“This is for all the lost children I ejaculated down the sink.” P.O.Levine


“They will thank you one day.” A.Green


A Story about male suppression.


What it is to Grow Old Nowadays!




Frank Loobyman


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.

            “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.


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.