6 – BLACK MAGIC TITTY POWDER

 

The diner was half full. A licorice all-sorts collection of ages, races, shapes and sizes sat at tables, the requisite distance apart from one another. Kitty and Lance scanned the menu, made their choices, summoned the waitress, and placed their orders.

Kitty asked, “Washroom?” The waitress pointed, but added, “No TP, though. Sorry. They won’t stop stealing it. We are advertising that people have to bring their own.”

Kitty laughed, reached into her bag, pulled out a bottle of water, and a handkerchief. “I haven’t used it since this started. Wash and dry. Cleaner, free, no trees sacrificed to the greedy gods who wage an eternal war against our dear, sweet Mother Earth.”

Lance grinned, and said, “Solid reasoning. Unless you are a conscientious objector to rational human hygiene habits, because you stand in solidarity with the toilet paper moguls of the world, and the tax slaves who serve them, and your shitty ass.”

The bemused waitress asked, “You two from Portland?” Kitty and Lance chuckled, but did not answer. “Anything else?” There was nothing else. The boy who would be King, and the girl who would be his Queen, did their business, and returned to the table.

KILLGOD

“What do you do when you’re not searching high and low for conscripts into your coming war against the forces of darkness, at the behest of my father, and whoever he may serve?”

“So far as I know, your father serves neither god, nor man.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Lance, staring into Kitty’s bottomless black eyes.

“I do a bunch of stuff. My current project is a new game.”

“You’re a gamer?”

“I make ‘em, more than play ‘em.”

“And your new game?”

The black eyed beauty let the question hang in the air for a few seconds, staring back into Lance’s big brown eyes. “My new game is gonna sweep round the world faster than this virus.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” Lance waited for more. Kitty gave it to him. “It’s called KILLGOD. All caps.”

Laughing, Lance asked, “As in, KILL… GOD?”

“All caps, one word. KILLGOD.”

“You a Satanist? Seriously.”

“Some would have you believe it, but don’t believe the hype. I don’t worship Satan, or any other fabrication of fools, including the biggest lie of all.”

“Which is?”

“Money. Unlike the people who destroy this planet, and their minions who do the dirty work for them, I do not worship money.”

“You’re a communist?”

“Please. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Interesting. Very interesting. Money takes up a fair amount of space in my book, so I wanna come back to that. But tell me about your game, first. I take it the purpose, the goal, is to KILLGOD.”

“The purpose, as you say, is to KILLGOD. In my game, you have to kill him, before he kills all of us, or forces us into submission, mindlessly worshiping him, at the insistence of his oversized, and voracious ego.”

“Great lead, girl. I’m hooked. Tell me.”

“One of the archangels has discovered that god is going to unleash Armageddon on Earth. He is tired of people not worshiping him 24/7, and has decided to kill us all.”

“I’m sure there are Chistards saying that’s exactly what’s going on now.”

“And sticking their collection plates out to assure your passage into heaven. Martin Luther most certainly did not put an end to indulgences.” Kitty looked around, to see if anyone was eavesdropping. None that she could see, she carried on.

“The archangel, who may or may not be part of a fifth column, tells Satan about God’’s evil plan. Satan says that’s enough of God’s shit. It’s time to kill the narcissist, once and for all.”

“You are a devil worshiper,” Lance laughed.

Kitty ignored the taunt. “Satan calls Jesus on the carpet, and tells him the job falls to him.”

“Jesus is in Hell?”

“That’s where all the cool kids go. God kicked his son out for not worshiping him enough. Like a shitfaced drag queen, God can never be worshiped enough. But he has to tolerate a bit of that, or sit up in Heaven all by his lonesome. But his son would challenge him, so he got the boot. Satan took him in.”

“Hilarious!”

“So, that’s the opening scene. Satan explaining the mission to Jesus. Jesus says, ‘Jesus Christ, what an asshole!’”

Lance burst into laughter.

“You like that one?”

“More! Jesus is going to kill his father?”

“Doesn’t every son want to kill his father? If for no other reason than to satisfy his Oedipus complex?”

“I dunno. Maybe I’m about to find out.”

“Maybe. But Jesus is all for killing the old man. So, the player’s character is Jesus. In order to get to the old man, Jesus must first go back in time to his birth, and avenge the deaths of all the people who have been killed in his name.”

“Brilliant! That’s how players level up. The crusades, witch burnings, all of it.”

“Yes. And when players level up, they get the powers of one of the numerous demigods that God has in jail.”

Love it! So, Jesus gets stronger and stronger, as he progresses on the road to Heaven, to kill the old man. And when he does, he will set all the demigods free. Genius.”

“Thanks. I like it, too. The penultimate level is the battle against the Pope.”

“Would you like to see the Pope on the end of a rope?”

“Do you think he’s a fool?”

“God’s just a name that I read in a book when I was in school.”

“Very good, Lance. Very good.”

“So, once the Pope is swinging, Jesus ascends to Heaven to go mano a mano with god. How hard is it? The whole game?”

“It will take even the greatest gamers a long time. But there are shortcuts built in, for people who can think laterally.”

“What stage are you at? How soon will it be ready?”

“I’m ready to start testing. I held off for you. You’ll be the first.”

“Wow! I am… honoured.”

“You should be.”

“When can I start playing.”

“As soon as we have time to spare.”

“Which is not likely to be anytime soon, I imagine.”

“We’re all gonna need down time in the days ahead. And our mission is not as arduous as you may be thinking. This isn’t a Stephen King book. You’ll have time.”

BLACK MAGIC TITTY POWDER

The waitress appeared with their food. Kitty grabbed the pepper shaker, and applied a healthy dose to her fries. A little too liberal a dose, as it turned out. She felt the sneezing fit coming, and pulled her shirt up and over her face from the bottom. No, Kitty was not wearing a bra. Yes, Kitty has great titties. Yes, she could have pulled the shirt over her face from the top, but Kitty’s not that kinda girl. Kitty’s a tart. And an exhibitionist. And a tease. And she’s damn good at it, bless her soul.

Everyone in the diner stopped what they were doing, and saying, when they heard Kitty’s first sneeze. All eyes were on her, as she jiggled through five, count ‘em, one… two… three… four… five glorious sneezes.

When she was finished, she stood and yelled, “Relax! I just got tested. I am not infected. I just got some pepper up my nose. Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you.” She spoke every word with a suggestive smile, not bothering to stifle her laughter.

When she sat down, one of the male patrons started chanting, “Encore! Encore! As the rest of the patrons followed his lead, Lance said to Kitty, “You did that on purpose, you strumpet! You did that on purpose!”

Kitty smiled, and answered the accusation with a single, drawn out, “Mmmmeeeooowwww!”

The King and Queen to be finished their meals, tipped generously, and made their way toward the door. As soon as they rose, the “Encore! Encore!” chant started afresh, and everyone joined in.

The cooks came out of the kitchen, and banged pots and pans. Two of the waitresses threw themselves across the exits. All were laughing wildly, Kitty included.

Kitty said, “Okay. Okay. Just one more, though. Me and lover boy here are on a mission to save the world, so I don’t have time to be sneezing and jiggling for your entertainment all night.”

Not a sound could be heard when Kitty started the show by throwing a palm full of pepper into the air, sticking her nose into the cloud, and inhaling. The moment her nose started twitching, people burst into thunderclaps of all manner of animal noises. The shirt came up, all the way up, and the place exploded in rapturous exaltation.

After weeks of suffocating in a biblical deluge of non-stop doom and gloom, End Times fatalism, that reign of misery came to a spectacular end. The sun shone gloriously, and dark forests full of scary monsters echoed in laughter, and unbridled joie de vivre. Titty power!

Kitty bested herself by knocking out seven sneezes. No one would have cared if they’d found out that she was faking the last two.

As Kitty somewhat reluctantly pulled her shirt back down, people started shaking pepper out of shakers, and blowing the fine, black magic titty powder in the air. Within seconds, every girl in the place had her shirt up over her face, and was sneezing like mad.

This went on for, well, how, exactly, does one measure time when there are glorious titties bouncing all over the place?  Let’s just say it went on for glorious moment of time, that none who were there will ever forget. Even if they lapse into dementia, years later, they will remember the sheer joy they shared that one night in Des Moines.

When Kitty finally decided it really was time to get back on the road, she implored everyone to  “Calm the fuck down!” That took a full minute. Kitty grinned and said, “Remember, boys, there’s no TP in the washroom! So save it for your dates, or for the girls on Pornhub.”

They could hear the roars of laughter back in Omaha.

“Remember,” Kitty said, calming the crowd once again, “the name of the game is KILLGOD!” She threw her adoring fans the double devil horns, and repeated, “The name of the game is KILLGOD.”

The spellbound mob started chanting,

The name of the game is KILLGOD!

The name of the game is KILLGoD!,

The name of the game is KILLGOD!”

As Kitty yelled, “See y’all in Hell, motherfuckers,” and opened the door, Lance stuffed a pepper shaker into his pocket, and followed his Queen of the Night into the night.

7 – NOT THIS TIME BANKSTERS

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