the entire novel from HoWL (713-862-1415), as well as leave any feedback, sug- gestions, etc., to Brandon ... he's known as 'Mount' on the board. He'd dig hearing what you think .. be it good, bad or indifferent. By the time this issue of Tamer is released ... _MounT_ should be available in a hyper- text version. So download it MAN!! ===================--------------------==================== Uh, ... so ends number four. Shit, ... I really slacked on this one. Sorry it took so long. And thanks for all the uploads. Some of you probably noticed that everything you sent was not in this issue ... too much. I'm hanging on to it for number five. Peace.. Submissions: HoWL BBS 713.862.1415