Walking back to the Chateau Laurier, Kitty passed a bank of old pay phones. She took note of them, and chuckled at the idea of living in the world before everyone had a phone on their person at all times.

An errant thought, that she found particularly funny, flashed into her mind; what if someone from the past called one of those phones, rigt now? And rigt then, one of the phones rang.

The girl spun in a circle to see if anyone nearby was watching her, and laughing. Nothing. No one. Not even VoV. But since VoV wasn’t there, there could be no danger in a ringing phone, rigt?

Having already wasted five seconds that, so far as she knew, would never come back, Kitty made the decision to leg it to the phone.

Shoe got the receiver in her hand just in time to hear a female voice urging her to, “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.”

Scanning the phone for some kind of slot to slide some kind of card into, Kitty saw none. Just a coin slot. Who the fuck carries $25 in coins with them? Is this some kind of Canadian prank?

“Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call,” the female in her ear. Now, behind the operator’s voice, Kitty could hear someone breathing. Breathing fairly heavily.

“I don’t have twenty five dollars,” Kitty pleaded, hoping for a response, not even sure if there was another human on the line, or a bot. The breathing got a little faster, and heavier, in the background. “Hello? Hello? I can hear you breathing. Who are you? Where are you? What is your name? What do you want?”

“Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.”

This time Kitty screamed, “I don’t have twenty five fucking dollars. Just put the call through. This is an emergency!”

The pace of the operator’s voice picked up, never giving any indication if it was flesh and blood, or AI, “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.” Faster, “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.” Faster, “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.” And then the phone went dead.

Kitty slammed the receiver into the cradle, then picked it up again, putting it to her ear. She repeated the process twice more, before she heard another pay phone, this one fifty yards away, ringing. She bolted for the ringing phone, lunging for the receiver when she got to it,” Hello?” she screamed.

“Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.” And, again, in the background, heavy breathing. “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.” No card slot on the phone, there was nothing else for Kitty to do, but stare at the machine in disbelief.

The voice dropped off, and the phone went dead. As soon as it did, the first phone rang again. Kitty was in no hurry, this time. As she sauntered towards it, however, the coin return slot started spitting out coins.

When Kitty got to the phone, it was still paying out like a cheap Reno slot machine. She picked up the receiver, but the phone kept ringing, as it rained nickels. They poured out of the phone as if the machine had a direct connection to the Royal Canadian Mint, a kilometer away.

The moment Kitty bent down to the ground to pick up the coins, she knew there would be five hundred of them.

Sure enough, there were. Five hundred shiny, new five cent coins, every one of them minted in the year 2025, five years into the future.

The moment she stopped counting was the moment the phone stopped ringing.

Kitty waited, hoping that the phone she was standing at would be the one to ring. It was not. It was, I fact, another phone, twenty yards away.

Tired of the game, Kitty, flipped the bird at the ringing phone, then spun in a circle giving the finger to anything, and anyone who might be watchdog from anywhere, including space.

As soon as she completed her 360 degree turn, the phone she was standing next to rang. “Please deposit twenty five dollars to accept this call.”

It took her just over seven minutes to jam all five hundred of the nickels into the phone. While Kitty was plugging the machine, she repeatedly told the breather to hang on, just a bit longer.

“Please deposit fifteen cents to accept this call. Please deposit five cents to… thank you. Go ahead.”

“Hello?” Kitty said. “Hello?” Breathing. Nothing more than breathing. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Then a bit of laughter came to her ear. Shrill laughter. “Oh, fuck you!” Kitty Kaboodle yelled. “Fuck you, you fucking fuck!”

Then there was s a voice. Just a voice. No more laughter. Just a voice, singing, “It’s so very lonely, I’m ten thousand light years from home.” It was Daisy’s voice. There was no doubt about it. But before Kitty could speak, the operator cut in again, “Please deposit twenty five dollars to continue this call.”

Kitty finally noticed the graffiti scrawled above the phone:







Underneath the message was a signature; questionMark.

Before she hung up and walked away, Kitty could clearly hear the sound of a snort coming from the operator.



Often interested in what was going on inside Daisy’s head, Margot wanted to see what was going on inside Daisy’s head while under the influence of psychedelics. “There’s a sillysaurus living inside her head,” her son had said of his at-the-time girlfriend. “He’s big, and purple, and has a long neck. And he just runs around all night, pulling levers and laughing.” Indeed! Let’s see that sillysaurus on acid, Margot said to herself.

The guru invited the girl to spend the night at Anarchia on Candy Mountain. Daisy happily accepted the offer.

While the girl was in her bedroom, gathering some things for the overnight stay, Margot made a quick call to her house, hoping Kitty would understand the call was for her, and answer the phone. She did. Margot told Kitty all was fine, and that she should head back to Ottawa, adding that she would fill her in later. Kitty agreed, and disappeared back to her suite in the Chateau Laurier.

After listening to the top of the hour news update on CKPR as they drove south, Margot asked Daisy, “What do you make of what’s going on in the world?” She was not disappointed with Daisy’s summation.

“It’s crazy! It’s as if Alice has eaten all the brown acid. She’s jumped down the rabbit hole, wearing a suicide vest. She’s looking for the manager, with whom she wants to discuss her multiple childhood traumas, but she’s gibbering pure Jabberwocky, and no one knows what the fuck she is saying, pardon my French. Everyone is infested with fleas. No one has any Thorazine.”

Not wanting to derail the LSD fueled runaway locomotive chugging through Daisy’s head, Margot bit her tongue, and let the girl ramble.

“Life is just a circus,” Daisy told her. “Each one of us is a circus unto ourselves, but the circus masters are the sperm and eggs inside us. We’re just monkeys, trying to get off the planet. The sperm and eggs are in control of it all. They are dictating everything we do. They just want us to fuck and fuck and keep on fucking, pardon my French. The whole point is to evolve, to grow smart enough to figure out how to get out of this matrix. And deep down, somewhere inside us all, our monkeyselves are laughing, and saying, ‘Just launch the damn rockets already!’ We’re all just monkeys trying to get off the planet.”

Daisy stopped to see what, if anything, Margot thought of her theory. Margot just smiled, which was all the encouragement the girl needed to keep kicking cans down the road of existential philosophy.

“I’m gonna marry the next boy I fall in love with,” Daisy announced.

“That’s wonderful,” Margot replied. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, and the lucky boy, whoever he may be.”

“Thank you, Miss Margot,” Daisy gushed. “You’re invited to the wedding. But if you can’t make it to the first one, you’re invited to the next one, too.”

“You’re gonna spread the wealth around, marry more than one boy?”

“No, no. Just one boy. But I’m gonna divorce him. And marry him again. And again. I’m only gonna have sex with him when we’re married. When we’re divorced, I can do anyone I want, and it’s okay, ‘cause I won’t be cheating, ‘cause I ain’t married. And he can go jam it in any hole he wants to, too, when we’re divorced.”

Laughing, Margot admitted, “That’s a brilliant idea. But you’re gonna be doing a lot of paperwork.”

“I’m gonna hire someone to do all the paper work, ‘cause there gonna be a lot more than just wedding license applications.” Margot raised her eyebrows and waited.

“I’m gonna change my name. Every day.” Margot burst into laughter, which made Daisy do the same, and continue. “Ima change my name every day. So, when a cop pulls me over, and asks what my name is, I can say, ‘Fucked if I know, pardon my French, what day is it? And if I’m lucky, it’ll be the day my name is Phuk Yu. So, when the cop asks me what my name is, I can say, ‘Phuk Yu,’ and there ain’t sweet F A he can do about it, ‘cause my name really is Phuk Yu. Pardon my Vietnamese.”

Margot loved this game, so Daisy carried on with it. “And one day, I will change my name to Tairist Groop, so it will be illegal to be me, and that’ll really mess ‘em up. I mean, what are they gonna o? Put me in jail just for being me?”

Oh, yeah, it was gonna be an interesting night at Anarchia on Candy Mountain.



“You know what I don’t understand?” Daisy asked Margot, as they sat next to a crackling fire, under the stars.

“Daisy! I’m disappointed. I thought you were gonna understand everything when that acid started to kick in.”

“Oh, jeez, Miss Margot, everything is a lotta understanding. I don’t think I took that much acid. But maybe it will just keep rising, and I’ll turn into one of them Buddhist monkeys, and become one with the universe.”

“You’re too young and pretty to become a Buddhist monkey, Daisy.”

“Aw, thank you, Miss Margot, You’re so sweet.” Margot smiled, but said nothing. Daisy filled the sonic vacuum, “I don’t understand how people don’t understand kids. I mean, everyone was one, once upon a time. If I turn into a three headed, purple buffalo tonight, I’m gonna remember what it was like to be a three headed, purple fluffalo tomorrow, and every day after, for the rest of my life, so how hard can it be to understand children?”

Margot wondered if she had ever turned into a three headed, purple fluffalo when she was tripping on acid. If she had, she’d forgotten all about it, and the possibility made her just a little sad.

Daisy was too far inside her own head to be pondering what Margot was pondering in silence, so she moved a few degrees to the left, and continued, on a tangent. “People spend a lotta money on child psychologists, trying to figure out what’s wrong with their kids. But they’re just pissing away their money, ‘cause what the Hell does an adult know about being a kid? Sure, they was one once, but like the rest of the grown-ups, they forgot all that stuff a long time ago. They don’t teach anyone to be a child in university, so what the Hell? Why bother giving them all that money? They all just fakin’ it, the bunch of phony baloneys.”

“Well, what do you do when your child has psychological problems, Daisy?”

“Well, first of all, you gotta figure out if they actually do have psychological problems. So, you start by asking them, and talking to them.”

“I’m pretty sure every parent does that, long before taking the kid to see a doctor, Daisy.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do, too, but they ain’t doin’ it rigt.” Daisy turned her chair, so she could look straight into Margot’s eyes, without having to twist her neck. “The answer is real simple. The solution, I mean.”

“What’s the solution, Daisy?”

“Get the little shits drunk.”

Margot thought the idea both hilarious and brilliant. She wasn’t going to run for a seat on the local school board with it as a campaign promise, but she might vote for someone who did. “Because people talk about their problems when they’re drunk!”

“Boy, do they. You know it, Miss Margot. They talk and talk, and talk, and cry, and laugh, and cry some more. Then they have a few more drinks, and then they call their drug dealer. Then they get on Facebook and tell everyone they love them all, or hate them all, and tell them all, the ones they love, and the ones they hate, how they wouldn’t be so fucked up if their mothers had just bought them that pony they wanted, when they was little.”

Having done exactly that, once or twice, long years ago, Margot kept on laughing as she listened.

“I mean, what the Hell is Bailey’s for, if not for kids? You can drink a damn barrel of the stuff and not get drink, if you weigh more than fifty pounds, so whoever made it made it for kids. They made it to put all those phony baloney child psychologists outta business, prolly ‘cause one of ‘em prolly fucked their head up even worse, when they was a messed up kid.

“Wee Billy Bailey, the little Irish leprechaun lush, who’d had a real bad childhood, it was him. He invented Bailey’s, for to get the little kids talkin’ ‘bout what’s bothering ‘em.

“Feed the little shits a couple shots of Bailey’s, and the little shits will spill the beans, I guarantee it.

“The little shits’ll tell you all about the little boy, or little girl they have a crush on. They’ll tell ya, how the teacher be smellin’ like mommy and daddy do, the day after an Italian wedding, all the time.

“They’ll tell ya that they ain’t shit in a week, and have been fakin’ goin’ to the bathroom, ‘cause they don’t wanna get into trouble for not shittin’, ‘cause you’re supposed to do it regular like, and you’re bad if you don’t.

“And if you feed the little shits enough Bailey’s, and the little shits’ll drink it, for sure, ‘cause it tastes like candy, they’ll get so drunk they’ll shit their little pants, and half their problems will be over with.

“Then buy them the damn pony they want, with the money you’re savin’ from not payin; the phony baloneys, and everything’ll be fine with the kid.

“Or would be, if they could just figger out how to make the ones they crushin’ on fall in love with ‘em, and Bailey’s is prolly the answer for that problem, too.”

“Poo is very important, in oh, so many ways,” said Margot.

“Darn tootin’! And that you never know, until you cannot go.” The girl, who apparently had suffered from constipation at some point in her young life, looked up to the stars for five seconds. Then she looked into the fire for five seconds. Then she looked at Margot, and said, “We need a new superhero.”

Nodding her agreement, Margot agreed, “You can never have too many superheroes.”

“He comes from Planet Poo,” Daisy declared. “His superpower is that he can make anyone shit, at anytime.”

“Oh, dear,” Margot laughed, “you’ve really done it, this time, Daisy. You’ve cracked it wide open.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Can you imagine? Can you imagine how much suffering he could save the world? Not only the poor people who can’t poo, but all those who end up being victimized by them, when they just can’t take it no more. I bet half the wars in the world are started by people who just can’t shit.”

“You know, I think I came across a Wikipedia page about that, a while back.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said, even though she hadn’t heard a word. “But Pooman, should we call him Pooman?”

“That will probably work better than Colonic Irrigation Man. Pooman is much more kid friendly.”

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed, although she hadn’t heard a word. “But Pooman, he can prevent crime, all sorts of crime. If a bad cop is about to give you a ticket for some bullshit, Pooman can show up and make the cop shit his pants, rigt then, rigt there.

“That cop ain’t never gonna bother finishing writing that ticket. His whole fucking mind is gonna freeze, then explode.

“The only thing he gonna be thinkin’ is, ‘Holy shit. I just shit myself. How the fuck did that happen? WTF do I do about this? I just shit myself.’ Then he just gonna walk away, mumbling to himself, and trying to figure out how can fix this shit, without anyone ever finding out ‘bout it, ‘cause he ain’t never gonna hear the end of it, if someone finds out he shit himself.

“And Pooman can to that to anyone, anytime he wants!”

Thoroughly amused, but just a little worried, Margot asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom, Daisy?”

Daisy found the question hilarious. After she stopped laughing her ass off, she answered, “I do! But I can’t poo! Quick, call Pooman!”

“You know where the bathrooms are, girl. Just holler if you fall in.”

Smiling, daisy replied, “No, I’m just foolin’ with you. I don’t have to go to the loo, to make poo. But I think I need to lie down a while. Just close my eyes and shut up for a bit, ‘cause I’m getting’ really high. I ain’t never been this high before.”

Taking the girl by the hand, Margot put her down close enough to the fire to be warm. “Just hang on a couple seconds. Let me fix a tether to you, so you don’t fly away.”

Margot pout both hands on Daisy’s head, and the girl said, “Wow, Miss Margot, I can feel you inside my head. Oh, it feels so good. Thank you! I can feel you. I can feel you keeping me safe.”

Removing her hands from Daisy’s head, Margot said, “Okay, you’re clear for lift off, Daisy cosmonaut. If you feel like you’re slipping away, or if you feel afraid of anything, just holler, and I will pull you back to me.”



When the citizens of the twin towns of Fort William and Port Arthur voted, in 1970, to merge their burgs into a single municipal jurisdiction, they did not settle on the name Thunder Bay based on an affection for hyperbole.

When Nanibijou gets pissy because the little Mrs. chose to while away a day watching soaps, instead of preparing dinner for him, things get loud on the north shore of Lake Superior.

Judging by the ferocity of the thunder boomer that exploded over Candy Mountain, on a night that had been clear and tranquil, one might suspect that the Indian God had more to gripe about than a bowl of cold porridge.

Indeed, one might think that Nanny had walked in on the Mrs. while she was arched up on her shoulder blades, and screaming ecstatically as she was being pounded by some other God, perhaps one of the Nordic interlopers who started making incursions into Indian country when the region’s Scandinavian invaders first arrived.

If that were the case on the particular night we speak of, and that particular Norse God happened to be Thor, Thunderheads were in for a battle royale, and Margot suspected it might be so.

So, when Daisy sat bolt uprigt when the first thunder clapper boomed above, Thunder Babe greeted the girl by saying, “Welcome back, Space Girl. It sounds like we’re in for a doozy, Daisy.”

Wide eyed and a little wooly headed, Space Daisy agreed, “Boy, does it ever?!”

“Such a shame. It looked and sounded like you were having one Hell of a trip, girl.”

“Boy, was I ever! It was crazy, even for Daisy.”

“Tell me,” Margot said with great expectations.

“So much strange! So cool.”

“Tell me!”

“I was just a little girl. Maybe four or five years old. But I was an African. I was in Africa. In some sorta refugee camp. I was so hungry. Starving. There were thousands of us little kids, all of us starving. Big beer bellies. Covered in mud, and shit, and flies.

“There was this old, white guy, with too many teeth for his mouth. And all them teeth were as white as a fresh blanket of snow, all shiny and sparkly. He musta paid a million bucks for a set of choppers like that, even though the dentist made too many teeth for his big mouth. Which was strange, ‘cause his head was as big as a beach ball. I guess the dentist never made a set of choppers for a mouth that big before.

“Anyway, the old, white guy was blabbering at us, telling us we could grow up to be anything we wanted to be. We could be rich and famous. We could be doctors, or lawyers, or even astronauts, which I found kinda funny, ‘cause I had to pass through the Horsehead Nebula to get to Africa, so I already was an astronaut.

“But none of us cared ‘bout none of that, ’cause all we wanted was food. And I was the only one that could speak English, anyway, and he was blabbering at us with that big, million dollar mouth of his in English.

“So, he was blabberin’ and blabberin’, and we was all just sayin’ ‘Food. Food. Hungry. Food’ But he wasn’t listenin’ to us, or maybe he was, ‘cause he was getting’ annoyed.

“But he just kept blabberin’ and blabberin’, like some kinda preacher, but he wasn’t offerin’ to fix what ails any of us, by puttin’ us into a trance and smackin’ us in the head with a Bible, and stealin’ our wallets.

“He kept tellin’ us to visualize where we wanted to be in life, a year from now.

“But we just kept sayin’ ‘Food. Food. Hungry. Food. Dyin’. Food.’ And then the girl who was sittin’ next to me in the dirt died. She just fuckin’ died, rigt there beside me, rigt in front of the dude who ain’t givin’ us no food.

“Then the dude who weren’t givin’ us no food said, ‘No. You don’t need food. If I give you food today, you will just be hungry again, tomorrow.

“So, I said, ‘WTF dude? We all gonna be dead tomorrow, if you don’t give us no fuckin’ food today.’ And all the kids just kept moanin’, ‘Food. Hungry. Dyin’ Food,’ And then the boy on the others side of me died. And then kids started dyin’ all over the place.

“And the vultures, hundreds of ‘em, was circlin’ above, and the flies were buzzin’ as loud as bumble bees.

“Then beach ball head got all snarky. He said, ‘Fuck it. I can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves.’

“Then he saw me, and noticed I was white. So he said, ‘Hey, you. You wanna come with me?’

“And I said, ‘Just bring us some fuckin; food, you fuckin’ rich cock sucker!’ But I guess he thought he was gonna play Jesus, for me, the white girl, ‘cause he walked down to where I was sittin’, in the dirt.

“He stepped around all the dead kids, and shook off the ones who were pawin’ at him with their scrawny little arms, and said, ‘Come with me, little girl. I will save you. I will teach you to think and grow rich.’

“So I spat on him. I spat as high as I could, tryin’ to get it rigt in his face, but it only reached as high as his crotch. And I said, ‘Fuck you,. Your father was a platypus. A one-amred lumberjack. And your mother was a bilge badger sherry lush, and she beat him with an avocado coloured toilet brush.’

“So beach ball head got all indignant like. He turned, and ran to his helicopter. It was baby blue, and had two foot tall letters on the side; U and N.

“And he opened the door, and jumped inside. That damn helicopter was fulla cash money. Musta been a billion bucks inside it.  They musta just robbed the biggest bank in whatever country we was in

“Then he flew up into the sky, and the blades of the helicopter shredded a buncha the buzzards, and they came rainin’ down on us.

“So, all the kids who was still alive started fightin’ over the dead buzzards, ‘cause we was so hungry, and they was just waitin’ for to eat us, so it was okay for us to eat them, even for me, even though I been vegan since I was born.”

When it was clear that Daisy had finished telling her tale, Margot said, “Wow! That’s really twisted, Daisy. Are you okay?”

Daisy shrugged her shoulders and gave Margot an assuring smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. It was all so real, and real intense, but it’s not like that’s my reality. That’s not my life. Hell, I am the Queen of La-di-da compared to the kids who live that shit every day of their lives. The fuck do I have to complain about?”

Margot nodded her head, and said, “And that’s when the thunder boomer blasted you back here?”

“Oh, Hell no, Miss Margot. That was just the start of the trip, I went to more weird places than that.”

“Tell me!”



Before Daisy could launch into the tale of her next LSD expedition into the infinite and surreal expanses of her inner mind, Margot stopped her, “Wait. You said you were starving. Do you want something to eat, or was that an inner body hallucination?”

Shaking her head and waving her hands, Daisy chuckled and answered, “No! The whole idea of food is so absurd when you’re on acid. Putting something in my mouth, and chewing on it? Swallowing it and turning it into poo? Well, that’s kinda interesting in a strange, kinda disgusting way, but not compelling enough to try it. But I am kinda thirsty, though. It’s pretty hot in Africa.”

Tickled to be in the company of such an entertaining creature, Margot said, “Yes, of course. Silly me. Of course it’s hot in Africa. C’mon, let’s move inside and hydrate you, you poor, parched cosmonaut.”

Telling Daisy to stretch herself out on the couch, Margot asked, “What’s your pleasure?”

“An ice cold beer would be good. Something light, maybe?”

“Beaver Duck?”

“Perfect. Thank you so much. You’re so sweet.”

The gals cracked their Beaver Ducks, and saluted each other in the customary fashion, “Quack quack quack,” took deep drafts, and sighed satisfactorily at the fruity yum-yum of the brew. “Is this the first time you’ve ever hallucinated?” Margot asked.

“First time like that, yeah. I ain’t never been fully immersed into a scene before. I’ve always been a spectator, and it’s only ever gotten so far as a kinda really fantastic light show. Fractals and faces kinda thing. But I was rigt inside of that one. I mean I was a starving kid in Africa.

“It was insane in the membrane, Miss Margot. Holy shit. Just crazy. I mean, I’m still high as fuck, and that was fun as fuck, but I’m kinda glad it’s over.

“That’s fascinating daisy. You were never scared? Not scared now?”

“No, not for a second.”

“And you’re sure you remembered it all rigt?”

“Sure as grandma’s go gout, Miss Margot.”

Margot showed her phone to Daisy and asked, “is this the guy with the beach ball head?”

“Holy shit, Miss Margot. It is. I mean, it was more a caricature of him, but that’s him for real and true. Who the Hell is it?”

“His name in Tony Robbins. He’s the biggest, most successful motivational guru in the world. Has been for decades.”

What the Hell does it mean, Miss Margot?”

“I don’t know, daisy. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe you’ll figure it out and turn into one of the Buddhist monkeys, then you can be my guru.”

“Oh, no, Miss Margot. You’ll always be the guru goo-goo-ga-chew ‘round here. Besides, I don’t wanna be no guru to no one, anyhow. Too much responsibility.”

“Fair ‘nuff, Space Daisy. So, tell me; where else did you go? Who else did you meet. What else did you do?”

“Well, I don’t know that I was anywhere in particular. Anywhere n the real world, that is. And the scene, the backdrop, kept changing, anyway. It was a big city. Lotsa people, but none of them were close to us. Just all wandering around in the background. Mixed in with all the God damn churches.”

“Lotsa churches, huh? What kind of churches?”

“Every kinda church you ever saw. Christian churches, and Jewish churches, and Muslim churches, and Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna churches. They only kinda church that wasn’t there was the only one I wanted to see.”

“The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster?”

“Sure as grandma’s got gout, Miss Margot. So, many churches everywhere, as far as the eye could see. And people. So, so many people. Thousands of billions of millions of people, going in and out of the churches.

“And standing rigt in front of me was 12 old guys. All Holy Shit guys. All of them wearing robes, and funny hats And all of them was looking at me and talking to each other, in all kindsa languages I didn’t know.

“So, I was just standing there, watching them watching me, and thinking, ‘What the fuck are you phony baloneys thinking? Better not have nothing to do with my ass, kind you ain’t getting’ no part of that sweet, you dirty old lechers.

“I think they heard what I was thinking, so maybe I said it out loud, the part about them not getting’ their dirty old hands on my too bootylicoius for you, goo-goo-ga-chew. They musta heard me thinkin’ that, ‘cause soon as I said it, they all pulled one arm each inside their robes and started fondling themselves under their robes.

“So, they were all gripping their holy books with one hand, and their smelly, old little dicks with the other. And they was all looking at me, real hard like.

“So, I said, ‘So, what the fuck y’all want?’ as if I didn’t know what the fuck theya’ll wanted. So, one of ‘em says to me, ‘We are prepared to make you an offer.’ And I just laughed my ass off. I literally fell to the ground, and started roiling around, laughing my ass off. So, when I finally composed myself, I said, ‘Dream the fuck on, fuckers. Not for all the money in the world.’

“And they all mumbled to each other, and mumbled some more. Then another one of ‘em, this one was a brown guy, I think he was Hindu, or something, said, ‘We think you misunderstand us.’ And I laughed, and said, ‘Oh, I understand y’all just fine. I mean, look at ya’ll, staring at me and fondling yourselves under your robes. I don’t need no God Damn sign language reader to figure that out.’

“So, they all noticed that they had, In fact, been playing pocket pool, even though they ain’t gots no pockets, and they stops with the tug tug tug, and pulls all their arms out, and puts their hands up, palm open and pacing me, as I sig n of peace, or something, I guess, fucked if I know, pardon my French.

“So, then a black dude smiles at me, and says, ‘Child, please hear me out. Our offer has nothing to do with what you were thinking.’ I just nodded my head, and said, ‘Uh-huh, uh0huh.’

“Then the dude gets to the point, finally. He says, ‘We are wondering if you would be willing to forego the opportunity to have children, forevermore, in exchange for living forevermore.”

“That’s an interesting offer,” Margot said. “What did you tell them?”

“Here’s what I told ‘em, Miss Margot. I said, ‘I already am immortal. And I can make children without any help from anyone, especially not the likes of you. That scared ‘em, and they all backed up a bit. Then I showed ‘em. I made 12 carbon copies of me, rigt there, rigt in front of them. All different ages, and sizes. All wearing the same costumes.

“That scared ‘em some more, and they backed up a bit more, and started mumbling to themselves, and to each other, and looking into their holy books, to see if they could find a picture of me.

“Then I scared the God Damn Hell out of ‘em, Miss Margot. Every one of us, all thirteen of us, reached inside ourselves, and pulled out our uteruses. They were our uteruses, but they looked like octopuses. And they was all alive, and squirming around in our hands. And we walked up to the phony baloney boys and offered them our uteruses.

“And I said, ‘Go on, take ‘em. Y’all want control of ‘em, don’t ya?? Well, take ‘em!’

“But they didn’t want ‘em, at all, at all, oh no, no no. They didn’t want ‘em at all. They was all scared shitless, and they turned and started running in all directions.

“But there was nowhere for them to run, ‘cause the whole city shrunk into just one rectangular square, with fifty foot walls on each side, and a glass ceiling over top. Kinda like a giant pinball table.

“All the people disappeared. It was just the thirteen of me, and the twelve of them. But not for long, ‘cause a dragon flew into the pinball table. And he was laughing! Roaring laughter. And all the old perverts were running all over the place, but the dragon hunted ‘em down, one by one. Amd he struck ‘em all with his tail, instead of burning them with his fire breath. When he hit one with his tail, it was just like lightning hit ‘em. And BOOM! a big thunder boomer  filled the air.

“And they all got turned into toads. Every one of ‘em got turned in toads. Gay toads!

“And they started trying to make humpy hump with each other, all those phony baloney horny holy toads. But just as soon as one of ‘em would jump on another of ‘em, they would both explode, like hand grenades.

“And the dragon just kept flying around, laughing his dragon ass off.

“And when the last of the holy men had been blowed up real good, the pinball table turned back into a city, all the people came back. And when they saw the instant replay on the jumbotrom screen, half of them died, and the other half cheered and started hugging each other.

“I figured that was the end of that, so I just moseyed on along outta there.”

Speechless, the spiritual guru was, but clearly delighted by Daisy’s telling of the tale, which the girl concluded by saying, “Religion is just a bunch of degenerate old weirdoes wearing robes, and funny hats, and makin’ shit up. The choirs of liars should shut the fuck up and retire, before the dragons show up and start breathing fire.”



Noticing that Daisy had finished her Beaver Duck, Margot asked if she wanted another. The girl gratefully accepted, saying, “Yes, please and thank you, Miss Margot.”

“I may want to score some of that acid,” the guru said, only half jokingly.

“Really? You do acid?”

“Not for almost thirty years, and I never tripped like you did, just now, but once upon a time I was young and wild.”

“I bet you were! And I bet you still got a lotta wild left in you.”

Contemplating whether or not she was still wild at heart, and wondering just how wild she could get, again, if she were to take another walk on the wild side, Margot said, “Most people tend to live their lives vicariously, when they get old. I think a lot of people have kids because they run out of ideas. They just succumb to the banal minutia of the social contract. It’s all so tedious, so mundane, that they have kids to kill the boredom of it all.

“So, first they live through their children, as they go through the motions, doing not much more than paying the bills. Then they live vicariously through their grandchildren. Then they die.

“The irony is that they laugh that youth is wasted on the young, but they never even attempt to be young and wild again, if they ever were young and wild.

“If they didn’t do wild things when they were young, they ain’t gonna do them when they’re old. Actually, if they didn’t do wild things when they were young, they don’t even know what wild is, except that it’s scary.

“They’re too scared. They say that they are older, and wiser, too wise to be wild. They do understand that wisdom comes with scars, but they don’t understand that laughter removes wrinkles.”

“Wow, Miss Margot! Just wow! You’re wise, and wild, too. I would love to do acid with you.”

“It’s an enticing offer, Daisy. If I ever do acid, or any other psychedelic, again, I would love to have the honour of tripping with you. I might be able to make a tether between us, before we dose, that’s strong enough to keep us together, so we could have the same trip, or at least share the same trip, while both experiencing it in our own ways.”

Almost squealing, Daisy said, “Oh, Miss Margot, that would be so cool. I’d do that with you anytime, anywhere.”

“I’ll think on it, Daisy. I really will. So, the thunder that the dragon made when he was turning the Holy Shit guys into gay toads, that was the real thunder that’s happening outside, and that’s when you came back?”

Pondering, Daisy said, “I don’t know. Maybe. But there was more. I don’t know if I’m telling these stories in order, ‘cause they kinda all just ran together, almost as if they were happening at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, Daisy. Eating psychedelics isn’t the only way to get outside the mind and body, so I do know what you’re talking about.”

“I bet you do.”

“So, you had more adventures.”

“I sure did.”

“Tell me.”

Well, I was a horse doctor.”

“A vet?”

“Yes. And no. I was a vet, but I was a horse.”

“Of course of course,” Margot chuckled.

“And I was a witness in the Nazi trials.”

“At Nuremberg?”

“Yes. Nuremberg. They were asking me what was wrong with Hitler. And I told ‘em, ‘Hitler had horse herpes. Himmler gave then to him.’”

“Hitler had horse herpes, and Himmler gave them to him?”

“Yeah, ‘Hitler had horse herpes. Himmler gave them to him,’ is what I told ‘em.”

“How did you know Hitler had horse herpes, and Himmler gave them to him?”

“I guess it’s just one of those things you know, when you’re a horse.”

“Of course, of course. And what did they say?”

“Nothing. They didn’t say nothing, ‘cause then I was playing poker.”

“With a bunch of Nazis? Or a bunch of other horses?”

“No, neither. Totally different. This may have been the weirdest of them all. I was playing poker. I was playing Samurai poker, with a harem of lepers, before the hillbilly orgy started.

“’There are no holidays for the damned,’ said I, when I drew the Ace of Hades.

“The cannibal exorcist, who was sipping a tsunami of swill, got mad, and said, ‘You’ll burn!

“I ignored his warning, and carried on with my bluff, ‘A harvest of hokum i hold in my hand,’ I said, pretending that I was contemplating capitulation, which I for sure, wasn’t, ‘cause I knew I could bluff ‘em all under the table.

“The girl beside me, a three dressed up as a nine, the prophet of purloined narcissism, said, ‘My jalapeno champagne enema’s gonna trump that,’ but I knew she didn’t have no jalapeno champagne enema in her hands. She’d have pushed all in, rigt off the flop, if she was holding pocket jacks. She may be able to bluff drunk guys, in dark bars, that she’s a beauty, but she ain’t got no poker face when she’s sitting at the table.

“Then the Listerine gargoyle across the table started running his stupid mouth. ‘As will this Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet of mine,’ he laughed. But he wasn’t foolin’ no one, with that jive. Everyone knew he didn’t have no Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet. Hell, he wouldn’t even know a Beavis and Butthead Bukkake Buffet if he had one, ‘cause he didn’t even know what it is. He just heard real players taking about the fabled hand, when he was watching the World Series of Poker on the Internet with his gargoyle buddies, and dreaming about having one of them bracelets.

“That’s when I figured out they were all cheating. ‘Phuk Yu,’ I yelled, hailing my barrister. ‘You’re all dealing from the bottom of the deck!’

“Then the Minister of Eternal Taxation got all pissy, ‘Gno, phuk yu,’ he yelled, summoning his serpentine solicitor, who said to me, ‘You, Madame, are hiding the joker in your rectum, and that card will never be played.’

“’Now that would be a shitty hand,’ I protested to no avail.

“Then they all pulled on latex gloves, and demanded a cavity search. They’d found me out, Miss Margot, and called my bluff. There was only one thing left for me to do, so I did it

“I fingered the button under the table, and in waltzed my monkey, with his flame thrower, and a jar of Maker’s Mark BBQ sauce.

“Well, my monkey didn’t take no more than ten seconds to torch the lot of their sorry asses.

“’Another Gordie Howe hat trick,’ I cackled, high-fiving my smiling, sinister simian, while reaching for a box of stainless steel tooth picks.

“My monkey he just turned to the TV camera, smiled and said, ‘That’s why it’s called home ice advantage, kids.’”



“Should I ever forget” Margot said to Daisy, “remind me to never play cards with you.”

“The funny thing is that I don’t play cards. I played some, when I was a kid, crazy 8s, and go fish, and what not, but I lost interest in cards by the time I became a teenager. But now, after that hallucination, or whatever it was, I’m kinda interested in playing cards again.”

“What I find most interesting about that hallucination, or whatever it was,” Margot said, “was your ability to know who was bluffing. There’s a similarity in that and you calling the old Holy Shit guys a bunch of phony baloneys, in the other trip you took. Obviously, they’re both rooted in your ability to read people in real life. You have never had any time for insincere, disingenuous people.”

“Fucking bullshitters, is what they are, pardon my French. And, no, I ain’t never had no time for none of ‘em, and I can usually smell ‘em a mile away, even if they’re wearing a gallon of toilet water, pardon my French.”

“That will stead you well in life, girl, especially if you can apply it to your love life.”

“Good golly, Miss Margot, does that ever get anmy easier? ‘cause that was another trip I was on, and even in a God damn acid trip, I still got it all bass ackwards ‘bout a boy.”

Margot laughed out loud, “I don’t know if it gets any easier. I guess it gets easier to spot trouble in someone, but that makes it harder to fall in love. But never mind that, ‘cause everyone has to find out for themselves, so tell me about your psychedelic love affair.”

“God damn, he was pretty, Miss Margot. Pretty smart, and pretty stupid, too, if you know what I’m saying.

“He was an artist. Not really an artsy fartsy artiste, ‘cause I don’t know how much I could take of one of them, no matter how pretty he is. But he was real creative. He could paint, and write, and sing and dance and do most anything creative, I suppose.

“And he was weird, like me. Like me but weirder. Not is  the good way, weirder, but in the bad way weirder., if you take my meaning.”

Margot silently signaled that she kinda did, but kinda didn’t, so Daisy explained.

“If a weirdo is too weird, it don’t matter how brilliant they may be, they can never stop being weird long enough to get their shit together to do the things they need to do to accomplish anything in life.”

“Oh, yeah, I have known a couple of them,” Margot said.

“I suppose they been around forever, and lucky me, I even found one in hallucination!”

“Tell me,” Margot said, with great expectations.

“I don’t even know if this one had a name. he may have been too weird to have a name. His parents may have known it from the second he was born. They just looked at him and said, ‘Oh, fuck it. He‘s a fucking weirdo. It don’t matter what we call him, he ain’t gonna listen to no one who ain’t him,’ so they didn’t bother naming him. But I guess iot will make the story easier if he has a name, so let’s just call him Art, ‘cause that he said about himself, anyways. He said he was art, as if he, and only he, was art. As if everyone else isn’t art. Pretentious twat. How the fuck did I ever fall in love with him?”

“Because he was pretty?”

“Yeah, that’s usually how it starts, ain’t it?” That being a rhetorical question, Daisy continued without waiting for a reply. “But this one was so, so pretty. I swear, when he passed gas, Beethoven’s Ode to Joy came outta his ass.” Daisy laughed, then pressed her point, and the joke, by plugging her index fingers into her ears, mocking Beethoven’s deafness, and humming the chorus, with great comic enthusiasm, which left Margot in hysterics.

The girl concluded her brief musical interlude, and moved back to her story. “So, Halloween was coming, and he didn’t have no money to buy no candy for the kids. And I wouldn’t give him no money, ‘cause I knew he would either spend it on drugs, or buy candy and eat it all himself.

“So, he got kinda snarky. But then he got all artsy weirdo. He said he had ten cans of black spray paint, so he was gonna round up all the neighbourhood cats, and spray paint ‘em black, and hand ‘em out to the kids on Halloween, ‘cause what could be more Halloween than getting a black cat?”

“There’s a Monty Python kinda logic to that,” Margot said, chuckling.

“Well, sure there is, if you’re making a funny film, but he was gonna do it for real, the God damn weirdo. Until I told him he can’t do that, ‘cause he’ll get in trouble with the cops, and the animal rigts people, who I’m friends with already, ‘cause I’m a vegan, and will tell ‘em all about it.

“And he got all artsy fartsy pissy, saying I didn’t understand the genius of it, ‘cause I ain’t no artsy fartsy artiste like him.

“But then just as fast as summer lightning, he changed his mood. He was laughing, and laughing. I asked him what the Hell he was laughing about, ‘cause he was laughing so hard, and so loud, and for so long, that I was starting to laugh along with him, and I wanted to know what the Hell I was laughing about, otherwise they’d be coming to take me away, haha.

“So, he says he has a better idea. He says instead of giving away black cats, he would just invite the kids inside, and they can pick one of the cats, and spray paint them theirselves. That way, he said, if anyone got in any trouble, it would be the kids. And, he said, he could call it an art workshop for kids, and an art experiment for him, and no one nowhere ain’t never done any art anything like it before.

“I didn’t feel like fighting with him, so I just said, ‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’ ‘cause I know he’s a lazy assed weirdo, and ain’t gonna get his shit together long enough to actually do it, anyways.

“So, I just told him he was losing his shit, going insane, and he said, ‘What’s wrong with going insane? If you go the rigt kinda insane, it can be a lotta fun. So, don’t fight it, baby, work it!’

“Then I realized even that didn’t matter anyway, ‘cause it didn’t matter where the fuck he was going in life, he wasn’t getting anywhere, so he can’t even go insane without fucking up and getting lost.

“And sure ‘nuff, he got lost when we was going on vacation. We was flying somewhere, and were supposed to meet at the airport. But he got caught in traffic, or so he said, but I knew he was getting high, or gettin’ some from some jizz guzzling floozy groupie. So, I said fuck it, and got on the plane without him.

“So, I’m sitting in my seat, ready for take off, when the stewardess comes and asks me to come with her. Well, Hell, I know he’d done something retarded and it was gonna fuck up my vacation. Sure nuff, they took me off the plane, and said they wanted to talk to me.

“First they stick me in a room, and a minute later in comes Art, grinning like a short-busser who’s been huffing gas. Then a cop comes in rigt behind him, and start asking ‘bout my religious convictions. I told him I ain;lt got none, and ask why the Hell he’s asking me, anyways.

“Well, it turns out Art had spray painted the words ALLAH FUCKIN’ AKBAR on the outside of his suitcase in big yellow letters.

“So, I ask him WTF he done that for, and he says it was to make it easier to find on the carousels, ‘cause everyone’s got a cheap black suitcase, so his was gonna stick out.

“And as he’s explaining this, I’m watching our plane taxi out onto the runway, and I just wanna strange the idiot, ‘specially cause he’s still laughing, and saying he ain’t done nothing illegal, ‘cause it’s just art, and art ain’t illegal.

“And rigt them I knew that he was gonna spend the rest of his life raking his hand through the underwear of the couch, looking for change, and half sucked jawbreakrs to finish off, so just just sighed, and left him there.”

Clapping and laughing, Margot said, “I guess you’ll be staying away from artists, from now on, then, huh?”

Daisy dodged the question, because she knew better than to make a commitment like that.

Shaking her head, she said, “God damn artists. They just spew nonsense, and leave it out there for people to figure out WTF it means. Sooner or later someone does figure it out, then someone else figures something else out about it, then they fight about it, and the artists says fuck all, and then everyone proclaims the artist  a genius, a sage, a visionary, and still ain’t no one knows what the fuck any of it’s about.”



As Daisy took long pull on her Beaver Duck, Margot exclaimed, “That’s one Hell of a trip you took, Space Daisy! Is that all of it, or did you turn into a three headed, purple fluffalo, too?”

Daisy’s rolled her eyes, sighed, smiled and said, “No, damn it! I did not turn into a three headed, purple fluffalo. I forgot all about it. And I didn’t turn into a Buddhist monkey, neither. I’ll have to concentrate more, next time, I guess.” The girl thought for a second, and asked, “Do you think you could help me with that? Do you think you could put that far enough into my head, and anchor it real good, so I can actually dictate stuff about the trips I take?”

Margot admitted, “I think that’s beyond my capabilities, but I’m not afraid to try.”

“Oh, Miss Margot! We’ll do it, then. Next time I dose, I will let you know ahead of time, so we can both prepare.”

“Sure, Daisy. Sounds fun. But let’s give it some time, yeah? I don’t want you becoming an acid burnout. I saw what happens to kids who take too much acid, too often, back in high school, and it ain’t pretty. Forty years later, they’re still damaged goods.”

“Oh, I know it, Miss Margot. I know of few of them. Interstellar space trash that can’t even be recycled.”

“Know your limit, trip within it.”

“That’s real smart, Miss Margot. Real nice, simple rhyme. Know your limit, trip within it.” When Margot stretched and yawned, Daisy took note. “You’re tired, Miss Margot. You should go to bed.”

“I’m okay, Daisy. I don’t wanna to leave you alone”

Laughing, Daisy assured Margot, “Oh, that’s so sweet! But, really, it’s okay. I’ve tripped alone before. I spend a lot of time alone, and I like it, so it’s easy for me.”

“Are you sure, Daisy? You won’t do nothing crazy?”

Daisy laughed, “Define crazy!”

Margot laughed, “Good point.”

“I won’t do nothing stupid. I promise you, Miss Margot. I’m over the peak. The rest is just thinking like a Buddhist monkey, one who’s been smoking bananas!”

“You’re a funny girl, Daisy! You really have a way with words. You can really turn a phrase.”

“Words are so weird, ain’t they?” Before Margot could answer, she yawned again, and Daisy insisted, “Aw! It’s beddy-bye time for you.”

“You sure?”

“I am,” Daisy confirmed. “But… one last thing, please and thank you. It won’t take long, whatever long is.”

“What is it, girl?”

“Well,” Daisy said with a good deal of hesitation in her voice.

“Go on, girl. What is it?”

“Well… I saw you today.”

Margot knew what the girl meant, but stalled for time. “Yes, you did. Several times.”

“No, Miss Margot. I mean I saw you walk into the dining room, rigt outta nowhere. That’s what made me wanna trip tonight. You just appeared outta thin air.”

There was no point in lying about it, so Margot confirmed it. “I was wondering if you had noticed.”

“Well, God damn, Miss Margot, pardon my French, it was kinda hard to miss! That’s one Hell of a trick for hide-n-go-seek. Even a home-sticker couldn’t catch you.”

Margot laughed, and Daisy asked, “How’d you do it? You’re some kinda witch, ain’t you? I good witch, I mean.”

“I have a few exes that would be happy to tell you I’m a bad witch.”

“Well, to Hell with them. You ain’t no bad witch. I knew that even before you went into my head. But… can you teach me to be a witch?”

“Maybe, Daisy.”

Daisy smiled, then went silent for a few seconds, then asked, “The others; they ain’t really on Pie Island, are they?”

Once again, Margot refused to lie, “No, they’re not. But I can’t tell you where they are, so don’t ask.”

“Okay, I won’t. But… y’all are up to somethin’ real big, ain’t you? Somethin’ even bigger than the Staals giving all that money away.”

“Daisy, I don’t wanna lie to you, but I can’t tell you, either.”

“Okay, Miss Margot, I understand, really, I do. But the world is a real bad mess rigt now, and it’s gonna get worse, before it gets better. And I am pretty sure y’all have come together to do that. Make it better, I mean.

“People like Miss Madonna, and Mr. Stephen, and pretty Miss Kitty, they don’t just show up in a backwater like Thunder Bay, in the middle of a pandemic, no less, just to go see Kakabeka Falls, and jam Persians into their cakeholes.”

“What are the rest of the staff saying?”

“Not a whole lot, really. They know something is going on, but they have no idea, and they don’t care much. They’re mostly just happy they all gettin’ paid, even though the whole hotel is empty, accept for three rooms. And they are pretty sure they all gonna get real big tips, when everyone leaves.”

Margot did not respond, so Daisy asked, “The others. They are coming back, rigt?”

“Yes, Daisy. The brothers and I will be leaving tomorrow, but we will all be back in a few days. We will probably be coming and going for a while.”

“Gotcha. Miss Margot?”


“Really, if there’s any way I can help, I sure would be honoured to do so. I mean, I don’t know what the Hell I could do, but I sure would try, even if it’s dangerous.”

“Okay, Daisy, that’s a very kind offer. And I suspect you may play a role in this, before it’s all over.”

“Really!?” Daisy gushed. “Really for true? You ain’t just sayin’ that?”

“Time will tell, and we will see, Daisy. But for now, the best thing you can do is not tell anyone else about seeing me walk into the dining room outta thin air today.”

“Oh, no. I would never tell any of ‘em anything. They all think I’m cuckoo bananas, anyway, so they wouldn’t listen to me.”

Heading toward her bedroom, Margot replied, “I understand, Daisy. But don’t you let them get to you with that talk. You are an incredible girl, a wonderful human being. But… if you do turn into a three headed, purple fluffalo while I am sleeping, come and wake me up, rigt away.”



When Margot awoke and stumbled out of her bedroom, still half asleep, she found Daisy stretched out on the couch with a maniacal grim on her face. “Good morning, Daisy. You still high?”

The girl looked at the guru, and admitted, “Good morning, Miss Margot. Maybe. Maybe just a little. Or maybe I’m just Crazy Daisy, like everyone says.”

“Oh, Daisy, if you’re crazy, the world needs a million more, just like you. Listen, I have to go see the brothers. If you’re ready, I can drop you at home. Otherwise, you’re welcome to stay, but I may not be back ‘til late tonight.”

“No, but thank you for the offer. I should get home and see what Peanut Taco has gotten up to. I could hear her calling for me a few hours ago.”

As they headed north towards the Staal family compound, Margot asked, “What were you laughing about, when I came out of the bedroom?”

Daisy started laughing again, rigt away. “I was thinking about Star Trek, and space, the final frontier.”

“Tell me,” Margot said with great hope.

“I saw a meme, the other day. It said the scariest thing we could find on another planet is more humans. Which would be pretty funny. But then I thought, that’s what happened in every Star Trek episode. Captain Kirk and his crew were just zooming around the galaxy, crashing cosplay parties. And all the people, all the humans, who were at the parties were wondering, ‘Where the Hell did these space cadets come from, what kinda drugs are they on, and why won’t they give us any?’”

“That’s funny, Daisy!”

“Yeah, I thought so. Then I was wondering what it would be like to be one of those space floozies.”

“You mean the cosplay girls?”

“No. No, I left that idea behind, and was imagining that all the creatures they encountered were really out there, and it all happened for real, and Star Trek was a documentary. Kinda like Space Animal Planet.”

“Okay, that, too, is an interesting twist.”

“So, I was wondering what it would be like to be one of those there space floozies that Kirk was fucking all the time.”

“The captain did well for himself. A girl in every port. An alien whore behind every door.”

“Exactly! And he banged ‘em all, that spacemanwhore. He spread his seed everywhere he went. To boldly fuck what no man has fucked before, is what they shoulda said at the start of the show. I mean, he stick his dick in every damn floozy he met out there in space. I swear, he’d have fucked a tribble, if he could have found a hole.

“That’s the real trouble with tribbles. They ain’t got no holes for Kirk to fuck. That’s why he wanted them off his ship. ‘cause he couldn’t find a hole to jam his dick into. You gotta admit, tribbles weren’t no fuzzier than the jungle bush the 60s girls were sporting. They just purred louder. And that’s the only part of a girl guys are really interested in, anyway.

“Hell, Kirk musta thought he’d died and gone to Heaven, when he saw all those purring, fuzzy pussies everywhere. So, he took a bunch, a whole harem of ‘em, back to his room, but he couldn’t get his dick into any of ‘em, so he said, ‘To Hell with these things. What good’s a pussy I can’t jam my dick into?’”

Loving it, Margot played along, “So, why did the tribbles hate Klingons?”

“I thought about that. Gotta be because Klingons got huge schlongs! I mean, just look at ‘em! You just know they be packing some serious sausage. Way too big for those cute little tribbles, even if they had holes.

“But Klingons don’t care if there’s a hole or not, if they get horny. If there ain’t no hole, they just take out one of their big Klingon knives, cut themselves a hole, and jam their huge Klingon schlongs in.”

“I think every girl has had the same idea about Klingons.”

“Well, no offense Miss Margot, but you don’t gotta be Freud to figure that one out,” Kitty hooted.

“Speaking of Freud, you were fantasizing about being a space floozy?”

“I was so, and I ain’t ashamed of it, neither. And if Captain Kirk had showed up on my planet, I’d have done him in a heartbeat.”

“The Captain was a good looking guy,” Margot admitted. “I’d have done him, too.”

Daisy thought about the two of them taking on the captain, but wasn’t sure if Margot would find it funny, so she let it go. “I bet you would, Miss Margot, pardon my French. “But I was thinking that Kirk must have knocked ‘em all up, ‘cause you just know he’s got some really healthy sperm swimming around in that spacenut sack of his. I mean, that’s why he’s the Captain, rigt?””

“That stands to reason,” Margot laughed.

“Sure it does. So he musta knocked ‘em all up. And left ‘em all behind, the rotten deadbeat dad. Amd you know them girls got shunned by everyone on their planets, ‘cause everyone knew they fucked him. The girls musta been complete outcasts. And the poor kids! All of ‘em was boys, ‘cause Kirk didn’t got no girl sperm swimming around in that manly spacenut sack of his. He’s too manly man for that. There’s a whole legion of James T Kirk’s bastard sons out there, somewhere.”

“It would be funny if they ever met up,” Margot said.

“Oh, but they did, Miss Margot. All those space hussies got together. They started a #Metoo of their own, on the space Internet.

“And they all hitchhiked to Federation Headquarters, in San Francisco, to demand child support payments, and any other reparations their space shysters could get.

“And all them space floozies, and all their bastard sons raised Holy Hell to the Federation, and it cost a gajillion space smackeroonies to get ‘em to quit their sniveling.

“And that’s why Picard and his crew are so damn lame. I mean, would you fuck any ne of ‘em? I wouldn’t. No one would. After the Kirk fiasco, you had to be asexual to get on a ship.

“But it hardly don’t matter none, ‘cause everywhere they go, they don’t see no space floozies nowhere, no more, ‘cause word spread, and lingered like a peel the paint off the wall Romulan space fart. So, whenever the Enterprise pulls into orbit around a planet, an alarm goes off, and everyone yells, ‘Lock up your daughters! Lock up your wives! The humans are coming, the humans are coming!”

As the gals pulled into Daisy’s driveway, Margot stopped howling long enough to say, “I think you have a Star Trek sequel there, girl. You have a couple days off, rigt?”

“I do. I asked my dad for them off, since it ain’t gonna be no fun in Valhalla, when ya’ll ain’t there.”

“It’ll be good for you to take a couple days off. Maybe you can start working on a pilot script; The Trial of James T Kirk, space gigolo.”

Exiting the vehicle, Kitty smiled and said, “Maybe, Miss Margot. But rigt now I’m just gonna snuggle up with my cat, and sleep for a year. It was a real long night. Thank you so much.”