Melbourne: NEWS FLASH!!!
Melbourne: thought of the headline before you did i win.
Taki is dripping, once from the wet all over her body, twice from the trickles of treacly blood on her butt. but she feels no pain. she marches like a hellion up to the gathering party like a locomotive. steam coming from her eyes, not seeing another soul but her quarry. ready to let him have it with the boniest of wagging fingers. naked as a jaybird with hair all crunched from her inner heat.
Melbourne: i love the way your bottom sways with the force of nature, like you are a goddess of the wind felled from above my modest courtyard.
Taki can't help but take a moment for herself after that. self-care is of the utmost these days. she squeezes her butt for the first time in her life NOT to check how sexy and spongey it is.
Taki: OWWWWWWWWWWW my pretty ass is pretty red. got any Vicks Vapors Rub? this is the South after all, killer.
Melbourne: right this way, madam, don't mind these other people, they're guests of mine and flies on the wall. here, into the glass gallery. you are very special to me, i only let the very specialist of ladies enter my gallery, the ones who have entered my heart. this is inside we're talking now, where my secrets tell stories. i haven't pulled out a chair here in a very long time, i usually meet my clients at their place.
Taki: your lines won't work on me, sport-hunter, i am immune to anything but criticism, i'm a gossip-columnist for fuck sake. i'm watching you, you were gonna pull the chair out from under me weren't you! and me with a bum booty, that is doubly cruel! but typical of you.
Melbourne: i am LOVING this conversation! my clients don't engage in Philosophy of Art and Eckankar and the Gnostic Mass no more before, too in a rush. don't they know that when it ends it ends? why prolong the torture? why not relish this precious time we have together. it will end far too quickly and soon you'll be left with nothing, wondering. and of course any talk afterwards is price of wire transfer. o this pitiful wired age we live in, where everything is faster than your conscience can process, where a relationship is internet comments, where hate is all the rage. where is the love?
Taki takes out her small cute mini green notebook reporter's pad of real paper, real wire up top, and her electronic pencil.
Taki: speaking of fashion, i once interviewed Downtown Julie Brown...........................remember her?
Melbourne: MTV, right? when they still played videos? and The Real World mattered? at least we fogies still have VH1 tro grasp onto.
Taki: speak for yourself. i'm old but i ain't no fogey! my head is without fog, unless i'm dreaming. you have already lost. you have been cast into the net of my web and not known it, you're trapped and you like being trapped. you are knee-deep in an interview conducted by me, yours truly, the Queen of Mean.
Melbourne: well it's a good thing i wore my trousers this morning, the ones that are rolled up to my ankles. they should be rolled up to my knees but i'm embarrassed of my bald legs. and i've had to have knee surgery for all the times i've had to suck dick.
Taki: you? the perfect licking Casanova with a flower up your dick, ashamed? for shame!
Melbourne walks out and returns with a row of ice cubes on a long slender glass candydish shaped like a noticeable banana.
Melbourne: here, for your assburn.
Taki: thank you kindly. these would of course all be melted by now if they came form MY glass candydish in the Hotbox. where currently i cage a bagsful of Werther's Original candy-apple-filling. i so love that Werther's golden bag, i place it up to my chin and rub to get the golden fleece dust on my cheeks, keeps them ruddy and rosey. i never throw out that bag, i pin it to my visionboard.
Melbourne: ah, your reporter's nose is itching! you sense you've seen this odd shape of my candydish before. how old are you? Peyronie's Disease perhaps? do you have to call the P.D. P.D.? the Peyronie's Disease Police Department?
Taki: at my place i have a glass candydish from a real-life bust of Marilyn Monroe's bust. her exact tit in measurements. you'd know about that.
Melbourne: it's a perfect replica of Rock Hudson's cock. what a pair we make.
Taki: don't flatter yourself.
Melbourne: if i don't no one will.
Taki: you're starting to make me think you actually hate your job.
Melbourne: oh no, quite the opposite. i love my clients. it's just that they are so needy i need to subsume myself entirely into their problems or the job doesn't get done. i can't think thought one about myself or the equilibrium is burst. they are going through fragile times and need a professional glasspane-sealer who tiptoes around balance.
Taki: at this very moment my candydish is being gobbled up by my son Takahashi who, sigh, lives at home and probably sleeps there when i'm at work, too ashamed is he to admit to me he has nowhere to go. he calls from a payphone pretending it's his place or dorm frat ghost hostel or something, i can smell the bad line. he goes to college.
Melbourne: say no more. it's hard. it's all hard. i was beginning to think you were suffering from Jennifer Aniston disease. i have a sixth sense when it comes to sussing out clients' hidden afflictions.
Taki: i have no patience, why i've never been a patient. Jennifer Aniston disease?
Melbourne: not having yet had kids and doing your darndest to the press to try to justify it when you're secretly crying inside. some people were not meant to have kids she says while leaking motherhood from her cheeks and sweet mouth and hair. some people were destined for another path she says while the spirit in her stalk dries up. haven't found the right man, sista, i can tell you stories! you can't justify your love if there's none there. i know that pain......which apparently you don't.
Taki: i was like her for many years, career-woman and all that, i was free to fly as a snowbird, but got unbound and untethered and soon didn't know what the ground looked like anymore. i was flying upside-down and no one was there to tell me. but now i got myself an anchor around my ankle. which i love very much.
Melbourne: yeah so just insert those ice cubes into your anus like so. let me help you. i'm here to help. i'm a master practitioner. of oracles. no charge. i do it for the loves.
Taki: you sound like my sister. i can do it, thanks. you need a mistress practitioner. buddy you betta charge, who's gonna pay your legal bills when your lawyer's in jail? whose red shirt is that? okay enough dawdling around, where are they?
Taki: it's who? the bodies.
at the Old Spaghetti Factory in St. Louis, Doryce and Gladyce are sitting down for a once-in-a-lifetime meal. the woven napkins on their laps are bigger than either woman.
Gladyce: wow. so there wasn't a closer Old Spaghetti Factory to us than St. Louis!?
Doryce: nope. i checked my social media.
Gladyce: yeah it's just normally i wouldn't complain but we had to hoof it. we had to walk all the way over here cos my broom's in the shop. i don't know if you've noticed but we're old women. we have old women legs.
Doryce: nope, hadn't noticed.
Gladyce: where's your broom?
Doryce: broom? it's clean enough in here for reddit i suppose. this better be some damn good spaghetti. like i'm talking MONDO TRADITIONAL. that garlic bread better be so fresh the garlic makes me sneeze. that cheese better be direct from a Wiccan granary. i better taste the Old Country in that wine, Italy in the endive, and Transylvania in the tart! that meatball better be the size of the moon!
Gladyce: i think i've discovered a new thing on our travels, dear. food tourism! like this is actual food tourism, not what Guy Fieri does. y'know as i age i'm noticing i'm not so much into the theme parks anymore, i'm into food. i look and yearn for good food, that's what gets me excited, my next meal, i need it to be a good one. i don't want to be taken for a ride anymore. so a good vacation to me is one where we plan to visit St. Louis EXPRESSLY to go to the Old Spaghetti Factory. like that's it, not to see any of the sights, the airplanes or whatever, who cares? we've seen enough of Red Baron red planes hung up on strings like a stuck pig, we want the Snoopy. like that's what satisfies me now, the inside room-tone of a musty ancient family restaurant i've never been to before. not the Matterhorn. i'm not horny, i want FOOD!
Gladyce pounds her hands on the table, her hands holding a knife and fork, a soup spoon inbetween her crone fingers.
Doryce: you're so cute. you fucked one of the Wright brothers but are too shy to admit it. the taller one. during the pillow talk you gave him the recipe for flight. hell, he probably saw you flying on your broom and that gave him the inspiration!
Gladyce: those were the good old days, my love.
Doryce: yeah i'm just like you. except i've discovered something new on our travels: recreational drug tourism! *she takes a sip of water from the glass in front of her*
Gladyce: i'm taking any red-pepper packets i find on the floor, packets with the Old Spaghetti Factory logo on them are sure to fetch a hefty price on ebay. i need to feed my habit. they'll be collector's items soon enough. it's strange, i could have sworn there was an Old Spaghetti Factory right where we live on Fisherman's Wharf. but no, it's another spaghetti factory. wait, let me see that water. *sniffs* this smells fishy. and familiar. witch's familiar. i know that smell anywhere, this is water from Fisherman's Wharf!
at Exodus College, the new roommates are feeling each other out:
Laertus: sorry about the mess. you caused the mess. help me with my setup. just plug in the cable, even you can't screw that in.
Dirg: this is a pretty swank pad. how did you afford it?
Laertus: unlike you, i save all my money.
Dirg: by never having fun. do you think people will get the wrong idea about us?
Laertus: don't worry, Bert, you're never around for people to notice you live with me. what exactly do you do? well, since there's nothing to do around an empty cottage cept sit our tender butts on these hard hardwood floors while we wait for the couch and the carpet, what say you and I pass the time watching animated shows for two hours?
Dirg: where's your furniture?
Laertus: i never won any trophies to put in furniture...while we wait for the pizza to arrive, your clams-casino pizza...
Dirg: practice for later tonight. when i'm on a date. the other half of the pizza is anchovies for you. i heard that happens afterwards on a date...
Laertus: MTV Spider-Man, remember this show? i watched the much-ballyhooed first episode...but then the 2000s took over and well, the 2000s were a lost decade for me. your impressions?
Dirg: I DO remember it. it was cool, but i remember it differently. for some reason i thought it was cel-shaded, not CGI. and i thought it was darker. like it was drawn on black paper the way BTAS was. in fact it was Spider-Man's answer to BTAS.
Laertus: it's still the last intelligent program broadcast by MTV. still now. ever since.
Dirg: that had to have been Lisa Loeb's one and only venture into voice-acting. she was surprisingly good. methinks she's a better actress than singer, ugh i hated all that fluffy shit, she's better as a goth. a goth with glasses. i'm sure you loved the good doc's performance.
Laertus spreads across his hard hardwood floor as if there's a bear-skin rug underneath.
Laertus: you like the ambient lighting? it's coming from the show.
Dirg: ended on a cliffhanger.
Laertus: shh, don't tell me---*he covers Dirg's mouth*---*Dirg spits in Laertus's palm*---i still haven't watched to the end. like The Last Jedi. people are on their redditstorms about how Star Wars isn't supposed to be funny like that. Star Wars has always been silly, it always knew itself, it never took itself seriously, the fans did. and Rey's performance is extraordinary. take the scene where she sees Kylo Ren's buff naked bod and asks him to put on a cloak or something. hilarious! what a dagger! *Laertus laughs and snorts strangely*
Dirg: i bet you loved that scene.
Laertus: yeah but then Rey has to do a hard turn and immediately start tearing up over how Kylo killed his loving parents for no reason. from an offhanded bit of levity and taboo sexual attraction straight into tears of pain. that takes acting and she pulled it off. well on you, Rey!
Dirg: *fake clap* well done well done. what was all that clapping?
Laertus: you only like her cos she's hot. yeah the snapping of the fingers in the funhouse mirrors. reminded me of those old beatnik bars i frequented in Paris, dives of the dispossessed. well like i said Rey did have to turn emotion on a snap. i've only seen a part of the film, i had to study.
Dirg erupts in a spastic fit of laughter and rolls around on the floor. the hard hardwood floors. he beats his fists down on the floor with each fist and roll and guppy-kick and Twister spin.
Dirg: study? study! STUDY he says! ahhhahahahahahahahahaha.....................OWWWWWW that would have been more enjoyable if not on your hard hardwood floors.
on the tv after the web warrior comes on a Sesame Street with Cookie Monster refusing to eat the letter Q cos it looks funny, it doesn't quite look like one of his cookies.
President Bump at the plantation is mulling over Mueller who is sitting right beside him on wire chairs.
Mueller: i'm almost done.
Bump: please, take your time, i don't want this to end. i'm scared, Bob. i thought i'd cringe it but i actually like this power. what am i gonna do when it all ends and no one cares about my tweets anymore? how can i make them even more outlandish to grab headlines? i'm telling you, i'm telling you right now, i'm gonna win reElection. and in the most annoying fashion, too. like, by 420 popular votes. there's no way i lose, i'm too entrenched in the system by now. Oprah will come close but just fail as she always does. the second Election Day will come and all those CNN reporters at their desks will have the glummest looks on their smug faces as they realize they got 8 years of me to go! in fact, the only way you'll ever get rid of me is if your Deep State investigation is successful!
Mueller: there is no Deep State.
Bump: i know but it would make my job a helluva lot easier if there were. i mean things are getting fishy around here, wouldn't you say? it seems that there really is a Deep State. i mean look at Collins. just cos the guy speaks Australian? i can easily make the case to the gnostic masses. i was watching the tv the other day and saw this, from that boring paper case:
Mueller: Mr. Gates, who was your illicit extramarital lover in London?
Gates: *crying* okay, i confess! it was Manafort!!! i love you, Paul! i've always loved you! we gave each other cute pet names as we exchanged cash, we were free to be gay lovers over there. only in lax Europe, never in America's LAX. i called him Paul the Poof. you should hear his laugh.
Manafort: *crying* i love you too, Gatesy! i never stopped loving you! you're my guy! you're my Gay Guy!
Bump: i'm starting to see the letter Q everywhere, everywhere i look. i had to bandage my thumbs from all my activity and used 3M tape, except it was 3Q tape. look! your swimming pool out there on your front plantation lawn, Mel, it's shaped in the letter of Q!
Melbourne: no swimming pool, that's just the excess water from the waterfall draining out in squiggly lines.
Bump: Q Score! OH MY CODRUS! so THAT's what that score really is for! for the Deep State to track your every move! and my every mood. i went to buy some vodka at my favorite mart. it was a Q mart!
Bosanquet: yeah, for Quickie Mart. excuse me, i'm a lensed licensed therapist and must be leaving here, or i'll get too hooked on your mind. make sure to use Q Tips everyday to get the rust out in the mornings.
Bump: i love quickies. no muss---of my golden hair, no fuss, just twitter.
a car in the middle of the front lawn is on fire. Q is smoking a lit cigarette by it.
Q: i had nowhere to go. i was living in my car. and i started a car fire, the Carr Fire.
Bump: what are yous doing? put out all the wildfires!
Q: i'm tryna help you out here. you have a plan? more water? destroy a nearby lake? a little help from above? maybe call on the Space Force?
Bump: all i know is you have to use a hose.
Don Lemon hands the President a glass glass.
Don Lemon: want my lemonade?
Bump: come on, man, that's disgusting! i like Ike. Perlmutter.
Melbourne: bodies? my ivory busts? of famous and infamous GrecoRoman gods? *hands up* WHOA WHOA WHOA i haven't even given you the tour yet and you're askin' bout rooms. this is moving too fast, i know you. for a day. the secrets will spill out soon enough. meanwhile take a look at all the black exercise bars i installed with my own personal bolts to the walls of my glass gallery. the bars are shaped like buttox.
it's at this point Bosanquet steps into the outdoor foyer inside. she wears an earring from which hangs a long silver metal chain that connects on the other side to her eyeglasses. which she has on.
Taki: very nice. now SHE reminds me of my sister!
Melbourne: this is my sports psychologist. would you care to join us for a day of air-racing tomorrow?
Taki: devil's threesome or angel's threesome? don't answer that, with me the devil is always involved. okay, i see what's going on here. i can play the game, i can wait. i know about the long con, too, i work for a newspaper for fuck sake, how do you think i get my sources?! i've taken all the men of our time in my time. why are you called Melbourne when you clearly have a South African accent?
Melbourne: oh starting with the easy ones. it's to filter out all the American ignoramuses who can't tell the difference. Americans are so easy to trick. i can charge more depending on how exotic they think i am. and it's good for spygames if i get in trouble.
Melbourne: perish the thought! i'm not implying YOU are an ignoramus, but you are clearly American.
Taki: why don't you cut your hair? that Dutchboy cut looks ridiculous on you.
Melbourne: aw, but i grew it out just for you! *darting his eyes* i will, but i haven't met the right woman.
Taki: what are you?
Melbourne: a man trying to hang on......to all the banisters i slide down every morning. i am a male escort.
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