Part 6

Freakazoid -- Freakazoid



Okay, let's recap.

A few days ago, I was asleep in my bed. I had few worries, and I was having a really dirty dream about Jill Goodacre, or Conic, or whatever she's calling herself now.

Anyway, I was having this dream, and she was getting undressed, and she was telling me what she wanted me to do to her, when all of a sudden I'm awakened by the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Which wouldn't have been a problem except I didn't know her and she had just broken into my apartment.

She said her name was Amber and she was smoking a long, blue cigarette. I'd never been with a smoker before, but there was something about her. The mystery of Lauren Bacall in "To Have and Have Not." The allure of Michelle Pfeiffer in "The Fabulous Baker Boys." And it almost seemed as if we'd had that conversation before. Odd. Especially considering what she told me next.

She told me she was sent by my friend, Greg Townsend. Cute trick, considering Greg had been killed in a fire-fight with David Sargent, he of the Velvet Glove Technocracy Construct. She told me that Greg had sent her to find me, in the future -- well, her future -- to tell me that I was responsible for his death. I was responsible because of something David Sargent did on a foray into the past.

Okay, I never said this was going to make much sense. But let's face it, folks, has any time travel story you ever heard made complete sense? I mean Terminator 2 was a great movie, but let's get real. No one would ever believe that plot line without all the special effects to back it up.

I watched Amber closely at that point, checking her body chemistry with a Rote. She was telling what she believed to be the truth as far as I could tell. She was very nervous about something, however, and when she said that we had been lovers in her time-line, I understood her problem: how do you tell a complete stranger that you know every inch of his body. Well, yeah, I was not a stranger to her, but she was to me.

Anyway, Amber continued to tell me that David Sargent was systematically eliminating all evidence of my existence and that we had to get back to January, 1994, before my identity disappeared from this reality so that we could stop him. Uh huh.

Apparently, Mr. Sargent, after making me vanish on paper, would be able to wipe me out in the flesh. On reflection, it seems to me that if he could totally remove all evidence of my existence, seeing as how consensus becomes reality, I would quite literally vanish. Either way I'd be gone.

We decided to go see my friend, 3D.EXE, to see if he could use his equipment or his connections to get us back to 1994. On the way there, things started going berserk. Buildings appeared and disappeared, a cop stopped us on NE 28th Street (and I'd swear in court it was a man until she reached my car) for going through a Hotel Crossing zone without flashing my bright lights. Then the cop drew her gun on Amber when she lit her cigarette. As Amber got out of the car the cop disappeared and the car changed into a Jeep.

So, we finally got to 3D's address, only the actual house was gone, burned to the ground. That's when we opted for a real Time Sphere specialist, and the name we were given, after some searching in Deep Ellum over in Dallas, was Jennifer Rand.

Jennifer Rand is a member in good standing with the Cult of Ecstasy. Which is to say she is into some very kinky sex, and could easily be addicted to one or more illicit drugs. She smokes filterless cigarettes, chain-smokes them, actually, and had a vibrator between her legs and running while we were in her office. I think she came twice during our little visit, and the smell of her sex was intoxicating, almost overpowering.

She promised to help us. We were to meet her the next day at 1:00 PM when she would, for a favor to be named at a later date, send us back in time. The only thing is, I get this strange feeling whenever she starts talking. And I'm not talking about my dick, either. I must admit, though, that hearing the vibrator, watching Jennifer cum and sitting next to the most beautiful woman I've ever met (that would be Amber) has a singular effect on my private member.

Now we're on our way to the rendezvous at the Fort Worth Stock Yards (her office is in the local Pleasure Dome, the location of which is a well-kept secret), and I'm feeling rather anxious about the whole thing. And to top it off, there's some sort of disturbance up ahead. There are cops and fire trucks and several ambulances, and it's all just adding to my stress.

"Hey," says Amber as I turn onto Exchange Street. "Calm down. I'm sure this will all be over soon ." She takes a last drag on her cigarette, then it just seems to extinguish itself before she drops it in the ash tray.

Then she leans toward me as we pass several police officers. With her left hand she reaches into my pants and takes a firm hold on my cock, which responds immediately. "When we get back to 1994," she says, looking at me with those incredible eyes, "I've got a wonderful place for you to put this. I think it'll relieve some of your tension."

And then the head of a young girl comes flying through the windshield of my car.

"So I walk upon high
And I step to the edge
To see my world below

And I laugh to myself
As the tears roll down
'Cause it's the world I know
It's the world I know"

Collective Soul - The World I Know

Pinky: How far into the future are we going?
Brain: Two billion years, Pinky.
Pinky: Um... How much more than seven is that?
Brain: Arguably, a lot, Pinky.

Pinky and the Brain

You know it's gonna be a bad experience when the head of a five-year-old girl comes crashing through the windshield of your car. Here I am, driving through the Fort Worth Stock Yards with cops and EMT's all over the place and Amber's hand wrapped around my rapidly deflating cock, when the windshield shatters and a head lands on the dashboard of my... Ford Pinto. "?"

I step on the break, bringing the car to a sudden halt. I reach for the door handle when something occurs to me.

"Um. Amber?"

"Oh, God. What?

"Could I have my dick back now?"

"Oh!" She withdraws her hand quickly.

We get out of the car and start running. Difficult to do in a hail of bricks and body parts and glass. But, hey! All in a day's work in the big city.

Yeah. Right.

Anyway, we run east along Exchange, going deeper into the Stock Yards, passing several cops on the way to the Tarantula train tracks, restaurants, shops and mayhem. As we near the Iron Horse Cafe, we hear the unmistakable sounds of heavy weapons fire. We stop, holding the wooden rails of the fence surrounding the patio area of the establishment, and I notice that Amber is breathing as if she'd just done a three-minute-mile. I make a mental note to do something about her nicotine intake.

I sneak a quick look around the edge of the fence, pulling my head back fast.

"Jesus!" I shout.

"What is it?" asks Amber as she looks around the corner herself.

"It's Jennifer Rand! Damn! There's two M.I.B.'s trying to blow the shit out her!"

Amber pulled her head back and gave me a rather severe look. Through heavy breaths she says, "That's true. But I think you've... missed one important... point."

"You mean all the leather, and spikes, and metal, and exposed genitalia?"

"Exactly."

"I was really hoping I had imagined that. So, what's going on, I wonder."

"I think our friend has become a bit unreliable."

"Well," says I, "let's see if we can help restrain the bitch and get a few answers out of her. At this point I don't think even the Black Hats are gonna turn down assistance."

I chance a look around the corner again. Taking in the scene I notice for the first time the large hole in the ceiling above the train tracks. Something big and bad exploded in here, probably whatever sent the severed head into a ballistic path to the windshield of my car.

There is blood and gore everywhere. The two M.I.B.'s are hunkered down behind a thin column, an I-beam, actually, and are in serious danger of being fried. Jenni, while sending some major firepower their way from her AK-47, seems rather preoccupied with someone or something located inside the Ernest Tubb Record Shop.

Amber and I decide its now or never. We step out around the corner of the fence. We take about three or four steps. I am preparing a rote which should slow Jennifer's metabolic rate to about one-tenth normal when things begin to get really exciting.

I feel a sudden tingle in the air. I know nothing about Prime but I can certainly sense the presence of Paradox! And, Amber, who is just full of surprises, grabs my arm at the same instant, shouting, "Get down!"
Jennifer pulls the trigger on her assault rifle. I'm not even sure who was her target. Anyway, the damn thing disintegrates in her hands.

The force of the blast does not take her off her feet, though it does take a few things off her. She's just standing there, sans her right arm, most of her torso and face, and she looks like she's really pissed. She starts to scream, and then she turns in our direction.

"Oh, hi John, Amber," she says, waving with her left hand. "I'm sorry I don't have more time, but you know how it is when you have friends over -- sometimes they're nice and tidy and sometimes you get this. Besides, I like it better on top."

"What the Hell is she saying?" asks Amber. I was about to ask her the same thing.

The two Men In Black pick that moment to break for cover in one of the side corridors. We are still standing near the corner, rendered motionless by the sheer insanity of this scene.

Jennifer throws her hands up in the air. "You see? You see the sort of bullshit I have to deal with?" She looks exasperated and I just now realize that she has two arms once again. "Well, its not your problem. But you wanted me to do something for you..."

Amber motions as if trying to stop a speeding car. "That's alright! You're busy, and we can certainly find someone el..."

"Nonsense. Here you go."

Jennifer withdraws a small, round, silver object from... Well, I think from her crotch, though at the moment I really don't want to know. Anyway, she throws it and I catch it. Hey, it was a reflex! Anyway, its a watch and the second hand is moving backward. Fast. I look up at Amber, who has put her hand on my arm. She seems to be saying something but the words are coming so s l o w l y t h a t
 I c a n ' t
 m a k e i t
 o u t !



And suddenly I smell cattle.

To be continued...



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