I've been composing on the mirror of this blog, which is more active right now,
but it's getting sluggish, I might move back here. It's been faster to post to wordpress.
I always post my wordpress articles here in chunks every month or so, but I'm trying to keep the formatting, which isn't working well. As you can see.
And wordpress didn't like my Ass Sects article, so I don't know if the Space Tunnel can stay there in the future. Blog mirrors are good to notice missing articles, because they don't actually warn you at all nowadays, they just silently remove things.
I'm writing a few novels, on top of all the screenplays and poems and blog-garbage in my head.
This is the first 6 chapters of my serialized novel which you can watch in the future at serializednovel.wordpress.com
It’s a military sci fi satire. Warning, mucho use of the colloquialisms concerning the anus.
Space Tunnel to Asslandia
Chapter 1
When I look back at it now, as a “hero of my people”, I’m still not impressed.
I hated my first two months on the “team” of the Space Tunnel.
It was a dirty job. Someone had to do it.
I still wish it had been someone else.
Shoveling all that shit.
When you shovel shit for 24 hours straight in an enclosed space too small to move a bobcat through, even if you could get the approval, it sucked shit.
Because in those situations the military always loved extolling the virtues of elbow grease for new recruits.
I wasn’t recruited. I was the fucking Janitor of the external sewage facility supporting this cement pimple on the side of a mountain shaped like a seriously rounded piece of bulbous booty covered in evergreens.
They started the thing up and immediately needed sewage control like they had never needed it before. I was called in.
They make it sound like I was a supervisor or something nowadays, in those biographies of the “team”. Really I was getting minimum wage to shovel shit and connect shit-pipes. But I happened to be the one on site at the time.
The sergeant who dragged me downstairs into the mountain jarhead lair wasn’t looking happy. He had puke on his vest. The stench of whatever it was that wasn’t puke was pretty horrific. Even for a sewage technician.
I grabbed my mask and he nodded,
“Nothing else” he said, but nodded again when I puled out my sewage hazmat suit. I got minimum wage, but at least my boss was a safety nut. It was his, this beautiful piece of non active non-slip polymer with advanced breathing mask.
The ones in the employee lockers had those little white cotton masks that never did anything for anyone except make them feel stupid while their boss saved more money.
The way this guy stank, and his two backup mp’s as well, I knew I was in for a load of shit.
Lucky for me most of our journey was through the cavernous hanger sized upper floor. Unlucky for me was the elevator. These guys stank bad. And it wafted out of the elevator too. Some greasy tactile smelly shit that was, like human shit, but definitely not. I had gotten the suit on in the jeep, but it was rude to put the mask on until I had met someone higher up. Oh god.
That took almost an hour, and then he made me stand for an hour while he talked to other people before pointing to my helmet and letting put it on.
I had barfed twice already standing beside him, and as yet had no idea what was causing this sewage malfunction.
15 minutes later I was shoveling fucking shit. And shitting myself inside the suit.
It was body parts, and shit, and no, it wasn’t really human shit.
And it wasn’t human bodies either. Not all of them.
It was 24 hours of shit, before I got to have a fucking shower.
At least I got a bottle of whiskey from the team.
The ones that weren’t shoveling the shit.
Chapter 2
Sweet oblivion lasted 12 hours. Apparently that was some kind of reward.
The 12 hours.
The man who woke me up was really mad.
He only got 6 and couldn’t figure why the pussy got 12.
Yea. He called me a pussy.
I didn’t argue. He had bling and looked like Mr T.
Like, Mr. T back in the day.
He had hair too.
Everyone else was buzzed except me and my ponytail hiding the fucking jesus curls, which doesn’t sit well with a bunch of people who have all assented to voluntary hair removal for the sake of “the team”
There was bling on his forehead. Some strange symbol.
and why did he have hair? big dreadlocks no less.
He spoke. I was surprised, I expected grunts.
“Somebody found it on the floor.
He stuck it to my forehead as a joke, fucker.
That shit. It’s like fucking glue.
I feel really good though.
Like it’s recharging me or something”
I didn’t know what to say.
but I followed T down the maze of newly aerated and disinfected hallways to meet the man I had seen yesterday before the shit happened.
On the way I watched in fascination as two of his dreadlocks fell out.
They looked like they were jumping ship.
3/4 of a bottle of whiskey, twelve hours of sleep
and still I swear one of them moved on the floor to evade my foot
And suddenly there I was
sweating profusely
not from awe, from whiskey evaporating out of my pores
The old man from yesterday stood before me in his military mucky muck outfit
And he was definitely a grumpy old fart.
Chapter 3
I had seen the tunnel in all it’s glory
through a mask stained with the constantly pouring shit that had come out of it.
Five people died in that shit, hours before I had arrived,
apparently the tunnel orifice had been pried open and no one had thought that something unopened for 6 thousand years night stink when you opened it.
That first “team” had little white masks on.
Now they were corpses.
Although there had been ventilation, the first team was literally blown against the observation window by the centuries old buildup of shit that was leaning on the other side of the orifice.
Two weeks later we found the automatic enema system.
and after that, I rarely shoveled shit on earth again.
On earth. I shoveled a lot of shit elsewhere, I’ll tell you that.
Tons of shit.
I invested early in liquid vacuums after my first paycheck from the shitfest and it payed off in the end. I bought them from china, glued new logos on the vacuum units, and sold them to the military for the next ten years of shit cleanup for the tunnel.
Phenomenal profit can be made from shit.
but anyways, I was talking about the beginning
the Tunnel.
It was obviously important, a bit altar doodad thingy had been erected there with this little stand that held a smaller orifice.
Apparently you wiggle your finger a certain way in the small orifice and the Tunnel will open, to where, at this point, we were uncertain.
unfortunately, the military hadn’t been so good at deciphering the clearly labelled pictograms. They were more detailed than your average stick man holding a shovel. It was two weeks before someone wiped off the othe rwall so we could see the picture that pointed to the little red button, THEN the finger in the fleshy hole.
The red button was the the Tunnel’s Rinse Cycle.
Five people died,
not knowing about that Rinse Cycle.
Apparently, the bodies, other than the 5 humans, were from 3 different races, and were apparently people/beings who tried to come in this Tunnel after the Great Plug had been inserted, almost 4000 years ago.
That’s what they tell me at least.
I see the stone Plug, with its markings
ancient beautiful script and pictures
multiple smooth ribbed protrusions
some strange stone like granite
that won’t be cut or drilled
I never saw it in the Tunnel
they tell me it was in there tight
I guess the jarheads thought opening it was a good idea
they didn’t read the label first though
myself, I look at it.
It’s more than twice the size of the Tunnel orifice,
I think whoever shoved it in there, really wasn’t inserting and removing it on a regular basis. It was a “close this hole forever and we may be saved from the shit” kind of thing.
After the rinse cycle was found,
we were able to inspect the inner passage
It looked like it could hold twenty people
but we still had no idea how it worked
I was on hand in case there was any shit that happened.
When suddenly T started acting funny
twitching
swearing, and foaming
like my nephew after 2 cans of soda and a chocolate milk
he starts doing a Linda Blair on me
that weird symbol now glowing on his forehead
I realize he’s bald
a lone dreadlock seems to roll out of sight
and then he starts speaking, in a weird voice like he’s got an echo effect turned up full, while green puke seriously rolls down his chin.
His eyes are glowing red.
He farts.
This is an enclosed space, the orifice is only partially held open, the rotting smell wafts over everyone.
We’ve puked so much in the last two weeks we can’t even puke at the most horrid stench possible from a living human.
Damn, that army food sucks.
Chapter 4
Human vocal cords aren’t really supposed to make sounds like a records played backwards. It’s not really common.
T was sounding like someone yelling at me in one of those exciteable shouting languages, like italian or spanish.
I work in a sewage factory in northern BC, I was drawing a blank.
Apparently none of the army people could understand him either
their faces were grimaces and they were unfocused on his wierd…
Ok.
Now I was unfocused.
Something just slid into my underwear, moving fast
faster than me
that thing knew where it was going
and how did it get in my suit?
I understood the “team” look now
how an eight inch dreadlock can move that fast
I don’t know
but apparently the adhesive properties of the parasite infesting T’s dreads was equal to its lubricative nature.
This was a very uncomfortable state.
I wasn’t the only one not feeling the love for T’s dreadlocks
EVERYONE looked mortified.
I was fine after the initial shock.
I hadn’t eaten breakfast,
I’d been drinking every night for two weeks after all the shit I’d seen and the morning whiskey pukefest had cleared me out.
As well, being a professional poo miner
I was kind of used to the idea of colonic insertion.
And really, the dreaded invader was being very gentle.
Whoever was in control of it had a very soft and intuitive touch.
The jarheads weren’t so hip to their asses.
They looked REALLY uncomfortable with the fact that their butts were being taken over by a possibly malevolent alien force.
They all had had a good breakfast a few hours ago as well.
so their shorts were full
whoeee that place stank
Then T suddenly seemed to get a grasp on english again
and starts yelling
“You must use the ….”
I don’t know what the hell he said
it almost sounded like “penis” to me
but I didn’t really “hear” it
I felt him speak to me through the dreadlock’s squirming
and suddenly I understood
the large, apparently non functional device in the corner of the main Tunnel Room, about 20 feet high, shaped kind of like a smooth dildo without any surface bumps, it was for traveling through the Tunnel, we were supposed to climb inside of it somehow
And whatever being had taken control of T and my ass
wanted us to know how to get it working.
Chapter 5
Mandy Smarter was the head of the team.
In hostile situations she would defer to Sgt. “Smack” O’Kneel
That was what my briefing had said.
I was just a contractor.
Mandy did NOT like this method of diplomacy, at all.
Tall, athletic, white, a closet racist, and totally homophobic, I’d heard her talk about her ass as a “exit only” so many times as she fended off the juvenile advances of her very bright co workers.
Her psyche wasn’t handling the alien ass-rape communication system very well
I could see she wasn’t getting the dreaded message
“We have to go to the dildo thing in the main chamber” I said
She looked relieved that I seemed to know what I was doing
Until she looked at my waist.
They were all in camo
I was in the shit cleanup suit
so my tentpole was clearly stretching the elastic covering
I would never in a hundred years get a boner for Mandy
but as soon as I spoke while paying attention to her, my ass thing started grooving and I could instantly see hers was too
If I spoke again she might wet herself.
I pointed to the other room and grunted
We all got out of the front tunnel chamber, crawled through the orifice and assembled near the dildo machine, whatever it was
General Ham was standing there, and from the sweat on his brow I could see he was getting his own kundalini communication. I swear I caught him licking his lips as we entered, but he quickly rolled his eyes and moved back, as T walked toward the dildo device lifting his hands to rub it vigourously but slowly near the bottom of the tip.
My ass started to really talk to me then.
I heard someone groan
Unable to focus anymore, I remember thinking this was way better than the two hits of E I had done a couple months ago.
Then I realized, I wasn’t in the chamber anymore
I was watching Gen. Ham through the walls of the dildo machine.
Which apparently wasn’t inactive at all
since we were being slowly lifted up and positioned in front of the now closed orifice, and I really didn’t care that we were obviously going somewhere.
The whole capsule was vibrating
and the thing inside my ass was writhing
I think it was glad to be going home
It was all too much…
Chapter 6
My ass had somehow fused to the “seat”
I was in the front left of two rows of 3 of us
I remember wondering where our clothes were, then seeing them below us on the stone floor.
I looked up.
For the first time I realized that the orifice had a distinctly feminine quality to it.
It seemed to like the thrumming of the capsule, and pulsed eagerly as we hovered closer.
After 4000 years of the Great Plug
it was finally back in action
I swear it was smiling at me
before it swallowed us
The strangest thing to me about traveling through the tunnel
is the odd sensation that you are being squeezed through some great innards of the universe. You can feel the outer walls of the tunnel slide by through the walls of the ship, whose “nervous system” is somehow plugged into your ass through the seat.
Even later, when we were rid of the dreaded hitchhikers of T, the future trips through the Tunnel would always seem this way to me.
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You like?
check it out
I will also post it on this blog in sections of a few chapters.
It’s rough because I’m not actually editing it,
just composing it on the blog live when I get somehow motivated
