Postby ran1 » Fri Aug 24, 2012 1:05 pm
"Get Fucked"; or, Watching Death Kappa while Rolling on Mescaline
by Ran1
A screaming comes across the sky. No, it's not a V2, but just another fucking airplane. This close to LaGuardia, you can feel the heat from the jet engines. My room is as sticky as lukewarm semen, but putting up the window unit is too much exertion to justify proper air conditioned living. I drag my sweat-soaked finger across the keyboard and onto the trackpad. I'm playing my favorite eroge, Kira Kira. It's too hot to even jerk off to it. Whatever, I'm just in it for "the feels". Calling the lady over isn't an option right now. Who the fuck convinced her to go to a conservatory? I open uTorrent.
Three seeders.
Three fucking seeders.
If it's this avant-garde, why don't they just hurry the fuck up and give it a criterion release? I mean, fuck, three seeders? On the fucking Pirate Bay?
A colleague calls me. Well, he's not necessarily a colleague in those terms. He's one of my numerous Hunter College dropout friends who's living in the city. I didn't go to Hunter College. But it seems like everyone from my alma mater did -- the ones who weren't smart enough for an Ivy League or USC. So, that, by default, groups me in with the East Coast rejects. Which is actually ironic, because this particular reject is from San Diego. Small World.
Except that he's not really from San Diego, he's from Brazil. So, another one of my psuedo-Portuguese associates, but he's not really Porto-Brazilian, he's German. He just happened to live in Brazil, speak Brazilian Portuguese, fuck Brazilian-Portuguese women while in Brazil, you know, until he got sent to the wonderful prep school which I had the luxury of graduating from. In any event, his grandfather moved from Silesia to Brazil and then his parents moved from Brazil to San Diego. If that makes any sense.
So this nationless fellow, who I'll refer to as "Tom" -- what, you thought he was going to get a good Portuguese name like Henrique or Sebastio? No, Tom, has just moved back into the city from SoCal (but he's not going to school of course), and, oh, he brought some mescaline.
Now, I consider myself a rather worldly fellow when it comes to illicit drugs -- I've run the gamuts of MDMA, LSD, PCP, et cetera. But outside of a Hunter S. Thompson novel, I haven't run into mescaline. That's because it's apparently extracted from cactus plants or something or other, and not the kind of cacti my grandmother has in her pots on the patio. So, well shit, I chat him up a little bit, invite him to Queens, and offer to do a handy trade for what's left of my Aderol. This might seem like a bad trade, but this guy loves his aderol -- and, having more than a few co-workers back in New England who deal in the stuff, I happen to be stocking it in more Bulk than a Sam's club. My plan was to sell it down here at a premium, but fuck, I'll take the good old Marxist barter system any day, especially if what's being bartered is mescaline.
So he's coming by within the hour, because he's on the Upper East Side, and that's just across the river. So I wait. And watch the ETA go down to two hours, and think: well, shit, I might just actually watch this at some point. So I re-play Kira Kira for the fifth or sixth time -- doing Chie's route every single time, of course, in anticipation for Tom.
Tom arrives, and he's got a real shit-eating grin on his face. Is that's typical South American stupor-look, something he probably picked up from the sluts he tells me he constantly fucked in "the Rio Grande del Sol" or whatever. Anyway, he just took a mescaline, and he's starting to roll, he tells me, as he staggers down the steps.
When did you leave, I ask.
An hour ago, he says.
It takes that long to hit?
Yeah, but it's the fucking shit.
So I glance at the iMac and uTorrent's up and it says Death Kappa's gonna be all set within the hour. I go over to my dresser, toss him a baggie of aderol, he grins even wider, and spreads out a baggie full of powder onto the table
Shit, it's powder
Aye
I hate powder
Well, get fucked
I don't like snorting. I get nosebleeds. And no, not the ECCHIII kind of nosebleeds, the kind of nosebleeds where a blood vessel falls out of your nose, and you dance around and you're feeling fine, and then you realize you're bleeding everywhere and then start vomiting.
But it's mescaline, and I figure I've gotta pop the cherry at some point, so I clench my asshole and get ready to snort. Tom's got a two-dollar-bill rolled up. That's his thing. He found a two-dollar bill once, and he uses it to snort, well, fucking anything. And he's always ready to snort something because he's got the two dollar bill.
He offers me the bill. I get my own bill, which is a five, because I'm a bit cautious as to what else has seen the other end of that two-dollar-bill. He likes to recite stories of him fingering girls with the end of that bill. I'm not looking for syphilis up my nose.
In any event, I snort it, and get the usual rushing headache that I get whenever I snort something. It's probably a conditioned reaction, because Tom looks fine, and didn't even flinch as it went up. That or I'm just a big ol' pussy. I'd like to think otherwise.
My fingers start to go numb, my throat itches, and I get much more alert, and Tom chuckles, saying "give it a few minutes". Realizing that it'd be a great time to watch Death Kappa, I start playing it on the iMac.
What's that, he asks
Death Kappa, I say
What the fuck, he asks
Death Kappa, I repeat
Well, we start watching it, and my vision gets blurry and Tom keeps repeating that it's shit. I can make out the stupid looking Kappa fucking up the city and there's a girl who'd be really cute if she cut her bangs. I've got a hard on and realize that my lady would look really good if she cut her bangs, too? What is with Chinese women and bangs? Well, she's Japanese, or maybe not, because this looks cheap as shit and was probably animated in Korea like K-On but fuck this is 100% real-live motherfucking action and the navy looks really deep right now
I like the color navy, and it seems like most of Death Kappa takes place and night and there are stupid looking navy backdrops everywhere and I wish Bangs girl was right here so I could give her a bangs, girl.
You've got a hardon
Yeah
Fucking yellow fever
Yeah
Now there's people running and screaming because there's a fucking giant kappa wrecking shit and then the two of us start laughing hysterically, because this is just absolutely fucking absurd. It's like Underwater Love, except everyone's screaming because instead of the Kappa being a bishonen and fucking all the women, it's a fucking Kappa terrorist. Kappa Bin Laden.
I say that aloud and Tom laughs even harder. What was Tom laughing at in the first place? Was he laughing at me because I was laughing? Get fucked, Tom. You fucking follower.
So now we're laughing and we've taken another snort of the mescaline and I can't make out shite. There's a big brownish-blue blob moving in front of some gray blobs behind a big navy blob and oh shit there's fire, and Tom starts wailing
GOODZILLLLAAAA
GOODZILLLLAAAA
Tom, shut the fuck up
GOODZILLLLLLAAA
Because of his stupid Portuguese accent, it sounds like he's screaming GOOOAALLLILLLLA like at some fucking soccer game, the fucking chump. So I guess there's Godzilla and what is Tom even focusing on, and then there's fire, and screaming and I start going off the wall because the screaming and fire sound effects are so loud, and I start standing up, chanting something and laughing, and Tom is on the bed dying of something.
And we start babbling like children about how fucking hot bangs girl is, and my hard-on is like concrete and well, fuck, I missed two calls from the ladyfriend but it's Okay, we're gonna make love on mescaline later, baby
And then, after another twenty minutes or so of giggling, it's over.
Punished "Venom" Ran1
Vanity of VanitiesEvery post in Evageeks automaticaly becomes masturbatory material. It's nothing new. ~JustcrazyguyRan's persistent irony is a coping mechanism he uses to try and create some understanding of his paradoxical attraction to and disgust of the elitist bourgeois slaughterhouse in which he's forever trapped. --Muggy
(you'd think the teary version of Sad Frog would be easy to find, but no)
