The burning intensified, but Phil couldnπt understand why, He applied the ointment as instructed. Still, relief would escape him for now. Rather than sit and dwell on the problem, Phil decided to venture out into the night. He put on his spandex pants, his Ray Ban sunglasses and jumped into Jennyπs Delorian. The night was young and they had big plans brewing.

Since getting out of the mensπ psych ward in Duluth, he had been itching for a night like this.

He couldnπt wait to get drunk. Something he hadnπt done in a long time. He went to his favorite dive bar a block from where he grew up. He went there because he wanted to see his favorite hooker Lucy Juicy. When he was well wasted and finished shooting the wind with the fucked up people from his past, he went strait to Second and Washington. This is where he knew to find Ms. Juicy. After talking to every whore on the block he forced the address out of the only one who was old enough to remember such a woman. When he showed up at her doorstep he was well welcomed in a sort of weird way. She now looked about 70 and had clearly been around not only block but the entire city. That was ok because he was only after one thing. The entire time he was in the psych ward he had been thinking about this moment.

As she flopped on her back and looked in his eyes something out of nowhere popped in his head. My name is the Dwanimal and no! I am not gay. For the millionth time, I am not gay. Check out this website. http://www.myspace.com/international_felon

Booyakasha! Respect. R-E-S-T-E-C-P. Find out what it means to me.

Can you be more pacific?

HAHAäPacific. Youπre silly. Of course, if you wanted me to move to the pacific, we can talk about that afterwards if you like. Is it something youπd like to take into consideration? We could leave together We could fully embark together on an adventure of intrigue, and double agency, and foreign embassies, and government agencies and more double agencies, which as we know if you went to elementary school, or for some of us, college, two negatives make a positive. And if a double agent is double agenting against himself, that makes him a straight agent.

And isnπt that what itπs all about?

I mean, I had waited for 6 years for this moment, to show me what I should devote my life to, and I was ready to at least check it out. I was over all the fear. So I drove out on a Sunday morning. The sun was shining, the clouds has all hidden away with the stars. When I had arrived, Sharon came out to greet me, as we had planned. I could see Hita in the background, her leg in a cast. I blinked my eyes as I got out my car. The sun was very bright, I put on my sunglasses. I said hello to Sharon, she told me she was glad I came. I walked over to Hita. I petted her head, stared into her big brown eyes.

I reached down and touched her cast, glad she was finally at the Gentle Barn.

Everyone died, and the universe imploded upon itself.

It was THE END.
Or was it? For our young protagonist had built a time machine, and past the reaches of time and space he appeared at the instant before his actions had caused the impending cataclysm. He turned and he saw himself about to say those fateful words to the woman who would someday be his wife (that is if he didnπt cause the destruction of the universe with the words he was about to utter). He ran as fast as he could to his past self. The words that would end all were slipping out of his past selves mouth ≥I canπt stand it anymoreä≤ He (his present/future self) leapt ≥I should leave youä≤ His present/future self soared through the air, time slowed to a crawl. ≥ Yπknow I donπt loveä≤ and he tackled himself, knocking them both to the ground. They crashed into the potted plant, knocked the table over and fell off the ledge.

As they rose bloodied and bruised, he looked himself in the eyes and said ≥you really do love her. And she loves you more than anything. Donπt give up, it would kill her, and your world, everything will end. Then his past self, dumbfounded, looked in astonishment as his future self bleeped out of existence ≠ his mission complete.

He dusted himself off, though unsuccessfully, for he was very dusty dirty and scraped up, and climbed back up to the woman he would marry (though he did not know this yet) and said to her the words that would win her heart:

≥I donπt mind cleaning, and neither does my monkey.≤

There was a pause, it all seemed strange at first ≠ the silence. Soon a smile gave way, and was quickly followed by her unique, gentle laughter.

As he took his stand and situated himself firmly to the ground, she took notice of his hand, its scraped skin and her undeniable yearning for him came to the surface.

As they fell to the ground, rolling in the sand, she reached out and grasped his formidable biceps and breathlessly gasped.

Her mouth close to his left lobe, gave a slight sigh. She whispered in his ear, ≥I hope you didnπt have such a hard fall.≤

He chuckled lightly and told her with his fingertips exactly how much he enjoyed the landing, and their positioning now, laying together ≠ wrapped arm in leg to thigh and hipä stomach to throat to ear againä and the conversation was complete.

There was a comfort here. The sort of longing and burning he had so suppressed in his existence was quenched. How could it be, after the many lovers he had taken in his arms, that this woman could feel so ≥snuggly≤? ≥Snuggly≤ a kind word he had always been fond of as a child ≠ when it was innocent, when it was clean.

åTil now, he can remember the passionate kiss that soon followed.

With his powerful arms, gleaming under the sunπs August rays, he swept her and carried his newly found goddess into the mouth of the woods.

Trees towered overhead, as the branches yielded a trickle of sunlight on the young lovers. Inward they moved, deeper into the forest, looking for an opening in the brush, a patch to rest and enjoy the pleasures that were in store. Deeper and deeper they moved into the forest, nearly overcome with desire until they came upon it, a garden of roses resting comfortably circling a clearing beckoning them.

He seized her goodness and kissed her passionately, her hair in his grasp, he lips against his. A moment seized, a passion realized, a thirst quenched and together they floated up to the treetops. But was he worth? He needed to be tested.

She pulled away and stared at him. Would he prove himself worthy of her love, here among the trees?

As he pressed her heaving, glistening bosom against his chestä Larry thought to himself - What if she found out about the othersä the short stint in the Equadorian prison? Would she really understand the need for the operationä and would she still, ultimately accept him?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head back towards the sky - and let out a blood-curdling primal scream,...

≥Okay, Now you guys.≤ The class closed their eyes, embraced their visceral instincts, and howled at the moon.

Surprised at the innate power released within herself, Anaya stepped to the center of the groupä She took the bloodied knife and cut herself in the traditional ceremonial pattern.

Then, bleeding, she turned to face it, her deepest fear, her greatest inspiration, the cause of her turbulent existence.

Her lover withdrew his sword from her gaping wound, laughed and jumped out the window of their Bronx flat, landing squarely in front of a speeding bus. The fall was painless, but the bus permanently extinguished his anger.

She rose up from her 5-year intoxicating stupor. ≥Iπm free, Iπm free to do as I please!≤ She tied a pillow case around her bleeding arm, went across the hall and pounded on Tamaraπs door. ≥Tamara? Tamara, I love you!≤

Tamara opened the door and embraced her with all eight tentacles. Cindy gazed into Tamaraπs eye and lovingly fed her spineless friend the fresh crab meat she had saved under her mattress for 2 nights.

The two of them planned all night. How would they get rid of the body? How would they get back to the sea?

And so with those thoughts swimming trough the dark pit of their heads they completely left the body alone to muster in the cargo bay of the now stranded boat. The hurricane had taken them to a place they did not recognize. It was a weird place. The landscape looked very alien.. it was almost desertlike but there was plenty of vegetation,

The plants themselves seemed almost alive, but at the same they stood there terribly still.

There was no wind in this weird land. Actually now that Jenya thought about it everything was still. He turned to his brother Febrador who by now had realized the same thing,

≥Here, where did you put that bottle? I need a drink.≤

≥no idea by the way, you check on the stiffy?≤

≥he aint goinπ anywhere≤

≥aye true enoughä you hear anythinπ yet?≤

≥nah, and thatπs why im still bothered about findinπ that bottle, I donπt like being sober when I feel weird. You know what a mean?≤

≥aye, I know exactly what you on about..≤

And so they started lookin for that conforting liquid as a sound screetched trough the air. It sounded somewhat like a transmission grinding mixed with the sound of a wellys in mud.

≥what the fuck whas that?≤

≥sounded like a corilla takinπ it up the duff.≤

≥thatπs pure boginπ by the way≤

≥aye but thatπs what it sounded like≤

≥ya fucking looney, where the fuck is racket cominπ from?≤

≥ah think it came from over where the stiffy is≤

With those words exchanged the twins headed towards the cargo hold. Wakin on the boat was now difficult, since the floor was at a 30 degree slant. As Jenya headed towards the massive opening on the deck floor Febrador followed and loaded his shotgun with the required means to make a stiffy stay down.

≥you think its him again?≤

≥AYYE.. good stock dies hard.≤

They both kept walkin towards where they had left the corpse. Indeed it was good stock, their own blood. They had been hunting their bastard father for years. Ever since they had seen him get into that pub in maryhill road they knew that that was the bastard that had brought them to be.

≥here, we gotta finish this the now, I canny be fucked with his presence anymore. Hes weird≤

≥aye, hes as welcomed as a bacon buttie at a barmitzva≤

The crate was on its side, Shure sign that the beast was up and alive again. They had no idea how this could be, but it was not the first time they had seen it.

Jenya decided that it had been too much.

≥you wanna really end it?≤

≥well, this place looks like it could take it≤

≥aye, agreed≤

As those words where said, jenya took out the detonator. The bomb had been ready-rigged since they had bought the boat. It was made as self defence, but now it was more of a ending title. He pushed the button.

It fizzled like a cheap hooker on a margarine high. Margarine? Thought Jenya, puzzled on a few too many brews. Taking a long draw, she turned and looked quizzically at the mass of wires that c urled out behind her.

Green wire, right? Or red wire? Frustrated and in need of a snuggle with a real man, Jenya cleaved them both with her samurai sword, but to no avail. For all the mock-heroics, the fizzling only heightened itπs fizzling crapness.

≥Och, crap≤ said Jenya, who had been eagerly awaiting a high-octane explodgasm to burst from the beach any moment.

Jenya was a rock-hard explodgasm enthusiast. That was her thing.

She sighed, with the dejection of a freshly-mugged bawbag on Argyll Street. The only thing left to do, with any shred of honor attached, was to sit on the steps with her Corona, sinking deeply into a pale-beer haze, brain hemispheres slowly coming adrift, wondering what had happened to her childhood.

It was a night out, she rationalized. A night out with a few strange twists and a plot line more bizarre than the average cat cock, but a night out. And a night out was a night out.

≥What did that even mean?≤ Sobbed Jenya. She needed ≠ oh hang on, itπs a HE. Sorry about that Dave, I honestly had no idea, I must have read that wrongly. I just looked up at the last paragraph there. Anyway ≠ HE (fucking girlπs name, jesus) slumped down the side of the parking lot, passing Humvees spewing out republican smog. If she had gone to law school like her sorority sisters, none of this would have happened. She would be a high-powered career woman by now, not taking any shit from any fucking b each that wouldnπt explode when she wanted it to.

Jenya sighed.

She took out a cigarette and smoked it like a man. She was the last of the loose ends, a free-hanging woman in a rich manπs world. She took out her wallet and threw her stack of Benjamins into the Pacific, full of feminist ire. She held her library card between forefinger and thumb, weeping gently. Was it even worth it? Was that what she needed to survive? Was pride and prejudice still checked out?

There was only one thing left to do. She slashed her throat with the library card and bled softly , blotting her orchid-colored dress on the Santa Monica sands.

She sat there, pulsing. What to do? What to do? Who to send Christmas cards to? It was December 12^th. All the good Christmas cards were gone. Only the tacky ones were left.

Jenya reflected on her life through the crap cardboard in her memory. Should she buy glitter? Pasta shells to stick to them with glue?

She chose to go with both ≠ why choose between one and the other when you can have both? So glitter and pasta it is, and the cards are in creation. Another Christmas completed successfully, on to the New Years parties and the endless line of alcoholic evenings. Lucky me ≠ at least one will end in kegs of good Heineken ruined by the shitty head (head should be something you choose, not something youπre forced to deal with) and bonefires in the backyard. Random people telling common stories and everyone having a new story and some pretty fucking aweful pictures to share later.

And pictures ≠ thank god for digital cameras and the ability to delete shitty pictures later.

Speaking of thanks, lets give thanks now for the things that make life worth living:

Convertible mazdaπs in the summer.

10 weeks of landscaping for a good crop of organic (what?) vegetables.

That loud obnoxious guy thatπs your friend

Alcohol mixed with licensed drugs.

That quiet, gorgeous girl thatπs your friend

Great bars within walking distance.

AND MOST OF ALL

That one perverted friend that tells all the stories you want to say but are too nice to ≠ gawd you know heπs a jackass

but man you never know what random pieces of hilarity are coming out of his mouth next..

THANK GOD FOR

THE GAME

The END