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Lalealea

FUTURE CHAVS IN SPACE OR BE THE ENEMY.


A blonde, inscrutable nymphet climbed up the drain pipe of a Kensington house. Her chains were jingling. She was only able to ascend by being so tiny, at barely five feet tall she was also very small boned. Brilliant, arboreal, locomotion was a characteristic of creatures who lived in jungles she decided, so it must be her birthright. She smiled with stone eyes and determination. Her eyes were sunken and deep set, they looked like beauty caused by an iron deficiency, it wasn’t. She was full of iron, full of iron will and silver. Even her eyebrows were blonde, white blonde you could hardly see them against ultra pale skin. She was wearing pink hot pants so if anyone was down below they were getting an eyeful. She was sporting a platinum blonde mullet undercut with the back part of her mane grown down to her tail bone. The front shaved into the tightest Betty Paige bangs. It gave the impression of a high half pony tail even when it was loose. It was a bleached sculpture. She was speaking; actually she was squeaking swear words. But since she always had a high pitched chirp let’s say she was ‘spqweeking’, it was a machine gun hamster tone. ‘**** all you mother****ers’ she was pissed off pink. She danced up that drain pipe like it was easy because it was to her. She ended it with an upside down stripper pole spin, you get the idea. She pulled herself onto the balcony and slowly stood up slowly unfurling her backbone like a cat arching. She probably should have worn something warmer than a loose cami top, you could see her spine, and from certain angles at the front you could see her sports bra. The sky was a neon pink, neo pink, avant garde pink it was basically the pinkness left over after the sky was done being pink. It was post apocalyptic blood pink. It really popped. She stood and raised up her hands to the sky, she was wearing one white wrist band ‘applause for cute little evil me’ she sqwoked in that tiny voice again, the sky clapped thunder. She jumped and limply slapped her hand to her breast bone ‘Oh sweet Mary and baby Jesus’. She winked back up at the sky and kissed her teeth at it. The atmosphere fancied her like crazy. Her eyes had a quality hard to place. She was either dead inside or so flaming alive it was supernatural. They were trafficked eyes that burnt through you. Planet earth is only in one galaxy, so she couldn’t have been intergalactic, but she was galactic. Her eyes had a cold white heat; she was an electric snow queen, only she had a rabbit heart. She stood outside the bedroom window of preppy, middle age, rich masculinity. She squatted and ground her hips; her innominate powers commanded a base drum beat. She was trash, she was power trash. Adonia Aphrodite, she made everything look easy because it was to her. Power trash was on the top of the food chain if she wanted it to be. It was beyond the sun,alien, weird and intergalactic. She was about to complete a biological transaction. She was about to visit a curse on a very rich, sleazy, middle aged,man.

Snap went his phone line; jammy jammy, jammed was the cellular backup that should have triggered his alarm. She realized she had a habit of sticking her tongue out when she was concentrating, she got her habit from her Dad, she observed.It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling.

What is the key that opens every door? Is it a warded pick otherwise known as a skeleton key? No! It’s ingenuity! She was about to pick the deadbolt lock on the French window doors with a homemade feeler pick. Noteworthy tip about feeler picks is that if you are going to make one never make one on the job think ahead. She had made a tension wrench and a feeler pick out of bobby pins. Clichéd she knew, but it was a cliché for a reason. Just to mix it up she was going to nick his car afterwards, with a pick made from the hinge of an umbrella. She was also carrying bump keys, a snap gun and a decoder pick. They were all wrapped in tissue to stop them from clanging as she climbed up. The snap gun was just in case. It was a lazy way of quickly‘bumping’ the correct driver pins so the cylinder turns freely for a moment. It encapsulated the principle of Newton’s Cradle impressively i.e., the banging of balls together, demonstrating conservation of momentum and energy. Perfectly,for this occasion, it was also known as ‘The Executive Ball Clicker’. It demonstrates the law of impact between bodies. She believed the world was dynamic and ever changing people’s life paths spun into each other. His life choices had created a yellow brick road of destruction for her and her family. And now she wanted her innocence back. She had decided to steal it.


Her torque was good, very good her touch was light, a female hand was best. She inserted another bobby pin and scrubbed over the pins from the inside to the outside. The pins set and the lock sprung open. She could feel a ‘ping’ in her brain.

Through the glass doors she could see a bed with a woman lying on it naked, she was the wife. She had an anchor scar where her heart should have been from a breast job. They removed her heart and soul during the operation that is why she was a cold unfeeling bitch. You have two hearts as a woman one in each breast, one for Lilith and one for Eve. One was full of dark desires and the other full of zealous self effacing love. They worked in balance with each other and there is movement in that balance sometimes the selfish deed is the correct action. And then sometimes it is just evil. The heart of Lilith is not evil, it is beautiful, it is merely evil on its own, just as the heart of Eve is not inherently good. It is only benevolent when accompanied by the heart of Lilith. Eve on her own is just another kind of evil,as was Mary without Lilith; they were black, veiled with white. Bitches!

She crept through the bedroom. It did not look real, it looked like a theatre stage design. She supposed an interior designer had staged it all at some point. The dressing table was too grand and over sized for the room. She could not find the man she was looking for. It was dark and the woman was sleeping rather disturbingly naked on top of the sheets. She looked unconscious, good. The couple must have slept in separate rooms. In the wall there was a door that did not look like it opened onto the hallway; she thought it might be an adjoining room or a bathroom that led to his bedroom. It was an ensuite bathroom, just beyond the throne was another door. She knew it would open into his room. She imagined how funny it would have been if she had opened the door onto him sitting vulnerably on the loo. She giggled and walked through the door into the dark.

Max was having a dream sent to him by an avenger, someone who did not like him. That’s the way it was in this dream. He was long dead and many years had passed. He was aware that his dreams and wishes were dead and that his future or the future of his line was now written. His desires were now obsolete. Money, budget freeze, these words echoed around his life. Sometimes in an effort to avoid facing a future that required backbone and courage a man will attempt to keep everything frozen. Greed was telling him ‘Don’t move, don’t spend, don’t speak, just freeze’. No it was not greed, what was it? What was that feeling the feeling that allowed him to not feel? It was dispassionate. Which was it, coolness,calmness or was it cold and frozen? Maybe it was all of these. It was broken only for a moment by violent bitter outburst of despair and frustration. It all had to be broken down in a way that was linguistically recognizable and understood by a dispassionate brain. He needed to represent knowledge to himself cognitively, through a logical programming of language.


In knowledge representation a subsumption is a relationship where one class A is a subclass of another class B. Type A is a subset or subclass of B. Man is the hypermyn of pauper and millionaire. Subtyping is an imperative part of Programming language theory. And the hyponym is pauper.The other hyponym was millionaire. See! The paupers have subtyped him! They had denied his humanity. Well do unto others he had thought for most of his life.Everyman is a subclass of human and the rich man resents his subordination tothe logos. Humanity was not something he wanted to be a part of if it meant being merely mortal. He would feel nothing. Equal was lesser. His self pity knew no bounds. The injustice enabled him to do terrible things. It enabled him to stop what was his from being taken from him. And he froze in fear. He froze his life, his line of progeny, the budget of his company and the revenue of his government. He iced the wages of vast numbers of subtypes, or people as they insisted they were. That they used that term for themselves, infuriated him.The injustice of it! He was a man with no tribe and no love. He had a zeal for self. It was rather a dead end though and he could see it coming. So he froze everything even time.


But Addonia was dynamic, no, she was dynamite. Well, she had dynamite but the important point was she was the antithesis of stagnation. She was alive, she was creative. She was love. And it was time for Max to feel the pangs of love. Passion originally meant ‘to suffer’. He needed to feel love’s scourging caresses. ‘Well ‘she thought, ‘nine tails had this cat, this ittybitty kitty cat’.

Max was dreaming he dreamt he had great grandchildren they were chavs. They were immigrant refugees to planet HD 85512 b. Despite the absolutely dire name the corporation whom had found it bestowed upon the planet,it was actually similar in temperature and topography to southern France. Being so bounteous, the natives (and by natives I mean the human pillagers who got there first) were oft to scoff at newbies, or scum as they liked to call them.Max had two grandchildren in this dream. They were very mediocre. They had been born in space and were quite weak, ill and ratchet. They cut him quite a kiss,as in he found a bleeding pang in the hole in his breast. He was now officially a bleeding heart. Well, sort of, at least in the dream. Wait a minute, there was a tremendous pressing weight on his chest. He woke to feel little air in his squeezed lungs and saw an alien like girl straddling his chest.

‘Meeeeeeeoooooorrrrlllll, I curse the child of your offspring’s progeny! I curse a blinder of despair then hope and then despair again on them.’ Max laughed and pushed her off. He then looked at her slowly for some time. She smelt divine to him. She was exoticized to an alien degree of weirdly erotic. She sniffed, ‘Do you want to then?’ By the end if the night, she had conceived his child. She then returned home to bring up his offspring. She would raise it in his worst nightmare, in Tower slumland.

Lalealea

Ok

I wrote this some time ago for a comp that I am re-entering again this time round.

I think for me it takes time for me to be able to stand back and be critical. I think the main thing I was thinking of was that is shouldn't be boring. It probly is.

I think the character was inspired by a pop song I heard.

Anyway looking at it now it's not great at all. But I want to hear what others say before I say anything.

Thank you.

Lalealea

PS

For james bondings

NIPPLE.