Context: The first festival day is already over, John and Alex have returned home, lying on the bed. For more context, refer to the earlier teasers (link below), or this post.
He’s trying so hard to be sweet---licking my face now, more lover than alpha dog up here, this after having licked my balls, and my dick, more alpha-dog down there, drawing a semi-semi erection that soon folded because I’m too exhausted after seven breathless days. Plus, him just being nice is so much nicer than him just fucking me, especially after the two pissing-outside-the-tent events we (he) had today, with the flashes of his adult part inside Albert and Godehart still fresh on my mind. “Enough atonement,” he says finally and arranges himself with the back against the pillow against the bed head, pulls the blanket over my limbs, and reaches for his iPad, caressing my tousled hair, absent-mindedly, his palm resting on my crane, two fingers fidgeting with my hairline.
This is the first time we’re just chillin’, just being there, just being a box of sleepy kittens. Perhaps I should fill him in about his past a bit, some basic stuff he needs to know, things I know, but then I know very little and want to avoid talking about his mother, especially about her death at the age of ten (his), the only thing I know about her, the catastrophe that triggered his depression.
He’s reading. He’s reading up on vampire trivia, because we will have to prep Godehart for tomorrow, and for the debate on Tuesday—he says: “Did you know that there are 94 different ways to kill a vampire ,"---we don’t really need to know this (he interrupts himself), nobody knows, and everybody has Wikipedia, and the festival program is ours, nobody is prepared for this, we’ll prep the mayor with an email he can print out. You want to sleep, he asks. Yes, I want to sleep, but I’m trying to stay awake while it lasts. The light goes on in the kitchen, Maurice is taking a leak, he’s heard our voices, what happened? “Absurdia,” Alex says.
“A new word?” Maurice asks.
“No, it’s not, somebody had the scoop in 2006,” Google says.
The web site, did it work out? Yes, like a dreamboat, Hamblin eating from our script. He’s avowedly hands-off, the mayor, Alex says, farms out everything. He must have felt the witching hour approaching and googled for “Georgia Beach Festival” and ended up on our site. Remember I switched the color scheme, I say, to make printing easier. Yes, good move. There’s no infrastructure? Yes, there is, or was, but Neill’s pledge, the hundred kay pledge for the prize has possibly triggered a few hasty moves, like the City Club idea, and confusion reigns supreme. Is the prize official now? No it’s not. But there are rumors, or rumors about rumors. And the crowd? The crowd grew throughout the evening and the uplink dish from TVToo showed up. And the jury. Yes, John’s on the jury, which was off today because it was the Mayor’s Day, Hamblin having to eliminate two of the contestants personally. Not one, two? Yes, two, because of Godehart. And? Well, he had a go at them, the mayor, like in the Bible, version 0.9. Remember our shot at pirañha ponds, they took it literally, someone from the banana boat rental on the beach had improvised a contraption that looked like an inflatable drawbridge and quacked like a drawbridge and drew like a drawbridge, save for wrong direction (downward), plus inflatable PVC-fish with inflatable shark-maws sitting on the ground as fall-breakers, to provide an air of authenticity. And, a Christmas-tree light-strip running to the mayor’s makeshift control panel with the red button, flashing all the time, the light strip, more like a Walmart Christmas light strips than a Nordstrom Christmas light strips that doesn’t flash. The mayor made a big show of it, lining up the contestants, everybody wearing fang dentures in a snub at the Twilight franchise, sending off (the mayor) the first contestant, Godehart, in his Bavarian crotch shorts, which was a complete giveaway, because obviously you wouldn’t harm the first in line, makes no sense stage-craft-wise, drum-rolls from very local drum-roll artists accompanying Godehart on the precarious path to bridge, Godehart covering his head with his hands, simulating awe and fear, cheers from the crowd, drum-rolls crescendoing, Godehart with his first foot on the bridge, his the second foot, his full weight, the Walmart-Christmas-light-strip flashing alarmingly, nothing happens, Godehart survives. Second candidate, a woman nobody has ever heard of who’s toast now, in a nice play on stage-craft, you wouldn’t normally kill the second in line either, but no, the woman who’s toast now arrives on the bridge, and, the moment Dr. No would push the button because this guest at his dinner table had asked the wrong question about the pirañha pond in the middle of the dining room, this moment the mayor pushes the button, the draw bridge draws (inversely), the woman is toast and lands on the mean-looking, fall-breaking PVC-pirañhas and erupts in tears. The third candidate is Richard Roper. We know this because each candidate was introduced to the crowd, and because Roper is Romeo’s sugar daddy, the kid that had returned from the trailer under the pretext of buying junk food from Ben and alighted on a folding chair next to Juliette, who then asked more questions about Romeo & Juliet & so on...
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GREEN EYES. The first part is out now, available as Kindle book on Amazon, under this link:
Go here for the previous teaser of This is heaven, here for the next teaser, and here for a choice of chapters of the Green Eyes.