Kat Zen Jammer vs. Kandy Fontaine, Slutty Kaiju Detective
Former San Francisco Sexpert turned Buddhist porn star Kat “Zen” Jammer (also lead singer of Kat Zen and the Kulcha Jammers) passed out in a flood of fluids. Kandy Fontaine, former FBI agent turned Slutty Detective and often Kaiju Monster Stripper leaned over her with a crop whip.
“We’re not through yet,” she told the semi-conscious Jammer. “I still need some discipline ‘cos bad grrrl.”
Kat murmured something incoherent and put up a feeble paw. “I’m too blurry to wield the whip now,” she said. A trickle of drool rolled down her cheek. “Besides, didn’t you have a date with Today’s Tom Sawyer? Wasn’t he going to hook you up with some bio-snuff? And hey, while you too are at it like mad monkeys having mad monkey porn sex, could you save some in a can or whatnot for me?”
“The carpet fibers are greenglowing and licking muh pores,” said Kandy from a million miles away (but, given conditions of Quantum phys-ed-ics, right next door…her pussy was dribbling quantum foam as she spoke languorously, then sped up until she sounded like Bugs Bunny huffing helium).
“I sort of lost the…narrative thread,” said Kat Zen. “But what-evahs.”
“It did unravel,” returned Kandy, a quick volley that bounced around the room, hit the tips of some gack-infused carpet fibers, did a meta-watusi and returned, chastened and reformed, to rehab, heads hung low-brow).
The two alphabet wimmen lay side by side. Kandy began to dwindle and virtually disappear until her head sunk further into the carpet and her pores got rockem-sock-em gackified.
“I do believe there’s some bio-snuff in there as well,” she said.
“I thought bio-snuff leaked and became ambient…whatever is in there must be weak ginger beer.”
A knock at Kandy’s apartment door. Instinctively reaching for her Glock 9.
“I’ll blow a motherfucker’s brains through his occiput,” she purred.
“Holy shit, lady…” came a garbled voice on the other side. Then the knocking renewed, but more tentative.
“Today’s?”
“Yeppers, that would be me. But hey listen, Kandy, I don’t feel like having my brains blown through the back of muh skull today. For one thing, shit hurts and it takes me at least 72 hours and a metric shit-ton of bio-snuff to revive, providing we generate enough through orgone entanglement.”
“That’s the word I forgot earlier. The one that goes with Quantum.”
“Whatever…are you going to let me in?”
“Ok ok ok. You want Kat Zen? We could have a three-way.”
“All right.”
Like a savage, unhinged, erotic game of Twister. Their bodies clenched and clinched. Mostly Kandy went down on folks, enjoying Today’s fearsome long pole and Kat’s remarkably savory pussy juices. They soul-kissed together, went to the bed, tried bondage except whilst being edged, Kandy went into a feeding frenzy and ate one of Kat’s eyeballs a la the late Jesus Gonzales.
“Ow!!! Bitch what the actual fuck?”
“You’ll regrow it, cunt. With enough bio-snuff ov course. And we have generated sufficient. Today’s, did you remember the can? Not the Pringle’s can…or the tennis ball can.”
“I brought a can-do attitude.”
“What the SHIT,” screamed Kat. “CUNT. HAIRY UNRIGHTEOUS PILLAR OF CUNTY CUNT HAIR FROM HADES. CUM BACK HERE.” But Kandy was halfway to Kaiju Land and had head-burst through the ceiling, incinerated and devoured the burnt n’ krispy remains of their upstairs neighbor and was beginning to chow down on her roommate Karl when the door shattered and the po-po burst in. Kandy grew even bigger, and a wall of flames burst out, turning the men in blue into black-roasted drippy tenders.
Today’s attempted to inch out the door, pushing aside a wad of partially-burnt copper in the process. More police came in. Kandy put up an Irving Klaw. More flames, more kaiju mayhem. Flickers of Kathy Acker motorcycle began to inlay themselves recursively down her spine; her head was replaced with a part parrot, part-cyborg fun pack and became embedded in a Mondo narrative involving fun pocket dimensions. The narrative grew extra-cloudy. Robert Crumb crawled in hot on the trail of a big-ass woman…Janis Joplin followed wailing “Ball and Chain”…the edges of the comix panel caught fire…Kat’s eyeball started its own comix series…Kathy Acker rewrote the narrative featuring her motorcycle…the parrot ascended to the dictatorship and merged completely with its cyborg counterpart…the narrative detonated in a massive fireball and blew Tokyo away…and orange ya glad this nightmare is over? Again.
Thee End.
