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Flash Fictions
One Method of Masturbation
They have her where they want her, having nothing to do with bathroom sinks and ankle straps. Lilytank, the girl of galactic measurements, stares down the spiraling technological trance, and we need her help. The Corporation, with its blue and black suited lumps of sour smelling body fat, have stolen all technology. Well, almost all of it. They did leave us with quite a large number of those old radiation leaking microwaves, and about ten or twelve Atari 2600s. Sure Atari was loads of fun, but do we really want our nine-armed mutated impotent children fighting over who gets to play the next level of Dig Dug? Without technology our souls are trapped forever in a church camp-like void. And there's only so many times we can play the Happy Friendly game, without chopping up the camp leaders and serving them up with microwave mashed potatoes. Don't fret, I said stop fretting, Lilytank will save us. As with all technology, Lilytank knows all the machines and computers the Corporation snatched will be obsolete in six to seven months anyway. So, she starts her own company. She creates a new technology, catapulting the fashionable knowledge into inconceivable solar figures. We are the newborns of the wires and chips and screens of her digital hardware. Belly cords plug into her head, fusing the fluids of our inevitable sensory aware.
XXX Supersex
A glow is known. She inquires. The Lilytank bursts and water sustains the electricity. I've seen this light before. Its crackle links ice to systems. Think of the switch, a small plastic lever to disconnect the current. She reaches her hand from flows and jerking motions, reaching towards the wall. Light reflects from the paint's white or blue or yellow deflection. With her any number of molecules ask for the eyes' attention. With her any color of liquid's sticky hold knows the price. Hers is the package, the glowing package sinking from cracks the wall's water hears. A package made with cardboard and stucco and filaments, broken when the light tears her cloth. Broken under Lilytank's switch or burst.
Raising rabbits is not easy. No, no it's really not. If you get scared, e-mail me and I'll calm you down. Things being what things being.
