“This is for all the lost children I ejaculated down the sink.”
“They will thank you one day.” A.Green
A Story about male suppression.
What it is to Grow Old Nowadays!
London: A few generations into the future
Frank Loobyman stared at
the mirror. In fact a certain area of the mirror, this was the part that
showed his hairline, a receding one at that. My
youth is leaving me, he thought to himself while searching every angle
of his indentations at the top of his white forehead.
Come and make love to me” his wife said. A grimace spread across his face,
it was only this time last year that she had the operation and now they
were warming again in their love life.
In truth Frank could cope
with the fact that she had one breast, in a sense he only had to focus on
one thing on the top half of her body, but the other side of her, it was
bare and almost hollow, something he really couldn’t come to grips with.
Women would sometimes walk past him when he was having a cigarette break,
and those two, voluptuous, morsels, that sat upon
their bodies would taunt him saying “You
know you want to rub your face into BOTH of us Frank.” This was all
while he sucked on his ‘Cancer Free’
cigarette. So that’s what he had been doing, having an affair with Kitty
Chew, sucking on her tits, who actually had immensely small breasts, probably
due to being Chinese, yet two of them, that’s all that mattered to Frank.
To make things even more bizarre for Frank was the fact that Miranda, his
wife, decided a month ago to have a breast enlargement from a size B to
D, meaning while Frank performed the missionary position in particular he
felt some what lopsided. To top this all off she had “The One and Only” tattooed beneath her nipple. She felt that when she had the operation
her and Frank should brace this one brestedness with open arms, especially
since the doctor said she should be clear of cancer now because of her age,
and so live life to the full. Frank had to empathise with her. He had tried
to talk her into a breast replacement or even graph, but Miranda did not
want to go through the trauma of it all, and besides she felt they could
both focus on just the one.
“Babeeeeey” Miranda purred.
Franks lips and cheeks arched forward at the mirror. He turned around proceeding
to the bedroom moaning “off”, the speech sensors didn’t hear him and he
then proceeded to shout the word many times at the sensor after it had actually
reacted to him the second time round, meaning it kept going on and off to
his frustration. “Somebody needs a little relief in their life” Miranda
said as Frank lay on the bed next to her. “You lie back baby and let me
do the working tonight. Besides its my turn.” They had a rotation system
in who would be the one pleasuring the other every time they made love, in Miranda’s terms.
Frank lay there after,
only remembering one ball type sphere bouncing just left off centre of his
“Good morning Looby, time
to wake up and take your spirit to work.” This repeated several times till
he instructed the wake up alarm to turn off. I must get that wake up message changed, he thought for starters I don’t even know if it’s a good
morning, I haven’t even opened my eyes to see if it is, let alone think
about it. As for the spirit comment, well I shouldn’t have let Miranda record
the message in the first place.
He moved out of bed to
the bathroom and said “on” which made the light in the main bedroom go on
as well and stir Miranda to cover herself from the light and hurl abuse
at him to get the damn speech light sensors fixed. This all happened while
Frank checked that his indented hairline was still there and had not by
any means moved forward in a full growth fashion.
In the single Electro-TaxiScooter
that took him to work when instructed, Frank browsed through the complementary
magazine in the side compartment. Two months out of date and already tattered
he flicked through the pictures, saw something he was interested in, and
then decided to slip it into his coat pocket. He knew the taxi had a camera,
but that was for customers who were found out for not paying or seen damaging
the actual scooter. The customer would ask to be photo I-Deed by the camera
before the ride by showing a full frontal of their face, without any hoods
or mask coverings. As well they would have a heat sensitive thumb print
that would be scanned and recorded. Head office, which had taken a picture
of the customer, scanned their thumb and asked them for their name, would
then get a swipe of their credit card or taken advanced cash to pay the
destination. After all of this the scooter would go into operation. If at
any time the customer was found out for having a fake card or damaging the
scooter they would be sort after, false name or not, during or after the
journey, by the Taxi Terrain Unit. They had an 86% ratio of catching you
and charging you with the necessary incident. Tracy, who Frank got to know
at head office because she dealt with his Electro-TaxiScooter number 35,
the one he always took in the morning from Monday to Friday, always greeted
“Hello Mr Loobyman, how
are you today?” Tracy said in the same squeaky tone. Frank only knew her
as Tracy because that’s how she address him when speaking, she could obviously
see him at head office, but the only physical image he had of her was a
camera lens. That left Frank to imagine her as he would (double-breasted),
and he replied in a slightly lower tone most of the time saying; “I’m well
Tracey, thank you” or “Not bad thanks, and you?” She would then give the
same answers, “Gerrreat Mr Loobyman, same place?” “Yep” he replied while
giving his photo ID, thumb print and swiping his credit card. “Have a nice
day then, bye.” The scooter would then whiz into motion and take him to
his first destination of the day, everyday that he actually got on number
35 at this time in the morning. Work.
The ceiling was white washed
but had cobwebs in certain areas of it, making the whiteness seem violated
of it’s purity. Frank lowered his head back to the Com screen and sat their
staring for a few seconds before his boss, Roberta Cauld (they all called
her Berta) glared at him from the other side of the room with a look that
said at least look busy. His job bored him.
He worked for a company called NetFilters
WorldWide. In a nutshell all he had to do was spot blips on the Net, meaning any activity seeming abnormal, or in most
cases when thoroughly researched, illegal,
he would highlight and report. From this report the Web Terrain Unit or
some other Unit section would investigate and if proven, hunt these now
criminals to charge them for their illegal
use of the net. These cases could range from workers in companies sending
irrelevant Emails to other associates, meaning they were wasting their companies
time and money as a worker. Or in other cases people sending such things
as snuff films to clients whom had bought it from a seller. Frank tried
to find his job interesting, in some way he would imagine himself as a spy/hacker
type who was able to hunt out criminals. Yet the real truth was that anyone
could do this job with a few brains cells, and also your life
file being clear of crimes. As soon as something was found it would
be moved to the relevant Units involved, Frank could not do any more. You
had to be specially trained for a Unit at Spesh
Schools usually for seven years plus, and Frank was now too old to join,
the final acceptance was twenty seven and Frank was already four years expired
When work was over Frank
grabbed another Taxi and headed to Kitty’s while mulling over how many blips he had found today, hoping he was
in for a chance of collecting the employee of the month with the most finds
or points. Points accumulated to whether the Unit involved solved your blip and how important it was in the seriousness
of the crime, there were about ten categories, category 1 being priority,
meaning you received 10 points and so forth. He had found about seven today,
and was pretty sure one was a category 1 or 2.
The scooter grazed through
the buildings, adverts tattooing themselves to Frank’s eyes. The dirt around
the streets and buildings almost seemed part of the architecture of the
city, impacted everywhere he looked. It was normal to him, but when he was
a boy he was told by his mother about how everything use to be so clean,
and adverts were kept to much more of a minimum compared to today. Frank
wished he could have been part of an era such as the one his grandfather
lived in, but then again maybe this was true for many people who had heard
so much romanticism of a past so close to them that seemed better. The fact
was he couldn’t really find much to enjoy in the world he was now living
in, but maybe he was just not looking hard enough.
The Taxi pulled up to the
high rise blocks that immersed the area, he felt like a blip in the net, moving to perform a illegal
act of infidelity from his wife, but then again no one was seeking him out
from behind a screen.
“Yeah mun, giv it tu mi,
harde! Harde!” Kitty squealed from her mouth. She had a tight pussy and
Frank loved that because he had measured his cock before, and it was far
below the national average. But with Kitty he felt whole, and reached out
with both hands during their doggy style sex position for her breasts. He
couldn’t really get a firm grip because there was hardly anything to grip
onto, but he managed to get hold of her nips and tweak them for all they
were worth. “Yu de dady, yu de dady” Kitty said because Frank liked her
to. Frank smiled and pumped harder while constantly churning her nips and
watched the sweat form a small puddle in the nape of her back, as the rest
of her clammy skin glistened yellow.
Her apartment was not much
of a place, it was dark, damp, seemed to smell oily and had very little
in it apart from a futon and the basics. She obviously did not make much
money. Frank had met Kitty in the local Chinese restaurant she was a waitress
at, even with her pigeon English he had somehow managed to ask her out after
her shift, and ended up at her place. When there, very little was said because
they couldn’t understand each other, and so after general staring, and a
lot of giggling from Kitty, they got it on. The first time was not that
good with her being a virgin and a great amount of bleeding, but from then
on she couldn’t get enough of Frank, and he couldn’t get enough of her wholeness,
and her cooking.
After finally making Kitty
give him a tit wank, and make him a bowl of egg fried rice, he left the
high rise block heading for the Taxi Company, looking at the tattered magazine
he had taken from the pre-work scooter. He was particularly interested in
the Samson hair replacement advertisement of
money back guarantee if unsuccessful. He also could smell the distinctive
aroma creeping from his fingers, these were the ones he fingered women with
and was what he used when with Kitty. Women’s juices left such a stained
smell unlike any other. The only way Frank could think of it was by comparing
it to chopping fresh garlic and having the smell embedded on the fingers
for days after. As he was accustoming himself with the smell, from nowhere
two people stopped him.
“Hello Mr Loobyman” said
the tall male figure. Frank slightly irritated by the fact that he must
have been followed thought at first the two people in front of him were
detectives hired by his wife, finding out whether he had been cheating on
her. Frank thought Fuck it, what’s
the point of trying to talk my way out of this situation. “Ok, read
me my rights, I’ll file for divorce tomorrow morning”. The male figure somewhat
puzzled by what Frank had said was about to speak, when the other small
slender figure behind him, who Frank hadn’t realised till now was a woman
seemed to take control of the situation. “Mr Loobyman, we are not here to
catch you cheating on your wife, it is a far more serious agenda we want
to talk to you about”. Frank, almost disappointed by this was now confused
by what was happening. “Pleasthe come with usth sthir,” the male figure
said in what Frank heard as his lisp.
“I shall be known to you
as agent X and he as agent Y” the woman said. “Pardon?!” Frank replied sitting
on the park bench in the back streets of the high rise blocks they had just
come from. Parks somehow had been plonked here and there by the councils
in charge of their borough, not really thinking about the aesthetics of
the environment these parks were in. This was since the problem of pollution
had been solved and the need for trees was not such an urgent matter anymore.
So instead the buildings around were the trees with there just being square
bits of grass every couple of miles, and they were hardly green but instead
spotted with brown patches. Even with pollution solved the fact that dirt
still was everywhere made it seem of very little consequence. Frank could
not understand why these agents had chosen this place to have a private
meeting since there were so many windows that people could see them from
above, then again no one really gave a shit.
“Just listen, I shall be
known to you as X and he as Y, ok?” Frank nodded in a dazed fashion thinking
this was all just a joke. “We will try to make this as quick for you as
possible, but by what we have been through so far it seems to be taking
some time. Anyway, we are both agents who have been sent to ask you to do
something for the organisation we have been hired by”. Franks heart began
to beat faster with images of him being a secret agent, defying the Views of Right for the good of someone else’s Views of Right. “Go on” Frank eagerly said.
Agent X now known to Frank
carried on, “The company you work for Mr Loobyman, NetFilters WorldWide is the best blip manual search engine in the world, hence why there is no rival
company. The organisation we are working for who is, let say, one of the
top ten earners in the world, are about to be in the process of operating
illegal acts of information and goods across the net.” Frank was somewhat
baffled by what she was saying, and knew what was about to be asked of him.
“What we want you to do…” she paused and looked at him with her ocean blue
eyes, “…Frank…” she was on first name terms, and he could see she was trying
to show a form of friendship so a trust could be formed between them, also
her seductive prowess helped. He almost wanted to laugh in her face and
tell her how crap she was at seducing him into doing this job for them,
not that he wouldn’t if she slept with him. “…Is let this information slip
through the net.” Frank frowned and he began to feel his head question all
the problems this could cause him. “People are constantly searching parts
of the net at random, how am I able to let anything slip from the net if
I am not in control? And what’s in it for me?” Frank proclaimed.
“We have agents working
inside the building who can make sure that this information only goes through
your console to be accessed. We would have someone already in there letting
things slip. But maybe to your surprise, Frank, choosing of the Filter Ants, the position you are known as, is a highly laborious process that
would take months for any of our people to get chosen for, and we don’t
have that time. So that is why we have had to take this method.” Frank was
surprised by this and started wondering why he wasn’t paid more for the
job he does if he was that important. “As for what you will get out of this.”
She took a piece of paper out of her top pocket and handed it to Frank,
whose eyes, when they focused on the amount he was going to be paid, made
the muscles in his jaw relax. “Unfortunately there is no choice of whether
you want to do this or not, we will kill you if you don’t, but as you can
see the wealth you will get from this will make you easily retire to do
what you want for the rest of your life. A situation most of us aren’t so
lucky to be in, Frank.” Frank didn’t bother not accepting what he was asked
to do, it was like fate to him. He almost felt that this was going to happen
to him one day anyway, just like thinking you will win the lottery one-day.
He was generally calm by what he was going through at this moment in time,
individual to him. “How will I know what to look for? And what is so important
that it has to get through the system?” Frank pried.
The agent handed him a
card with net digits and codes. “Here is what you will look for, obviously
highlight them like you usually do with any random finding you would do
in a day, and then just erase them like you would if nothing was found to
be illegal or odd. As for your second question Mr Loobyman, you know full
well I can’t answer that for you. Also we know you can find out what the
information is by just taping into it, but our agents are capable of knowing
if you read this. So I doubt to your surprise you will be killed if you
do so. I’m sure you will comply with us as what you will gain will be to
“How will I know I won’t
be killed after I have done the job anyway?” Frank said.
“We knew you would be asking
that so are in the process of putting half the amount we will pay you into
your account right now so you can trust us. Also it is tomorrow that we
want you to do this, and when all the information has been let through,
then, as you know it will be impossible to retrieve. So if you did tell
anyone after the incident it could not be proven, so why would you be killed
if you do the job properly, there is no point for us to do that if you can’t
prove anything.” Frank realised they were right, them killing him after
would only cause an incident which would be more trouble for them than it
was worth, and the way the Terrain Units work nowadays it is hard to shake
them off from finding you if you kill someone. So Frank had nothing to lose,
apart from his life, and that wasn't special anyway. “So that’s it then,
just let these codes through tomorrow and I will be a free man?” Frank said.
“Yesth.” Agent Y, as he
was known, spoke for the first time.
“Ok. But why choose me?
Why not one of my other working colleges?” Frank questioned. The female
agent stood up and shrugged her nimble shoulders. “I don’t know, Frank,
maybe it was just luck or maybe your just the next ordinary man who looks
so harmless that you were a safe bet for doing this job. I don’t know, and
I don’t care.” Both agents stood there for a bit longer then the woman finally
said “Good Luck Mr Loobyman, hopefully you won’t have to see us again.”
Frank looked up at both of them and noticed for the first time the female
agent’s breasts from under her black coat. She was wearing a white frilly
shirt from underneath and he could just see her cleavage. Size C if he was
right, and he usually was. Frank had stared at so many pairs of breasts
in his life he knew what size bra each of them fulfilled within a matter
of seconds, from A to double ZZ (that was capable in today’s time). She
looked Mexican, but her eyes gave her away as a mixed race person. Frank
couldn’t help but realise how truly beautiful she was, and how a creature
of her nature would be doing a job such as this. Frank felt so sorry for
her and for a split second imagined her blowing him off with him looking
down at her, diving into her eyes. He snapped out of it and the agents turned
away, walking off with Frank left to let out a sigh. A man with a black
poodle walked past him, he then realising it was time to visit his mother,
and he was late.
Frank always had enough
time to sleep with Kitty and then visit his mother. He just couldn’t understand
how Miranda never thought he was cheating on her. Maybe she just thought
he was spending loads of time with his mum and he was a considerate son,
which he wasn’t.
“Mrs Loobyman, Mrs Loobyman
your son Frank is here to see you again.” The nurse spoke in vain to the
old woman, sitting in a synthetic rocking chair, motionless, hair-splintered
grey and black in all directions. “I’ll leave you two together then.” Nurse
Sarona tried to exclaim, but knew there was no real worth in this: even
though she didn’t trust Frank when he came to visit, he never did anything
wrong for her stopping him coming. She walked out the room.
For a very long time.
“How are you today mother.”
Frank didn’t even need to pose what he said as a question. The non-complying
with the world she had evolved into made things easier when he visited,
it just meant he could leave sooner than he arrived.
The one thing Frank did
enjoy when he came was watering the cactus that he had bought her as a present
when she was put into this situation, at least something was changing, even
if it was unnoticeable. What hadn’t changed was that musty smell, the one
you get with static people. It was like the dust had arranged itself into
an order that emitted must, a new and improved formula that just reminds
you of pre and post death. Frank let out a silent laugh in the room and
scratched his leg. The room was white once but now stained yellow, most
probably by the abuse of leaky bladders it had suffered from time. Time
destroys everything Frank thought, it might be able to create things,
but this is a cause for its eventual destruction.
He looked at his mother,
and leaned over, she was breathing. “Mother, I am about to do something
for secret agents that might destroy my reputation, or even lead to my death.”
Franks mother didn’t even respond. She never did, just looked out the window.
“You’re later than usual
baby,” Miranda said to Frank. He didn’t even bother saying anything to that.
She never asked after his mother anymore.
They sat opposite each
other by the table, her single breast forming a lump from behind her top.
Miranda had prepared steamed asparagus with a dip for starters, and then
they had pickled kidney beans on a bed of rice and sautéed potatoes, finally
ending with chocolate mousse. The dessert was apparently Frank's favourite,
but he had become immune to the flavour after the amount he had been fed
over the last couple of years. This was unbeknown to Miranda because Frank
couldn’t be bothered to tell her. His mother only made it every quarter
year when he was young because of the shortage of chocolate at that time,
it was an ethereal experience when he was given such a flavour. So when
he slid the mousse onto his youthful fertile mouth, it was like his taste
buds had just been drowned in an orgasm, even though he would not have thought
of it in that way at the age he was, which was ten. But his sister Alison,
who was thirteen, did make slightly quirky noises when she had her portion,
which their mum did tell her off for doing so at times.
Frank did remember this
one time he caught his sister masturbating in her bedroom. He bounded in
innocently being greeted by her spread legged, hand half immersed between,
not knowing what to do. The little boy that he was, mouth aghast soon grew
up quickly, especially by the fact that Alison just carried on in front
of him after the sudden shock, smiling and laughing. After that incident
they seemed to have an affinity between each other, and Alison gave him
advice about women when in sexual encounters.
When a little older, Frank soon became quite a stud with many of
Alison’s friends, and has always been grateful to her for that, no matter
how sick to think they were like that as brother and sister.
Now the mousse felt like
a weekly chore. Also he craved for a steak, Miranda was vegetarian.
Frank spoke to his friend
Jim Coit on the screen Com. Jim was one of Frank’s oldest friends, and due
to Frank not speaking to him for a while, and the day that lay ahead, he
thought a bit of catching up should not go amiss. They didn’t really talk
about anything special, because there was nothing special to talk about,
just jobs and women, which Jim didn’t have (the woman that is) and hadn’t
for five years now. But for some reason Frank felt somewhat fulfilled after
speaking to Jim, an almost cathartic moment had passed in the conversation,
as if he had confided in Jim without him knowing, something he couldn’t
do with Miranda and possibly many partners couldn’t do with each other.
It is a conversation that can only be performed through a friend, something
that is always special when you have one.
“Over me baby over me”
Miranda begged Frank as he burst his life source over her. It covered her
face then dribbled off her chin, some onto her breast, the rest on the floor.
Her ebony skin was now a canvas to the pearl coloured cum that glazed on
top of her. She’s so beautiful Frank
thought's thought as he looked down at her, and felt guilty for the way
he sometimes repulsed her, knowing he shouldn’t because she was just so
good to him. Maybe she was so good to him because if he left her she would
not be able to handle finding another man to accept her physically for who
she was, but at the same time he knew that wasn’t true.
They lay on the bed; Frank
looked at the ceiling. “Baby, what would you do if you were forced into
doing something you didn’t want to?” Frank asked. “Probably wouldn’t do
it, or I would just run away…why? Something happened at work?” Miranda pried.
was just thinking.” Frank replied. Maybe he should run away, it would sever
all his ties from his life, his wife and mother, even Kitty. Yet he would
have to take all his money from the bank and be a recluse because the Units
would try to find him and he would be sentenced for this crime. Also the
agents from today would probably try to kill him for not complying with
them so really he was not in any ideal situation to run. “Love you baby.”
Miranda slowly slurred out of her mouth as she succumbed to sleep. “Love
you to.” Frank echoed.
He really did love her.
woke up early and went through his daily chore of getting up, checking his
hair, or what was left of it. Then going to the Taxi scooters. Even though
he knew that today was going to be different, he didn’t realise the problems
would start so early. His number 35 Electro-TaxiScooter for the first time
ever was not in his usual place, so he got into the nearest one, number
41. He was greeted by Barry, who spoke to him in a grum gruff voice, that
made Frank wince by the way it scraped on his eardrums. “Where to?” Barry
shouted through the taxi speaker.
Moving on the scooter Frank
knew he had quite a lot of time to use before his shift was on, and pulled
out the magazine with the Samson hair
replacement advertisement on it. A picture of a man with full golden locks
hanging from his head smiled up at him from the magazine.
follicles will individually be replaced one by one in as short a time as
30 minutes depending on the amount of hair needed to be rejuvenated back.
Looking at yours Mr Loobyman, or can I call you Frank? Frank it seems we
can get you done between 7 to 10 minutes. At your age some men come to us
looking twice as old as they should be, but feeling twice as young when
they leave.” Dr Branson sold on in her comical commercial way. Hell what
did it matter to Frank, half the money the agents gave him was in the bank
now, so why not spend some. Especially if something goes wrong at least
he wasn’t a complete mug and lose all this money, also he would have a full
head of hair. “Have I also told you about the permanent hair colour change
scheme that comes half price when doing our follicle rejuvenation plan,
sat in his official Filter Ant seat,
a Deep Beetroot Mullet (the name of the hair type and colour) oozing from
his follicles. He had never felt happier in his entire life, and now it
might change even more, for better or worse, he would find this out within
less than 24 hours.
screen flickered the digital language in his face. Frank looked around discreetly
pulling out the codes he would have to let slip from his zone. One by one
Frank targeted the information he was given, without opening it, due to
the circumstances he knew he would be getting into if he did, and deleting.
a few hours searching and deleting, including missing his doughnut break
and having his boss, Roberta Cauld give him a few dodge looks, maybe more
because of the hair, Frank came to the last piece he would have to delete.
File Z-229 flashed in front of him to be erased. Yet for some reason the
electronic source of information he had on the screen, a Pandora’s box,
needed to be opened. He pressed the enter
key, and within a moment the file and the information had passed his eyes
and lodged fully into his brain, and there was no hope
at the end of it all. The reason why he just did this had no explanation;
he just did it with thought, and yet no thought. What he had read on this
file was that true to the agent’s word, it was information about one of
the top ten companies within the world called Simcapital.
It was a concluding conversation from the owner, Hannah Morish who planned
to corrupt the whole Net world and have illegal laundering going on throughout
its mainframe system. Where she would be able to have a world of crime going
on, and increase her money share to ten billion times more than what it
was already worth. But why? Frank
thought in the precious moments he knew he had before he was going to be
a fugitive ant. Morish had more money than
sense to do this, but maybe that was the reason why, there was no sense
to this act.
now started truly to take in his surroundings that had for most of his working
life become everyday objects in a room for him, people included. The first
oddity that stuck out was the light engineer on a ladder fixing a broken
light; the guy touched his ear and looked at Frank for a moment. Frank knew
he had to get out, pulling his coat from the chair he proceeded to the rear
Before he could even sniff the daylight air
into his nostrils a hand had clenched around his throat, and he was pinned
against the wall, whining like a pig. “Why have you done this? We were trying
to change things for the better, now there is no hope.” A shadowy figured
man growled, with dark clothes on, and stubble that looked like it had been
etched onto his face his whole life without growing. The mans breath also
smelt like he had been using that new formulated tobacco bags you chew,
for nicotine addicts, ‘cancer free’.
Frank thought this was it, he had only his mullet implanted hours earlier
and he wasn’t even going to give it it’s christening on a pillow for the
night. “Let’s go before they tag you,” the man said. Next thing Frank knew,
he had a helmet stuck on his head with a visor that he couldn’t see out
of, and was thrust onto an Electro-Bike. For some reason he did not question
what was happening because he felt safer with the situation he was being
put in. One he wasn’t having control over, and that felt good, making him
realise he would probably live longer in the process.
Frank knew where he was,
north of London, just on the outskirts that over the years had engulfed
a 50mile radius. Fields flooded his view to what was now a rare sight with
all the population increase and the need for land becoming a commodity.
But this was a protected area, one of only ten left in the United Kingdom
of Europe. The sun shone.
“Why did you do it?” The
man with the etched faced asked, towering over Frank, sunset evolving behind
“No reason, just did.”
“I deal crime through the net. Your escapade
has practically fucked us over. Meaning it looks like most of the poor ridden
society that was generally fucked in life, is now fully fucked thanks to
“How?” Frank asked again.
“In layman’s terms you
fucked too may hippos.”
“Sorry?!” Frank confusedly
“A hippopotamus lives in
a lake. Let’s say the hippo is one of the big firms in the world. A mass
amount of living creatures need the hippo to survive, from crocodiles, large
fish to a water insect, without it they die. Now if you take away the hippo,
everything else around it, the world it had made slowly dies. That information
you let slip through the net will bring down most of the biggest companies
and business people with it except Hannah Morish, whose plan in the first
place was to do this all. You just fucked most of the hippos at the top,
meaning everything around the hippo, the lesser creatures, are fucked. Understand?”
The guy explained in something out of a biology class. “My name is Desmond
by the way.”
“So I basically have been
the catalyst to this Morish woman becoming the big cheese in the world,
meaning the other big hippos around will slowly go by her intervention,
whatever that may be, and there is only her left to live off.” A light bulb
went on in Frank’s head.
“Exactly.” Desmond said.
“So like all big firms,
they rule forms of crime whether they know this or not, but the fewer world
firms around, the more the big firms can control the crime below them so…”
“…A lot of people living
for crime will be unable to do so because it is now more controlled. Meaning
they become poor, starve, crave, rape, pillage and die. All because of what
you did. Well done mister Loobyman, you have just destroyed the biggest
and historic business known to man…corruption!”
Frank lay in a tent, the
first time he had ever done so. He felt his new hair engulfed around his
head like an extra cushion. Also his sense of sound was aware of Desmond
in the tent a few metres away, groaning with his girlfriend, Janice, while
they squished and squashed the night away. Frank met Janice earlier over
dinner, and he knew she was a slag as soon as he saw her. She was a slag
because she was a leech, sucking everything off Desmond, including his cock
because Desmond was a somebody in a nobody world, and she would do anything
to be with him. Desmond also knew Frank wouldn’t run away, and Frank knew
that too because Desmond was in effect Frank’s security from being deceased.
While the night groaned
away, Frank wondered what a new day would bring to him. Life he truly thought. He didn’t know whether he was going to live
through the next 24 hours of that day, and so he could for the first time
ever experience and salvage every moment now given of the fourth coming
day because life was not the problem anymore, death was. And part of Frank wished everybody
could experience this to understand how he thought and felt at this precise
moment. But he could only liken it to a soldier in the front line, waiting
for the next day of war to arise. As he slowly flittered away Miranda crept
into his thoughts, how would she be coping now, without him? He then realised
she would be fine, better than he could ever be in that situation. Sleep
“Wake up sweetheart!” Janice,
the bitch screamed at Frank.
Over the campfire the smell
of bacon made Frank begin to wretch. He rarely came into contact with true
food anymore since nowadays it was processed to whatever way you wanted,
so that you just ordered it and you could have a lifetime supply of flavour.
Indian, Chinese, Italian, American, you asked and it was yours, the process
of actually cooking it was only rumoured about people doing it in the sticks,
but then again Frank was in the sticks. Frank could only remember certain
things still being used for real food such as chocolate when he was young.
Oh joy he thought as the meat sizzled crisply,
as well as actually having to watch
this being cooked, I have to eat this as well, who knows what infections
this might have on it. Plus my ancestors ain’t gonna be too happy with me,
considering they were Jewish.
“Eat up boy, not as if you get this speciality
everyday, unlike that processed shit we’ve all been brainwashed to have
nowadays…you should also get a hair cut, looking like that is like having
a zit on the end of your nose.” Desmond said.
“I’m a vegetarian, and
you ain’t cutting my hair. I’ll prefer the fuckers who are hunting me to
use my mullet as target practice than me cutting it.” Frank said.
“Hey, easy mullet boy.
Just trying to keep you living longer than you already should be. Besides
if you saw that last file you erased and remember what it said, then you
still have hope in surviving and saving the corruption system.” Desmond
“Who says I want to save
the crime world anyway?” Frank said.
“Well if you want me to
take you to them saying that, I’m sure they’ll be happy to rip out each
one of your limbs” He reached over, took Frank’s piece of bacon and started
munching on it, “…that’s after they have extracted each one of you testicles
first.” Desmond put it.
Frank realised at that
moment he was jealous of Desmond. The guy had coffee-coloured skin, was
about six foot two inches tall and had the physique of a Greek God. That
with his perfectly sculpted face and his hair in the style of an afro, one
that was like the legend Frank sometimes read about in music magazines of
a man named Jimi Hendrix, who was also supposed to
have a twelve inch penis. It wouldn’t surprise Frank if Desmond had a similar
sized one, especially the way Janice was squealing last night. “We all finished
then?” Desmond looked around, “Lets journey ladies and mullet men.”
Frank was in a dark dingy
place, where the walls were tattooed with graffiti of all shapes and sizes
ranging from big words such as ‘freedom’ to little ones with faces of some
revolutionaries from the late 21st century. Frank thought for a moment at
whether he was a revolutionary for what he did, but really some kid throwing
a stone at a window is more of a revolutionary then he would ever be.
Desmond had brought Frank
to the centre of the underworld, and to be fair, it wasn’t much of a capital.
There was a bar at least, but even that seemed disused. As for the somewhat
over elaborate artwork on the wall, a hand full of men and women occupied
the place. It was just the fact that these people from what Frank understood
were the crème de la crème of the crime world, and they didn’t even look
like they could do much apart from smoke, eat, shit and sleep. Desmond was
speaking to a round looking fellow, what Frank would term as obese. Frank was left with Janice the bitch,
so, little was spoken between him and her.
“Come on you two!” Desmond
shouted and walked towards the wall with ‘freedom’ sprayed upon it. As Frank
got closer, the stench of stale beer and urine became quite overbearing.
Before Frank could start complaining the round man put his hands on the
‘O’ of the word ‘freedom’ and pushed it into the wall. Next thing Frank
saw was the underworld he had expected. They had been spun 180 degrees into
a place that was worthy of a major Kingpin. A smile rose from Frank, and
they were all ushered to a table where champagne bottles were lying with
the expectation of being abused, to which Frank and the company he was with
did so for many hours. Frank last remembered thinking the crime world was
kind of fun.
Frank woke, and pulled
his saliva-glued face off the tablecloth. No one was around; all that was
to be seen were many empty bottles, some stale snacks, leftover drugs and
cigarettes. This is why the underworld
never gets far; they are too busy getting fucked to make enough money to
stop partying, so they just make enough to party, and in style. He tried
to salvage from his mind what happened the night before. Frank then gave
a crusty smile, and thought tomorrow
isn’t tomorrow till you sleep.
The world span. Actually
the world through Frank’s eyes was spinning. Hangover was such a poor word
to sum up how he felt, and so was sobering. He was just a person succumbed
to toxication, and was not yet clear of these toxins. But a smile came to
him because he was doing something he hadn’t done since young. Drinking
till he couldn’t even hold the bottle anymore to his lips, and taking drugs
till your mind completely fuzzes up. He even began to laugh, now remembering
Janice the bitch giving all three of the guys at the table a blowjob, including
the fat one. It was a competition, she would give each one five minutes
on their cock alternately and whoever came first shagged her. However Frank’s
memory still had holes in it for the moment because he couldn’t remember
who had won. To be honest Frank was beginning to realise he was a bit of
a stud with the amount of action he was getting recently. True the women
weren’t lookers, but then what man in their fairest of opinions would ever
actually be able to sleep with a good looking women that was constantly
being played on the fantasy channels at home? Mostly no man, unless you
were a fat hippo like Hannah Morish (who was a woman), where you could sleep
with any man or woman in her case.
“We ready to put the world
back to pieces my man?” Desmond hollered in a thick coarse voice from across
“Yeah, why not.” Frank
replied. “But can you fill me in on how we are going to do that, I sort
of can’t remember how we or I, um…if we planned that last night, thanks.”
“Man, oh man? Oh man!”
Frank finely whispered to himself, realising the full scale of the plan
put forward to him. The air was blowing through his beetroot hair as himself,
Desmond and the fat guy, now known as Macho, drove in an old style 1990’s
Mercedes Benz, open top silver car.
Frank originally thought
that they were going to hack into a mainframe Net system and find the final
file he had looked at in the area called The
Junk Yard (the place within the mainframe that is really described as
the sewage, but without the smell). Here it might have taken near to a month
to find the file Z-229. But time was part of the underworld leader's reality
and they could not let that happen due to it being far to slow. So they
in effect moved straight to plan B, and a rye smiled formed from Frank’s
mouth just thinking about it over and over again.
Frank walked up to the
spinning door by himself, the other two couldn’t come, they just had to
wait and hope he came out again. The door was an entrance no lesser than
the definition inscribed above as The
Gates of Heaven. Standing one mile high it was a modern day classic
from the original plans of Frank Lloyd
Wright re-developed for the future by today’s leading architects. Never
before had a building engulfed a space to such a capacity. As well as feeling
an inverted vertigo, Frank felt shivers go through him, more from the structure,
than the behemoth woman within.
He walked towards the lift;
inside he pressed the highest button allowed. As Frank controlled the storm
within he had a nostalgic moment; the father he never met, the sister he
hadn’t seen for four years, the mother he didn’t care for, the wife he never
gave enough respect to. But what he really encompassed in that time, raising
above ground zero, when thoughts can, at split second moments, be grains
of sand through a sieve, was a life that he enjoyed but always came second
to another, and usually a female other. Life had evolved so much that he
as a man (who could vouch for many), didn’t know how to be a man any more in front of the opposite sex, equilibrium had dissolved
a generation ago for the love and joy of just being a couple. There was
now a constant battle of the sexes, but most males gave up a long time ago,
and no reason really to do so. This was never what it was about though,
why did his thoughts lead to thinking about people? Mentally he wanted to
be free of having to worry and contort to reality. Frank just wanted escape
towards a child coloured filled world, where worries become silly to an
external shell of human life. He wanted to run side by side the child of
imagination who never grows up. But he was molested a long time ago (and
time it was) by human philosophy, and that’s what he despised in his so
called life, not the blame of the opposite sex, but the knowledge of human
“Welcome to the top floor.” A tranquil voice from
the lift speaker said. Frank blinked, shook his head, smiled and as the
lift doors slowly creeped open, he
Motion was indefinable, Hannah Morish was coolly
sitting behind her table smoking a cigar, drawing its leafy flavour upon
The climax was here, the opposite sexes two feet
and an oak table apart from their physical selves, but planets away from
“I let you come to me Frank. Why do you think you
are standing in front of me now?” Morish proclaimed.
“Because I am not a threat to you, just a mere
spanner who fucked up your mechanics for a while before it gets oiled again.”
“Maybe. Or was it just because I wanted to see your face
and understand that you were the biggest threat to my empire” Morish finished.
Frank lay on the floor, he had a small smile on his face
and his eyes stared at the ceiling. If he could have thought at the time
he would have been wanting to see the stars from this height, he was a mile
high up don’t forget, a part of the club you see. And his hair was in perfect
condition, just more blood red than beetroot now. And if he had learnt anything
from this experience, it might have been that he had been raped by the knowledge of human existence, to which he
was a slave to till death.