“This is for all the lost children I ejaculated down the
sink.” P.O.Levine
“They will thank you one day.” A.Green
What it is to Grow Old Nowadays!
Frank Loobyman
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.
“Baby?
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
vision.
“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 him kindly.
“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 from
that.
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 your advantage.”
“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.
Silence.
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.
“No,
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.
Frank
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.
“Your
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, by just…”
Frank
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.
The 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.
After 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.
Frank 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 entrance.
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
him.
“No reason, just did.”
Frank replied.
“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 you.”
“How?” Frank asked
again.
“In layman’s terms you
fucked too may hippos.”
“Sorry?!” Frank
confusedly said.
“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 engulfed him.
“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 said.
“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
the room.
“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 existence.
“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 just knew.
Motion was indefinable, Hannah Morish was coolly sitting behind her table smoking a cigar, drawing its leafy flavour upon her tongue.
The climax was here, the opposite sexes two feet and an oak table apart from their physical selves, but planets away from life experience.
“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.” Frank replied.
“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.