I haven't posted fiction in a very, very long time, I suppose I should
pony up or shut up.
Here is a mix of very recent work (Bomber Girl, Dat Salad's Da Bomb,
and the Hardboiled Haiku) with a dash of a blast from the past
(MotherBored) which I believe was posted here many eons ago. But as
none of my work is available at the Chatsubo Archive, I suppose that
makes it new again.
--Made in DNA
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MOTHERBORED
TelCo along, jacking in w/ my General Tech Overdrive.
Step back or I'll ICE you clean.
What's that? Who R U? What's my tty?
I'm sorry, you're not my terminal type.
No "Slam-bam, thank you ma'am",
I prefer the Visionary Position.
The night before, I phreaked the kitchen,
the appliances servicing my soul mate as he woke.
Plug my children off to school.
I woke up late, but kept my date,
laying splash to the AsshOLes on line,
when they think my file can be gotten.
I prefer the Sun solace of my Vurt,
my run-free Virtual Oprah.
Hardcore MelissaV4 thinks she can give me virtual V.D.,
but I think it's time I give the tabloids their ticket to my fame-name.
Splicing her creator's mind w/ his HARDrive,
he'll have to bluebox his blue balls now.
MotherBored doesn't play that game.
Screeeeeeeeeeeee bahhhhh screee ahhhhhh....
sweet sound, my mind reeling in modem-bit ecstasy.
"Cal Tech me away..."
Shopping's done, and the kid's have been uploaded.
Time to Jetson dinner for the six o'clock dismal sync.
Jack me, hack me, but keep your MTV Unplugged,
I'm an 31337 matrix maven hardcore motherbored.
-*-*-*-
BOMBER GIRL
Into the headspace of my dreamscape she roars in her boosted
twin-engine.
Her blossomed G-cup configuration madly juking and teasing, giggling
and pleasing.
My fist works the well-worn joystik of my own vehicle with experienced
percision.
Must not overwork it. Must keep control. Must stay on-target.
But she is an expert, an vicious AssaSSin of the virtual. And I feel my
grip tighten, throttling and jerking for control.
It's no use, she has me in her mindHUD, ready to execute me.
Fearful I have nowhere to run, I prepare my paper parachutes.
Blindly, I chase blaze through a canyon of desire, merely a passenger
through stereophonic technicolor that is her realm.
Mad pace. Bad place. Race over no-man's land to an unknown destination.
I close my eyes, wanting to give in. I force them open, afraid to
remove my eyes lest I mistime my kamikaze explosion.
She giggles and wiggles, moans and groans, pants and pheromones...
louder... louderloUDER!!
GRITEETH
GRINDHIPS
GROWLTHROAT
MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH...
Another victory for Bomber Girl, Captain and Ace Pilot of myLibido.
-*-*-*-
DAT SALAD'S DA BOMB
I'm Chamberlin Hoffested, with your Channel 893 news for the evening.
Our top story is an unusual one at best.
37-year-old Xeckstech mailroom staffer Fahid Dela Fuentes was having
lunch with coworkers when he spotted a miniature A.I. smart bomb
perched atop a forkful of salad he'd all but finished stuffing into his
mouth. Coworkers say Dela Fuentes froze immediately, and began making
soft whimpering noises to get their attention. But before they could
capture the half-dollar sized bomb, it leapt into Dela Fuentes' mouth
and bluejacked his wristwatch, messaging that if he didn't swallow,
it'd detonate itself. Understandably dry mouthed, Dela Fuentes had to
be given nearly eight whole glasses of water before he could get it all
the way down. Panicked friends called the authorities and Dela Fuentes
was rushed to the hospital:
"You know, it was just there. Walking up and down his fork like it
was... daring itself you know. Building up courage or something. Like
those jumpers who climb buildings and then call the police and threaten
to jump. My cousin Vinny did that once you know, and was really
frightening. For a minute there we all thought he was gonna jump-"
"-the bomb, before we knew it, it was in Fahid's mouth, threatening
us through his watch. 'Gulp! Gulp! Or I blow this man to bloody pulp!'
It was incredibly eerie. My sister's husband Jared used to work with
A.I.s in the war. Said they were of a completely different line of
thought. Makes you really wonder about your toaster and the kitchen
disposal unit. I mean, I once dropped my ring down one."
"Yeah, we tried to grab it, but the sucker was slicker 'n snot. Right
into Fahid's mouth. Pfftt! And next thing you know, we're forcing water
inta the guy like he's floatin' Noah's Ark."
No one is sure how the megaton weapon of mass destruction got into the
salad, but Xeckstech commissary spokesperson Jackaline Inset spoke
briefly with re****ters:
"We'd don't believe that any of the workers at the commissary or any
Xeckstech personnel had anything to do with this. We've done a thorough
investigation and we think that the A.I. device may have come in
through on a food supply ****pment from one of our distributors. We are
now working closely with all sources involved to see if we can't
pinpoint where this device originated from. However we don't believe
that any of them are involved either. It may have come in off the
street. Security measures are currently being revamped. Thank you."
Police officials followed up with their own findings stating that they
don't believe that Xeckstech was the target of terrorists or malicious
acts. There is speculation thought that the A.I. might have been trying
to commit suicide. Police consultant and A.I. psychologist Herbert
Maleko enlightened us:
"We are seeing a rise in A.I. suicides recently. At the end of the
war six years back, quite a few of them were reintegrated back into
society without so much as a thank you. These programs are feeling
ignored and no longer wanted. During the war they had purpose and
guidance in their lives. Now they feel their place in society is gone.
Once powerful icons of destruction and fear, they are little more than
household companions making chit chat and coffee for lonely housewives.
This country did them a great disservice by not allowing them to choose
their profession, or not deprogramming them and giving them new
algorithms to look forward to. It's not possible to take an entire life
form out of its natural habitat, relocated it, and expect it to adjust
perfectly. This is the problem we're seeing... and will continue to see
if something isn't done."
Rushed to nearby St. Nuke's, Dela Fuentes was sealed into the emergency
hospital bomb disposal facilities where he was given a highly
concentrated mixture of laxatives and prune juice. Minutes later, Dela
Fuentes passed the rogue weapon directly into a ****table EMP
stasis-field container into which it was sealed and whisked away by
awaiting military programmers. The disposal team and Dela Fuentes were
both relived. Hospital Disposal Unit Director Dr. David Lancast says
that other than a little explosive gas, Mr. Dela Fuentes is in perfect
health and should be ready for work after a few days of tests and
relaxation.
In other news...
-*-*-*-
HARDBOILED HAIKU
ORIENTAL PLEASURES
Broad from overseas
Exotic Asian beauty
Sultry summer lips
DANGEROUS DAMES
Slim pretentious curves
Winter vixen steals my heart
Bullets and hard cash
MUZZLE FLASH BALLET
Muzzle flash ballet
Night autumn rain and bone chill
Spilling blood my own
-*-*-*-
All material copyright 2007 by Made in DNA
For a free PDF version, please visit http://www.lulu.com/content/643053
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