A Flame Among Coals

This is the moon on the night of my 33rd birthday.

Anthony: “WHY AM I CHASING YOU DOWN THE STREET WITH NO PANTS ON?!”

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. Please leave any comments there.

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

It was love at first sight.
I’m almost positive it’s an animatronic MC Hammer doll concealed in a young girl’s sock. But, it could be Satan. Or, it could be haunted by the ghost of a raver who ground up glow sticks into his cocaine. Whatever it is, it had to be mine.
Mine to give. Because nothing says “I love you” like a pink and violet MC Hammer glowing cocaine devil sock monkey dancing you a Valentine, holding a heart that says “Kiss me, I have a flaming case of herpes.”

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

My best friend Spooky introduced me to Tentacle Grape (http://tentaclegrape.com/)

Some awesome little slut is going to do body shots of this off my stomach before I die.

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

As a child, I was Dexter and my brother was Dee Dee.

I was obsessed with Isaac Asimov’s neural networks and positronic brains, convinced that if we could discover super-conductive materials and establish artificial consciousness, that we could create electronic brains and cure autism.

I wanted – no, needed to save my brother. I studied engineering and robotics for years. While my peers were playing dress-up, I was building intelligent machines under the tutelage of assorted professors.

Unfortunately, those educational facilities were in urban environments. Just beyond their pristine walls, the maladjusted prowled in the filth like maggots. At the time of this tale, I am just a child and should not be alone in this place.

This is the story of one of the more surreal experiences of my life, and it is so absurd that it is difficult to relate.
I was sexually accosted, albeit largely without success, by the cast of old monster movies.

As I said, I was a child leaving the pristine cathedral of the scholarly and entering the urban sprawl. As I turned the corner, six costumed men appeared in a vehicle. Three got out.

Dread crept over me like a freezing tide.
But the evil that frightened me was inconceivable.
I was being paranoid. Unrealistic. Ridiculous.
Six, three, even two grown people investing that much creativity and energy into forming an unimaginable roving horde of child rapists – that’s insane.

I walked quickly, quietly, with my head down. My instincts were wrong. Their attention was not on me-
A tripped pebble bounced on the concrete immediately behind me.
That little sound rang out like a gunshot in my ears.
I wheeled around to face Frankenstein and Dracula masks towering above me like Chinese dragons, while Wolfman paced anxiously behind them.

Frankenstein could have reached out and touched me.
He was so tall and walked so fast, so deliberately. If he wasn’t in pursuit to assault me, if he was just a man on the street, I would have stepped out of his way before he ran me over. He leaned forward as he walked, so that his head was almost directly above mine.
I said nothing. I washed any expression from my face.
They were trying to terrorize me. I would not play.
Really, what would cowering do against a child rapist who went out and bought a costume for the event? They were beyond mercy. Beyond sanity. Beyond redemption.
They were going to rape me, and then kill me, since they couldn’t let me go.

I picked up my pace, facing him and walking in reverse.
In his eyes, I saw some sort of human recognition, human emotion. Doubt? Hesitation? Guilt?
Maybe he saw what I was thinking in my eyes.
Maybe he hadn’t thought this through.
Or, perhaps the gravity of the situation clicked in some small reserve of sanity in his brain.
Or maybe it was that I wasn’t cooperatively cowering.
I wasn’t brave; I knew I was already dead. There was no way out. There was only the question of whether I was going to die begging for mercy, or die castrating them with my teeth.
I was afraid, yes, but all I could see was a walking vortex that devoured children. How many before me? How many after me?
Potential targets flashed through my mind; my classmates, my best friends, my brother.
I was afraid, yes, but all those children were no different from my own loved ones. They were someone else’s classmate, best friend, sibling. I was on fire with their vengeance.
I wished with all my young engineer soul that I had a laser gun or a robot army.

For whatever reason, Frankenstein hesitated, pausing until I was just out of arm’s reach.
Dracula glanced at him and followed suit.
Wolfman stopped and glared at them, as if to say that he didn’t get all dogged up for nothing.

Wolfman dropped his pants and ran around me in a circle, holding his dick in his hand and miming twirling a lasso. To be fair, that little white boy might have called it “dancing.”

He said something, something I can’t remember any more. It was something ridiculous, and muffled by the mask. Something about his penis and his intentions. I think it was a question. I think he asked me if I wanted his penis and suggested something about sodomy.

I remember the mounting fear of being raped, and by an unshaven lunatic in a plastic mask, who was holding his gooey, leaky shaft in a costumed paw, and dancing…DANCING…around me in a circle, with that sideways-skip-hop made famous by the New Kids On The Block.

It was the first post-pubescent penis I’d ever seen, and the ugliest I’ve seen to date. I know the trauma of Oogly Dick pales in comparison to the tragedy of child abuse, but please hear me; in all my life, all across the internet, including fan-art and 4chan, this was the Ugliest Penis Of All. Before I watched it harden in his hand, I thought it was part of the costume.

Now imagine that going into your butt.

As a side note, I love it when “normal” people tell me about their nightmares.

Because I was a child, I was completely unprepared and unarmed. So, I ran for the nearest well-populated, well-lit area like my life depended on it…because it did.
Unfortunately, the only thing nearby was a six-lane highway.

I ran out into traffic like a swan diving into a lake, arms swinging and all.
It was dangerous, but being killed by a Mack truck would have been a merciful end, given the alternative.

I stood there, on the line between the second and third lane, staring back at them.
I knew they wouldn’t follow me onto the road. They were cowards.
In the craze of terror, I was so angry that cowards nearly ended me. It was shameful; like dying in your own bathtub when you wanted to come home on your shield.

A carload of Latinos screeched to a halt beside me. The driver was leaning out the window, screaming something in a language I didn’t understand. I walked to his window and leaned on the horn, screaming for help with cathartic hysteria.
Several local businessowners came out to see what was causing the traffic problem which worsened exponentially by the second.

I was saved.
And now, with the only road blocked and an angry mob after them, they would know how I felt.

I never told that story before. Thank you for listening.

It comes to mind tonight because I was accosted in a convenience store.
It caught me by surprise; I’m a mother with an infant son; most people are too decent to approach me. Before I was a mother, my friends and I traveled in packs. But tonight, the baby was with his father, and I was alone.
The perpetrator may have been the most aggressive sexual appetite I’ve ever encountered. It was a potentially physical situation.
He was angry with lust. His emotional expression would have been equally suited to a tirade of racial slurs.

He was going to eat that ass with zeal or some muthafuckas were gonna die.

His near-cannibalistic enthusiasm was alarming at the time, but in the aftermath, I can’t write that without giggling. I wonder if some people are deaf to the sounds emitted by their own mouths.

What struck me was my emotional response.
I wasn’t offended. I wasn’t hurt. I wasn’t embarrassed.
My first impulse was to look for the nearest object with which to beat the crap out of him, as if this were a scene from the zombie apocalypse.
Like I’d have to find something to use to hack those bitches to pieces before they ate my brains.
Yes, through my ass and all the way up. Fool.

*sigh*
I wish we lived in a better world.

Studies and professionals suggest that the only defense is a good offense. Universally, every source has advised me that almost all predators (criminals, stalkers, rapists, et cetera) will only attack what they perceive as prey. In short, if he thinks you’re going to kill him, he’s not going to break into your house. Or stalk you. Or try to rape you. So, be feared, and you won’t be eaten.

Eaten. Haha.

I just wish there was a more peaceful way to exorcise demons from one’s life.

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

You don’t believe in astrology – good. You’re not supposed to, because it’s illogical.
So are gods, ghosts, the afterlife, and magic.
So shut the fuck up and let me enjoy this moment.

I’m so glad I didn’t have a Pisces child. I’m a Pisces. I’m a March 11th Pisces. So is she.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my time in high school.
Minus the drugs. Naked Kraken, though – that part is spot on.