Chapter 1: We’re On The Train to Nowhere
Our story begins in the European island country of Iceland, on the GLAMISSILE: a train that is faster than any land-based mode of transportation in the world – even faster than the Shinkansen, the Japanese bullet train! The passengers are zipping across the interior plateau on super-lubed rails, the locomotive thrusting with unbridled power, racing over sand fields, plowing through dark mountain tunnels, and bursting forth into the lowlands alongside the glacial rivers that ejaculate out to the sea.
The year 2012 is coming to a close; it’s only a few weeks prior to December 21, the often misunderstood end-date of the Mayan calendar. This upcoming occurrence has resulted in several pseudoscientific doomsday predictions, and a movie featuring Adam Lambert’s single “Time For Miracles”. The science fiction blog io9 described the song’s video as “Adam walking through disaster porn and waving his arms. Because nothing says love ballad like watching your family flung into the mouth of a volcano.”
The citizens of Iceland are no strangers to volcanoes, apocalyptic talk, or to porn, for that matter. They’ve been through disasters – both geological and Kradamesque – and know they’ll go through them again. The land is rife with intense volcanic activity, and active geysers spewing jet-like eruptions every five minutes. None of these natural events could be as powerful as the effects of an Adam Lambert concert – something that is, coincidentally, also scheduled for December 21, 2012.
On the Glamissile, carrying many important and not-so-important passengers, Tommy Joe Ratliff is not worried about the end of the world. He’s not even worried about the upcoming concert. Frankly, he has no time to consider whether his boss is tempting fate by agreeing to sing in one of the coldest outdoor venues on the planet on a date predicted by many to be the end of the world. He’s seen enough horror movies in his day that tales designed to scare people have little effect on him. He is more concerned with the immediate danger he’s facing.
You see, someone is trying to kill Tommy.
He thinks that it must be a case of mistaken identity, or karmic payback for sins committed in another lifetime. It could even be payback for sins committed in this lifetime, but Tommy’s pretty sure nothing he’s done would make someone want to risk a murder rap. He doesn’t think he can continue to outsmart or outlast his assailant, although by some miracle he has succeeded so far, thanks in no small part to his hair whipping and his incredible flexibility.
The first time he escaped death, it was pure luck; he’d been leaning out the window of one of the passenger cars when a sheet of ice had slid from above, nearly crashing on his head. He had no idea what was happening, and at the crucial moment, he’d pulled back inside to get some ice for his drink, and heard the crunch as the sheet of ice shattered on the rails. Ironically, a small piece of the ice came flying in the window and landed with a satisfying “plop” in Tommy’s glass.
After scanning the rest of the train, and talking to one of the conductors who was of Viking descent, and had been deeply engrossed in an episode of Full House on a small TV in one of the employee cars – Tommy realized that there was no ice to be found anywhere else on the roof. It was as if someone had deposited the frozen weapon directly above him. He had no proof, but he had a gut feeling, not unlike the feeling he got after eating one too many burritos at his favorite Mexican place in Burbank.
This time, there is doubt that he is being targeted directly. Someone has booby trapped Tommy’s guitar case. He’d been about to take his bass out for a little practise, when he’d heard the distinctive “click” — a small explosive inside the case had been engaged. Tommy stands frozen to the spot, unwilling to either close the lid of his case or open it all the way, afraid that any movement will trigger the bomb, or whatever it is, to go off. He’s about to call for help when he notices the red digits glowing from behind the strings. It’s a clock, and the seconds are ticking away. 3:23.. 3:22.. 3:21… He takes a deep breath and tries not to panic.
He thinks about everything that has happened in the last year; landing the job as Adam’s bassist, touring the world, changing the color of his bangs from black to blonde – all incredibly exhilarating experiences. He remembers the first time Adam kissed him on stage, the first time he met Kris Allen, and the first time Sutan dressed him in a corset. Two of those things had given him an erection, and the third had left him with welts in the shape of tiny elephants (and no, it’s probably not what you’re thinking). Some people just have no boundaries.
Thinking about all of those things has killed some time, but if he doesn’t do something fast, it’s Tommy who will be killed. 2:14.. 2:13.. 2:12…
Chapter 2: But Who Was Sharktopus?
But enough about that! The bullet train continued to zoom across the majestic landscape, its passenger cars rattling from the speed and the power and kick-awesomeness of a bajillion train thrusters and whatnot doing their thing. The conductor, Kris FjordAllenton, a tiny yet hearty man and a descendant of Viking plaidsmiths, kicked back in his plaid conductors chair and hit Fjord pilot on the train’s control board, settling in for the long journey. He pulled out his Fjordpod and flipped to some Goo Goo FjordDolls tracks, eyeing his co-pilot Mr. Jesus, who was still frantically going through his start of journey checklist. “Take it easy Latin.” He addressed the man by his unconventional first name. “There’s time for paperwork later. Let’s just kick back and enjoy this sure to be completely uneventful and not at all murder filled or mysterious ride through Iceland, okay?”
“Sounds good to me boss.” Latin Jesus placed down his clipboard and threw his sandled feet up on the dash, pulling his sombrero over his eyes to catch a little z’s.
Meanwhile all the passengers had settled into their compartments for the long journey ahead to get to the capital of Iceland–whatever that is–where most were traveling to see the world famous Sharktopus on display at the Fjordland National aquarium. The compartments were luxurious accommodations indeed, consisting of the finest shag carpeting from Switzerland and mini fridges full of peanuts and cocktail weenies and Dr. Pepper–in glass bottles!!!
Walking along the aisle of these awesome compartments was a man named Hoffington, a tall salt and pepper haired drink of water with a red employee vest who exuded an outrageous amount of machismo, carrying a capuchin monkey on his shoulder that wore a leather jacket and had mini bongos. He was pushing a wobbly cart full of candy and magazines and various other trinkets for sale, like “I Went to Iceland and All I Got Was Bjork!’ tee shirts.”Candy, cigarettes, uppers, downers!” He called out melodically in a voice that could woo German ladies out of their panties as he passed by compartment after compartment, but only to be met with silence.
“I guess there’s no takers tonight.” He addressed the miniature monkey on his shoulder, and the monkey cocked a devastatingly handsome monkey eyebrow. “What’s wrong Mr. Stamos?” The monkey started ooh oooh aaahing, scurrying back and forth across the man’s shoulders frantically and began to fling his poo.”Calm down Mr. Stamos, I already told you that this is the last trip we ever take on this godforsaken train okay?” Hoffington knew he was too good for this job, that surely his striking good looks would make him a superstar in say–Germany–or something, but as much as he hated it and it made him resentful and mysterious and dangerous, he still had bills to pay, so push his little cart he did. He called out once more, advertising his wares, and he heard a response from the compartment next to him.
“Yes, do you happen to have any chocolate for sale?” The bespectacled man in the compartment said, rubbing the oddly protruding belly of his lovingly. “I am sooo craving chocolate something fierce right now. Oh, and I guess the little one is craving it too!” He giggled, still stroking his belly warmly, his eyeglasses now misty from the tears of pride welling up in his beady little eyes.
“Why yes, I do. I’ve got Hershey’s and Kit Kat and a Double Douche Delights…”
“Oh I’ll take the last one kind sir.” The man said slipping the man some rainbow colored Icelandic coins.
“So what brings you on this trip?” Hoffington asked as he handed the man his chocolate. “Are you going to see Sharktopus? I hear he correctly predicted the past winners of America’s Got Talent!’ He exclaimed excitedly.
“No, actually I’m on my way to a symposium on male childbirth in Fjordtown.” He adjusted his eyeglasses and narrowed his beady eyes in a way that suggested that his child ridden male womb was superior to the other man’s obviously non child ridden womb. “I am also going to a symposium of medieval eyeglassery because I happen to be a professor,” He sniffed, seemingly appalled that a man of his stature would want to see something as pedestrian as a sharktopus.
“Professor VonGokeyton is my name and I have little need for such nonsense…plus I am not allowed to go within 20 feet of any aquarium anywhere since the….incident.” He ended mysteriously, his eyebrows drawn together in a mysterious way.
“Ok well good luck with that!” Hoffington smiled and Mr. Stamos scurried down his arm to hand him his change and they continued on their way.
The next compartment held four individuals, a mysterious woman dressed all in black with black velcro pants who did nothing but hold her hand up and wave Hoffington off mysteriously when he poked his head through the door and asked if anyone was interested in a Sharktopus commemorative mug. The man seated across from her however, with his bronzed muscles and tight European style swim trunks and bon bon that was just made to be shaken, looked rather interested.
Holy shit it was international pop star Ricky Martin!
“You are Ricky Martin! And you’re gay! You’re Ricky Martin and you’re gay!” Hoffington said, staring in an awe struck and totally not at all creepy way. Mr. Stamos got so excited he started to play with his monkey junk. “And I hear you have a boyfriend. I hear you are gay AND have a boyfriend.” He stated, his eyes growing wide. “I google you all the time. I’m your biggest fan.”
“Thank you hooney.” Ricky pursed his lips together in a sassy way now that he was free to be as sassy as he wanted to be now that out of the sassy hiding closet.
“Would you like to buy a Sharktopus 2012 limited edition t-shirt?” Hoffington asked, not able to peel his eyes from Ricky’s tanned and inexplicably bare torso. “No. But wanna Fanta.” He looked down at his feet where two flaxen haired toddlers sat angelically playing with Ken dolls. He tapped them both on their heads. “Don’t you wanna?”
“Si papi! Wanna Fanta!” They chorused and Ricky beamed with gay single dad pride and the whole scene was totally adorable and Hoffington handed them their ice cold Fantas on the house.
“Your kids are adorable. Are you taking them to see the Sharktopus? I heard he once pulled an endangered mango freighter to safety off the coast of Guatemala rescuing 100 migrant workers!”
“Oh no. See Chico here,” Ricky patted one child on the head, “he is afraid of sharks and The Man,” He patted the other gently,”he is afraid of octopuses so it’s a no go. No we are traveling to Iceland to find them a new nanny since…” Suddenly Ricky’s eyes grew dark and troubled and mysterious. ” Since unfortunate things happened to her..” He stared off into the distance mysteriously.
“Ok well good luck with that then!” Hoffington called cheerily and continued his way to the next compartment.
Hoffington rapped gently on the door of the next compartment. “Anyone interested in Sharktopus key chains?” He asked pleasantly as the door swung open before him.
“No thanks.” Said a male voice and instantly Hoffington was gobsmacked. There sat in front of him was yet ANOTHER international popstar—Adam Lambert.
He was just as Hoffington remembered him from the life-size lithograph hanging over his bed. From his dark pompadour, to his kohl lined eyes to his extremely pasty white face to his red nose to his polka dotted bow tie to his giant red shoes to his seltzer bottle and…wait ….WUT thought Hoffington. Well, Adam was known to be eccentric when it came to fashion.
When Hoffington was finally able to pry his eyes away from Adam’s bizarre ensemble he realized the compartment was not only filled with Adam and his other band members–whatever their names were–but it was also filled with balloons in various colors and shapes, and the jaunty sounds of pipe organs wafting through the air. “Erm, off to see the Sharktopus?” He asked cheerily. “I heard he power voted for you!”
“No man.” Adam smiled, but his eyes were suddenly cold and mysterious. “Me and the Sharktopus have bad blood man. Bad, bad blood. Bad.” He trailed off mysteriously. “I’m in town for an awesome 2012 concert since the venue in Nova Scotia backed out at the last minute due to…unforeseen and terrible circumstances that I am not at liberty to talk about.” His dark eyebrows cocked darkly.
“Ok well, heh heh, good luck with that.” Hoffington smiled and continued on his way.
Meanwhile on the other end of the train, in Tommy’s compartment, Tommy was still huddled over his guitar case, watching the numbers tick down excruciatingly slow. Who could have put a bomb or some other kind of evol and nefarious device in his luggage! This was the exact reason why he agreed with the TSA and all their strict rules–besides pat downs were kinda hot–and damn to hell the lenient Icelandic government and their willy nilly free love rules on travel!! His glittery lined eyes watched the digital numbers grow closer and closer towards his doom when he suddenly realized–this wasn’t an agent of destruction! It was his OWN timer he had set to remind him when it was time to get a trim of his asymmetrical hipster hair! After all, haircuts like his and Kate Gosselins required a lot of maintenance and he had forgotten he had set a timer for his next appointment at Great Clips.
He felt like such a fool and as he went to reclose the case his heart started to pound in his childlike chest and his childlike hands began to shake and his childlike arms began to flail as he realized OH NO! I’M GONNA MISS MY HAIRCUT! DO THEY EVEN HAVE GREAT CLIPS IN ICELAND?!
Tommy realized he must have shouted out his terrifying thought when his compartment mate–acclaimed actor Billy Dee Williams of ‘Star Wars’ fame off to film a cameo in Sharktopus’ new film–shot him a suave smile and shook his glossy raven locks.
“Keep cool man. They have Fjord Cuts there–don’t worry.” His eyes swept up and down the tiny androgynous man mysteriously and seductively and held out his hand, offering the man a drink. “Colt 45?”
“No, that’s ok man. I’m cool.” Tommy shook his head no. He was pretty sure by the way Billy Dee had been eye sexing him all this time that he had slipped some roofies in it or something.
“Suit yourself man.” Billy said, his eyes suddenly growing dark and mysterious like he had dark and mysterious thoughts running through his scorned mind. “I’m gonna go hit the head.” He stood up and adjusted his junk and strode out the door mysteriously.
Tommy rolled his eyes, when would guys learn that he was totally not gay and totally dug chicks like everyone said he did, like, all the time? Gah! As he went to finally close the lid on his guitar case his eyes grew wide once more as he realized the Marilyn Manson “All stars in the dope show” collectible doll he had always carried with him for good luck was gone!!!
SOMEONE WAS OUT TO KILL HIM AFTER ALL BY RIPPING OUT HIS HEART AND SOUL!
Furious, Tommy stormed out of the car. No one steals something so precious and meaningful from him without paying, he tells himself over and over as he feels his now uncontrollable anger rise to the surface. He had to send in 20 boxtops from Marilyn Manson’s ‘Beautiful People Puffs” Cereal to get that!
So as Tommy went off to find the conductor to report a robbery, he ran past all the compartments full of mysterious people and international superstars each with their own super mysterious pasts and secrets, and he noticed an open door at the end of the corridor. Frozen in his tracks he stared mesmerized at the ground as it rushed by him, the wind whipping his hur back and forth. Ever since he was a child he had a fear of falling to his death from an inexplicably open and unattended door on a bullet train in Iceland, and he was paralyzed with fear. The chugga chugga motion sent chills through his spine while the choo choo’s kinda gave him a boner…I mean it was scary and all but trains were kinda hot– but don’t get it twisted he totally only likes girl trains.
Tommy stared and stared at the ground, his knees knocking in terror, yet somehow he found himself moving closer and closer to the edge, drawn to the danger like an androgynous man elf to black lipstick. His eyes glazed over as if in a trance and he suddenly started humming a few bars of Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘Crazy Train’ when suddenly he felt his childlike body being lifted off the ground and thrown through the air, out the door, off the train, like the title of this story states.
Chapter 3: A Reindeer and A Priest Walk Into A Bar.
“Tommy, will you help me get my Spandex pants on? I think maybe I’ve eaten too much eggplant lately,” Adam walked into Tommy’s berth, distractedly plucking at his Spandex leggings that were bunched awkwardly at his hips.
“Tommy?” he said, finally noticing that the room was suspiciously lacking in twinky bassists. He looked around curiously, even wandering over to the closet but if Tommy ever had been in there, he was definitely out of the closet now.
Adam walked down the passageway, peeking around corners to see if he could find Tommy – those pants weren’t going to get themselves on without help! He grew increasingly agitated as more time passed without finding Tommy, and by the time he’d searched the length of the train he was frantic. His wailing, while melodic and perfectly in tune, was reaching such heights and crystal clarity that passengers’ wineglasses were starting to shatter. “Tommyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!” He cried. The passengers applauded.
“Mr. Lambert, what seems to be the problem here?” asked a chipper voice from behind Adam. He turned to see an attractive and not at all rabid fangirl. “I’ve lost my Tommy! I think he’s been kidnapped, or killed or worse!” Adam wailed. She hastily interrupted. “Let me help find him – I’m an investigator. My name is Farah Lily.”
“Oh, thank God, a real private investigator!” Adam’s expression lightened. “Who do you work for? CIA? FBI? Pinkertons?”
“Um, OnlineDegrees.com,” she mumbled. Adam’s face fell. “But they’re totally, like, accredited and everything!” she rushed to say, as she smoothed her hand down her Jolie-esque dark locks. Figuring he wouldn’t get any better offers on this train, he described Tommy to her and asked for her help. Her expression didn’t show that she knew exactly who Tommy was, nor did it show her true feelings for him.
For the next several hours, Farah and Adam roamed the train, interviewing passengers to see who may know where Tommy was. They talked to all sorts of intriguing passengers, some famous, some not, but all with interesting and intriguing backstories, like the totally evol!communist-looking guy who bore a strange resemblance to Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin and who shared a berth with three identical badass-looking women whose names all started with “L”.
The group was friendly enough but refused to answer any personal questions, and Farah’s halfassed-trained gut was telling her that they were plotting something nefarious. Sadly she had tied up her computer watching Glam Nation Tour uStream videos the day they taught interrogation techniques in her online Private Investigator course, so she wasn’t able to get them to spill any secrets.
When they reached Professor VonGokeyton they were too stunned by his protruding belly and too repulsed watching him eat caramel-coated pickles to ask him many questions, and quickly took their leave of him without learning anything of use.
After thoroughly searching the train a few more times, Farah turned to Adam and bluntly stated, “He’s not on the train. I suspect foul play.” Adams face crumpled and he sobbed “Who could do something so terrible? What did Tommy ever do to anyone? What will I do without him? Could you please stop stroking my chest?” Farah blushed and removed her hand.
Farah assisted Adam back to his berth, nimbly avoiding a shady-looking English Bulldog puppy roaming the hallways on the way. Just as Adam started really getting into his sobbing, the compartment door burst open and a familiar gamine face appeared, surrounded by messy asymmetrical blond hair. It was Tommy!
“Ha!” Tommy exclaimed. “Someone threw me off the train, but they can’t keep a good bassist down! Not without buying me a drink first!”
“If you were thrown off the train, how did you get back on?” asked Farah in a curiously hostile tone. Tommy didn’t notice, he was just excited to tell his story.
“I landed in a huge snow bank and walked to a nearby tavern. There was a young priest inside, a Father Brøwdersson. He was eating the traditional Icelandic dish, hákarl – that’s a shark’s head that’s buried underground to ferment for several months, then dug up and eaten!”
“Um, what does that have to do with your reappearance?” Farah demanded.
“Nothing, but isn’t that gross?!!” Tommy smirked. “Anyway, when he heard what happened, he agreed to help me catch up to the train on his pet reindeer, in exchange for a chance to meet Adam!”
“Anything for the man who saved my Tommy!” Adam exclaimed happily. “And since you’re here, can you please help me get my pants on?”
Chapter 4: From Here To Sharkternity
(Scene: Reyðarfjörður fjord, 2004)
He stared at me, the man with the blue eyes.
I stopped moving and stared back.
He sat on his opulent recreational vehicle, right there on the ice.
My head swam. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. How I was feeling anything at all.
The man moved one gloved hand.
Wind as cold as fire fluttered through the slits on my side.
He moved his head. A nod perhaps? So slight, so hard to tell.
I tried to speak. No words came out. What could I even say that would register the magnitude of this moment?
His mouth opened.
I waited, wanted.
It closed, lips tinged blue. His nose, so round and red. His skin, so white.
He reminded me of a land I knew once. Before I returned home.
To the ice.
To the fire.
He stood up then. His feet encased in shoes too large.
He walked towards me.
The air stopped .
I was frozen as the ice.
So close. He was so close.
And I felt heat. Right there on a fjord in the hinterlands of Iceland, my prehistoric home, the only place I belonged. I felt heat like I’d never known in a thousand years.
His bowtie was crooked. It was the thing I focused on. So I wouldn’t melt from the flames of his touch. As he put his gloved hand on one of my arms.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured and his voice was prayer and love and salvation.
I looked at his face, but not his eyes. He was so white but it was not his skin. Why does he wear makeup so white when his skin is so pale? I concentrated on that question as he stroked his hand (so gentle, so alive) down to the tip of my tentacle.
His hand moved to my mouth. One finger over one tooth.
I closed my eyes and let him.
Fingers dragging over jagged edges.
My jagged edges.
This is where there should be blood. I sink my teeth and the red overwhelms the white. It’s been that way for a thousand years.
I open my eyes.
I smile. Teeth. Rows of teeth. So sharp and deadly and happy and saved.
His smile twisted.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Fingers pressing the blades of my teeth.
Like it was okay.
Like he wanted the red.
My jaw had never pressed so lightly. Yet so needy. Wanting the red on the white.
Stars burst inside my head as the fingers pulled back.
Flashes of red, on the man, in my head, dripping from my teeth.
My eyes cleared and I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
“Are we even now, Dr. Collins? You have your prize.”
The voice that had whispered fire was as harsh as the air that rushed through my gills.
There was laughter behind me and I wanted to crush it. I wanted to sink my teeth like razors into the flesh of that laugh and tug and twist until it turned the water crimson.
The man with the bowtie wasn’t laughing though. He looked at me again and I no longer saw the alien insanity. It was like he was two people. One an avatar, a clown, with magnetic blue eyes hiding narcissistic charm behind his theatrical makeup.
The other I glimpsed through a hand pressed to my flesh.
My eyes were heavy now. I closed them, victim to my own foolish stillness.
I should have fled. I didn’t.
I’m ashamed that my only consolation was that I knew that one day I would see the man again.
In a thousand years, I’d never felt such comfort.
(Scene: GLAMISSILE Train, 2012)
Adam Lambert sat back in his seat and stared across at the newly resurrected bassist elf in front of him.
“Now that I’m alive again, I just wanted to talk about how freaking excited I am to see the Sharktopus! I mean, the concert will be fun and whatevs, but dude, Sharktopus!” Tommy squealed, crushing his bony arms to his bony chest with completely heterosexual glee.
Adam’s blue eyes glazed over then and they glowed with narcissistic magnetism.
“Um….Adam? Are you okay?” Tommy said slowly, glee dissipating.
“My name is not Adam. It’s Steven Cobalt,” he hissed, reaching into his nearby murse and pulling out a red rubber ball.
“Adam, I mean, if you want to role play, that’s totally awesome, but maybe later when we get off the train?” Tommy suggested, his voice suddenly higher pitched then it was the moment before.
With the strength of a dramatic and arrogant alcoholic clown with three felonies under his polka-dotted belt, Adam—nay, Steven!— grabbed Tommy by his scrawny clavicle and stuffed the red rubber ball-shaped nose into his mouth. His large fingers pressed them further down until Tommy’s breath cut off and the pasty white face went red and then blue.
Steven flung the useless body of the bassist to the side of the cabin and stalked down the hallway. He grabbed a flyer that announced in bold letters “Dr. Misha Collins talks about his research on the Great Sharktopus!” and crushed it in his fist.
“I’m coming for you,” he whispered, his voice like ice, like fire.
He ran away, pushing people and monkeys and bulldogs out of his way as he went.
The door to the cabin open and a flushed Tommy came out, spit covering his face and a rubber ball in his palm.
“Was it something I said?” he coughed before promptly passing out.
Chapter 5: That’s Racist!
Jesus really is a great co-pilot. Mostly he sleeps, but sometimes he gets me sodas or a little red wine to help me unwind. And as he slept there, I gazed at him lovingly. Oh Latin Jesus, why are you so pretty and brown?
But I must keep my eyes on the track. Getting to Sharktopolis won’t be easy. I didn’t even see it on the map, but Jesus has never led me astray before, I’m sure I can trust him.
Suddenly, there is a knock on the cabin door. Jesus stretches sleepily and tips up his sombrero. “Aye Dios Mio, who the hell is interrupting my holy siesta?” I shrug. Oh Jesus, you are the cutest.
Jesus gets up and looks through the small window at the top of the door that I am too short to reach. “Uh, oh, this don’t look so good for you, hombre.”
“Why so serious, Jesus?”
“It’s Senior Lambert and he’s looking very rapey again.”
I shudder and reflexively rub my tight little bum, remembering the last time that Adam was looking rapey.
“Surely you must be mistaken, Jesus! He can’t be back for more already!”
Latin Jesus was in front of me in a flash and he bent down so that his eyes were level with mine. I could feel his mustache tickling my skin and smell the tacos on his breath as he spoke very slowly, “Senior FjordAllenton, I am serious, man. And stop calling me Shirley.”
With that, Jesus hurried to the sekrit escape hatch.
“Where are you going, Jesus? Aren’t you going to protect me from Adam’s rainbow?”
Jesus paused and a look of pity played across his features for a moment. “Oh Senior FjordAllenton, Adam’s rainbow is no bueno. His rainbow is a rainbow of doom. Now I must go rapidamente to hide my kids, and hide my wife because by the looks of it, Adam is raping everybody in here.” Jesus punctuated his sentence by gesturing to the entirety of our cabin. And then like a flash he was gone.
What everyone doesn’t know is that I’m not really Tommy. Or at least not the Tommy that they expect. No, when Adam stuffed that chloroformed red nose-ball into my mouth, the Tommy everyone knew was thrown into a secret time traveling box. I emerged, Tommy from a dystopian future where elf-men are treated poorly by their lanky, raven-haired overlords (but at least in this future I had finally admitted that okay, maybe I might be a teensey bit bisexual.)
I know the truth about Sharktopus. I know about Steven and about Misha and about all of it and I am here to take action. Now that Adam is stalking all rapey-like towards Kris, I have my chance to fix this whole mess and save the world from the impending destruction and havoc that will be the result of Adam and his schlong of doom. As long as that little bratty monkey Mr. Stamos doesn’t see me, there won’t be a rip in the space-time continuum and all shall be well…
Chapter 6: Goo Goo for Ga Ga
Far across the globe from Iceland, there is a place where the people play with iPhones and eat fast food to their heart’s content. These people are called Americans, and their location is the United States of America. As the conductors Jesus and FjordAllenton drive the GLAMISSLE containing TommyJoe “Kimmy” Ratliff, Adam “Steven Cobalt” Lambert, and the charmingly intelligent Farah Lily – among others – a woman is holding a meeting.
The woman is tiny but noisy, strong but delicately beautiful. She wears foot-high Alexander McQueen heels and is wearing only a silk miniskirt paired with a bra.
This bra is decorated with small tadpoles that froze to death just weeks before as the End of the World loomed closer. People stare at these tadpoles as the woman rises from her seat in the conference room. But they can not see if she is staring back at them, for she wears a pair of purple-tinted John Lennon-esque shades.
The President of the United States rises with her. “But –“
The woman holds up a manicured index finger, silencing him. “I’m a free bitch, Mr. President. I am the first to speak,” she says.
He opens his mouth again. “I –“
“Mr. President, do you really not recall what I said in 2008?” Gaga asks Barack Obama, her voice lower than it was that time during that music video that ended up sending her into throat surgery. Strangely, this particular decision to go bass does not seem to affect her at all. (Perhaps it’s the power.)
“I’m sorry, Gaga, I don’t –“
“That’s Queen Gaga to you,” she snarls. “I said that I planned to take over the world, one sequin at a time. One. Motherfucking. Sequin. And when I am ready to succeed, I will. I hope you know I will begin with the United States.”
The president gulps. Gaga merely clears her throat, addressing the entire room of people she called to join her today.
“I am here to address the event we have awaited for a long time. The end of the world is approaching, supposedly, and will arrive on December twenty-first of this year. We are not prepared. We are denying this event’s existence.” She adjusts the bangles on her skinny arms, made from the well-preserved bones of the Paleolithic peoples.
“But I think,” she continues, “that it is going to happen. In fact, I am sure. I have seen the future with my own green eyes.”
“But your eyes are brown,” a voice says, and Gaga turns to its owner. It is none other than Ryan Seacrest, whose own eyes glitter with a reality-show-host twinkle.
Instead of speaking, Gaga leaps on top of the table and crawls toward Seacrest. Her face inches from his, she places her long pop star fingers around his neck.
“Seacrest,” she murmurs, “tell me what color my eyes are again.”
He struggles for breath, sputtering, “But . . . the song . . . ‘Brown Eyes’?”
As the others watch, Gaga slowly takes off her glasses. Her eyes are indeed green.
“See?” Gaga whispers. “They’re green. Green like the envy you felt when Simon Cowell wanted to stroke my dick instead of yours.”
Seacrest’s eyes widen as if in humiliation and horror, but in truth, they are mostly bulging due to his lack of oxygen. Flecks of foam shoot out from in between his lips, and after a few moments, he finally collapses. Gaga effortlessly drags him over to the door, where the guards are waiting, and snaps her fingers. Seacrest is dragged bodily from the room, unconscious.
Gaga marches back to her seat, but remains standing, and continues.
“With my own green eyes,” she tells the room, “I saw . . . Iceland. And I saw the Ice Queen of Iceland. Lady Gaga. I saw her telling the people not to worry as civilization collapsed. I saw her clutching small children to her hefty bosom.”
Chris Hansen, in the corner, opens his mouth and closes it again. At most times, he is outspoken on the subject of predators. But those times are gone now, and he can only sit and say Can I help you? to his shoelaces. Gaga seems to sense this, and halts in her speech briefly, but says nothing.
“In Iceland,” Gaga continues, “gays have the right to marry. Gays, stand up.”
A slim man with a childish face is the only one who rises.
“All of the others have gone,” he announces. “To Iceland. Where they can roam free.”
Gaga smiles at him, and he gives her a shaky smile back – revealing that he is, in fact, not toothless.
“And how are they traveling, gay Glee boy?” Gaga inquires, seeming to know the answer.
Chris breathes in deeply before blurting, “The Glamissile.”
Gaga claps her hands. “Exactly right, gay! The Glamissile. This is an astoundingly fast train traveling to Iceland. It carries a pop star named Adam Lambert who I gave this song called ‘Fever’ and we got really drunk and he – anyway, the point is, I was supposed to get there first.” Her voice, just conversational with the warmth it always holds when she speaks to gays, turns cold and stony. “I am supposed to rule Iceland. It is in my destiny.”
She leans on the table. “Tonight, we will be catching up with the Glamissile in a machine of our own. Do not despair when it comes to expenses. This machine is called The Labiairplane. It looks like any other plane but for the inside, in which stewardesses will offer us –“
And with that, the door bangs open. The security guards, startled, fall and must scramble to their large feet.
“HEEEYYYY YOUUUU GUYYYYYZZZZ WASSSSUUUPPP MMMAAAAANNNN?” a gravelly voice says. It is none other than Magenta herself.
Gaga looks outraged at being interrupted, but sees the girl’s bright mane and is filled with instant relief. “Little monster?” she offers, extending a hand.
Magenta struts in, looking confused but confident, and waves the hand away. “No, man, I’m Magenta, like, ya know, I’m the shit,” she explains, without actually explaining anything.
Gaga pouts; she doesn’t even seem angry. “You’re not a little monster?”
Magenta smiles. “Hey, you’re that freaky chick, right? The chica muy loca? You’re the shit too!”
Gaga’s face clears and she smiles even more broadly. “Well, we’ll just pretend you’re a little monster. Marijuana, Magenta?”
Magenta lights them all joints, but doesn’t light one for herself. “I’m high by nature, man. I’m like Janis or some shit,” she says.
The lights turn off, but no one is startled. Then Gaga turns on a diamond-studded flashlight and hands it to the girl. She holds it just underneath her chin with a mysterious – well, a better word is stoned – look on her face.
“So dudes – hey, dudes – I’m here ‘cause, like, I know where the Glamissile is.”
Gaga grabs Magenta’s arm, and the two of them whisper secretively for a few moments. Magenta stomps her foot once, twice, three times, and the door through which she entered breaks down, causing a flood of sticky red liquid to splash through the room.
Enter the Kool-Aid Man.
Chapter 7: ????????????????????????
“Aaaannddd I’m knocking on your doooorrr” her phone rings. The name Corleone Browderetti flashes on her phone – there’s a text message for her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lambert – I have to go now – just think of what I told you just now ok!” She quickly dashes out from Mr. Lambert’s private coach, while still holding the black iPhone for dear life – and checking the message. It reads: “It’s time. Do it.”
She grabs her black backpack and heads to the cargo coach near the end of the trail. Peering at the small mirror well-kept at the side pocket of the backpack, she stares at herself quickly and grabs a long, white, fabric. Of course, carefully rolled inside the backpack.
“Let’s do this.”
“Attar oil! Attar oil! Come and get it – Attar oil!!!!”
The passengers of the train startles from their slumber to find a person draped in white, eyes heavily lined with black eyeliner walking to their seats.
“Ya sayed, ya sheikh, ya siti, ya sharifah, I am selling attar oil all ze way from Yemen. Ana min Yemeni! Auzentiiiiic!!!!” he said – while peering around the coach. Damn those eyes.
Yes – definitely from Middle East. That accent is unmistakable. The voice is hoarse.
A male Arab, he seems like.
The man sees a small guy hiding underneath leopard-designed Snuggie with a big pillow propped under his pretty little head. Turns out, the Snuggie-wearing guy is really our very own Mr Kris FjordAllenton.
The guy takes pity on him and asks, “Ooh ya sayed, vhyyyy are you hiding underneath zoz pillowzzzz? Tooooolk to ana!”
Bleary-eyed and stirs from his Snuggie-Time, Kris asks, “Uhhh… whaaaaa?”
“Talk – to – ana!” His dark brown eyes meet the bleary-eyed ones of Kris.
“Uh…. Ok? Um, sir, why are you covering your face? And why are you wearing eyeliner? Surely you’re not an extra from Lord of Not a Labi – errr… Lawrence of Arabia???” he starts speaking – unmistakably FjordAllenton-style.
Taking a deep breath, the Yemenian guy says, “It’s a Yemenian custom for men to wear this – Ana am comfortable veeearing it. It’s called kajal! Anta want one?”
Puzzled, Kris asks “Who’s anta?”
“Anta means “you” in Arabic.”
“So, would juuu like to try some attar oil?”
“How on earth do you make this little bottle of oil thing? All the way from – Yemen? What the heck?”
Meep. The Yemenian guy explains, “It’s a type of perfume, sir! Smells good! Here here – smell itttt!”
Sniff. Sniff. It does smell quite nice.
“I made them myself sir! I came all the way from Yemen – I am selling deeeez during the Sharktopus Zexpo! It’ll make ju stroooonger and briiiiighter and feel like the world is youuurs! Ju will be ze king of ze world! Childbirth, driving a truck, jumping off an airplane – no problem at all!!!!” he further explains.
Confused, Kris makes a WTF face and says, “But if everyone buys it then everybody wants to rule the world then!”
The Yemenian guy laughs. “La’! La’! Oh no no no…. Ana making a zpeshialll offer for juuu ya sayed.”
“The name’s Allen. Not Say-ed.” Kris deadpans.
“It’s Arabic for sir – I’m making biiizniz here. I see ju sleeping underneath those pillows. Ana pity ju. Ana vant to help. Good faith sir, good faaaaith! I’m swearing on my best ruby ring on my finger ya Sayed!!! I really vant to help ju!” he pleads.
“How much iz this?”
“One hundred euros ya sheikh!”
Kris balks upon hearing the price of the small, tiny bottle of perfume. This guy has got to be kidding him – is he crazy???? “ONE HUNDRED EUROS??? WHO ARE YOU, A CROCODILE????”
The Yemenian guy holds his shoulder and calms him down while making eye contacts – and explains, “No sir, this is made from the finest jasmine oil I can find from the streets of Aden and I mixed it with saffron… and citrus! Jezzz ciiiitrus!!! And I added some dhab oil in it to make it more ~powerful.”
Curious, Kris asks, “Dhab oil?”
“Only the strongest animal in Middle East, ya Sayed!” the Yemenian guy expressively describes it. Kris looks even more curious now – tries to eye the guy’s “package” to see whether it is true. Damn he’s fully clothed with this white whatever wear thing – he can’t see it – ugh. He looks into the Yemenian guy’s eyes, “Ooh…” with a small smirk.
“And if you buy one, I’m gonna give you another one – for free!”
“Wallahi! Ana never cheats! Plus I can give juuu excellent instalment plan – if anta cannot pay it now, anta can pay it in 5 staggered payments?”
“Anta can pay me little by little, whichever amount ju have – you can always pay me back later.”
“And you call yourself a businessman.”
“I’m just here to help you, sir! I don’t have any other intentions! Ana As-Siddiq, ya Sayed!!!!!”
Resigned – Kris finally gives in. “Well – if that’s the case….”
“Good! Good! Here you go, sir!!!!! Shukran! Shukran! Shukran! Here – let me sprinkle some for you – for free!!!!!!!! Baaaask in it sir, baaaaask in it!!!!” Damn this Yemenian guy is expressive – with his hands and all. Kris thanks him and he rises from his seat to move on and says “hopefully I’ll get to see you again, soon”.
And just when he is about to leave, he bumps his shoulder with a tall, rugged-looking guy who holds a big takeaway bag and a burrito in his hand. Kris yells, “Cale!”
Cale yells back, “Hey man!” and looks at the Yemenian guy’s face and starts blushing. “Hey.”
“Ahlan.” The Yemenian guy leaves. Cale checks him out still and says, “Haaaaay…”
The phone beeps again in the middle of the carriage. He makes a quick dash to the nearest train washroom and locks himself in. The name Corleone Browderetti flashes. A 4G call.
The recipient of the call removes the white sheets off his face for us to discover that it is Farah Lily, dressing up (and disguised) as a Yemenian guy. She picks up the phone – and we see the image of Father Brøwdersson on the screen. He asks, “Done?”
“Done deal with the pheromone, Don Browderetti.”
He sees Adam walks in long strides – he knows that look on his eyes – the rainbow-shooting look. He surely is about to march towards his boss, Mr. FjordAllenton’s seat which is 3 coaches away. “Ay dios mio!!!! What am I going to do?????? I’m hungry –
damn that Senor Cale taking all my burritos away from me – ay no no no no!!!!”
He sees the flicker of Adam’s eyes – those powers of rainbows are unstoppable, he’s like a vampire who’s hunting for his prey, the kind of those you see in Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of those Batman movies. Those blue eyes that shoot rainbows.
“Senor FjordAllenton’s bon bons!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I got to honour that bon bons!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
He runs, and runs, and ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuns – until he is stopped – by a large thud. On his face.
“Perdona mi, Senor – eh, Ricky Martin???? Don Rico?????”
Uh – oh. Old memory flashback. No bueno.
“Ayyyy Jesus!!!!!!! Il padre for my future bebitas!!!!!! Ayyyy I miss youuuu!!!!!! Puss puss ahhhh!!!”
“No Don Rico nooooooooooooo!!! Mi sposa, mi muchikitos y muchikitas!!!! I am uno padre por los bebes!!!!!! NO DON RICOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
“Ay ay ay…… mucho bello…. your hair… so luxurious!!! You’ve come a long way since your days as my Menudo pocket lover – ayyyy those haiirrrrr!!!!!”
“No puerde se – you left for General L’opital and you dump my bon bons for some random chico! NO NO NO YO SOY NON GAY POR TU!!!! I’m married – mi sposa!!! Mis bebes!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!”
And a big slap reaches Don Rico’s face. Jesus gasps – he has just not slapped Don Rico – ehhh Ricky Martin big time. Don Rico holds his now stinging face. There’s a lone tear on his left cheek. “It’s all a facade, Jesus – you know I got to sing for those mujerres!! Ay Jesus, te quiero!!!!! Please don’t leave meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!” he begs.
Latin!Jesus feels as if something shoots up on his ass – no, no, no – Senor Lambert cannot be shooting those glittery beams to his ass – he’s not Senor FjordAllenton!!!! His ass feels so cold – he feels like he’s about to die….. and he’s got to do something to stop Senor Lambert from coming after Senor FjordAllenton – and the moment he heard that voice:
“Shake your bon-bon Jesus, Shake your bon-bon Jesus, Shake your bon-bon……”
“Don Rico!!! Yo soy non gay!!”
“Ay Jesus, muchikito! Puss puss… Besos!!” Don Rico keeps on showering him
with those kisses while his fingers fiddled with his belt buckle. And before
he knows it, his pants are on the floor and those hands are now grabbing his
“Suerta! Suerta mi! Sueeeeeeeeeeeeeertaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!”
“No Jesus, you love me, querido, I know, I know! Yo seeeeeeeeee!!!!”
Latin!Jesus thinks about those rainbow shooting eyes again – and damn, Don
Rico’s package is impressive – ay no no no – but if this is what it takes to
save Senor Allen…
“AY DIOS MIO!!”
Thus the two of them ends up making major noise at Don Rico’s first class seat – while his maid scoots both his toddlers away. “Chicos! Follow me!”, and ten steps later, a six-foot-one tall figure wearing three-inch high boots stops their move.
“Perdona mi, senor!!!!!!!”
Adam loses track of the wavy-haired guy who works for Kris FjordAllenton. He keeps on searching, seats by seats, for that wavy-haired guy with Spanish accent – until he meets up with an old lady with two kids.
“Ma’am, have you seen a wavy-haired man walking around here?”
“No no no no senor nooooo… Sorry – bambinos!!! Rapido, si!!!!” she quickly runs. Adam is curious. “Tommy – do you think she’s hiding something?”
“My hair has a lot more sekrits than her, Lambert” he deadpanned. And just as he removes the curtain of the private seater nonchalantly, there he is, buck naked while a very good looking guy is ramming him up passionately while singing random bits of the song “Shake your bon-bon”.
Adam has his jaw-dropping moment, “Ooh I know that hip-shaking somewhere, Ricky.” He is so stunned he just ends up watching the whole thing while he does his twirly dances and mini-hip shaking to the rhythm of the song Shake Your Bon Bon. And when they are done with their act and murmured “Te quiero” and “Yo se cancada – no rapido” to each other, he moves on and struts along the coaches again to find Kris FjordAllenton, with Tommy in tow.
Latin!Jesus’ hair fails him this time around – not even Adam’s rainbow-shooting eyes ping him this time while Don Rico’s body is wrapped around him while his own hair cover his eyes.
Ay Dios Mio.
He finally sees me. Myself in my Snuggie glory – smelling like those Middle Eastern perfume thing that’s given by that one weird Yemenian dude. Damn I must fight his rainbow – but ooh his package is as huge as a big ass eggplant – yummy – but nononono not today, he must suffer first before he gets me.
Adam Lambert, if you want me, you have to claim me.
It’s not going to be an easy ride this time.
I look at his little companion. The same guy he has been molesting on stage day-after-day. The one that even I want to molest to. Damn his lip gloss looks gorgeous.
I walk right in front of them, completely forget Cale who’s eating his burrito no. 2 and grabs his lips and kiss him. Nothing really major – just a small peck on his lips.
And there he goes. He grabs my ass and deepens the kiss – his tongue peeks out, wanting to make an entrance into mine. I succumb to him with that kiss, and respond by yanking his fluffy, supposedly bleached blonde hair and kiss him back. Our crotches grind together in unison.
I can barely say a thing, just crappy nonsense like Mrghh… Mmmmph and Unfff… and he tries to take of my shirt and I just keep on grinding myself on him – damn this kiss is good…… until I hear a loud gasp and a scream.
“TOMMY!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, KISSING AND UNDRESSING MR FJORDALLENTON????? IT’S MY JOB NOT YOURSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!”
Both of us stop doing what we are doing. Our eyes locked. He asks me, “Why haven’t you send me those love letters anymore?”
“I run out of box tops. I ask Cale to bring them for me all the time, but all he care is his burritos” and I point at still-eating-burritos Cale. Excited at the mention of the word “burrito”, Tommy releases his grip on me and looks at Cale.
Cale waves. “Haaaay.”
“Can I have some of your burrito?”
“Sure – I actually have another type of ~burrito in mind too.” Before I know it, Cale rises up from his seat, with his bag of burritos in hand, and grabs Tommy’s hand and walks away, his left hand caressing Tommy’s nonexistent butt. Tommy side-hugs him and sniffs the smell of burrito and Cale. He looks like he wants to eat Cale up instead to.
Both of them leave me there, standing by myself.
I look into his eyes – those rainbow-shooting set of eyes. They are not so rainbow-shooting anymore, compared to the last time I saw him.
Those eyes are a little misty, to say the least.
Hmm, you don’t say, I guess.
We just end up looking at each other.
Chapter 8: Auras and Chakra Holes and Positivity
Clearly something had gone terribly awry.
The circle of angels assigned to oversee operation Music Makes Love Real could not understand how their original plan had strayed so far off course. No one imagined an error-free go-live, but now events were unravelling at a pace that caused the air to stir with a current strong enough to throw some of the winged ones off balance.
“What should we do?”, asked the youngest and least experienced of the cohort.”
I can’t figure out what is going on anymore. I have no idea who needs help and who is responsible for the confusion.”
The elder stood up from her close-talking crouch, and towered over the others. Her expansive wingspan was ample enough to encircle all the members of the choir. At once they felt calmed, reassured that somehow there was an explanation for the madness. All knew that the elder kept her eye on the big picture, and would impart wisdom that would shepherd them out of the dense fog that shrouded their vision.
“There is a reason for everything,” the wise woman declared. “Yes, what we are witnessing seems chaotic and contrived and not at all what we expected to happen. The events have unfolded in an nonsensical way- it is almost as though some puppet mistress is playing us as clueless fools. This is the moment one must have faith in the inner voice each of us has the ability to hear, if only we would listen. Tentacles and exotic oils, aliens and glammissles, bowties and the most bizarre use of the Spanish language any of us has ever heard, all are being used to create a noise so loud you might lose your ability to hear The Truth. It is a diversion so disarming that you may not see clearly through the haze.
The remedy for this madness is simple: take a moment to ground yourselves. Check in with what your heart knows. Rise above the the shenanigans and see them for what they are, an attempt to keep music from opening the ears of those who are deaf to the strains of love. The Dark Side will struggle and strain to keep humanity from evolving. We must not let them win. With that, she pulled from the Heavens a broad stream of White Light that bathed her companions and their surrounds. She then dispatched a re-energized army of angels out to bring Earth’s skeptical, confused and disoriented humans the good news that love conquers hate; all is love.
Chapter 9: Every Time A Twink Loses Its Pants and Angel Gets Its Wings
Newly dispatched from Heaven to clean house and get this mission back on track [it’s a figure of speak, the Glamissle is still on the tracks, don’t worry!], two angels materialized onboard the train. One mysteriously pantsless and wearing an empty leather holster, and the other in glittery eye make up and a killer pair of Louboutins. The Archangel Cassidy and the Beautiful Butterfly known as the Angel Johnny Weir, tucked in their wings so as to appear inconspicuous (well as inconspicuous as a hot man without pants & and a sparkly butterfly can ever be).
The first thing they saw at the end of the passage way was the evol-commie Russian and his comrades. The Beautiful Butterfly, took one of his ice skates and with lightning quick reflexes hurled it like Chinese Throwing Star and took out the commie & his three minions who’s named started with ‘L’ in one clean shot.
“Well that takes care of that unnecessary complication,” said the Butterfly.
Just then Farah Lily stepped into the corridor and stopped short. Her beautiful eyes narrowed at Johnny Weir, “You!” she said.
“You!” the beautiful butterfly said, his own eyes narrowing.
“What are you doing in Iceland Johnny Weir,” she hissed at him.
“I am here for the World Championship ICEskating competition in ICEland, they have a lot of ICE here you know,” he said, giving his cover story.
“Guys lets take this inside the cabin so no one hears us,” Cassidy advised, and the three of them squeezed into a tiny compartment, which wasn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds.
“Alright what were you thinking trying to kill Tommy? You know we can see everything from up their right?” Johnny asked her.
“I was afraid he was getting in the way of Kradam!” Farah Lily protested.
“Mission Kradam comes AFTER we have completed mission LambShark,” ArchAngel Cassidy explained, “You know the fate of the entire world depends on getting Adam and Sharktopus together!”
“And besides, Tommy works for US,” Johnny reminded her.
“That means no more throwing him from the train,” Cassidy said, shaking his finger at the poorly trained invigorator with the Angelina eyes, “Take us to Tommy NOW!”
“Well he is a bit indisposed right now,” she said, blocking the entrance to one of the compartments.
“You mean DEAD?” the Beautiful Butterfly asked shocked.
“No, see for yourself,” Farah Lily stepped aside and the two angels beheld a tiny naked Twink quickly pulling up his tight pants and stepped away from a naked taco-eating Cale.
“This is not what it looks like,” Tommy assured the angels.
“So THIS is why you have completely ignored your mission to protect that Sharktopus?” Johnny exclaimed, slapping Tommy across the face with a white glove, “What kind of angel ARE you anyway?”
“Take us to the cockpit or whatever they call it on trains,” Cassidy demanded. Then they all began to giggle at the word COCK and Cassidy took a moment to make up a song about cocks and cockpits and topless llamas as they followed the tiny twink.
Out of another compartment stepped non-other than Gay Pop Icon Ricky Martin! With him were two angelic tykes and their new mysteriously beautiful Slovakian nanny. Noticing ArchAngel Cassidy’s pantsless state, Ricky Martin’s face beamed.
“Hey! Is this that Pantsless Train ride they do every year?” he asked, “Oh, wow! My lucky day!”
ArchAngel Cassidy tried to explain this was just how he dressed, but Ricky wasn’t listening. With a flick of his wrist, Ricky Martin’s own pants flew off revealing his bon bon for all to see. “WOO! HOO!” he called over his shoulder, “Hey everyone it’s a Pantsless Train ride let’s party!”
Cassidy sighed. This ALWAYS happened when he rode trains. Why couldn’t people understand that not wearing pants was HIS thing? Now the two angels had to push their way through a corridor packed with pantsless, yet well oiled, bodies who were dancing to some catchy Latin beats.
“We are never going to get through this throng of pantsless men and complete our mission on time!” cried Cassidy, “Butterfly, I will find Kris, you do Adam…”
The Butterflies eyes sparkled with delight.
“No! I mean FIND Adam and bring him to me in the cock…nevermind.”
ArchAngel Cassidy located the conductor, Kris, at the front of the train. “Conductor! Are you aware that Iceland is an ISLAND?”
“Ummm… yea,” said Kris trying not to stare at the angel’s smoking hot bod and pantsless state of perfection.
“Haven’t you wondered why it is taking you so many days to get to the Sharktopus? On the fastest train in the world? You DO remember you are on an end of the world deadline and all?”
Now you may remember (or not) that this plaid wearing descendant of Vikings was all hot and bothered because some sneaky angel had slipped him some Pheromones, so he was having a hard time concentrating on the pantsless man’s questions.
“Someone on this train doesn’t want you to get to Reykjavik!” Cassidy informed him, “You have been just going around and around in circles! What you need to do is look out for the John Lennon Peace Tower. That is the signal.”
That got Mr. Fjordallenton’s attention for a moment, “Oh I love the Beatles!”
“Good,” said Cassidy, “Then just keep a lookout for a beam of light shining into the sky…”
“…like a laser with an erection,” Kris finished, staring at Cassidy’s crotch.
“Sure, just like that,” Cassidy sighed, “Just remember to take a hard left when you see it.”
“Get hard when I see the laser erection. Got it.” The conductor said.
“Aye Dois Mio!” cried Latin Jesus, who until this moment some believed had escaped the Glamissle on some kind of escape shoot slide like that Jet Blue guy with a beer in his hand. But nope he was still on train and reading a post to his FjordBook wall forwarded by Ryan Seacrest. “Have you heard this terrr- eee- bul news!” Jesus exclaimed! “Zeee Sharktopus egg has been STOLEN!”
ArchAngel Cassidy suddenly understood the importance of his mission and why he had been sent here. “Someone on this train has stolen that egg!” he declared. He went to fetch Investigator Farah Lily from the throng of pantsless men she was dancing with in the hallway, and explained what he wanted her to do. “Find me that egg!” he demanded, “Before the world as we know it comes to an end. Someone on this train has it hidden and only YOU can find it. You have already spoken to most of passengers did any of them seem suspicious?”
“Well… they ALL did,” she said, remembering the Capuchin Monkey who looked like John Stamos, the Pregnant Douchey Professor, the commie, the….
“Go interview them all again!” Angel Cassidy ordered and sent her on her way.
“Now Mr. Fjordallenton we will need to see the passenger manifest and…”
But Kris was gone… once the cockpit door had opened and his pheromones had sensed the pheromones of the hundreds of pantsless men out there…he was drawn to the mob like a moth to a flame. Thinking of Moths, Cassidy set out to reconnect with the Beautiful Butterfly at once. He pushed his way through the sea of sweaty men, slipping and sliding, opening cabin door after cabin door until he found the correct one.
And there before his angelic eyes he saw the Glambuldge in all its magnificent glory! Erect, throbbing, glittering, rainbows shooting out of it. Part him wanted to touch it, part of him wanted to shield his eyes from its blinding sparkling light, and part of him wanted to get out his sewing machine and sew it a tiny (well maybe not so tiny) spiked leather jacket; with tails of course. But the Archangel Cassidy did none of these things for he also saw, bent over Adam Lamberts bed, pantsless, the Beautiful Butterfly, Johnny Weir himself.
“Come back in an hour or so okay,” Johnny requested.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Cassidy said, grabbing the Butterfly by his arm and pulling out the door, “Not in THIS chapter!”
The pantsless party was still in full swing, and before Cassidy had a chance to tell the Butterfly about the missing Sharktopus egg, Ricky Martin noticed Johnny’s pantsless state and invited him to join the dance party. Pantsless Tommy handed him a mic. Monte appeared playing a killer guitar solo. Johnny Weir grabbed the mic and began a rap.
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
Skate on the ice – in my spot LIGHT
Engine running hotter than spandex TIGHTS
Blow jobs ain’t a job – it’s a fabulous time
Fjord to fjord – I’m running my rhymes
On locomotivik – headed for Reykjavik
Iceland boys always like my dick
Glittery fingers and a stole of sable
I do what I do best, that’s dancing on a table
Ain’t no Commie – I’m flirting with Tommy
Going fjord to fjord – watching all the bon bons shaking
While you’re at the job working nine to five
Johnny Weir’s on the Glamissle – cold axlein’ it live
No sleep ’til -
Another fjord – another train
Another bulge on the brain
Another guy – another shark
Another mission in the dark
The Sharktopus’ crazy – he always drinks ABsinthe
He’s got souvenirs at the back of the Lab
It’s the end of the world – you rock a Doomsday clock
Tokyo Hotel – boy’s on my cock
We’re sporting sequins cuz we got style
Getting laid along the way cause it’s worth your while
Four on the floor – Adam’s out the door
Tommy’s in the back because he’s skeezin’ with a whore
Hoff’s got a junky monkey in a sack
With Jesus in the front and Cassidy in the back
No sleep til…
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No Sleep til Reykjavik!
Ain’t seen the light since we got to this land!
Ricky Martin – get on the mic my man
Ricky: Born and bred in Puerto Rico – yes I’m gay
They all me Ricky Martin – but I’m En-riqu-e
Like a lemon to a lime – a lime to a lemon
I sip cocktails with all the twinky men
Johnny: Got limos, arena, TV shows
Autograph pictures of me in pantyhose
Ricky: Step off Johnny – I’m not wearing pants
Humpin’ little twinks from here to France
Wake me up before you go to sleep
Cause I’ll be rocking this train eight days a week
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
No! Sleep! til Reykjavik!
Just then a cheeky Capuchin Monkey grabbed the mic out of Johnny Weir’s hand and scampered away with it, looking back and winking at Johnny with those handsome eyebrows.
The Beautiful Butterfly raised his fist in the air and cried “STAMOS!!!!!”
The Monkey opened the door to Adam Lambert’s cabin to hide, and out tumbled the conductor! Kris Fjordallenton! Naked!
“Are you here for the Pantsless Train ride too?” Ricky Martin asked excitedly.
“Umm… pantsless train ride…yea ..yea.. that’s it!,” said Kris blushing adorably, “That’s TOTALLY why I’m not wearing pants right now! And not at ALL because Adam and I were getting it on. Not that you said we were getting it on – which you didn’t. But if you did say that, well that would NOT be why I have no pants on. It was that other thing. The thing you said…”
Ricky Martin just shook his head at the tiny child size bumbling pantsless man and continued shaking his bon bon.
The Capuchin monkey scampered on his way from cabin to cabin until he and Investigator Farah arrived at one door in particular at the same time; it was the door of the Pregnant Professor Von Douche or something? Farah remembered their being something especially suspicious about this repulsive man but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was? The professor opened his door in all his douchey, bulbous bellied, pickle eating, heart-hand making, glory. Farah was compelled to look away in disgust but her job as an investigator required her to look for clues or something.
“There is nothing suspicious about me,” the professor said douchely, rubbing his elliptical, egg-shaped belly, “It’s just me and my BABY.”
Just then the naughty Capuchin Monkey, looking for a place to hide, crawled up the professor’s housedress and out fell a marvellous elliptical object!
“Aye Dios Mio!” said Farah.
“Stamos!!!!” cried the professor shaking his fist at the monkey.
“Tee-hee!” giggled the Capuchin Monkey with its paw over its mouth.
“I, the great Investigator have solved the mystery of the missing Sharktopus egg!” Farah announced into the mic the monkey handed her, and the crowd of pantsless men in the hall gathered to see, “It was the professor, in the Cabin, with the fake pregnant belly!”
“Amazing!” said Johnny Weir, impressed at her skills, “How did you figure it out?”
“Elementary my Dear Johnny,” said Farah with a pipe in her mouth, “I simply used my powers of deduction to, you know, deduct, that this so-called professor Von Douchmeister was NOT in fact pregnant, but rather was using his disguise of repulsiveness to keep any of us from wanting to look too closely at him.”
All of the pantsless people in the hall now stared in awe at that glammed-out sparkling enormous quivering Sharktopus egg before them.
As Johnny Weir gazed at the glistening egg before him, he dreamed of decorating it with jewels as a giant Faberge Egg to place on his mantle back home, but alas he knew it was not meant to be.
As Archangel Cassidy gazed at the shimmery rainbow glow of the egg he dreamed of getting out his sewing machine and making a cowl-neck top to flatter its curves.
As Ricky Martin gazed at the egg he wondered if it would hatch twins, as his own tykes had hatched not long ago.
As Kris gazed at the egg he longed to find some giant pancakes and giant fruit and make a smiley face with the egg as the nose to express his overwhelming joy and love for Adam.
As Adam Lambert beheld that Glam-Egg his thoughts were very different.
Now, everyone knows that Sharktopus eggs take 8 years to gestate. Adam thought, ‘wait… does this mean?…I’m going to be a FATHER!?’ he beamed with pride.
As everyone watched, the crack in the Sharktopus egg before them grew as it began to hatch. They shielded their eyes against the blinding light that shown forth as the gooey membranes of shell separated and pantsless spectators beheld…
Chapter 10: MMMBop! Sharktopus Babies! Doo Wop!
…through the glittery gleam of the gleamishly glistening light, emerging from the entrancing egg a tousled head, tearing through the tender film. Curly-haired and brown-skinned, the torso of a boy pushed out of the eggy mess and blinked around the stunned throng, smiling with black eyes sparkling like rhinestones and a full mouth of sharp, white teeth. He uncurled his little fists revealing black fingernails and a perfect human form, except for four purple tentacles flopping floorward, instead of regular, human-style legs and feet.
“ooo nuuuuu” purred a robot that looked a little like Eve from Wall-E that nobody had noticed before.
“Isaac!” Professor Von Gokeyton gasped, overcome with emotion.
“I didn’t know he was Jewish,” commented Cale, between bites of his taco.
“Si,” nodded Latin Jesus sagely.
Ricky Martin shook his bon-bon in celebration.
Kris FjordAllenton’s eyes, the color of Hershey’s kisses, stared intently.
“I thought there would be more porn,” Tommy pouted.
“Look!” one of the other pantsless spectators yelped super-excitedly.
The split in the egg gleamed again and, unbelievably, shined even brighter with an angelic white light. Blonde, flowing, feathered hair burst from the ovoid fissure, followed by pale arms and torso, longer and slimmer than his brother, possessing proper human legs, with the same white teeth, but with delicate tentacles replacing his fingers, and inexplicably clad in tight white jeans and a white tee shirt with painted-on suspenders.
“ooo luuuu” cooed the random robot again.
“Taylor!” Von Gokeyton choked, weeping at the beauty of the glorious creature, his breathing labored and gurgling.
“Oh hush,” huffed Angel Johnny Weir sassily. “You’re not even related.”
Taylor preened and smiled blankly at everyone before heading over to Isaac, the brothers nodding and chuckling to one another, oblivious to the de-pantsed mob staring at them, along with a half-dozen plump twentysomething girls wearing pants but no shoes who turned up from somewhere, elbowing each other to move in closer. Isaac, born naked, had picked up a couple of pairs of discarded pants and managed to work them around his tentacles in a semblance of modesty. Adam swelled with pride, hands carding through his own hair for lack of anyone else’s, not knowing whether to clasp these two infants – or really young men, as they appeared (he remembered studying about sharktopus chicks [yes, shut up, that’s what they are really called, you can Wiki it] and learning that they grew at accelerated rates, going from fetus to full adulthood during the hatching process, unfortunately the down side being that they had to be home-schooled so, you know, forget about a sensible career, spelling accuracy and a secure future, but whatevs) – to his heaving paternal breast or to ask for the taller one’s phone number. He was kinda hot.
“Look!” another spectator ejaculated enthusiastically. Let’s say it was Billy Dee Williams, we haven’t seen him for a while.
A collective gasp rolled through the crowd like an ocean wave, or “the wave.” For the few of them who were paying attention, it wasn’t even a sexual thing.
Indeed, the beleaguered Sharktopus egg split a third time, beaming forth a rather more mischievous light. Punching through the membrane with a powerful fist, as if accustomed to beating things for a living, emerged a third brother, with shaggy brown hair, jeans, a leather jacket and converse sneakers. Solidly-built, he appeared to be all the way human except for the now-familiar pointy teeth. But he probably had a tentacle somewhere. Just sayin.
“ooo duuuuuuuu” trilled the robot, unnecessarily. Seriously, where did this thing come from?
“Zac” rattled Professor Gokeyton one final time, reaching out a pathetic hand toward the oblivious hatchling, before suddenly collapsing dead of a broken heart.
“A broken heart?” scoffed Hoffington. “That is BULLSHIT man.” He unceremoniously tossed the Professor’s flabby corpse onto the tracks, followed by the useless robot. “Okay, now who wants a ‘I Witnessed the Miracle of Sharktopus Birth’ souvenir t-shirt? Three-for-one special!” Farah Lily shook her head and tried to nudge Tommy toward the open train door but Archangel Cassidy gave her a look.
Adam felt his heart growing three sizes — which kind of made him a little nauseated — and tears prickled behind his eyelids as he gazed over the perfect forms of the Sharktopus triplets. Isaac adjusted his improvised pants-suit and yarmulke, Zac snickered and glanced around, looking for an X-Box, and Taylor wove his tentacle-fingers through his luscious blonde hair. These were his babies, and as painful as their conception was, and how much it had endangered the future of the world as he knew it, Adam loved them with all of his heart and knew he would die to protect them. He also knew that their happiness depended on one crucial thing.
As much as Adam hated to agree with the family-values gestapo who so often attacked him and his outfits, he had to concede on this point: all freshly-hatched human-seacreature-hybrid triplets need TWO parents for a full and happy childhood. That meant the Sharktopus was right out; Sharktopi were notoriously terrible mothers, what with the cannibalism and compulsive shopping. He gazed around him at the befuddled, slightly sweaty, mass of Icelandic commuters in varying states of nakedness and realized that this moment is what everything has been leading to, here so close to the end of the world. Among these Glamissile passengers he must find his perfect soul-mate to co-parent his beautiful children. Then he must get the Sharktopus to sign a legal agreement foregoing its parental rights. Then he must find a notary in this godforsaken middle of nowhere country to make the thing official, all before sound check. Aye, Dios Mio!
But who…who could he share his life with for an eternity of parental bliss? He gazed around this assortment of characters (around 35 of them, so far). Among them, a pair of chocolate eyes stared back at him….
Chapter 11: Never Doubt The Power Of Highlights
But before he could utter the name belonging to those beautiful chocolate brown eyes, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness and the temperature dropped by 20 degrees. All those who were pantless found their cocks retreating like turtles into shells.
“My muchos burrito”, cried Ricky between chattering teeth. “Chihuahua’s no likey the cold”he sang out.
“Well this is one pantless angel who can handle the cold. Bring me my Olympic skates, with them i can conquer anything.” Johnny yelled out in his Scarlett O’Hara voice.
And all at once, everyone was talking and yelling, everyone except Adam who had an eery suspicion of what was about to happen. And then it appeared, a beautiful apparition, in flowing pink organza and long flowing golden locks-golden streaks so finely applied they could only have been done in a southern salon where blonde highlights are a birthright. Upon her head, resting ever so delicately, was a crown made from diamonds, sapphires, and Revlon lipstick tubes in the legendary color “Vagina in Heat Red”.
My gawd thought twinkly Tommy, i would kill for one of those tubes of lipstick. That color would look perfect on me. As always, Tommy was easy to distract.
But Adam remained calm and focused, slowly inching his way to his newly born children. His protective paternal instincts kicking in. The apparition spoke in an accent so cultivated and clear that it could only have come from years of participating in several small regional beauty pageants through out the south.
“Behold, I am Princess Adorable of Arkanhotsauce. You will all fall on your knees before me!” she decreed.
And one by one, everyone in the room fell to their knees, almost hypnotized. All except Adam.
“Why do you not obey me Adam?!” she hissed out. “It is because of you, that my great love has been lost to me. He know longer craves my sushi, but instead hungers for footlong coney dogs and burritos. But that is all going to change.” she said, her voice dripping in southern cinnabon sweetness.
“No!” stated Adam coldly. “I have been divinely endowed with the magic rainbow penis. Your darkness is no match for It’s powers of love and goodness. And now with my three children, it’s legacy will carry on.”
Kris could no longer be silent. He had let the Princess control him for long enough, and seeing his love Adam standing up to her made his own loins ache with love for him and his own protective instincts began to kick in. As he began to rise from his knees, the Princess spotted him and sent out a cold blast that knocked him back down. “How dare you think you can rise against me, like some out of tune red guitar!” she shrieked.
She then turned back to Adam, there will be no future for your happy rainbow of love penis if i can help it. And just as she was about to reach out and snatch Adam’s 3 children, a figure glowing red and giving off great heat came between Princess Adorable and the 3 children. “Yes!” cried Adam. “Can it truly be!”………
Chapter 12: Meat, Mammaries and Manslaves
Queen Gaga did not mind when Adam, aspiring archduke of the Queendom, neglected to use Her proper title. Dressed in a cathedral-length red sequined Snuggie and sharktopus tiara (as was traditional for royalty to wear while in Icelandia), Gaga gave off rays of red that emphasized the truly ambrosial nature of Her being.
Her meat chariot was pulled by Her three infamous bowlcut-topped, speedo-clad manslaves: Alejandro, Fernando, and Roberto. The scent of the meat temporarily drew Royal Pup of Arkanhotsauce, Zorro, from Princess Adorable’s cleavage (where she kept everything, as such things are possible when one has such sizeable mammary glands), but was swiftly frightened away by the sheer power of Gaga’s supremacy and went and hid in Adam’s pouf of hair.
“Aye perritos mios!” Latin!Jesus exclaimed, only to have the manslaves drag him off to the dungeon for daring to comment on something other than the Grand Queen while She was present.
“Sorry I’m late, I was,” Gaga flicked a foul-smelling glitter chunk that had fallen from the failed assassin, that Key-dollar-sign-huh girl, off of Her otherwise unsoiled wrist, “delayed.”
“Thank the great glam spirit you’re here now!” Adam exclaimed. “We needed a figure of glamthority to settle this once and for all.”
“What seems to be the iss…matter of dispute?” Gaga, in all of Her royal being, had taken to using the greatest number of words possible as to avoid petty terms used by the common people.
“This puta aqui!” Rickey exclaimed, gesturing towards the Princess of Arkanhotsauce.
“Excuse me,” Princess Adorable interjected. “I am Princess Adorable of Arkanhotsauce and these…commoners are refusing to acknowledge by omnipotence! And they took my Prince!”
Alejandro laughed. In a very-fake British accent he had developed since serving royalty, he exclaimed, “You call yourself a royal and yet you haven’t even taken to the sharktopus tiara since entering Icelandia?”
“And give up the crown of Arkanhotsauce? I may as well sacrifice the very abundance of my bosom, as Arkanhotsauce is just as much a part of my identity as that!”
“Fair enough,” Queen Gaga said in Her cavalier manner. “Well, I suppose this means one thing: the two of you will have to engage in combat.”
“B-but, Mother Monster, you aren’t going to help me?” Adam beseeched.
“I may have…my favorites, but I am a fair queen.”
“Please, Your Majesty, I will give you the most…gracious thanks if you return to me what is rightfully mine,” Princess Adorable pleaded sensuously, all whilst heaving the aforementioned bosom in an attempt to appeal to the Queen’s more Pokerface-y interests. The Princess herself lacked such interests, but she was desperate to get her prince back. The Queen was only temporarily fazed, as the Princess’s bosom contained great power, but Queen Gaga was stronger still.
“I’m sorry, but you will have to abide by the rules of Royal Combat.”
Fernando pulled out the Royal Scroll of Combat. Like Alejandro, he hid his Latin roots with a fake accent developed for his royal spot as manslave, but his was, rather than faux-British, faux-French Canadian.
“Ze Royal Scroll of Combat, eh,” he began, “when eet involves winning ze heart of a pree-ance, eh, ees…”
The two other manslaves did a drum roll on their weird-bondage-bed-workout-hardened thighs.
“Royal Mud Wrestling, eh!”
Chapter 13: Mud Is Love
“I will do no such thing!” Princess Adorable gasped in outrage. “How dare you even suggest I would lower myself to such standards? I may be from Arkanhotsauce but that does not mean I am willing to practice such redneck ways of ending a quarrel.”
Adam laughed at her reaction and exclaimed “What’s wrong Princess? Afraid of getting a little dirty? Or are you just afraid I’ll beat you?”
The Princess stuck out her bosom indignantly. “Fine.” She spat with sugar-coated venom. “I’ll agree to this ‘Royal Mud Wrestling. But you’ll be sorry when your glittery chalk-white face in spluttering in mud, being held down by my perfect, poised, little hand.”
“Then that settles it.” The Queen declared, and with a clap of her hands the entire Glamissle and all of its passengers was sent into a teleportation vortex and landed somewhere in Vancouver, Canada close to the set of the CW television show Supernatural, which was about the incestuous love of two brothers and the Glamissle crashed right into a building.
The pantless men and shoeless fangirls and various other random passengers exited the Glamissle single file, and stared around the big room they now occupied, curiously. In the center of the room was quite a large hot tub that was filled with mud. In the hot tub were two men that seemed to have been caught in a compromising position but were too shocked by the intrusion of the Glamissle to bother untangling their limbs. They were both gorgeous, one with short spiky hair, the other with medium length floppy hair, and unfortunate mutton chops.
The fangirls started squeeing a bit at the sight of them. And so did some of the pantsless men.
The Queen’s menservants made room through the crowd for the Queen to stand in front of the hot tub.
“Hello, Jared and Jensen, my good friends,” she said, with that same voice she used for Chris Colfer. “I’m sorry to interrupt your sexytimes, but I am afraid, by Royal Decree, that we are in need of your…‘special’ mud.”
Jared and Jensen seemed to adjust to the surprise Glamissle attack and were now sitting normally in the tub.
“Well if it’s by Royal Decree, then I guess we have no choice but to get out.” said Jared, and him and Jensen stood and got out of the tub in what seemed to be slow motion, in all of their naked glory.
Some of the fangirls fainted at the sight. And the pantsless men were struck with a new inspiration. For even though they were pantsless they still wore underwear, but at the sight of naked J2 they all decided to take their underwear off as well.
“Order! I must have order!” Queen Gaga announced. Everyone gave her their attention. “Alejandro, Fernando, Roberto,” she addressed her menservants. “Please empty the mud onto the floor.” They did as they were told.
Adam took his clothes off; he was ready to get down and dirty, and not in the sexy way. Princess Adorable followed suit, and she stood clad in Adorable lingerie. They both went and kneeled in the mud.
“Wait!” came a shout from the onlookers. Kris FjordAllenton pulled himself away from ogling Jared and Jensen as they made out in the corner, to push himself to the front of the crowd.
“Adam!” he shouted. “Don’t do this for me! I don’t want you to get hurt! Especially not by her!”
Adam stared into Kris’s chocolate eyes, the same eyes he had seen on the train earlier before the Princess showed up, the eyes of his soulmate who would help him raise his three Sharktopusman triplets Issac, Taylor, and Zac, who now that Adam thought about it, resembled everybody’s favorite boy-band of the ‘90s, Hanson.
“Kris, I have to!” Adam wailed. “If I don’t defeat her in this Royal Mud Wrestling, she will steal you back from me! I have no choice!”
And then Alejandro quickly blew the whistle for them to start before Kris could protest any longer, and the Princess elegantly shoved Adam down into the mud. The wrestling had begun, and soon they were rolling around in it, pulling hair, and smashing mud into each others faces. But the crowd found it quite a turn-on to watch, and the half-naked men were groping and grinding each other, and the whole room almost turned into a giant orgy party.
Suddenly the mud began bubbling up around Adam and the Princess, and they felt it tingling all over their skin…
Part 14: No! Not Taylor Swift!
The two foes fought fiercely. The Princess pulled every dirty move she possibly could. Her lady in royal minstrel suddenly appeared from behind the crowd. Taylor of Swift began to play and sing of a being fifteen. The awful noise weakened everyone around except the princess. Her strength grew with each insipid, shallow lyric. Adam was powerless against it.
“He’s mine,” she yelled as she slammed Adam’s face into the mud and Kris watched helplessly from the side.
Meanwhile, Jared and Jensen decided that they would provide the crowd with their own entertainment and chose that very moment play out a lovely dance between naked Michael and Lucifer. Kris was momentarily distracted. He was always fond of biblical tales…especially ones with naked angels.
Taylor of Swift was also distracted because she had witnessed this same dance between two of her former suitors Jacob of the Gyll and Taylor the Wolf. She stopped playing giving Adam just enough time to break out of his trance.
Adam yanked the Princess’ hair from her head. She was powerless without her golden mane. She fell into the mud gasping for air. Kris ran to Adam.
“You fought for my honour…and you were victorious.”
“I will always fi…” Adam is distracted by Jared and Jensen. “Why have they disrobed?”
“They are Michael and Lucifer in a battle of the death, but they choose to display it through dance.”
Adam smiles. “Shall we join them?”
They joined Jared and Jensen in their naked Michael and Lucifer dance. The fangirls wept. Just then they heard an awful squeal come from Taylor of Swift. Most assumed it was her singing until they turned to see the Princess holding up wavy blond locks. Taylor was on the ground. She had been scalped.
The Princess used the mud to bind the hair to her own head.
She marched towards them.
“I will never go.”
Part 15: OH HELL NAW!
The Secret Ingredients in the Special Mud had caused Adam’s hair to miraculously grow as well as car salesman-like facial hair. It was long and flowing.. well, caked with mud mind you, but very long. You get my drift. The Princess, with her confiscated, newly attached hair, lunged for Adam as he was walking away with her man. She latched on to his hair with her tiny little hands and hung on for all her worth.
Adam yelled with his powerful voice as the anger overtook him. He was Not going to let this insignificant princess wannabe win this battle! The golden notes coming from that throat, that long, powerful, sexy throat, escalated, getting higher and higher catching Kris’s attention. He turned, witnessing the renewed battle.
Well, That was IT! He was putting a stop to his now! Kris wanted his man, and he wanted him Right The Fuck Now!! He turned, stalking towards the two physically mismatched people grappling with each other in the mud.
As Kris stalked towards The Princess that was detaining his man with this nonsense, he pulled something out of his pocket. It was round, shiny and golden, and pokey with sharp edges.
Adam had The Princess in a headlock and was shovelling handfuls of mud into her mouth when they both looked up at the object of their collective affection.
The Princess Screamed bloody murder when she saw what Kris had. Adam wasn’t quite certain what to think when he saw the man of tinyness rubbing an object in his arms and making it shine, then jamming it angrily down on top of his head.
“Nooooooooooooo!” the Princess screamed, mud flying everywhere as she shook her head loose in slow motion. “You will not use your Little Mr. CityFest title and crown to thwart my plans!”
With an evil look in his eye, and a lopsided grin, he approached her, determination in every step. She thought the tiny lil man was sexy. But the pocket man didn’t want anyone to know he was walking that way because he had to pee.
When he was close enough, there seemed to be a vibration coming from his crown. The Princess covered her ears and squinched up her face in pain. Apparently the shiny gold emitted a high pitched noise that only dogs and princess wannabes could hear. She crab crawled out of the mud backwards as quickly as she could and disappeared into a darkened corner. Kris sank to his knees and embraced his lover. Adam removed the crown handing it to Queen Gaga. She inspected it thinking she could hang raw meat from the sharp pokey parts.
There was much celebration that night. Kris and Adam ran their hands over each other’s bodies as they washed the mud away in a nearby spring. Kris leaned forward taking Adam’s nipple piercing into his mouth as he road the glambulge. He wanted to know he was alive. He needed it deep, hard, and dirty. Adam was quite happy to accommodate that need. Both were panting in quick shallow breaths. Adam leaned his head back moaning out his climaxing pleasure. Kris licked a long stripe up the beautiful exposed throat. Once more he slammed his body down onto Adam’s discostick sending the crescendo up his shaft in between them to land on his black haired lover’s throat. Adam tilted his head down to look at his man with one raised eyebrow as if to say, Oh No You Di~int. Unfortunately, Kris wasn’t finished. The second batch landed squarely on Adam’s left cheek. He was not amused.
After the second round of cleanup, they dressed and were ready to join the others for the festivities. Kris in his plaid and Adam totally rocking a leather glamponcho. On the walk back, they both became alarmed as the path around them was littered with dead blackbirds. The look of horror on the boys’ faces showed their concern. What could have caused this?
Kris was lagging behind looking all around at the black feathery signs of death, when he heard screeching up ahead of him. He ran to his lover’s aid as he saw a neon green glowing alien surrounding Adam saying over and over, “Oh Hell Naw!”
As he came closer to them, the ethereal alien creature beamed herself up to an invisible craft and sped away into the night.
“What was that all about?” Kris asked confused. “Well, it seems I desperately need to cut my hair and shave the Guido stache. She kept warning me that she would call up Team Hell Naw to persuade me into a shearing and shaving,” Adam informed him.
“Well, I happen to think you are gorgeous Adam,” Kris beamed.
They finally made it back for the celebration and began to formulate their next plan to make it to the Aquarium to see the Sharktopus. Adam wanted those papers signed so Kradam could raise his babies.
First, Adam informed Kris that he needed to make an important stop. There was a new Cherry he needed to see. “They’re Scarlet in colour you know,” he told Kris.
Kris stayed in the hall while Adam went in to see old friends. He paced outside, feeling a bit lost and confused. He’d just glimpsed old pictures of his man on the internet at the nurse’s station. He was wearing a large floppy ladies sun hat on the beach. It was hideous. And didn’t fit his Adam at all. So he was dying to get the background on that!
As he was about to knock on the door, a young lovely blonde Fwink approached him. He was wearing a soft baby blue sweater and jeggings. Kris had recognized him from pictures of Adam during his last world tour. He was curious and a little concerned as to why he would be here. Where Adam was.
Before blondie could speak to him, Kris hurriedly went into the room and walked up to Adam to throw his arms around him. After everything that had happened, he just needed to be close to him.
He face planted into Adam’s shoulder, it was his spot after all. “Adam. I feel like there’s a riff between us,” Kris said agonizingly.
Adam gently pushed away to reveal a beautiful tiny baby boy. “Kris, meet my godson. Riff,” he announced proudly.
Kris shoved his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed for thinking something was wrong between them. He pulled his hand out holding a piece of paper with green glowing words on it. “The hair, the poncho, and the stache goes. OR ELSE!”
Chapter 16: Alien in Yo Fic, Stealin Yo Baby!
“Adam!” Kris cried – he sounded serious. “Adam…you should really get rid of that hair. The face fuzz too. It just looks, well, too car-salesmanlike..”
“But Kris! You said you liked it. You lied to me?”
“No, I do like it. i just think…for the best…”
“I like my hair! I like it all! It makes me feel ethnic and at one with the earth! I shaved this weave from a feral buffalo! This ‘stache! It gives me a sexy mysterious edge!”
Suddenly all around them was the deafening whirring of some extra terrestrial vehicle and from the clouds a green beam of light came down and lifted Riff from Adam’s arms and up in to the sky. The last thing the two men saw before it vanished was a green alien peering out from the hatch of some spaceship screaming “TEEEAAAAM HELLLL NAAAAWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!
“NO! RIFF! NOOOO!” Both men feel in to eachother’s arms, the taller of the two sobbing an the most theatrical fashion possible.
There was a silence. The Kris looked up.
“Adam! Wait here! I have an idea!”
The small man ran off round the corner, his lady hips bouncing as he went.
Adam stood in silence. He was distraught. What is Scarlett and Lee found out? He lost his Godson. He lost their child. Riff was just taken right before his very eyes!
Five minutes later Kris came racing up to Adam with two rainbow colored sachets and a bottle of water. Adam could not see how either of these thing would help in the slightest but he looked in to those beautiful honey eyes and found trust in Kris.
“So, there’s this crazy Japanese shop down the road” Kris explained, “actually i think it’s some pseudo-Japanese/Icelandic shop, but they sell unicorn power, watch!”
Kris carefully teared the sachets open and poured in a few drops of water to each, shook them and placed them on the ground. Nothing happened. But, just as Adam began to have his doubts, the sachets started dissolving and twinkling, and producing large amounts of pink steam. After about 20 seconds the steam cleared and both men looked in amazement at what stood before them – two proud, white horses, each with a rainbow mane and tail, and protruding from each of their head’s was a long, multicolored rainbow horn or about 11 inches or so – “wow” exclaimed Adam, “they’re almost as big as my love missile! And 3 times as colorful!” – they looked like those lollipops you get, or popsicles, or even various sex toys.
“Let’s go.” both men said in unison.
They mounted the unicorns and took off up in to the sky.
After only 20 minutes or so, the men found a sekrit passage on to the ship of Team Hell Naw. They ran through the corridors to find the green alien.
“GIVE. ME. BACK. MY. GODSON!!!!!!!!!” raged Adam bursting in to the cockpit of the spaceship.
“I WILL GIVE YOU BACK YOUR GODSON AS SOON AS YOU RID YOURSELF OF THAT GODFORSAKEN HAIRSTYLE/’STACHE/PONCHO!
“NOOOO NOO THIS IS ALL WRONG! THAT CHERRY! HE IS ONLY A BABY CHERRY, SOFT AND VULNERABLE! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”
“I DON’T WANT TO HURT THIS BABY MORE THAN YOU, BUT IF YOU DON’T GET RID OF THAT ABOMINATION…I..I just..must!”
“NO ONE IS POPPING MY CHERRY TODAY!!!!!!”
Adam’s terrible weave and wannabe-jack-sparrow-facial-hair shivered on his head. He closed his eyes and strained – just like one would if they were severely constipated. His hair wriggled and grew in length – he was like Medusa. The hair wriggled it’s way across the room and wrapped itself around the green alien and a struggle ensued.
While all of this was happening, no one had noticed Kris’ disappearance. Whilst the argument was taking place Kris saw a most beautiful sight and just could not resist it – eggs.
“hnnnnnnngggg…..” He moaned.
The was a line of them, leading to a door to the right of the room. All of them perfect – they had golden and slightly speckled shell. Kris pondered all of the things he could do with them. Boil, scramble, fry, make omelets, waffles, pancakes…
“mmmm” He could feel the saliva building up in his mouth and a tingling in his pants. They were only eggs right? Eggs couldn’t harm anyone. After all eggs make everything better! So Kris decided to follow the glorious trail of eggs.
They must have been freshly laid – they were still warm.
The trail lead him in to a long, dimly lit corridor. They lead through a curtain in to a minuscule room after that. As he pushed the curtains separating the corridor in the room, he saw wondrous (and slightly alarming) sight. EGGS. Everywhere. All over the floor. The most brilliant chickens he has seen – they were golden and they sparkled with the most healthy glow he has ever seen on any avian creature. Was this heaven?
The finally stopped at a box. Kris opened the box and jumped in – he couldn’t help himself! There were so many glorious eggs! He let himself fall in to the box – but something was amiss! He kept falling! He was falling an falling and falling!
Thud. Kris landed. He looked around. It was cold. It was dark. There was some devilry at work! Just as he had that thought, crawling out of the corner covered in filth and soaked was the Princess.
Little did anyone but the Princess know, a blonde haired, blue eyed fwink has set the trap.
The fwink silently crept out from the room full of chickens on the ship, smirking to himself. He made his way toward the chaos a few rooms down.
Chapter 17: I Dreamed A Dream
Adam towered over the evol alien that stole his precious Cherry. How could something so small be so bad…so dangerous? His heart swelled with love for his little godson. Riff was a part of him—like his own flesh and glitter. No poncho-hating blob of goo was going to take that away from him! Adam abhorred all forms of violence but he had to take action. The tiny alien looked up at him defiantly…holding Riff in her…well…whatever they were…tentacles…or something. …at least he thought it was a “her”. There were two large protrusions coming from her shapeless chest and she had a blonde, Monroe-esque hairstyle. Her turquoise eyes were so large—they took up most of her head. Her eyelashes were jet black and twice as thick and long as any human’s.
Wait…was that liquid eye-liner…expertly applied…and giving her eyes an alluring, almond shape? What the…?! Latin Jesus H. Christ!!! It was bad enough he had to constantly fend off the advances of human women…now he had alien vag after him? What the ACTUAL FUCK?! Now he knew why she hovered around him screaming “Hell Naw!” and waving a pair of clippers in his face.
She had some sort of Earth-y, fifties-fantasy going on. She wanted him to lose the shag and the stache and bring back the Glam Pomp…so he could play Elvis to her Marilyn. Now his precious Riff was a pawn in her gelatinous game of desire. THIS BITCH WAS GONNA GO DOWN!!! …and not the way she was hoping to. Adam had already cocooned her in his ever-growing glamweave—it flowed from his head like Medusa’s snakes.
He raised the Japanese sword he always carried—high, above his head. It was large and long and it glittered with a preternatural fire. He pointed it at the evol alien. Her eyes grew wide and she batted her lashes at him invitingly. Was she licking her little, green slash of a mouth? Did she look…excited? Oh man…this ho was gonna die. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer to the Archangel Cassidy that his strokes might be quick and swift…and deep. He had about two seconds to grab Riff and turn Marilyn Mon-Martian into sushi. He lunged forward…his blade was firm and ready for…penetration. He let out a fierce battle cry: “NO ESCAPING WHEN I START. ONCE I’M IN I’LL EAT YOUR HEART. IMMA HOLD YA DOWN ‘TIL YOUR SCREAMING IN PAIN. HIIIIIIYYYYAAAAA!!!!! Adam moved like a flash of white-lightening. Riff was in his arms again…he could feel the baby’s heart beating against his chest. “Marilyn” was splattered all over the floor of the ship and sliding down the walls in day-glo green streaks. He clutched the baby to his heaving bosom and set out to look for Kris.
A familiar song echoed in the distance—the heavenly voice washed over him like a caress. Riff cooed and wrapped a finger around his glamweave—which had retracted to a normal, Stamos length. Adam smiled at his sleeping godson…and sang along with the chart-topping tune…sweet as a lullaby. “I dreamed a dream of days gone by…”
Who the hell was playing Susan Boyle—in Adam’s room? Trying to lift his head off the pillow was proving futile. He realized it was his radio alarm—Tommy must have set it to “Boyle 24”—the “all Boyle, all day” radio station– as a bad joke He moaned and placed a freckled hand to his temple…trying to stop the throbbing headache…Goddam his penchant for booze and bass players. Adam was so relieved that Tommy wasn’t dead that he opened a couple bottles of Cristal and brought out the weed they bought in Amsterdam. He had turned thirty, almost a year ago—January 29th, 2012—but he had been celebrating ever since. Hell if there was a chance the world was ending—what the fuck—PAARRRTTAAAYYY!!! It was getting out of hand though. Tommy got so wasted the night before—he fell off the train near a giant, shooting geyser. Adam thought some jealous fangirl had pushed him and practically tore the train apart looking for the “perp”. He went cabin to cabin like some macho avenging angel—breaking down doors, throwing women over his shoulder…and changing car batteries.
Speaking of angels—what the Jeebus did he drink and smoke last night? He had the wildest friggin’ dream—it was like twelve dreams in one—and it went on forever. His friend Cassidy was an Archangel…and pants-less…but that part was normal. Wait… all the guys on the train were pants-less and there were lots of cute 20-something girls…chubby…but cute. …and Johnny Weir was an angel too but a naughty one—he was bent over Adam’s bed wiggling his perky ice-skater’s ass…seductively. What the hell? Adam didn’t even like Johnny that way. …and Kris was there…sweet Krissofer—but he was a whore. He wanted to have sex with Cassidy and Ricky Martin and all the buff and oiled up guys on the train that looked like gay disco dancers from an 80’s club. What happened to Kris? Then Monte appeared—shredding the new guitar he bought at NAMM and Johnny was singing some crazy rap tune: “No Sleep til Reykjavik”. Then some giant, Faberge egg hatched and the Hanson brothers came out—but one of them was Taylor. …and Katy appeared—a vision in pink organza—looking like Glenda the good witch from “The Wizard of Oz”…but she was evol…so evol. She wanted Kris back—but he wasn’t even with Kris! Then Gaga appeared in a red-sequined Snuggie…with a flowing train…the same dress she had worn to the Royal Wedding…the year before…April 29th, 2011. “29”…there was that number again…Adam’s birthday, his age last year, the number of millions in his Swiss bank account…his shoe size…WUT? Shoe size? Yes…he had extremely large…feet.
Anyway, Gaga whisked them all off the train to…Vancouver?! Forced him and Katy—as Princess Adorable to mud wrestle for Kris. The Winchester brothers were there—naked. He wasn’t Adam’s usual type—but he kinda had a thing for the tall one with the unfortunate side-burns…but that was another story. Suddenly, everyone was naked and horny. He felt like he was on the set of “Caligula”. He was fighting with Katy who wore heart-covered, pink lingerie and fought like a she-cat. Adam felt a boner coming on—but for whom? Sam Winchester, Kris…his fallen bass player…Katy?! Like the way you can really hate someone with your whole heart and soul…but still want to screw their brains out…yeah…maybe that’s what he was feeling. …and then all the disturbing business with Riffy…on the space ship…what the fuck?
He suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in bed. He was sandwiched between two warm bodies. He was terrified to see who they belonged too. God only knows what happened last night after Tommy cut up the fermented shark that he got from the priest in the bar…and rolled it up with the primo Dutch weed. Smelled like a dead squirrel—but WHOA! What a friggin’ TRIP!! He turned to the left…and saw platinum bangs flowing from beneath the red silk sheets…and the tell-tale tattoo of Nosferatu. He breathed a sigh of relief—Tommy…beautiful Tommy. Praise Ra! He took a deep breath and turned his head to the right—“Please God…don’t let it be Hoffington—the souvenir peddler. It was worse. A white sheet flowed from beneath the red ones…and the unmistakable sent of attar oil wafted into his nostrils. Oh my God!! He screwed the Yemeni oil merchant?!!! EWWWW!!! Middle Eastern guys were so…HAIRY!!! Wait…that’s racist… Before Adam could contemplate the racial slur that raced across his brain…the sheet moved. A small hand pushed the red sheets lower…the white sheet soon followed. The merchant turned to Adam and whispered sleepily in his ear: “Baby, baby, baby…Ohhhh.” While running a soft hand under the sheets and twining fingers in the curls of his ginger chest hair…the hand was wandering lower and lower…hovering dangerously close to the Glambulge. He felt an involuntary erection coming on. The hand grazed his nipple and lingered for a moment…giving a light tug. He couldn’t help himself. In an instant—the sheet tented the size of the Luxor in Vegas. He heard a satisfied sigh and felt soft lips graze his cheek. He had no choice but to open his eyes. He got the shock of his life—this was no Yemeni oil merchant—it was—Farah Lilly!! The pretty fangirl that had been after him since the 2010 promo tour!!! OH MY GAWD!!! He REALLY lost his cherry now!!!!
Chapter 18: If You’re Havin’ Girl Problems, I Feel Bad For You Son. I Got 99 Problems But A Bitch Ain’t One.
It was stifling in the room. Stifling both because of the numerous
pheromones (Farah-moans?), and the intoxicating scents of both sex AND
candy that lingered heavily in the air. After Adam recovered from the
shock of seeing the lady who was working him into a tizzy, Adam rolled
over towards Tommy, delving his regal nose right into that mass of
asymmetrical blonde ambition, and breathed in deep. Stuck in Tommy’s
hair were random remnants of last night’s revelry. Adam detected a
whiff of mint and chocolate. Also, there were colorful pieces of
paper in Tommy’s hair. RAINBOW colored paper. Adam closed his eyes
and smiled to himself remembering the festive pinata Latin Jesus had
brought to the party last night.
“Wanna watch what I can do with this beer bottle?”
Adam opened his eyes with a start, and saw that Tommy was now awake.
Tommy glanced at the night stand where an empty bottle of Hardcore
brand Premium Hard Apple Cider sat within arms reach. His eyes then
slid across to the bottle of lube on the floor. Lastly he looked
intensely into Adam’s eyes. Adam smirked and reached out and
touseled Tommy’s hair, but he didn’t say a word. Despite his raging
erection, he mistakenly thought Tommy was joking.
“Yes! Yes! I want to see!”
Adam turned around in time to see one suddenly alert Farah, Miz Lilly
if you’re nasty, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
Adam laughed his sexiest laugh and said, “oh you two, you are so
funny!” Adam failed to understand the effect his spirit and Glambulge
had on everyone. Adam sighed delightedly and stretched his freckled
arms high above his head. Ginger chest hair gleamed in the morning
light. “I had the freakiest dream…” he announced. “You were there,
and you were there, and…”
Looking down at his lap, where the silk sheet had slid off his cock,
exposing it in all it’s majestic glory, Adam lost his train of
thought. “Well, um, it seems I need to take care of ‘this’ situation
before I can even think about trying to make sense of this dream I
had. As he spoke these words, his hand slid down his chest and
stomach to his throbbing hard manhood. He started stroking himself
and something in his mood changed. His eyes got a shade darker and
his voice deepened. “Farah, you need to get…the trampoline…now.”
Farah did not need to be told twice, and she had to suppress a giddy
giggle when Adam smacked her ass as she climbed out of bed and
scurried to the next room where the requested equipment was stored.
It was best not to giggle when Adam was like this. He tolerated no
nonsense when His Royal Need Arose. She dragged the trampoline to the
foot of the bed. Adam stared at Tommy and he quickly hit the remote
control that turned on the spotlight.
Adam snapped his fingers and a stunning man strutted in and climbed on
the trampoline. He stripped and he bounced and he rubbed and he bent
over and he spread ‘em. He oiled himself up and he followed Adam’s
orders to perfection and he put on quite a show. Still, Adam could
not fall over the edge of Passion Cliff. He stayed precariously
perched at the top of Mount Arousal Build-Up.
Adam snapped his fingers again and some big bear of a body guard
walked in and asked, “what do you need, Sir Old King Glam?” Something
about the word *need* touched something inside Adam’s soul. He looked
directly at the man and silently mouthed “Bring me The Treasure.”
Tommy didn’t see this because he was staring at Adam’s nether regions.
Farah didn’t see it because she was using her video phone to record
Tommy staring at Adam’s goods. Trampoline Twink saw this and was
devastated. He grabbed his clothes and slunk out of the room. Mr.
Body Guard’s eyes widened and he almost asked Adam if he was sure. He
bit his tongue and tasted iron. He nodded and left the room. Moments later? An eternity later? The door opened again and in walked Mr.
City Fest himself, with his sexiest jeans on, and barefoot, with his
plaid shirt wide open. His lips were swollen to enticingly plump
levels. He looked at Adam and an electric current shot through the
atmosphere. Adam reached out his hand and a tear slid down his cheek.
As Kris walked towards OKG, the anti…
tion was unbearable.
Adam stood up in all his nudeness and with silent authority he
stripped that Hot Pocket down. Angels began to sing as The Hug Felt
Round The Reality TV-Universe was recreated, but this time with no
fabric in the way. Adam enveloped little HP and they held each other
so close and so tight and for so long. All over the world, people
stopped bitching and arguing and lying and yelling. Flowers went into
instantaneous full bloom. Overdraft fees on the bank account
statements of hard working people all over America disappeared.
Everybody was wet. Everybody was happy, though they had no idea why.
When HP and OKG, His Hotness if you’re Nasty, finally broke apart to
take a breath and take a long look at each other, they realized HP was
with child. Just kidding. That is impossible. Anyway, the body
guard had brought in a pitcher of water to keep the lovers hydrated,
and when Adam reached for a glass he noticed a red envelope. There
was a note in the envelope. He opened the note and it said, “Thank
God for dream sequences that leave fangirls off the hook from having
to feel obligated to continue on track with complicated story lines
that require said fangirl to have to retain facts in an orderly
Adam looked puzzled and then put a little special blend in the center
of that note and rolled it up right as rain and got out his lighter.
Cryptic messages forgotten already, Adam breathed in deep.
Chapter 19: The Deepest Dark
Author: Hidey Ho
It was dark when they woke again–the smell of weed and the vague scent of woman was swept away on the crisp and clear air that whistled through the cabin window. It had to have been open no more than a crack, but Tommy was beginning to shiver, and the space was becoming quickly bereft of the smell of their sex and pleasure. Tommy reached up to slide the window closed and trap what was left of their long languid day in the haze of his slowly waking brain. The train gave him a little shuddering rock as Tommy reached out to pull Adam up against his chest. When the second swipe of his hand grabbed nothing but sheet, what was left of sleep was ripped from his body and mind as Tommy bolted up-right in bed. He closed his eyes again against the dark as he took a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart. Adam was gone. Tommy’s heart, the rocking of the train car and the sound of the wheels clacking on the track all found a rhythm with one another, and peace slowly settled over his being. Adam was always with him. He could sense him, no matter where he was or who he was with. All would be well. Tommy fingered the soft pile of the blanket bunched up next him as he ran his hands down the edge of it. In a well-practiced movement, he swung it up and over his head and around his shoulders as he touched a tentative toe to the cold floor. Shrouded completely in black faux-fleece, Tommy stepped into the hallway of the speeding train.
He was barefoot and naked under his blanket, and the cold waft of air that emanated from the head of the train car traveled up his leg and clutched his balls. Just as suddenly, he heard a series of whooshes, followed by silence and the settling of the warming air. As far as Tommy could see in either direction, the train was entirely without light, or what appeared to be a living soul. There was only the barely stirred air of someone who had passed before him. Adam.
Why Tommy needed to follow him, he did not know. He was never far from his orbit, and he knew his return would be as predictable as the rise of the god damned sun. It wasn’t like Tommy didn’t know how the fuck to be alone. But something almost magnetic pulled him forward toward the sliding door ahead. His legs were wobbly by the time he made it to the platform between the train cars. He paused there to soak in the night as the Milky Way spilled brighter across the sky than he knew possible. In the distance was a dancing swirl of colors; the Northern Lights, just beyond the dark shadow of the earth that loomed ahead. Heaven had never before been so beautiful. He was so mesmerized, he hardly felt the stinging rush of wind that rose up to meet him as they started to make their way over the open water. The train began to stretch out over a long arcing bridge laid across the bay. The water below was a smooth black obsidian.
Drawn down the length of train, Tommy’s eyes rested two platforms ahead. Adam stood in the moonless night, just like Tommy, reveling in the wonders of the sky. The silver fur Adam wore was the only thing in Tommy’s vision to catch any light. Adam, the stars, and the Aurora Borealis; all else was black. The fur ruffled and shimmered as it blew in the wind, gusting up for a moment to obscure Adam’s face, before it fell to his feet. Adam became even brighter, and the bejeweled sky slightly dimmer, as he stood naked with arms outstretched, in an offering to the night. In that instant Tommy knew beyond knowing that in all the heavens, the earth, and the fiery depths of hell, he would never again behold something so exquisite: Adam in all his glory, silently singing the glories of the universe. To the breaking point, Tommy took in what he could and then he willed Adam to cast his gaze upon him. Adam–face up, palms up–only appraised the stars. As Tommy reached up to lower the black blanket from his flaxen hair and alabaster shoulders, in an attempt to catch Adam’s eye, Adam swept his arms high, sprang from his feet, and in a graceful, gliding arc, pierced the water below.
“Adam!!!!!!” Tommy’s shriek of anguish pierced the far reaches of the world.
By the time Adam had completed his entry into the icy depths, the ripples in the water were at Tommy’s feet–and then even those were gone. Tommy stared at where his life had already ended. The follow through was only moments away. Keening, he raised his eyes to the ugly and brazen display above him; blackness now his only comfort. The grip on his blanket gone, it whipped up to float on the air currents above the train. Naked and crumpling with grief, Tommy began to tumble headlong into his watery grave. As he did, a tentacle emerged from the inky bay, wrapped around his ankle and hastened his fall.
The cold seared into Tommy’s body like he was on fire. All his blood squeezed into his heart in one final beat as Skarktopus wrapped Tommy in several more tentacles and pulled him into a loving embrace. The bright flash of blood left by his kiss, the only heat left in him, until that too turned to ice. Tommy slid into oblivion as Sharktopus hauled him down to the center of all things, where Adam awaited. Into nothingness. Into death.
Out of the void, warm, moist air filled his lungs again–the pain eased by gentle soothing puffs–and with it, awareness slowly dawned in Tommy’s mind. His lips were sealed in a kiss he dare not break, arms and legs wrapped tightly around a smooth and firm writhing body. There were others, one or two, he sensed nearby–occasionally pressing into him, putting a steady pressure on the back of his head, a brief caress where his legs parted and spread. Without thinking, Tommy began to probe with his tongue the mouth of his lover. Round and smooth. Mercifully, no teeth. Tommy sighed away a shred of fear as the memory of his previous kiss tore at the edges of his consciousness. No, this kiss was sweet, and without the metallic tang of blood. He could taste it with every lung full of air that rushed through his mouth. It was primordial–preserved from a verdant and fecund new world. It tasted like life.
This breath of life stirred in Tommy the yearning for something more than the nothingness he had just given himself to. He opened his eyes. He saw nothing but the blackest black as he blinked and kept them open in the soothing balm that flooded over them. Relaxing into the the dark blanket and sweet breath of his new universe, Tommy began to see tiny specks of light flare and dim before him. Above him and below him, and in a sweep from one side to another–sparks of light glowed white, yellow, orange and red. They steadily got larger and as they did, more and more of the darkness was consumed. With the light, heat began to return to his body. A million pin-pricks danced over his skin. It was like getting inked again–this time in life giving light.
Before long, Tommy could see not only the light cast, but what it was cast upon. One of his companions peered into his eyes with a mischievous wink. Tommy involuntarily crinkled his nose in a playful response. As his playmate skittered away he could see it was a dolphin. In fact, it was a dolphin upon which he was riding, and with whom he was sharing his breath. Tommy’s mouth was pressed against the blowhole as the powerful and undulating body sailed them through the water. Two dolphins, one on either side, piloted them through an underwater canyon of hot water vents and small volcanic plumes. The arctic, glacially fed water was as warm as a hot tub, thanks to the molten lava that slowly bubbled up from the center of the earth. It was these two dolphins who had kept him mounted, and had pressed his face to the blowhole, when Tommy had lost consciousness.
The dolphin he was riding seemed the strongest and the sturdiest of the three. The smallest had the sweetest little grin teasing the corners of her mouth–Tommy could swear, if she had had eyelashes, she would have been batting them at him. Tommy felt the corners of his mouth turn up as well–he fought to keep the seal on his air supply, like a baby smiling at the breast. The other dolphin was feeling pretty friendly himself; he was proudly sporting a huge erection. Tommy’s dick swelled and twitched in response as a thrill coursed through him. The idea that Tommy ever considered himself straight seemed laughably absurd to him now. He liked dick! He even liked dolphin dick, apparently!! All the boundaries and labels regarding race and gender and age–and now even species–fell away. None of that mattered; Tommy just didn’t give a fuck! It amazed him that he ever did. He laughed freely and lovingly at his former self, the rumble of which traveled into his partner’s body and reverberated to tickle his own dick as he straddled the powerful and sure animal.
Together, the four of them began to dive straight down and Tommy’s tummy did a little flip. They shot, single file, through a narrow tunnel in the side of the canyon wall and immediately raced upwards again. Tommy clung for dear life. At once, they broke the surface of the water, and for the first time since he’d been on the train–in that life before life–Tommy drew in his own breath. His whole being buzzed as his chest swelled with each inhalation; it was like taking a hit off the best high he had ever known. The air was, of course, the first thing he noticed. Was there ever air this pure on the face of the earth? But as he adjusted to his surroundings, he took in the large vaulted chamber he appeared to be in–so large, in fact, he could see neither ceiling nor walls. Only dots of phosphorescent flora and fauna scattered in the distance. He had his own canopy of heaven, here deep in the bedrock of the ocean.
“Rad!!” he said out loud and started to giggle.
The dolphins started to chirp and laugh with him. The two males circled and rubbed their erect members against Tommy’s butt and thighs. He let them run through the palms of his hands as they swam by. The female bumped up against him and turned on her side, her flipper resting on his hip. She teased his stiff cock into her, her muscles working him like a thousand sets of fingers.
“Rad… ” Tommy said again.
Before he was too far gone the larger male nudged the female away and proffered his dorsal fin for Tommy to grab. As a group, they began to glide over the surface of the water across other-worldly lagoon. As they neared a sandy shore, Tommy saw him standing there, gazing at their approach. Adam. A mane of fiery red hair grazed his shoulders–shoulders sprayed with molten lava freckles that also dusted his nose and checks, the tops of his arms and the broad and muscled chest that gave rise to the ginger forest… that trailed down low to his ginger bush. The bush that had as it’s center piece the magnificent, fully unfurled, Holy Glamshaft. His sea foam eyes, his milky skin, the fire of his hair, the spray of freckles… Adam was shining and his whole being was illuminated from within.
“Oh. My. Gaawd!!!” Tommy squealed, “Adam!!!!! You are SOOOOO beautiful, Babyboy!!”
“Tommy!!!!!” Adam cried, and took long bounding strides out into the water to meet him.
Tommy released the dolphin and splashed towards Adam with his heart in his throat. Arms flung around each other, fingers entwined in hair and fisted mounds of flesh, noses buried in necks and hair, deeply breathing in the others scent.
“Jesus…” They both hissed as one hard cock rubbed against the other.
“Oh, Glitterbaby, look at how gorgeous you are!!!” Adam held Tommy at the length of his arms, his eyes consuming him from head to toe. “You are all chocolate and cream. So beautiful. I want to eat you!” A devilish grin flitted across his lips. Adam traced a finger down the length of Tommy’s chest. “Red velvet,” he murmured, as he raised his finger to his lips. “You’re bleeding, baby…” Adam lowered his bloody lips to Tommy’s, giving him the sweetest, most passionate, most loving kiss they had ever shared.
Running his tongue along Adam’s jaw, tracing the pulse down his throat, Tommy tasted blood.
“Adam… you’re bleeding too…” Tommy made a small strangled cry.
They each took a step back to look at one another more carefully. Sharktopus had sliced them both to ribbons.
“He had me, Tommy. He called to me, luring me into the water… I had promised… a long time ago…” Adam’s eye’s began to mist. “I heard you calling my name–before I went under. I begged and pleaded not to be separated from you. I’m sorry Tommy, I did this to you,” Adam sobbed, “I made him grab you.”
‘No.” Tommy whispered, “I had already died for you. You helped me to die with you.”
“He had us both, babe, kissing us to death, drinking our blood… I felt you, grabbed your hand… but when he felt the life ebb from you, he let you go. I tried to hold on to you as long as could…” Tears streamed down Adam’s cheeks.
“Babyboy… Babyboy… Babyboy… shush…” Tommy raised on tip-toe to kiss the tears away. “The dolphins saved me!” He smiled and spun around to find them. They were long gone, leaving them alone–save the billions of green phosphorescent creatures bobbing up and down in the lapping water. Tommy took Adam by the hand, leading him up to the beach, drops of crimson in the soft white sand leaving a trail behind them.
Adam dropped to the ground, pulling Tommy down with him. Blood began to pool behind his neck as he closed his eyes for a moment to rest. Tommy felt a knife through the heart. “Adam… I love you.” Tommy’s tears dripped onto the smear of their commingled blood on Adam’s chest. “I love you.” The tears made their blood shimmer brighter as it trickled over Adam’s heart. Tommy bent to lick Adam’s nipple, sucking it into his mouth, gently taking the hardening nub between his teeth. He began to lap at him, taking him, all of him, into his own being–blood, sweat, and tears. The ragged edges of Sharktopus’ wounding bites smoothed beneath his tongue. He reared his head back to see if it was true. He darted back down to trace a long gash along Adam’s sternum with his tongue. When he rose again all he saw was smooth and perfectly freckled skin beneath the fur of Adam’s chest.
“Adam!” Tommy gasped, and lunged for Adam’s throat. His tongue and lips probed deeply the bites that ripped it open. He swallowed long drafts of Adam’s blood as it pulsed into his mouth. With each tender, yet hungry, exploration, Adam’s body healed and sealed, stanching the flow of blood. With sudden and urgent need, Adam lifted Tommy off of him and flipped him onto his back. Taking him by the wrists, he pinned his hands up over his head. In one long and lapping lick, Adam ran his tongue from the tip of Tommy’s collar bone to the lobe of his ear, leaving nothing but milky white in it’s wake.
They wrestled then, each fighting to heal the other first–licking every nick and cut, probing every nook and cranny of their bodies. All that was left was to lick each others faces clean, both smeared in blood in a jester’s grin. They made it a dance–nibbling lips, circling tongues, leaving little love bites in place of those more fierce.
Adam pulled Tommy on top of his chest, as he finally rested on his back and stilled. He wrapped him tight in his arms and gave him a squeeze as Tommy lay his cheek over Adam’s heart. “I love you, Tommy.” Tommy smiled as he listened to the beat of his lover’s heart.
“This is so fucking gnarly! We’re vampires!!” Tommy cast his eyes up to meet Adam’s.
“Maybe!” Adam laughed.
‘No, really,” Tommy sat up now, straddling Adam’s hips. “Where the hell are we?”
‘Hell.” Adam smiled.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Tommy grinned. “That is SOOOO rad!!!” His eyes shifted from side to side as his head pivoted on his shoulders in order to take in everything that surrounded them. It was stunningly beautiful. “This place is AWSOME!!”
“They said we were going straight to hell, and they were right!” Adam said. “They said it to keep us afraid, to keep us from being who we truly are, to keep us from accepting love out of fear of losing love.”
“That is so fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“If this is Hell, I don’t wanna go to Heaven!”
“Same dif,” Adam shrugged. “Sharktopus brings us down when we’re ready–when we’re finally free of limitation and fear.”
“When we just don’t give a FUCK!!” Tommy chimed in.
“Exactly!!! I thought I was ready,” Adam continued, “But I wasn’t. There were still certain ways I thought I had to be and to feel. I was still afraid.”
“I was afraid of loving you.”
“You love everybody, Adam.”
“No. No, I don’t. Not fully. I didn’t, at least. And women… I had thousands of women willing to love me, and I wouldn’t love a single one in return. Why??” Adam shrugged and paused a moment. “Why was I shut off from half of the human species?”
“Why was I shut off from most of the animal planet?” Tommy pondered.
“Riiight?!?” Adam raised his brows.
“Dude. I’ve been telling you for a long time pussy’s pretty sweet.”
“It is!” Adam laughed. “I liked it–what we did with Farrah Lily. She popped my lady cherry for sure. I thought I had a fucking break through! I went to Sharktopus because I was finally free to live without labels. ‘Gay’ just didn’t mean much any more–why not just be ‘me’? Don’t get me wrong… I’m still Dickly,” He gave Tommy’s dick a playful little tap. “But maybe I’m not Strictly Dickly!”
“Me too!” Tommy exclaimed. “I mean, for fucks sake, I learned I like dolphin dick! But I still have, you know, my dick preferences.” Tommy reached back to give the dick that had been slowly riding up and down the crack of his ass a gentle squeeze. “But seriously, man? Dolphin pussy. It’s a trip. Check it.”
Adam raised his brows again, this time silently.
“Duude… Don’t give me that. We’re already in Hell.”
Adam’s smile slowly settled into a more serious expression. “He still wouldn’t take me, Tommy. Sharktopus kept telling me to be ready for him, and I thought I finally was, but he wouldn’t take me. That’s why I jumped.”
“You killed me right then and there, Adam.” Tommy’s eyes welled with tears.
“I know. That’s when I finally loved you with all my soul. I hadn’t let your love penetrate me all the way. I was afraid. But then I KNEW–I felt it with every fiber of my being–you loved me more than life. But it was too late.” Adam reached up to wipe away Tommy’s tears as his own slid down into his ears. “At that moment Sharktopus knew we were ready to surrender everything to love, so he drug us both down to the fiery depths of Hell.”
“Thanks be to Satan!” Tommy sighed, and nuzzled into Adam’s neck.
“What about everyone else?” Tommy asked. “What about all our friends? And all those crazy coo coos up there? That was a crazy ass train full of people, dude.”
“They’ll be here when they’re ready. Sharktopus will bring them down when they are no longer afraid to be who they really are.”
“When they just don’t give a FUCK!!!” Tommy hooted.
“EXACTLY!!!” Adam gave a naughty grin.
“You got the devil in you, Red”
“You know what else you’re gonna have in you?”
“I don’t think you’ve let my love penetrate you all the way, Babyboy.”
“I meant that figuratively.”
“Well, I’ve discovered something about my true nature…”
“I’m a little bit toppy.”
“Yeah. I’m pret-tay… pret-tay… toppy.”
“You’ll have to fight me for it”
“You forget, babe, I got a pretty good dose of devil’s blood in me too.”
“Jesus Christ, Hell is going to be a blast!!”
Tommy reached out and scooped up with his finger some of the green glowing foam that had washed up on shore, and swiped it over each of Adam’s eyelids. “It’s gonna be a PAR-TAY!”
Adam did the same, tracing his finger over Tommy’s pouty, irresistible lips.
Chapter 20: The Show MUST Go On. (God Save The Queen)
So after much sexy time, which is way too sexy to describe here, as in that type of sexiness that would make Adommy blush If they were watching from the outside; which did cross their minds but was too impossible to actually accomplish, and let’s face it we all want to fantasise, but some fantasies just don’t look good on paper (oh yeah, and some people are a little too lazy to give a blow by blow account of such things), our little twink and Old King Glam lay exhausted on the ice. Pasty stick-figure arms were wrapped weakly but jealously around the freckled shoulders of his man love, whose black-nailed finger tips drew tenderly through his little elf-twink-fancy-ladyboy’s asymmetrical-but-oh-so-hip-and-happening-ever-changing quaff.
There was no answer; poor little Tommy was too tuckered out from the trip’s trippiness to even lift a perfectly-manicured finger.
“Tommy?” Adam shook Tommy, who almost disappeared under the ice; it turns out Adam has some crazy strength that he never knew he had, and it was sort of hard to control especially since he was unaware that he possessed it. Yeah, that was the excuse he should have used that day on the beach with his stupid lady flappy hat and that fucking annoying little shit with the camera, but he hadn’t thought of it so he didn’t. So, after retrieving Tommy from the ice, he shook him a little more gently.
“Tommy? You know…that was some fucked up shit. What were you doing with your toe there? Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, but Latin!Jesus H Christ, I thought I was filthy…Tommy?”
Tommy’s cheeky little eyes fluttered open, he blinked, once, twice, three times, and smiled cheekily with his cheeky smile. “Adam….fuck, that was fucking RAD!” They both giggle gayly and Adam hugged his little Tommy.
There was nothing but whiteness, like, so white it would make George Dubya Bush proud, like Sarah Palin’s policy and all that gay…but, anyway, all there was forever was the whiteness of hell. Who knew hell was so cold, and so white? It was like Micheal Jackson, Wacko Jacko if you’re nasty, had come in and decorated Jackson Five style (or would have, if it wasn’t racist).
“I thought hell would have been a little more…” Adam searched for the word, tumbling his hands in slow motion.
“Black?” Tommy offered, cheekily grinning gayly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Adam’s love of his little Tommy overtook the racistness of the current exchange and he scooped him up with a cheeky peck, penetrating his Vag in Heat Red Lips, tasting the tang of his cheekiness. They laughed gayly again, and separated.
“You know, those dolphins…”
‘No Menage et Tois with the dolphin dick, Tommy, I’m sorry, but there are some boundaries.” Adam’s lubed up pipes reached a crescendo as he sang out the last word; it echoed all around the place ‘Boundaries…boundaries…boundaries…’ until finally dissolving into the gayness of the OMO white surroundings, emphasising, Adam’s rainbow glittered point and Tommy’s Vag!nal pout.
“You know, I’m Jewish, that means no fish after Labour Day.”
Tommy’s cheeky gaze was littered with quizzical curiosity. “Erm, what does being Jewish have to do with fish?”
“A lot.” Adam said shortly, and it almost appeared like he was remembering some terrible incident that had happened to him one Wednesday afternoon not all that long ago on a Bullet Train, heading across the frozen wasteland of a European Island, but that was impossible, so we’ll leave it at that.
“Dolphins aren’t fish.” Tommy added raising a slender finger. “They’re…”
“Fish for the purposes of my point.”
They both giggled gayly, but slightly more not funnily. This was the most fucked up post-sex talk Adam had ever had. Maybe it was the place, maybe it was the sudden realisation that dolphins were not fish, but Adams extraordinarily animated, but gay, eyebrows knitted together. He was starting not to feel the groove of this place. It didn’t feel good, and it didn’t feel hot, and there was definitely no fire within, as the place was bleached in OMO fucking white. Whiteness was not a good colour for Adam; he didn’t enjoy blending in, and white on white did that to him.
Before Adam had any more time to consider the gayness of hell, the place was swamped in a swath of colour so blinding, so brilliantly gay, it may have made the glambulge, in all its glittery rainbow glory shrink (Adam sort of had a moment of girlish squealing to get out of his system when thinking of the glambulge shrinking), into oblivion, but that was crazy so we’ll leave it at that. But this rainbow was really really gay, and it made both Adam and his little Tommy stare and look around the place in wonder.
“OMG, Glam King, the mardis gras is in town, and we’re invited,” Tommy said, squealing girlishly like a little girl. “OMG, OMG, OMGGGGG!!! This is so fucking RAD!”
Adam would have loved to share Tommy’s excitement, but his glam senses were tinkling, and the glambulge was quivering warningly. Adam was quick to silence Tommy’s squealing, as the glambulge was now vibrating crazily and in a totally non-straight way.
“Silence Tommy,” said the Great King Glam. “Something is not right, something is quite wrong,” he pointed seriously at his crotch, and Tommy grinned cheekily, kneeling in front of Adam. “No, no, not now,” said Adam, after a moment of consideration. “I mean it’s vibrating.”
Tommy’s look was more quizzical than cheeky, but it was still totally gay. “Erm, I didn’t know it could do that, but that’s totally rad, I mean it’s cool, I’ve never tried it before, you know, with my sworn oath of heterosexuality with a slight twist of bisexuality, but it’s cool, I mean, I’m up for anything.”
“No, I mean, my bulgey senses are tinkling,’ he said meaningfully. “Something gay is going on, I can sense it.”
“You mean the rainbow swatch? Oh, of course, I totally get it,” Tommy said cheekily.
They were mesmerised momentarily by the colourful gayness of their surroundings; Tommy sort of dribbled in anticipation, but he totally covered it up before Adam could see, so it was totally fine. Adam totally gazed around gorgeously, trying to figure what sort of gay was this, but in the end even he was confounded by the meaning of the rainbow. The silence of their awe was broken, and pink smoke billowed from an unknown source, Adam was fearful that he had been thrust into a Miley Cyrus nightmare, but soon discovered that he was far from the truth. It began slowly, a melody so beautiful, that Adam was almost reduced to girly crying, Tommy on the other hand had taken to air guitar, because he was the most awesome bassist, if not the gayest, in the world, or at least in the whole of Icelandia. Adam tried hard to listen, to understand the amazing raptures coming from the pink cloud, but couldn’t get a hold on the sound.
Tommy, finally succumbing to the melodic beauty of the melody stopped, and took Adam’s hand in his own slender fingers.
“That is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, it’s almost like the god I so like to invalidate nightly on Twitter, but it can’t be, it doesn’t exist.”
“Calm yourself, Tommy, I’m sure it’s not god…FUCK ME!!!”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!?”
There were two bright flashes of bright light, which had prompted the impromptu expletives. One more flash, and the two gays were rendered on their knees, hands over their heads protectively. Adam had the sense to adjust the glambulge so it rested on his thighs instead of the ice, to stop the unthinkable from happening, and put his hands over his head again. The beautiful melody was ear shatteringly loud now, and Adam had no earpiece to fling nonchalantly to his shoulder.
All was silent, as in actually silent; all that was left was the weird ringing in their ears, and the glambulge’s kinda hot, incessant throbbing.
Tommy and Adam didn’t move.
“I said RIIIIIISE!!!” It did the echoing thing, but it wasn’t as cool as the boundaries one, it was more a shit-your-pants-because-you’re-scared effect, which neither Tommy nor Adam did, because they’re too awesome.
Adam was surprised, but hot as the glambulge tinkled almost agonisingly. Adam was lifted by the glambulge into the air; it glowed and shot rainbows across the universe, or the ice, depending on how much you’ve been smoking, and he rose further and further, finally stopping within inches of the cloud of pink smoke. He could only hear the tiny squeals of Tommy, as he was too far away to see him.
“It is 2012, Adam Lambert, and you, you alone will save the world.”
“Wha-a?” was all he managed, the glambulge was joyfully shooting and tinkling in the air.
“The end of the world? Surely, you’ve heard the stories? They’ve been around for thousands of years, darling.”
“Who are you?” It seemed an obvious question, which Adam should have asked before, but hadn’t, so we’ll leave it at that.
A pleasant, yet scary, yet hot laugh rang gayly from the cloud of pink smoke. “Who am I? Oh, darling, shouldn’t you know already? I am disappointed.”
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t worry about trifling things like names, I surely don’t, and I’ve been called everything under the sun.”
“What do you want?” Yeah, the other obvious question.
“A lot of things, but that is not the point. To fuck you?” the cloud laughed again, “No, I’m only joking, darling, pay no attention to me.”
Adam had had enough, he wasn’t in the mood for games, even surrounded by the rainbows of this strange and mysterious pink cloud. He needed to get to the bottom of this, he needed to get this cloud’s attention, and he knew one way to get the undivided attention of someone who was not listening to him. The notes came in quick, authorative succession, one after the other, Adam belted out his song, the notes stamped into the cloud, leaving little poofs of pinkness as they sank into its steamy weirdness. Higher and higher his tenor went, until he was sure that they would create an eargasm of such power that nothing would be left of the pink cloud.
It only laughed gayly; tinkling away for several minutes, in which time Adam was able to examine the full glory of the glambulge, which had found a newfound power in the pink cloud. The cloud brought out the best in the glambulge if you know what I mean.
“Please, Adam said, slightly hoarsely as his grape lozenge had dissolve, leaving his pipes slightly parched. “Please, what do you want?”
“I want you to look down and realise the truth. Only then will you be able to save the world from the apocalypse which will surely arise if you do not realise the truth.”
“Erm, what are you going on about.”
There was sadness in the cloud. “Are you truly blind? You are a true gay, my power works, but only on those who follow my creed, and Truth. Do you not see, you rose to me upon my request, as you have the disposition to do so. However…”
Adam looked down, after the cloud pointed to the ground. Tommy was on his knees, his head down. There had been no effect on him; he was still on the ground, his glitterbulge not effected by the pink cloud’s powers of persuasion. “Oh…no…”
“You are beginning to understand. It’s understandable, darling, I would have fucked his brains out too, but he is not queer. He is…what he is, whatever that is, but gay, I’m afraid not.”
Adam was about to cry, but he was too sad. “Who are you?” he wept.
“You really want to know?”
“For the fuck of all things rainbow, what the hell? Just fucking tell me.”
“As you wish.”
Adam fell ungayly to the ground. With a thud he landed hotly on top of Tommy, and rolled to the ice. The place was filled Old Spice, which is a lot cooler and gayer than the Yemeni perfume from the dream, Old Spice, mmm…anyway…The pink cloud swirled, faster and faster, a tornado of queerness, and gay abandon, until finally it morphed into a fuzzy shape. It floated toward Adam, who baby crawled backwards, but the cloud was too quick. It was in his face; Adam couldn’t stop staring. That mouth, the pointed rows of teeth, the queer way he held his lips, Adam thought it was Sharktopus…and it was, but it wasn’t, if you know what I mean. I mean it was Sharktopus, but it morphed into something else, and although Adam couldn’t see through the rest of the pinkness, he knew that this figure was the reincarnation of Sharktopus.
“Holy Fucking Christ…Tommy, Tommy…it’s…OMG,” Adam exclaimed. “It’s…THE QUEEN.”
A red crown, adorned with jewels and gems, and red velvet emerged from the pinkness, and then a sceptre, and then a cape made of the same red velvet and white fur that all gays of Icelandia would die to wear, if only for a moment, and then white tennis shoes, white pants…
A sparkling backlight replaced the pink cloud behind the QUEEN. Adam fell to his feet (well, he would have if he hadn’t already been on his knees), but he was overcome with the most gayest urge to kiss the Reeboks of his Deity.
“Enough, darling,” said QUEEN Dead!Fred. “There is dire need for you to return to the mortal world, and save the mortals from their mortal fate. Do you accept this most urgent mission?”
Adam was without words, which was surprising as he always had something to say. “But how? How do I save them?”
“The finer points are for you to decide but you possess the necessary equipment to undertake the task. Have faith in the Truth of queerness and you will succeed.”
“But, I don’t think I can, I don’t think I have the power to save everyone…”
QUEEN Dead!Fred held a long finger to Adam’s beautiful lips. “Shh…darling, it has already begun. You are the saviour, you will save them from their fate.”
Adam held QUEEN Dead!Fred’s finger in his own shaky ones. “Please…don’t touch my face,” he said with awe. “But I can’t save them.”
“You can, Adam Lambert, you can. Use the godly gifts that you have been presented with and all will be well with the world. But first, you must make the decision to leave this place, and return to the mundanity that is humanity. Do you accept?”
Adam had lost him in the last part as he was staring once again at the pointed rows of teeth that protruded pointily from his mouth. It was mesmerising…wait, he had to decided. Being down here with Tommy…it was wonderful, but saving the world from Armageddon, and yet another suspected reincarnation of Sharktopus, was a responsibility Adam didn’t know he could handle, but nothing without trying, he thought, and he did have that date after the concert….
“I accept, my QUEEN, I will save the world. Maybe it’s time for miracles.”
“That’s the spirit, darling,” smiled QUEEN Dead!Fred. He waved his sceptre in the air. “Cocks in frocks, this game is done…”
Chapter 21: I Totally Didn’t Read The Last Few Chapter Before This. I Have No Idea What’s Going On.
And then some other stuff happened which was cool and all but then the glamissile finally pulled into Rakeiyayayavick and we pick up our story from behind the stage at the Icelandic National Ampitheatre, where our glam band was waiting to go on.
Adam could feel the crowd’s energy from behind the stage, pulsating and raucous, filling every chakra hole in his body with anticipation. The time had finally come to perform at the doomsday concert in Iceland, an event which seemed to have taken forever to get to. And truth be told Adam was starting to think he would never get off the train even though he probably had gotten off it it at some point but I don’t remember. As the roadies hauled out the amps and mic stands and various other band like things to the stage, Adam leaned his head wistfully against a nearby banister and sighed, reminiscing fondly over everyone and everything he encountered on his crazy trip to his Icelandic concert, everyone that had somehow came into his life and left their imprints upon it, changing him for the better. Their faces and tentacles and private parts all drifted past his face in a hazy fog of memories: Pregnant man Gokey’s, pantless figure skaters, Billy Dee Williams, narcissistic clowns, Yemenian shieks with unintelligible accents, tacos, Koolaid men, monkeys with candy, Ricky Martin, mud wrestlers, evil blonde chicks and everything else that appeared up in the last few chapters that I didn’t read.
I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life, pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Suddenly little elfin Tommy popped up besides him, his tiny frame now overwhelmed with stage glitter and teased hair just ready to whip back and forth. “Are we ready to perform now boss? Huh? Huh? I’m so exicted boss! This is gonna be the best concert at the dawn of the supposed apocalypse ever!” He squealed like an over excited puppy who was second away from humping Adam’s leg.
“Quiet my pet.” Adam reached a leathered glove out and ran his fingers through Tommy’s asymetrical hispter hairdo, his fingers massaging into his lumpy skull. “This will be the bestest concert ever in the history of glam, and we will rock the entire of Iceland. From the fjordy fjords to the other less fjordy parts of Iceland, we will make them come with musical orgasms. That is not to be doubted for one second my tiny minion of rock. But first there is something–or rather someone–I must attend to. Someone whose presence I can now feel all over my body, their essense too strong to deny. A magnetic pull. Someone who has been waiting for me, and I in turn have been waiting for them. There will be rock, oh yes, but destiny must be dealt with my scrawny manservant.”
“I know he is here, the Sharktopus. I can feel him watching me with his sharktopus eyes, some of his tentacles heaving with desire to explore all of my orifices while others desire to strangle all of the air out of me. The time is now for our ultimate showdown.”
“I’m confused.” Said Tommy, echoing the sentiments of everyone reading this fic. Including myself.
I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly
I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly
I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly
‘Cause my body too bootylicious for ya babe
And just then Adam knew the Sharktopus was there. He spun around, his breath hitching in his throat. There the Sharktopus stood, just as beautiful as the last time Adam had saw him. What was the emotion in his eyes he wondered? Was it fondness? Desire? Hatred? Was he just gassy? One of the Sharktopus’ more aggravating characteristics was it’s unreadable eyes, dark and unblinking and partially obstructed underneath a heavy layer of goo. Its tentacles waved listlessly in the wind as it inched closer and closer, saying nothing and yet everything all at once.
A barrage of emotions hit Adam. He wanted to run–both to and from his old foe slash lover slash baby daddy of his illegitimate half human half sharktopus spawn–and his stomach lurched with feelings that were all torn up and conflicted. “So we meet again.”
“So we do.” The Sharktopus nodded.
“And so it begins.” Adam snarled.
“And so it begins.” Sharktopus snarled.
“Yes it totally begins.” Dr. Collins said (remember him? Yeah I don’t either but JC requested he be in this part) appearing out of nowhere.
Sister Christian, oh the time has come
And you know that you’re the only one
To say okay
What’s your price for flight?
In finding Mr. Right
Youll be all right tonight
“DR. COLLINS!” Adam and Shakrtopus squealed, the three figures now locked in an epic standoff.
“Yes it is I, Dr. Collins of that one chapter in the beginning of the story, the one who did something to the Sharktopus of which I am not entirely sure what. But I am back! And this time I will not fail in my evil and nefarious mission!” He cackled, his white lab coat blowing in the breeze and his monacle cluched tightly by the pock marked skin around his one good eye. He raised a gnarled hand to the sky and shook it. “I have waited all these years to exact revenge on the Sharktopus for something that happened a long time ago, something I don’t remember, but it was so horrible and Un Godly that I have dedicated every waking hour of my life to hunting him down and exacting my revenge!!!”
Adam stepped forward, placing his hulking glitetry frame in between Sharktopus and Dr. Collins. “Listen Mister, I don’t know your history with Sharktopus, and you can have your evil way with him, but first we need to work our own problems out so if you could just…”
“Are you asking me to take a number?” Dr. Collins asked incredulously.
“REVENGE DOES NOT WAIT FOR NO ONE!”
“Oh snap.” The Sharktopus quipped, snapping his tentacles in the air sassily.
With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride
You’re toxic, I’m slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
Im addicted to you don’t ya know that you’re toxic?
“PREPARE TO DIE!” Dr. Collins reached his good hand into his pocket and pulled out a pistol.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Adam screamed and jumped into the air, his platform boots giving him the extra oomph needed to soar straight in front of the bullet that was meant for the Sharktopus. Immediately the blood splattered from his chest, leaking plasma and glitter and unicorn tears all down the front of his custom made Skingraft leather onesie. He had been hit, his life force quickly draining from him as he slid to the floor.
“Oh nooo my baby!” Sharktopus sobbed, sliding over on a trail of ooze to wrap all of it’s tentacles around Adam’s limp body, clutching him to it’s heaving Sharktopus bosom, heaving with tears. “YOU MONSTER! HOW COULD YOU!” Sharktopus spit in Dr. Collins direction, it’s words as vile as it’s fishy stench.
“YOU’RE A DOCTOR!! YOU TOOK THE HIPOCRATIC OATH!!!”
“THAT MEANS NOTHING!” Dr. Collin waved the pistol in the air maniacally. “JUST NOW I CONVENIENTLY REMEMBERED WHAT EVIL THING YOU DID! FINALLY! LOANED YOU MY SPORTS ILLUSTRATED FOOTBALL PHONE AND YOU NEVER RETURNED IT! NEVER! AND NOW YOU SHALL PAY! MUWHAHAHAHAHA!”
The Sharktopus ingored the fact that his death was imminent, as Dr. Collins re ained the pistol in it’s direction, instead he cradled Adam’s head in and stroked it. “I never stopped loving you.” He wept.
Pour some sugar on me, yeah, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me, come on fire me up
Pour some sugar on me, I can’t get enough
I’m hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet yeah
“I…I guess I will never get to perform for Iceland…” Adam spattered and gurgled through blood, the world growing hazy. “And…I …..will never know….if the world truly ends….tonight….at midnight….” His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious.
“As long as you’re not here with me you glam God then the world as I know it will end. Please don’t leave me!’ Sharktopus buried it’s octo-pussy snout into Adams neck and sobbed.
“BOTH OF YOUR LIVES WILL END TONIGHT YOU DRAMA QUEENS!” Dr. Collins screamed and pulled the trigger. The bullet soared through the air, colliding into Sharktopus just as it had dropped Adam’s now lifeless body to the ground and had lurched forward, wrapping it’s tentacles around Dr. Collins throat, squeezing hard.
“UUUGHHHHHNNNGGGHHHH!!!” Dr. Collins moaned, his face turning purple as the Sharktopus kept squeezing the air from his body, squeezing so hard that his monocle popped straight from his eye and to the ground, shattering on contact.
“If I die…then you die with me.” Sharktopus gasped, using every ounce of it’s strength to finish it’s deadly task. “And the secret of the football phone dies with us you bastard.” Sharktopus gave him one last violent throttle before they both collapsed to the ground, both totally dead.
A few moments later, in the bloody aftermath, Tommy surveyed the damage with a shock striken face. No one had remembered he had even been standing there the whole time, witnessing the entire massacre. But he would never forget. He looked down at all the carnage at his tiny elvin feet, all the lives senselessly lost. Adam, Dr. Collins, the Sharktopus, the monocle. “SO MANY SENSELESS DEATHS!’ He cried, buring his hands into his hipster hair and falling to the ground. “WHYYYYYYYY!?!!?!?!?” He cried, raking his hands through the shards of broken monocle until they were raw and bloody. “WHYYYYYY?!!!?”
This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I’ll never look into your eyes again