When the tow truck drivers arrived at the shop, they found Danielle and called 911. The paramedics tried to find out who she was and what had happened, but Danielle wouldn’t speak. As they removed the Preacher’s coat from Danielle, they gasped when they saw the awful corset. A police officer took a photograph before cutting it off and sealing it in an evidence bag.

They took her to the sexual assault referral centre at Kreepersville Hospital. The attending physician, Dr. Fiscus, and the forensic medical examiner, Dr. Cavanero, ran a rape kit. They took samples of Danielle’s hair, skin, blood, and urine. They poked and swabbed, scraped and photographed.

Dr. Fiscus’s breath smelled like goat cheese. “She has track marks. I’m afraid to give her anything for the pain before her blood work is back,” he said.

Danielle gasped and tears streamed down her cheeks as Dr. Fiscus spread her open with an unlubricated speculum, the metal colder than the doctor’s touch. She wondered why these people wanted to hurt her, too. She thought she had suffered enough already at the hands of one monster, yet she was being hurt again by the very one consigned to help her.

“You’re doing real well,” Dr. Fiscus said as he examined Danielle’s tender parts. “I see transverse tears of the posterior fornix. I see abrasions, bruising, tissue oedema, erythema, and tears or lacerations on the posterior wall, hymen, fossa navicularis, and posterior fourchette. She was definitely raped, vaginally and anally, repeatedly over several years.

Dr. Cavanero said “Let’s get her fingerprints, run them against the database of missing and exploited children, and see if we get a hit. I don’t think anybody is going to come looking for her. They probably think she’s dead.”


* * *

After Eldridge killed Moe, the pain and madness subsided. He could finally think, and all he could think about was Nathaniel. He knew Nathaniel was the reincarnation of his brother, Granville. How many times had he fantasized about finding him? He had never given up hope. When, finally, he had found him, and they were at last together in the flesh, Eldridge had nearly killed him, the only one who could ever understand him.

Eldridge, a miserable, misunderstood beast, was doomed to roam aimlessly about in exile while his brother knew peace and happiness and was content in blissful ignorance. Eldridge loved his brother, and if he stuck around, he would be drawn to Nathaniel over and over again, until, like Cain, he murdered his own blood, or even worse, enlightened Nathaniel to his true nature. Nathaniel deserved better, and Eldridge had the power to give it to him. All he had to do was go away, get in his car and drive, or better yet, fly. The more distance between them, the weaker their connection, and Eldridge had a good mind to fly halfway around the world to preserve Nathaniel’s precious innocence.

Nevertheless, Eldridge was so unbearably lonely that he couldn’t just walk away, could he? Nathaniel was his twin brother, the only known soul like him, the only one who could understand him, yet that very understanding would damn Nathaniel to a life of anguish, madness, and butchery.

Eldridge made up his mind. He would leave, forever. He just wanted one thing, a picture of Nathaniel to remember him by. In searching Purp’s mind, Eldridge knew Purp had one, so he stopped by Purp’s apartment to retrieve it. He found the picture, cut Purp out of it, and put it inside his wallet.

As he opened the door to leave, Fate intervened. Caledonia stood there, getting ready to knock. She wore an eighties style wedding dress from a thrift store, a veil, fishnet stockings and gloves, platform boots, and a corset. She had dyed streaks of teal in her black hair, and painted her face up in shades of blue and green like a drowning victim. She had drawn the symbol for Neptune on her forehead. She had a large camera bag over her shoulder and a tripod in hand.

“Oh, hey. Are you ready?” she said.

“Ready for what?” Eldridge said.

To shoot the video for “River Girl? Did you forget?”

Eldridge searched Purp’s mind and discovered that Caledonia and Purp were in a band together called Righteous Demise, a strange ensemble of macabre music, featuring her on keyboard, him on standup bass, and both on vocals.

Eldridge should have said no, but in wearing Caledonia’s skin, he could hang out with Nathaniel, just one more time when he wasn’t jonesing for a kill, just to get to know Nathaniel a little bit better, so that he would have some memory of his brother, other than that grievous evening they had spent together, if only to say goodbye. Then he would leave for good. He should have said no, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Just let me grab my bass, and let’s go,” he said.


* * *

Nathaniel gazed out the window. The clouds hung heavy and low, and the first flakes of snow had just begun to fall. Lost in a daydream, he found it impossible to concentrate on a word his teacher said.

“Nathaniel, vous m'écoutez?” Madame Smith said. “Nathaniel?”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Nathaniel said.

“En français, garçon bête.”

“Je suis désolé. Qu'avez-vous dit?”

The bell rang.

Nathaniel walked towards his locker. He hated school and everyone in it. The other students were always calling him things like fag or devil worshipper. One girl even claimed he was a vampire, and that he floated outside her window at night. If not for Audrey and Zayne, he wouldn’t have any friends at school at all.

“Nathaniel!” Audrey cried out. She dwarfed him by a good half a foot as she hugged him. “Where’ve you been?”

“It’s been crazy. I moved in with Jithinia, and then her Grandmother died so, you know.”

“That sucks,” Zayne said, bouncing from one foot to the other. His shaggy hair shilly-shallied across his eyes as if rapt in a game of peek-a-boo.

“Are you headed to lunch?” Audrey asked.

“I’m skipping lunch. I’ve gotta make some prints for yearbook before I flunk.”

“Flunking yearbook? Dumbass! Does your mamma know how stupid you are?” Zayne giggled as he poked his fun.

“Fuck you, Zayne. Hey, I got a joke for you. Why do women love Jesus?”

“Do tell,” Audrey said.

Nathaniel grabbed his crotch and said, “Because he was hung like a martyr.”

A group of jocks rounded the corner.

“Hey freaks! Fucked any dead people lately?” one of them called out.

“Yeah, I fucked the hole in your daddy’s head!” Nathaniel said.

“You son of a bitch!” The offended jock yelled and slammed Nathaniel head first into a concrete wall.

Nathaniel's eyes burned with swirls of gold and exploding black spots as if he had been staring at the sun. His eyes began to clear. He was looking at his reflection in a car’s vanity mirror, but saw Purp's face where his should have been. It was happening again, and he knew this dream was no ordinary dream, but rather, a grim vision, a glimpse through the eyes of a killer.

The killer turned his head to look at the driver, and Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Caledonia behind the wheel. He couldn't just stand by and watch his friend be murdered. He tried to control the body, to open up the killer’s mouth and warn her, but he was nothing more than a front-seat spectator at a tragic play and this, the final curtain.


* * *

What was nothing more than a bleak sky in Kreepersville was a heavy snow in Shadow Valley. Caledonia drove her timeworn, black Lincoln Town Car slowly on the curvy, unmarked road.

As she passed the turnoff to Shadow Lake State Park, she remembered the last time she went there was with Moe. There was a swimming hole on a mountain lake, and they wanted to go for a dip. The gate attendants refused to let them swim. They insisted they were closed, even though others were still swimming, and the sign said they were open for another hour. Caledonia knew it was because Moe was black, but there was nothing they could do.

As they were leaving, they crossed in front of a pickup truck that was stuck waiting behind another vehicle loading passengers. The driver, a fat, redneck bitch, was infuriated that Caledonia and Moe walked in front of her truck instead of behind it, and she started screaming and cussing at them.

They got back into the car and pulled off. Somehow, the redneck bitch ended up behind them. She rode Caledonia’s ass while cussing her and flipping her off. Caledonia was afraid to hit the brakes, terrified the woman would rear-end her and beat her up, and thus, she missed her turn off.

She found a place to turn around. She put on her left turn signal well in advance, slowed down, and started to turn in. With her horn blowing, the woman whipped around Caledonia on the left, into the oncoming lanes, nearly hitting Caledonia. Caledonia parked and cried while Moe tried his best to comfort her.

It seemed like it happened just yesterday. She couldn't believe he was gone.

Now, Caledonia turned off onto a dirt road and parked in an isolated wooded area beside the river that fed the lake. In the spring, the place would be busy with hikers, but in the bleak, cold winter, it was utterly deserted.

Caledonia had drawn out storyboards for the “River Girl” video. The song was the tragic tale of a pregnant teen, who on her wedding day, was abandoned at the altar and thus drowned herself in a nearby river. The shots were mostly of Caledonia and Purp looking moody and melodramatic. She had brought along an ornate, vintage Schoenhut toy piano to play. The video ended with shots of Caledonia, in her wedding gown, floating in the river amongst the ice, which Caledonia planned to create using a mannequin. In the final shot, she washed ashore with the dress over her face, looking like Magritte’s mother.

Eldridge played along at first and filmed Caledonia. She giggled and laughed, and Eldridge saw how beautiful she was. He kissed her.

Caledonia didn't know why, but she found Purp irresistible, attractive in ways she had never imagined. All flaws, all imperfections within him that once turned her off were now gone, and she couldn’t imagine a more perfect, potent creature than Purp. She felt aroused, like a cat in heat, and if need be, she would beg for his cock.

He pulled down the bosom of her dress. Her tits were small, like the budding breasts of a twelve-year-old girl. He pinched and licked her petite, dime-sized nipples.

He lifted the skirt of her dress. He ripped the crotch of her stockings with his teeth, and pushed aside her black lace thong. He licked his index finger and rubbed her clit, watching intently as her clit swelled. He spread her pussy lips and was surprised to see the thin, crescent-shaped membrane partially covering her orifice. He lightly kissed and licked her there between her legs.

“Oh you make my pussy so wet,” she cried out. She was overcome with lust and wanted nothing more than to be penetrated, to be full of his manhood.

He laid her down in the snow, to rut like animals. He spread her legs and got down on his knees between them. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He turned on the video camera and filmed her. He zoomed in on her pussy. He reached forward and spread her pussy lips, exposing her hymen. He laid his cockhead there against her virginal hole, ready to penetrate, anticipating the very moment that he would deflower her.

She gasped as he opened her up and made her bleed. He had a hard time going in, but he slowly slid in, inch by inch, until she gave, and swallowed him up as far as she could. The image of her destroyed innocence was almost enough to make him cum. He wished he’d had another camera to film the look on her face.

She was quite possibly the tightest hole he’d ever had the privilege of penetrating. Her inner flesh stuck to his cock, and he nearly turned her inside out on the outward thrust, pulling her inner flesh out of her hole with his cock, her cunt not wanting to let him go, the agony of his absence worse than any pain his thrusts could offer.

He enjoyed her pain but felt a twinge of guilt. It didn’t change anything, except perhaps that if he were going to be her only lay, he’d be sure and send her off with a fantastic orgasm. He whispered into her ear, and her pain turned to pleasure.

She wondered why she had kept her virginity for so long, when there was such pleasure to be had. For the first time she felt alive.

As he churned her and her honey pot flowed, her virginal blood ran down her ass crack to the white dress beneath her and on through to the snow.

He pulled out and got over her. “Taste your pussy,” he said. He put his big cock up to her mouth.

Her inexperience showed. She stared at it for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to do with it, and then she licked it, as if tasting an ice-cream cone.

“Do you like the taste of your pussy?” Eldridge said.

“Yes,” she said.

He shoved his cock into her mouth. The cock was too big for her little mouth, and she could only swallow it just past the head.

“Look at me,” he said, “Show me those big beautiful eyes.”

She looked up at him, with her mouth stretched around his cock. He pulled her hair back and held it. His cock was so large it choked her, so he fucked her face slowly.

“Get up,” he said, and she did.

He put the camera on the tripod so he could concentrate on fucking her. He lay down on the ground and Caledonia climbed atop him. He held his cock by the base and lined up the head with her hole. She slid onto him, like an expert, like she’d done it many times before.

“That’s it, sit on my cock. Good girl,” he said.

She was sitting upright. Eldridge spread her legs as far as they would go. His cock was so huge that a good four inches wouldn’t fit inside.

The cock was too big for her, but she rode it anyway. In and out, the folds of her inner pussy flapping as he churned her, looking like a mouth swallowing him as he penetrated her darkness.

“Yes, good girl. That’s it. Keep going. Come on. Fuck the cock. Fuck it. Fuck it,” he said.

“Oh my God! Your dick feels so good! Oh, oh yes, fuck me!” she sang. She opened and closed her mouth, as if sucking a cock, or kissing her lover. “Oh fuck! Your dick feels so damn good!”

She looked back over her shoulder and watched her own ass jiggle as he fucked her. He smacked her ass. He grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them apart, holding her asshole open as he fucked himself with her.

“Fuck. Fuck me,” she cried. Her forehead crinkled. “Yes.”

He grunted, “Oh yeah, that’s it.”

He pulled her forward to suck her tit, the other tit bouncing with his thrusts. He held her tightly while thrusting up into her. Her pussy mouth stretched open wide around his thick girth, her clit swollen, fit to burst, rubbing against his shaft.

“Turn around on my fucking cock,” he demanded, and she obeyed. He smacked her clit with his cockhead before quickly shoving it back inside.

She watched the cock fuck her, with her eyes downcast, never leaving it. “Oh shit,” she cried out, the width and depth of his cock too much, the thrust too fast and hard. She put her hand on his thigh and pushed back against him, trying to get him to slow down, but he just kept thrusting hard and fast.

He pounded her, his cock thrusting in and out, hurting her with too much pleasure. She rose up away from him as his cock went in too deep, as if he were pushing her up with his cock. She bit her lip and bore the pain as he went faster and deeper. His grunts were determined.

“Oh my god!” she cried. She grabbed his cock around the base to get him to slow down, but he didn’t. His cock was too much for her, and she was getting tired and weak, but he gave her no break.

“I love that little pussy,” he said. Her little breasts bounced up as he filled her, down as he withdrew, dancing to the rhythm of his cock, to the beat of the wet thumping sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He fucked her violently, opened her as wide as she ever would be. “Oh, yeah. Your gonna make me cum. Yeah, yeah,” he grunted.

She had no control. She was his plaything. “Make my pussy cum,” she begged. “Make my pussy cum! Make me cum in my pussy! Oh, oh, oh!”

“Yeah, squeeze on my dick,” he said. He came, ejaculating a huge load deep inside her cunt. She trembled and shook as her womb swallowed the seed he filled her with. It was then that he plunged the hatpin into her brain and devoured her soul.

He dumped her in the river, and as she floated amongst the ice in her wedding gown, he filmed her, just like she wanted. Strangely, grief and remorse overcame him, and he wept for her.


* * *

“Caledonia!” Nathaniel cried out. He awoke disoriented, with tears streaming down his cheeks, a fading hard-on, and a wet spot on the hospital gown sticking to his cockhead.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Nathaniel’s mother said.

Nathaniel flushed red and covered the wet spot with his hands. “How’d I get here?” he asked. The hospital left a chemical taste in the back of his throat. It was too white and sterile, like Don Johnson.

“You’re in the hospital, sweetheart. You were in a fight.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, you were, with Jason McMillan. For goodness sake, Nathaniel, his father just killed himself. You and your friends shouldn’t be picking on him. No wonder they expelled you from school!” his mother chided. Then she poked her head out of the curtain that separated Nathaniel from the other patients in the emergency room. “Tell Dr. Fiscus that Nathaniel is awake.”

“Where’s Jithinia?”

“She’s not here, but I am, baby,” his mother said.

“Call Jithinia, please, Mom. Call her.”

“Yes, of course.”

Dr. Fiscus interrupted them. “Hello, Nathaniel, how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he lied.

“You have a concussion, but there is no apparent spinal cord damage or edema. I do want to schedule a neurological exam to check for any possible brain damage. Don’t worry, its just a precaution. Most concussions are resolved within forty-eight to seventy-two hours. You may experience headaches, exhaustion, light and sound sensitivity, memory and attention problems, dizziness, difficulty with movements, depression, anxiety. Its all normal, nothing to worry about. Now, can you tell me what happened to your back?”

“It’s a birth defect. I have hollow bones, too.”

“Yes, I saw that in your medical records, but these wounds are pretty fresh.”

“I don’t know. They just do that sometimes.”

“The thing is, those wounds are very similar to the wounds on a little girl brought in early this morning who was abducted and abused. Are you sure there’s nothing more to tell me?”

“I don’t know anything about a little girl. I was born this way.”

“It just seemed a little coincidental.”

“I wasn’t abducted. Can I go home now?”

“Absolutely not. Concussions can have serious, lasting effects. A nurse will be here soon to take you for testing,” Dr. Fiscus said, and he left.

“Mom, call Jithinia.”

“Cell phones are banned here, honey.”

“Go outside or find a pay phone, please. Just call her.”

“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Nathaniel’s mom left to find a pay phone.

Since he dreamed of Moe’s murder, and then it happened, Nathaniel feared a developing psychic ability and the inevitable curse of Cassandra. Regardless, he had to try and save Caledonia.

He pulled out the IV, turned off the vital signs monitor and then unattached it, and climbed out of bed. Quickly, he put on his clothes. He casually walked away, as if he was supposed to, and no one stopped him. He was looking for an exit other than through the lobby where his mother would be. He was walking down a hallway when he saw Dr. Fiscus coming his way. He darted into the nearest room before the good doctor could see him.

Danielle didn’t see Nathaniel’s face as a smeared painting. She didn’t see a human at all. His form continuously created and changed, seeming as poisonous, rolling smoke, both black and every hue in chaos at the same time. His shape was Baphomet. A long mane, thin threads of obsidian shimmering like black icicles, framed his face. Black flames snorted from his flared nostrils. His fierce horns were the only part of him that seemed tangible. His eyes were infinite, and inside each eye was the soul of every man that was, is, or ever will be. It was the shape and structure of Chaos, distinguished from its substance, Void. It was the essence of Pattern, distinguished from its shape and structure, Chaos. It was Nathaniel in his true form. “Your not like the others,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Wrong room.”

“Fate makes no mistakes.”

“Hey, you’re that little girl the doctor was talking about, the one that was abducted.”

“I’m Danielle.”

“I’m Nathaniel. I’m sorry that happened to you.” He peaked out the door and saw the backside of Dr. Fiscus rounding the corner. “I hope you feel better soon.”

He walked on down the hall and found his way out a side door. He walked out of the parking lot and waited on the street by the main gate. Finally, he saw Jithinia driving towards him. He flagged her down and climbed inside the Gremlin.

“Nathaniel, what the hell? Your mom said they were keeping you.”

“Jithinia, the most horrible thing to me is for a stranger to scrutinize my most sensitive wounds with cold professionalism. You know that.”

“So, what? You just got dressed and walked off.”

“Pretty much. Besides, I had another one of those dreams, you know, like I had with Moe. Only this time, it was Caledonia. Have you seen her today?”

“No.”

“I have to warn her.”


* * *

Nathaniel and Jithinia waited in the long line to see Moe in a box. “I feel like I’m going to vomit,” Jithinia whispered to Nathaniel. There was an emergency exit in sight, and she had to fight the urge to run.

Nathaniel was distracted, scanning the crowd for Caledonia. When he went to her apartment and she wasn’t there, his worry turned to panic. Jithinia tried to reassure him that Caledonia was fine, but he couldn’t believe her.

The family had dressed Moe like a normal to bury him. Perhaps he wasn’t spinning because he wasn’t yet in his grave. Nathaniel and Jithinia gave their condolences to the family and then retreated to the corner of the parlor were Moe’s friends had congregated.

Audrey was surprised to see Nathaniel out of the hospital. “Hey, Nathaniel, how’s your head?” she asked.

“It hurts like a bitch.”

“Did they give you any good drugs?”

“Nothin’ as good as what I already had. They expelled me.”

“Yeah, me and Zayne, too. We couldn’t just stand there and let Jason beat the shit out of you, so we beat the shit out of him. Zayne broke the mother fucker’s nose.”

Nathaniel laughed. “Right on,” he said.

Caledonia wore a fuzzy viridian skirt with a black latex bodice that shimmered a metallic rainbow. She had paled her face as usual, but painted her eyes and lips to match her skirt. She topped herself with a wig of long, tight, black curls adorned with green ribbons and feathers. She looked like a Geisha replicant on the lam from a Blade Runner.

When at last Nathaniel saw Caledonia approaching, he felt relieved. His gaze was attracted to hers like juiced magnets. He never remembered her looking so beautiful.

“How ya doin’, doll?” Caledonia asked in her sensuous southern tongue.

“Two deaths in one week. At this rate, I’m afraid I’m gonna run out of black clothes. Well, not really,” he said and grinned as if pleased with his own cleverness. He licked his lips. “I had this awful nightmare that Purp killed you.”

“Purp?” She laughed. “How silly. Purp wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“I don’t know about that. The last time I saw Purp, he was being weird. He threatened to kill me. And, I dreamed Moe was murdered the night that he was, so I’m starting to think maybe I’m psychic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just coincidence, but be careful, okay. I don’t trust Purp anymore.”

“Oh God, my baby! Why didja take my baby?” Moe’s mother cursed her God.

Nathaniel felt overcome with schadenfreude, then confusion, then guilt. He felt all that Eldridge felt, but he didn’t know the feelings were not his own. He wanted so desperately to fall into Caledonia’s arms and seek comfort in her embrace, to kiss her, to ravish her. He didn’t understand why, and it disturbed him. He took comfort in Jithinia’s arms instead, which only served to make Eldridge jealous. Such an inappropriate emotion confused Nathaniel all the more, and he was starting to think he was loosing his mind.

“We’ll this sucks,” Ian said.

“Yeah it do,” Jimmy said.

“Did anyone get ahold of Purp?” Monica asked.

“I talked to him,” Caledonia said. “He took the news real hard. I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Is anyone driving to Ravenshire for the funeral tomorrow?” Ian asked.

“No, I’ve got to work,” Monica said.

“It’s just too far. I don’t think the Gremlin will make it,” Jithinia said.

“You know what I think?” Kara said. “I don’t think Moe would want us here crying our eyes out like a bunch of fuckin’ babies.”

“What else are we gonna do, Kara?” Monica asked.

“Raise some hell in his honor!”

“You know, you’re right,” Orchid said. “Let’s have a party for the poor fuck.”

“Damn straight!” Kara said. “Party at our house!”


* * *

Orchid, Kara, and Ian lived together in the suburbs of Kreepersville, on the fringes of a place called The Village of Chufricks. Chufricks was the kind of place where there could be a road paved with tax dollars, yet only certain people were allowed to use it.

Ian lit a kerosene heater that filled the living room with more stench than heat. Their landlords refused to fix the furnace. They wanted desperately to move, but they just couldn’t afford it right now. They thought about reporting the landlords to someone, but if the house were condemned, they would be the ones out on the streets.

Kara called Moe’s friends and invited them to the party.

Ian dumped bags of ice into the bathtub. Once the guests arrived, it would be full of beer and wine coolers, mostly cheap stuff like Pabst Blue Ribbon and Boone’s Farm, but there was always some good stuff, too. The bathtub had been crudely converted into a shower. Metal boards had been nailed to the wall to keep the water off the plaster. A rubber hose and showerhead had been clamped onto a naked pipe where the bathtub faucet had once been. If one turned the water on all the way, the showerhead would fly off and bop the bather in the face. The toilet leaked water around the rim. One day, the pipes burst and flooded the bathroom with a foot of water, caving in the floor and flooding the cellar. The landlords fixed that problem, though shabbily. In the meantime, the carpenters who had fixed the mess told the landlords about Ian, Orchid, and Kara’s many pets. The landlords sent them a notice to get rid of the pets or be evicted. Calling them on that bluff, Kara threw the letter in the trash and never heard anything else about it.

Orchid emptied the overflowing ashtrays and trashcans, readying them for a new assault. Then she turned on a strobe light. She plugged in some blinking Halloween lights of skeletons and bats and a fiber-optic jack-o’-lantern. It’s innocent green grin turned at first to a sad blue, then to a neutral yellow, then to a menacing red, and back again. She pushed aside the coffee table to make a dance floor of the living room. She turned on the four-hundred-disc CD changer, set it to random, and cranked the volume.

Jimmy was the first guest to arrive. He and Ian went into Ian’s bedroom, and Ian turned on the boob tube.

“It looks like Grimania is going to Shrubs,” the newscaster said.

It was Election Day, and Jimmy had voted. He felt disgusted with the condition of the country, Americorpse, and wondered why he even bothered to vote at all. He tried to be a good citizen. The previous election, he made a real effort to be politically conscious and socially aware. The fact that most politicians ran unopposed disheartened him somewhat, but he kept his hopes up. He read all the pamphlets, scrutinized the propaganda, and even joined the Green Party in their grass roots effort to change the face of politics. He knew they didn't have a chance in hell of winning yet, but he believed that one day they might, so he voted his heart.

The state of Grimania threw his vote in the garbage, but in the end, it didn't matter. Americorpse threw all the votes in the garbage, and the Supreme Court appointed Shrubs president. Jimmy felt frustrated and depressed afterwards, with a constant feeling of foreboding and doom.

“Mother fuckin’ Shrubs is gonna win again,” Jimmy ranted. “Our country came under attack not by Iraqis but by Saudi Arabians. We conquered an idle king while the organizer of international terror is free to make his next video for ‘America’s Funniest Home Terrorist.’ He has kidney failure! Do you really think he’s getting his dialysis in a cave somewhere? Idiots! He’s sitting in some Saudi Arabian palace watching Fahrenheit 911, updating his terrorist web page, and cutting off the clits of little girls before popping a Viagra and raping them with his diseased cock.” He stuffed weed into the bowl of a Grim Reaper bong. “I can’t believe how stupid people are!”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like elections were held for our shadow government,” Ian said. He changed the channel, stopping on the opening credits of “Gilligan’s Island.”

“Who is that tying up shit on the Minnow behind Gilligan and the Skipper?” Jimmy asked. He gurgled the bong until his face turned red.

“It looks kinda like the Professor,” Ian said.

“I don’t know. I think maybe it’s sabotage.”

“What?”

“Maybe its an experiment, you know, to see how long it takes until they eat each other.”

Ian said, “You know, maybe you’re right. I saw this episode one time where the Professor diagnosed everyone allergic to Gilligan, and he makes up this stuff to inject into Gilligan, so everyone will stop sneezing. Maybe that was just a big lie, so he’d have an excuse to give Gilligan a shot in the ass.”

Jimmy packed Ian a hit and handed him the bong.

Once Ian cleared the bowl, he turned on the video game system and settled into a tattered beanbag. He put in a weapons cheat, stole a car, and did a drive by. “I love this game,” he said of San Andreas.

Jithinia and Nathaniel arrived next. The house perturbed Jithinia. It might have been its antiquity or perhaps the many doors and windows that went nowhere. Most likely, the frigidity of a house with no heat simply chilled her to the bone.

“Oh, Jithinia,” Kara said, “your grab bags came in.” Kara worked at a sex shop called Titillations where employees could buy grab bags of discontinued sex toys and lingerie for only ten dollars.

“Awesome!” Jithinia said.

Kara and Jithinia went into Kara and Orchid’s bedroom. Kara pulled two brown bags out of her closet. “I think you’ll be pleased. There was some good stuff in mine.”

“Thanks! I’m gonna put these in my car.”

“You’re not gonna open them? I wanna see what you got!”

“Oh, sure. I can open them.” Jithinia sat down on the bed and dug into the lingerie bag. First, she pulled a black velvet teddy from the bag. “Wow, I like this one!” Next, she pulled out a net body stocking, followed by a pair of fishnet gloves. “Holy shit!” Finally, she pulled out a pink flowered camisole. “Well, that’s ugly.”

“Open your toys!”

“Okay,” she said, tearing at the staples that held the bag closed. “Oh!”

“Did you get any good jellies?”

“Yeah,” Jithinia said. First, she pulled out a massive, hot pink vibrator with a forked tongue coming out of its head. Next, she pulled out some butt beads. “Oh, wow! I’ve always wanted to give those a try.” Finally, she pulled out a strap-on. She ran her fingers over the shiny, black phallus. “Oh my god! This is the best twenty dollars I’ve ever spent! Thanks, Kara.”

Soon, the house was full of drunken grievers. A black metal head named Mac showed up with a bag of ‘shrooms. He offered them freely, though only Nathaniel and Caledonia accepted them. Jithinia had never tried ‘shrooms. With so much grief on her mind, while being in such a creepy house, she thought it ill advised to try them that night. She drank a straight shot of whiskey instead, and then chased it with a Dos Equis and a cigarette.

The party was in full swing by the time Ian ran out of cigarettes. “Can I bum a smoke?” he asked.

“Sorry man. I only have my lucky left,” Nathaniel said.

Ian asked everyone, but no one had thought to pick up any, and by then, everyone was too wasted to drive.

“How far to the store?” Jithinia asked.

“Not far,” Orchid said.

“Close enough to walk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then I’ll go and pick up a couple of cartons. Anyone wanna come with?”

Jithinia, Nathaniel, Caledonia, and Mac wrapped themselves in overcoats, gloves, and toboggans and started down the driveway towards the road.

To Nathaniel, the driveway seemed to grow longer and longer before his eyes. “Whoa, did you see that?” he asked through chattering teeth.

“See what?” Jithinia asked.

“The driveway? I saw it!” Caledonia said.

“Man, I don’t think I can do this,” Nathaniel said.

“Well then, stay here,” Jithinia said as she pushed him in jest. He lost his balance, fell to the ground, and rolled about in the snow, laughing.

“Yeah, me either,” Caledonia said.

Mac and Jithinia walked on without them. Cars whizzed past them, one after another, blowing them with arctic wind.

Once they had walked a mile, and Jithinia realized the store was still a ways off, she said, “Jesus! It’s a lot further than Orchid thought.”

Soon, they came upon a church with a handful of people fellowshipping in the parking lot. “Hey, maybe we can get a ride,” Mac said.

“From one of them? Are you shittin’ me? We’re stinkin’ drunk!”

“I wouldn’t shit you. You’re my favorite turd. Just follow my lead.” Mac moseyed towards a short man with thinning black hair, who wore a T-shirt emblazoned with the red, white, and blue logo of Pepsi, yet advertising Jesus instead. “How’s it going?” Mac said.

“Okay,” the man sheepishly replied.

“My friend and I were walking to the store, and it’s really a lot further than we thought. We were wondering if you would give us a ride?”

“Where to?”

“Just to the nearest store and then back up the road about a mile from here.”

“We’ll, I’ve got a little truck, one of ya’s gonna have to ride in the back.”

“I will,” Mac said.

Jithinia climbed into the cab of the tiny, silver truck with the Christian.

“I’m Tony,” the man said, and he farted.

Back at the party, Nathaniel lit his last smoke. Eldridge snatched the cigarette from his lips. He turned from Nathaniel and walked away, around the corner of the house to where it was dark, so they could be alone.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Nathaniel shouted, following him. “Do you think you can just take my cigarette, and I’m not going to do a damn thing about it?”

“No.” Eldridge stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him. “I expected you to follow me.” He looked into Nathaniel’s eyes and smiled. Eldridge wanted Nathaniel. He didn’t want to leave anymore. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. All he wanted was to hold Nathaniel and to be held in return. He wanted to confess to Nathaniel, to tell him everything and be comforted by his understanding, to be reassured that he wasn’t alone.

He stopped resisting and kissed Nathaniel. Oh, the taste of him was delicious, like Eve’s first bite of forbidden fruit, or Romeo’s first taste of Juliet.

Nathaniel felt all that Eldridge felt, and he kissed who he thought was Caledonia back with lustful abandon before gaining control of himself and pulling back. “Stop!” he said. “What the fuck am I doing? I love Jithinia.”

“Nathaniel, please,” Eldridge said. “Just be with me. Just this once. I’m begging you.”

Nathaniel wanted her so badly, but he couldn’t do this to Jithinia again. “No. I love Jithinia,” he said. He used all his strength of will to turn around and walk away.

Mac, Jithinia, and Tony returned with a carton of Lucky Strikes and a carton of Camels.

“Who are you?” Ian asked.

“That’s Tony,” Jithinia said. “He gave us a ride.” She went into the kitchen.

Tony started bopping his head to a Clan of Xymox song.

“You like this song?” Ian asked.

“It sounds like Depeche Mode,” Tony said.

“Sit down,” Ian said, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Tony sat down on a ratty sofa by the door. A shirtless boy with liberty spikes and an Old Milwaukee in his hand plopped down next to him. A young goth boy hiked up his skirt and straddled the punk. They kissed.

Mac sat in a dark corner gnawing on a “Six Feet of Beef” jerky rope.

Ian took a pack of smokes, smacked the bottom a few times, opened the flip top lid, and removed the foil. He took the cigarette that was dead center, front row, flipped it, and reinserted it back into its place inside the pack. He took another cigarette from the pack. He sat down on a couch perpendicular from Tony and lit the cigarette. Soon, lots of people lit cigarettes. It reminded Ian of the time Sofia Run played Red Jack’s, and the smoke machine kept misfiring. Every few minutes a giant puff of smoke would huff out, completely miss the band, and billow out into the crowd.

The punk rocker rolled his tongue over the goth boy’s nipple through the fishnet that covered it. Tony, wide-eyed and drop-jawed, stared at them. The punk stopped and looked at him. He said, “Why don’t you just jerk off, and get it over with. We don’t mind.”

The kitchen was pea soup green and yellow. A few weeks earlier, the ceiling had caved in. Luckily, there was no one around to experience the discomfort of having a ceiling fall onto his or her head. Also, it exposed a better, wooden ceiling that looked rather sturdy, hidden beneath the friable one.

Various bottles lined the counter top. They glistened beneath the flickering florescent lights. There was white wine in bottles shaped like fish, red wine with ravens on the label, gargantuan bottles of blush, and even a nice Chianti. Next to the wines were the liquors: Jägermeister, which everyone knew was made from Jew’s blood; Captain Morgan’s; Jack Daniel’s; as well as several ghetto varieties of gin, vodka, and tequila for the madmen. The girlie drinks were isolated from the rest: the Buttershots, the Kahlúa, something in a bottle that looked like a monk, and the Midori and amaretto in their jewel-like bottles.

There should have been a sink full of dirty dishes, but Kara had gotten fed up with that and threw most of them away. Now, they had one pot, one pan, and one place setting each. All the guests were reduced to using plastic cups.

Jithinia mixed up an Amaretto Sour for herself. Nathaniel staggered into the kitchen and fell to the floor at her feet. He looked up her skirt and was delighted to see that he had previously ripped the crotch out of her tights.

“Hey, you’re a hottie,” he said as he slid his hand up her skirt to her cunt. He giggled and wobbled. His lips puckered up uncontrollably into a kissy-face.

“Stop being silly,” Jithinia said. She kneeled down to Nathaniel and kissed him.

Eldridge walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink. When he saw Nathaniel making out with Jithinia, he envied her and wanted so desperately to climb inside her and steal her skin. He felt certain that if he and Nathaniel could spend a little time together, Nathaniel would remember him and love him. Eldridge poured himself a drink and went into the living room.

Jithinia helped Nathaniel to his feet, and they went into the living room and joined Caledonia on the couch, with Jithinia sandwiched between the two brothers. Caledonia started to take a drink.

“No, wait! To Moe,” Jithinia said and raised her cup.

“To Moe,” Caledonia said and bumped her cup against Jithinia’s. The girls downed their drinks.

“Here ya go guys. This should help to ease the pain,” Jimmy said. He handed Jithinia the Reaper.

London After Midnight’s “Shatter (All My Dead Friends)” came on the stereo. “I love this song!” Jithinia exclaimed, with smoke curling out of her nose as if she were some ancient dragon. She passed the bong to Caledonia and rose to her feet. “Do you wanna dance?”

“Yeah, okay,” Caledonia said. She gurgled the bong and passed it off to Nathaniel, and then joined Jithinia in her frolic.

The two beautiful girls undulated in unison. Kara tried to teach Tony how to goth dance, but all he would do was slap his hands together and then slap his knees, hillbilly style.

Jithinia decided the time had come to teach Nathaniel a lesson, so she kissed Caledonia, full on the mouth and with tongue. At first, Eldridge was disturbed and tried to pull away. He liked to be the one in control, but she was persistent and aggressive, and soon, he knew his brother’s lust. He responded, and the kiss was as passionate and desperate as the one he shared with Nathaniel earlier that night.

The onlookers went wild, whooping and hollering.

“Go Jithinia!” Ian yelled.

Nathaniel’s mouth dropped open. A confluence of mixed emotions swirled within him: confusion, jealousy, arousal, but his guilt kept him from acting rash; he knew what he had done to her. He loved her regardless, his love for her a poem of uttered gibberish. He would not punish her, nor push her away.

Jithinia saw within Nathaniel’s eyes the shock and pain she needed to see. She wondered briefly how many dates had been made out of revenge. However, the look in Caledonia’s eyes astonished Jithinia. Hadn’t she confided her plan to Caledonia? Yet there could be no mistaking the look of love in Caledonia’s beseeching orbs.

What followed was nothing short of awkward, until Caledonia muttered something and walked out the front door.

Mac bolted to the bathroom to upchuck five feet of beef.

Just then, a rather rotund orange cat named Jackie O’Lantern, in quest of the remaining foot of beef abandoned by Mac, got her head hung up in the handle of a plastic grocery sack. She started to walk away, and the bag puffed up with air, rattling like a snake and scaring the bejesus out of her. She ran. The bag tightened up on her neck, and that poor cat knew if she stopped running, she would be one dead cat. She rocketed a few circles through the house and then shot across the coffee table, scattering ashtrays, bongs, and beers alike. She flew off the table, the bag sailing behind her like a superhero’s cape. She ran back into the kitchen, slid up on the linoleum, and crashed into a leg of the table. She made one last loop into the living room and finally, panting with exhaustion, hid under the couch.

“Poor kitty,” Orchid said. She reached under the couch and freed her cat from its treacherous attacker.

“Prison Sex” by Tool came on the stereo, and the hyper partygoers swayed with the music. Kara walked into the living room with a child’s dress in her hand.

“This sounds like Depeche Mode,” Tony said.

“Not really,” Kara said, and she set the dress on fire. Tony’s jaw dropped. “It’s part of a sculpture I’m working on,” Kara said, amused.

Spellbound by Maynard’s chanting, everyone began to mimic him. Together, the crowd sang, “I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this. Shit, blood, and cum on my hands!”

“I need to go now,” Tony said, and he ran out the door.

“Yeah, we should probably go now, too,” Jithinia said, and she called a cab.

Soon, the party died as one by one everyone left or passed out. Kara was just locking up when someone knocked on the door.

It was a man and a woman, wearing dress clothes and displaying badges. “Hi,” the female officer said. “I’m Detective Erbe. This is my partner Detective D’Onofrio. We’re looking for Kara Swartz. Is she here?”

Kara was no stranger to such a knock on her door. Two years earlier, the police came calling, and right away, she knew that something horrible had happened. She instantly got a bitter taste in her mouth, like she had been chewing dandelions and razorblades, a taste that never quite went away. She almost threw up. She was caught in a fire whirl of emotions: anger, horror, misery, pain, and abject disbelief.

They delivered their rehearsed condolences with all the compassion of robots, as they explained how her father had fallen asleep at the wheel and swerved into oncoming traffic, hitting a tractor-trailer head-on, killing both him and her stepmother, with whom she was close, instantly. She remembered going to the morgue to identify them. On the way, she prayed it was a mistake, and that it was someone else’s mommy and daddy, and she hated herself for being so selfish.

Now, she felt crazy. Nothing seemed real, like it was all a bad dream. She felt like she wasn’t real, as if she were a ghost. Her heart pounded, and sweat dripped from her. She felt smothered, as if a frog had climbed into her throat to block her airway. She felt numb and tingly all over, as if her whole body had fallen asleep. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, and she began to tremble. Her stomach rolled and grumbled, and she felt like she would defecate at any moment. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t more than a whisper. “I’m Kara Swartz. What’s wrong?”

“Its about your sister, Danielle. We found her.”

“You found her body?”

“No. We found her. She’s alive, Kara.”

“What? There must be some kind of mistake. She’s been missing for so long.”

“We’ve identified her by her fingerprints. We need you to ID her in person. Can you come with us?”