LARS
I asked Beth if I could borrow her car. She asked what for. I just told her I was baking a cake, and I needed to go shopping for 'dates'. It wasn't entirely a lie.
After buying my ingredients and black condoms, I drove up and down Chinatown. The floor of the car was littered in beer cans. I was on the prowl. It was exciting. I never picked up a whore before. First time for everything. Life was about new experiences. I had to be careful. Be careful of the nasty ones. Only give the clean ones your attention. Only the pretty ones. Ignore the slobs – the ones with slime dripping down their legs.
She had to be perfect. The whore had to look like Beth.
I drove up to a transdolphin. She leaned into my window and smiled.
“Hi, handsome. Looking for a good time?”
Lucky for me, I was too drunk to be shy.
“Amazing! You look exactly like her.”
Her face jumped back a little.
“Christ, your breath stinks. How much alcohol do you have in you?”
“Never mind that. I have a rare disease. It can't be helped. What are your going rates?”
“Twenty bucks.”
“Sweet sassy molassy! Who do I look like? The King of England?”
“Take it or go away. I'm sorry.”
She turned around. I reached into my pocket and showed her my money.
“Wait, wait! Don't go! I'll pay. I'm all yours.”
She got into my car, clearly disgusted by all the filth.
“Where are we gonna go to have sex?”
I drove off.
“My work place.”
“No. The last time I did business at a work place, the security called the cops. I know a great hotel with a pool and everything. Let's go there instead, lover.”
“You paying?”
That insulted her.
“The deal's off. Drop me off at this corner.”
I sped up.
“Trust me, lamb chop. This is a great place. We can be loud as rabbits. We can have all the gross sex we want.”
“Trust you? What do you do?”
“I'm the president. I'm a very important human.”
“President? I'm so turned on right now,” she moaned, putting her hand on my knee. “This is gonna be a great night, indeed.”
“By the way, I'm Lars. What's your name?”
She kept her eyes forward.
“My name's Whore. And that's all you need to know.”
When we walked into Transdolphin-Me, I told her I wanted to do a little role-playing. She frowned.
“I ain't no actress.”
I locked the door.
“It's easy. I just want to call you 'Beth'. You'll be playing my boss. And I want to tie you to a chair.”
“Chair-tying is an extra five bucks.”
I took out a fiver and put it in her mouth. She smiled and nodded and took off her clothes. I opened my work closet and got out some ropes. No good, I thought. Transdolphins are strong. She could go through those like butter. Get the chains. I did and opened the door to Beth's office. The room smelled like her. I found it arousing.
“This is your office. So here's the scene: I'll be mopping the floor. You waltz in and say, 'Lars, I can't get you out of my brain. I'm just so hot for you right now.' And then something wonderful happens. You grab me from behind and fondle me and whisper sweet somethings into my ear.”
“Like what?”
“Get creative. Maybe something like how your mouth is so cold, but my tongue is so hot. I want erotica! I want passion!” I took in a breath. “Gadzooks. I'm getting turned on. How about you?”
“I'm tingling.”
“Good enough. Let's begin.”
KIRSTY
I was on a holy hunt of a random nature. I drove around that seedy part of Chinatown, the part with all those man-whores. They all stood outside of smokey bars, trying their best to tantalize women strolling by. I drove up to a man-whore who was dressed like a gimp, complete with zipper mask. He walked up to my window.
“Hey, transdolphin, wanna have some fun? I'm big.”
I couldn't get over that mask. Perfect. He was disturbing enough. He had the right vibration. I'd save his soul. I smiled through my anxiety.
“And I'm wide. Come on in. The door's unlocked.”
“Listen, I know a great hotel with a pool and everything. Let's go there, lover.”
“No,” I said. “I wanna do this at my work place. There's paperwork to be done. I'm a professional.”
“Me, too,” the whore said, getting out a document. “I'll need you to sign here and here. I'm not responsible for any diseases.”
I signed the document and drove off.
“Do you have another job?”
“Only whoredom,” he sighed. “It pays the bills.”
“Don't you have any dreams? A passionate career?”
He thought for a bit.
“I always wanted to write books for a living.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Nine.”
“What happened?”
“I gave up.”
“Why?”
“Agents kept rejecting it.”
“How many times?”
“666.”
“Big deal. Think of C.S. Lewis. Damn human got rejected 800 times before making it big. The lesson? Keep trying.”
“No – it's useless. I was born under an unlucky star.”
“You should keep sending your manuscripts out. Don't give up. You can be successful. You can do what you love for a living.”
The poor lad lost his mind.
“I CAN'T TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE! YOU'RE KILLING ME!” He unzipped his mask and tore it off and threw his hands over his face. He wept. “Everyone hates my work! They don't get me! They don't want me. Humanity hates me. I'm a failure! A reject! Now I'm just a humble whore. This is the only way I can relate to people. I wanna be useful. I need to be acknowledged. I don't wanna be forgotten.”
“Confidence! What if I told you there was a way to gain the confidence you needed to achieve your goals?”
“Alcohol?”
“Transdolphin-Me. I can help.”
Now he was crying like his legs were on fire – a sort of angry whining.
“Yesss! Please, dolphin, help meeee! Save me! Give me back my confidence! I miss writing! I wish I never gave it up! I don't wanna be Life's slut anymore!”
I gave him a strong look.
“Have faith, whore. Your dreams are about to come true.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes and smiled.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you....”
“We just have to do some paperwork. Mind you, the transformation will get a bit messy.”
“I've seen the commercial. By the way...how much is this transformation going to cost?”
“We're very flexible. We'll take whatever you made tonight in sales,” I said. “And your soul.”
I whispered that last part.
BETH
I had a dream about Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China. To keep his tomb a secret, he ordered that after his death, everyone – from his one hundred concubines to the designers of his tomb – be locked in with his coffin. It came to pass, and it was against their will. What happened when the torches went out? In my dream, I was down there with them, clawing at the main entrance, trying to get out, our screams echoing in the dark....
I woke up splashing in the bath, surrounded by a hundred or so candles.
Quite the romantic scene. Boyfriend? Bah! Who needs a boyfriend when you have yourself as your best friend – when you have your mind as your best friend? It made sense, didn't it? Love yourself first before you can love someone else. Seemed like a golden rule to me. Was it a golden rule? If not, someone should make it so. And then I thought: Soon, I'll be queen. I can make any rule I want. And I'll have an army of transdolphins to do whatever I want. I was painting a grand picture
. What if I could take over the world? I understood Hitler and all those other wannabes; but I'd succeed where they failed. I'd turn the whole world into ME. I knew what was best. Don't we all? Difference is – I was going to make it all happen. I was going to make the world right – a perfect place – a real heaven. See? I was a humanitarian. I loved people too much. I wanted what's best for them. I wanted to help them. I wanted for them what I wanted for myself: Peace, relaxation, free health care, no taxes, and all those other positive things people beg for. People just had to listen to me, or else. After all, I was thee damn Transdolphin. I was the Chosen One. It couldn't be argued.
An image of me in the White House shot into my head – of me telling my armies of transdolphins to do this and that, to build this and tear down that. Such power. Thrill-bumps slithered up my arms and over my knees. I started laughing.
Shhh. You'll wake someone in the church. Be calm. Relax. Wait. Wait.
Yes. Patience. The next day was very special, indeed.
The next day was December 21, 2012.
The end of the world for many.
The start of the world for few.
LARS
There was one more thing I just had to do. I sat the naked whore on Beth's chair and got out the chains. I froze.
“You sure you want to do this? I'm starting to feel like a diseased person.”
“Do it,” she nodded. “I've always wanted to be a whore. I love to make people happy. Harlotry is my passion.”
I shrugged and tied her up.
“Well...just to be sure...the safe word is 'rape'.”
I sat on the dolphin's lap and kissed her gray head.
“Beth, I love you so much. Love me. Love me.”
The whore played along.
“I am aroused! I am impressed by your horny structure.”
Sounds of someone coming into the office – keys jangling and concerned whispers. My whore wiggled around.
“The cops! Untie me! I ain't going to jail again!”
I put my hand over her mouth.
“Silence! Maybe they'll go away.” I continued kissing her. “Beth, I love you. Why don't you want me?”
She bit my hand.
“Kindly untie these chains!”
I kept kissing her.
“Just one more minute, Beth. Why won't you come back to me?”
“Help! I am being desecrated!”
The door EXPLODED. Kirsty ran in and picked me up and spun me around and tossed me through a wall. I landed in the Blessed Room with my head knocking against the glass box. Kirsty charged in and picked me up by the throat. Over her shoulder, I saw my whore and some gimp run off.
“Lover!” I begged. “Come back to these arms!”
Kirsty choked me with both hands.
“You piss! You swine!!!”
I felt my brain rattling around in my skull. I tried speaking, but my tongue was too swollen, too balloon-like. Kirsty started headbutting me. “You buffoon!”
She threw me to the ground. I grabbed my throat and coughed my life away. Kirsty tied me up with those chains and dragged me through neighborhoods, all over the sidewalks. When we got to the church, I was covered in cuts and bruises, and caked in blood mixed with grass and dirt. Terrible, terrible frosting. Cats followed us. Kirsty kicked at those huge, wooden doors. The banging echoed throughout the church. Bedroom lights clicked to life. People complained. Beth opened the front doors. Covered in a white bathrobe, she rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“Kirsty? What goes on here? You have any idea what time it is?”
Sadly, I managed to unleash my bowels. I was stinking and embarrassed, resting on the ground like a beaten dog and covered in chatty cats. I couldn't look at Beth. I kept my eyes down. Kirsty spat on me.
“This is a slovenly person! He tried to rape one of our own!”
Beth closed her eyes...and shook her head.
“You son of a bitch. I was afraid this would happen. Dare I say, even expected it. Foolish heart.” And then she looked up at the sky and said, “Dear dead friends, I hope you're having fun in your personal heavens. Help! I ask you – what should I do with this nincompoop?”
Lightning shot out from the sky and struck a tree. It burst into flames. Birds flew out screaming and on fire. Kirsty jumped in the air, damn joyous.
“The answer is clear: Punish him!”
I got on my knees, hands in prayer, inching my way toward them, trying my best to look as pathetic as possible.
“I...I...I...I...I....” Words! Where were the words? What to say?! “I...I...I...I...I!”
I was getting too close. Kirsty kicked me away from them.
“Stay back, you ignoramus!”
Beth reached into her robe and pulled out a whip. My body turned tense, ready for the obvious. Kirsty's mouth started drooling. Beth's eyes started drooling. Maybe it wasn't too late! Was mercy possible?
“Lars,” she said, “I'm so sorry...but mercy isn't possible. You must be penalized. You know the saying: Spare the rod, spoil the child.”
“I've never heard that in my life,” I lied.
“It means that if you don't punish your child, they'll be spoiled.”
“Really? To me it sounds like it's saying you should put the rod away and deliberately spoil the child. Am I right or am I right?” I was smiling in a desperate way – all teeth.
“NOOO!” Beth roared, raising the whip. She sounded like thunder, and I swear the ground shook. Her face was red with rage, and veins pulsed all over her cheeks and ears. She looked fiendish! I threw my hands up over my face and whimpered random sounds.
Nothing happened. I looked through my fingers. Beth was shaking and biting her lower lip. Her eyes were HUGE. Was she trying to hypnotize me?
“God, forgive and forget!” she said, lowering her whip. “I can't do it. I can't beat this stupid ninny.”
I exhaled.
My bones relaxed.
Beth handed the whip to Kirsty.
“You do it.”
Kirsty snatched the thing away.
“With savage pleasure.”
Beth looked away. I gasped. And then all hell broke loose. Impressive pain. Kirsty worked me pretty good. You had to respect someone that enjoyed their job. I was slithering around like a headless snake and begging for mercy. Bad idea. It just made Kirsty more excited.
“Yes – beg – BEG! It fills me with power!”
She giggled as she worked. Each lick of the whip was like fire. It was astonishing! I was leaking myself all over the place. Beth talked through the whole show.
“I can't look. You did this to yourself, Lars. Admit it. Admit it! Take away this heavy black-guilt in my stomach! Say the words! Say: My name is Lars, and I deserve this berserk beating!”
I was preoccupied with my own shrieking. I'm not even sure she said anything. Maybe I imagined it? I don't know. My brain was going crazy. Torment does that to you. Each time I got up to flee, Kirsty laughed and whipped me, and I'd go flying through the air, landing on my face, kissing pavement. This happened at least ten times. Last thing I remember...I was walking down the middle of the freeway in the needle-like rain, naked and sore and generally out of my mind. Cars zipped past me, honking, cursing, throwing beer bottles at my head. I was too detached to be embarrassed.
What's that's screeching? I thought. Am I hearing things again?
I walked off the road, slipped on a beer bottle, and tumbled down the hill, into the woods as lightning fired in my eyes and rain filled my ears.
ENOCH
Even after Boss Moshi beat me and shamed me, I decided to stay in the werewolf gang.
See, I had a nightmare that morning: I told Boss Moshi I was quitting. He said, “Fine.” Next thing I knew, I was standing in Mom's bedroom, and all these werewolves dolled up like gangsters from 1929 were shooting at her with Tommy guns. She exploded immediately, but they just laughed and laughed as they shot her to bits – laughed with their big cigars bouncing up and down in their mouths. Ra-ta
-tat-tat-tat-tat! Over and over in my brain. Ra-ta-tat-tat-tat-tat! The place flashed like a disco. I woke up that morning in a cold sweat, trembling, feeling like total shit. I checked up on my mother – ran to her room. When I saw her in bed, all peaceful, I slid against the hallway, so relieved, weeping into my hands.
I'd stay in the gang. Just deal with the BS. Not make trouble. Keep my mom safe. Get more respect; get more power; make more money. In time, I could buy Mom whatever she had her heart on. That was the plan: Live for Mom. Do it for her.
Brilliant!
We were all called to an important meeting in Boss Moshi's office. It rained hard all that morning, and at one point, it rained frogs. It lasted a whole minute. Footage of frogs falling from the sky popped up all over TV. People were freaking out. Evangelists started saying it was the end of the world. All because of frogs? Oh, and 2012, right? I didn't buy into what those crazies cried on and on about. How quickly we forget all the good! The island was going to be just fine. This was just a little hair in my soup. This was just some freak weather, is all. Even paradise has its bad days. Every now and then, we all swallow a spider when we're asleep. (I read that on the internet, so it must be true.)
The wind turned my umbrella inside out five times. I felt like a fool. Felt like invisible people were laughing at me. I remember walking toward Boss Moshi's mansion and seeing, strung up on a tree, a naked woman. I had no idea who it was, neither did the other gangsters walking by me. That woman – it looked like she had been ransacked by starving vultures – just all messed up and so very dead. Disgusting, horrible sight. Boss Moshi's office was full of people, and the air was electric with high blood pressure. Boss Moshi was dressed like a samurai and paced around with his hands behind his back. The drummer girl played a slow jam. This time, she was standing on a red box.