From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
Subject: toil under isinglass breakfasts who laugh at your new face
Followup-To: alt.fan.gooley
Organization: Dostoyevskian Characters, plc
Date: Tue, 26 Jan 1993 18:01:29 GMT

	Jane reached up her left nostril and found the tip of the dachshund's
tail.  Gently she pulled the dog out of her frontal sinus, a woodchuck in its
mouth.  "How much wood could you chuck," she asked the woodchuck, "if you
could chuck wood?"
	"Let's have sex," said the woodchuck in a whistling but readily
comprehensible voice.
	"Okay," said Jane, and with a Ginsu (tm) knife given her by a
Scottish expert on logic programming she slit the dachshund's belly open
and removed a female-woodchuck suit.  She stapled the wound shut and put
the costume on, and after they had had sex on the zebra skin next to the
drill press, they smoked joints: the male woodchuck smoked an elbow and
the Jane woodchuck an ankle.
	Both woodchucks peeled off their woodchuck costumes with a banana
peeler, revealing two identical Janes.  "There's room in the world for only
one of us," said the Jane who had been the male woodchuck.
	"Yes," said the original Jane.  "Overpopulation is a problem.  I
guess we have to fight to the death?"
	"Afraid so," said the other.
	They began by trying to strangle each other.  Next came jars of
cold cream and peanut butter (swirled together and sold under the name
"Nuts 'n' Ponds' (tm)" at druggeries in Finland and Bohemia) hurled at
the head, frozen penises, Stephen King (tm) novels, cans of Potted Meat
Food Product (tm), dielectric materialism, views on homosexual marriage,
rubber panties with hermaphroditic and Wurlitzer (tm) organs molded into
them, and human thigh bones.  They grappled with each other and grappling
hooks, clawed at each other's faces with claws imported from Zimbabwe and
removed from drunken lions, and nibbled at their own sexuality.
	I dropped everything and by to find the identical women fencing
with butcher knives and fencing material (barbed wire named Barb that
ran pantyhose and a suite shop where one could buy hotel suites, musical
suites, etc.).  I separated them with a separator funnel which I had
concealed in a hollow molar along with my lunch, a change of clothes,
and a small Italian village where the peasants produced a goat cheese
flavored with urine and menstrual blood.  "Why can't you two just be
twin sisters?" I asked them.
	The Jane who had been the male woodchuck bit the head off the
dachshund before answering.  "I don't know," she said.  "It seems so
pointless."
	"Will you marry me?" I asked her.
	"No," she said.  "Try her," she added and multiplied, gesturing
towards the other Jane.
	"Sure," she said, and we climbed onto her silken magic carpet,
flew through the stucco and gelatine wall of her immobile home, and after
a circumnavigation during which we ate fingernails and birds and bats we
caught on the wing (those flying fingernails are hard to catch), we landed
in Reno, where we were married at a chapel by a Kappellmeister.  Unfortunately
we visited a casino and she gambled me away bit by bit, and they used the
bits to augment showgirls: bone for prettier facial features, muscle for
firmer limbs, fat for bigger breasts, brains for enough intellignece to
handle complicated dance routines.
	My consciousness is spread over the brains of 37 young women, and
on toast.  Jane supports herself by telekinetically and telepotentially
controlling slot machines, changing her shape so that the casino management
will not evict her for winning regularly, and promoting her own irregularity
with constipation-inducing drugs, even though I have told her through one
of the women I somewhat control that she is full of shit for doing so.  She
shows up loyally, in various guises, at shows, and I seek her altered figure
with up to 37 pairs of womanly eyes -- when their owners let me.
	Showgirls are nice people and none of them have tried to evict the
splinter of me-consciousness, but I wonder about Machiavelli's right testicle
sometimes when one of them is having sex.

Mark.
gooley@netcom.com
Newsgroups: alt.non.sequitur,talk.bizarre