Madonna was gob-smacked and slack-jawed by Kitty’s oratorical prowess. It was, for the Queen of Pop, worth every cent the King of Horror was going to have to shell out for the command performance, and she was almost quivering as she waited for the coup de grace.

King just hoped that he would not have to endure his illegitimate son’s mocking, faux whimpering again.

Kitty got back to the business at hand.

“The aliens are waiting, Stephen. They are waiting for you to say something. Say anything. They can’t even be bothered to ask any questions of you, because they know you have no answers. And like them, I’ve heard it all before.”

Kitty was now smirking herself, as she paced the floor, back and forth.

“Our superiors, who have replaced us at the top of the planet’s food chain, are giddy in anticipation of a feeble attempt at justifying humanity’s monstrous treatment of creatures below us in the food chain. They want to hear it from the world renowned wordsmith, the King of Horror himself. They are aching to see how you react to a real life horror show that you have no control over. They know, from their own up close and personal experiences, and eons of the same experiences that have been imprinted into their DNA by their forebears, that you have nothing to say. And although they have experienced it so, so many times before, like closet-case drag queens turning out for another All Hallows’ Eve screening of Ricky Horror, with handbags full of toast, they never tire of it.

“Your own logic is the trap they have sprung on you, and there is no escape. Your twisted perversion of logic has fused with the blatantly transparent hypocrisy of claiming to be humane, to damn you, and doom those you love, who are desperately crying out for your help, pain soaked into every shriek.

Madonna gleefully took the cue, “Stephen! Help me, Stephen! I don’t want to die. Please, save me. Say something. Don’t let them smash my head into a bloody pulp with a twenty pound hammer.”

Madonna’s cackle triggered Lance, who chimed in, “Father. I forgive you for deserting us. Please, father, the illegitimate son that you have forever denied is begging you to save me. Don’t let them kill me. Do you not love me?”

When her accomplices quelled their mocking laughter, Kitty continued. “So, what are you going to say, Mr. Macabre? Huh? Are you going to say that we have to eat animals to survive, or to be healthy, at the very least? Are you seriously going to try that misguided gambit, when the world’s millions upon millions of vegetarians and vegans are living proof that it’s a lie? That would be an extraordinary claim, would it not? Yet you have zero extraordinary evidence to back it up, do you? Fuck no, you do not.”

Miss Kaboodle stopped pacing. She looked straight into King’s now dead eye. She cracked her knuckles, eliciting a quick shriek of idolatrous laughter from Madge, and poured it on, her voice rising and falling.

“Are you going to attempt to claim ignorance? Are you going to say that you really didn’t know any better? You have heard that ignorance of the law is no defense, especially when it comes to capital crimes, haven’t you? And if you don’t call 20 million counts of murder, per day, a capital crime, what the fuck do you call it? Genocide would work, if we weren’t breeding them, solely to be slaughtered, just as is about to happen to us.”

King was visibly cringing. Lance thought he might start twitching, and lose his shit. But Kitty poured it on. He was gonna get his million bucks worth.

“Do you get a little squeamish at the thought that one day your great granddaughter is going to be snatched away from your granddaughter, as soon as she clears the vagina, to be skinned, sliced, and diced, because baby meat is more tender? Do you feel the pain of your granddaughter? Do you think cows don’t feel that same pain when their calves are taken from them to make veal parmesan? Do you think animals are incapable of feeling pain? That they are incapable of feeling love? Do you think your dog doesn’t love you? Are you going to try to claim that you are that fucking ignorant? Because the aliens are just waiting for you to do so, because they will fall down laughing their asses off, while rolling in the blood of your loved ones, when you do.”

Leaning forward, Kitty pointed her rigt index finger at King, and grinning saucily she asked, “How do you like me now, meatmouth?”

Lance and Madonna laughed hysterically. Kitty waited for them to calm their tits before continuing. “Are you going to tell the aliens that you have never heard of the concept of karma? Well, the aliens are your fucking karma, dude, and humanity’s karma bill has been past due for a very long time.

“But don’t get the idea that the aliens are incapable of humanity. No, not at all. They’ve released all the animals from all the zoos in the world, and left it to the veggies and vegans to tend to them. And all those human carcasses you see all around you? Not one vegan, not one veggie.  But the veggies are gonna have to go all in, if they are to join us, as the only humans left on Earth who are not being farmed.”

Turning to Lance, Kaboodle smiled and said, “Lance’s guy, Daffy Donald, has it nailed. It’s all about the money, money, money. It’s an industry. Moe than a trillion bucks a year. Avarice and sadism, that’s what the meat industry is. And you and all the other meatmouths of the planet are balls deep into the filthy shit, and loving it. So, talk to me about socio-economic evolution in the post-Corona world, and how carnivorism fits into it, smart ass. But hold those thoughts, if indeed you have any, for a while, because I’m not finished.”




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