kagablog

Afternoon sunlight illuminated The Soft House, filling it with sugary green light. Bronski Glass was in his office on one of the upper floors. A desk, chairs and some brimming filing cabinets bounced around ridiculously. The sound of aerobics programs filtered through the plastic walls, their beats clashing horrendously with the loud Bossanova transmissions. The office next door was filled to capacity with seawater and a trapped Man-O-War wafted about in it, electrocuting goldfish. Other offices were visible, wherein top-level Wrestlers performed menial bureaucratic duties at their desks. Everything was always quaking on the top levels. Bronski Glass wore a pale suit and tie. His skin was almost exactly the same hue as his bloodless suit and gave him a peculiar monochromatic quality. Scar tissue circled his forehead, denoting some form of intense, Frankenstein-like surgery. A dog tag read his name and he was smoking four cigarettes at once. The crucified Michelle was kneeling between his legs, performing fellatio, and her wooden cross bobbed comically about as she moved. He appeared utterly unfazed by her efforts however, staring absently at the jellyfish in the room next door. The fact that the walls were transparent and everyone could see in also didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes had that war veteran glint to them that distinguished those who had seen too much and thought too little. He was now seeing icebergs floating on a dark sea. The masses of glacial ice trembled in the grainy black and white film, drifting like leviathans across icy Northern waves. Michelle looked up in irritation.

“Where the fuck is your mind?” she snapped.

“I have a move projector in my skull,” he answered in a bassy voice, which was utterly devoid of feeling.

“It’s a very small one.”

She stared at him in non-comprehension, squinting in annoyance.

“The only reel it has loaded contains footage of icebergs, and this is constantly projected onto the back of my eyeballs. It’s supposed to ‘nullify’ me.”

“Jesus, what a drag. You think you weren’t getting head.”

“Are you finished down there?”

“Bronski baby, do you have any idea what Mister Sister will do to my bod if he finds out that I’m snitching for you and blowing you into the bargain?”

“But I didn’t ask for the blowjobs - Only information.”

“I…er, that’s a complimentary service. Anyway…Oh Fuck! I’m putting myself in harm’s way for you! Don’t you realize that!”

“No.”

“Fuck! I was going to ask if you have a brain, only to realize that you most certainly do not. I know it isn’t your fault your antennae’s facing west, just don’t make me think it is!”

She returned to her previous task with gusto, bobbing up and down like a jackinabox. His eyes slowly became unfocused and the muted sound of a film projector could be heard leaking out of his ears. Icebergs flickered across black water, bobbing in the swell like mountains of polystyrene. He took the four cigarettes from his lipless mouth and exhaled a great flag of patriotic smoke.

“You reported that Mister Sister has taken up residence in the house of Alphonse Guava?”

Michelle began to speak between mouthfuls, babbling with excitement at all her great and secret plans.

“Oh, its just for a little while, see, ‘cos Mister Sister wants to rub Al’s face in it. Jesus, you should see Alphonse! Sister’s keeping him from greening out by supplying him with endless carrots, but it’s just a matter of time now. When Alphonse is frogged up something supreme, Mister Sister will start getting the ‘noids thinking that everyone is plotting against him, it’s totally inevitable. We’ll wait till he’s ripe to pop and then instigate some shit between his outfit and Daddy Bast, sit back and watch the fireworks! Oh baby! We are in command! Now that the fucking Nun is lost at sea, nothing can stop us. Fuck, I wish could have seen her getting munched by that droid!”

“Who is Daddy Bast again?”

Michelle whipped her head up, speechless for a moment.

“Oh God my Dad above!” she exploded. “You literal numbskull! How many times…I’m sick and tired of blowing guys with no brains! Honestly. Men.”

He stared blankly down at her.

“Could you tell me when you are finished please. Bronski really has to use the head.”