Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Sexy City

As my last post was quite 'Sex In the City' styled , as in - ask a silly question, make up a silly answer to your own question that just ends in a few more silly questions , I thought this one could be in the style of Criminal Scientist Murder Investigation.


I was dead.
"Oh goooooooooooohhhhhhhhd, I'm dead!" I moaned, trailing off as I spotted a
hot doctor wearing an aviation jacket. By the look of his jacket and his rippling biceps I could tell he'd been doing some high speed, low level flight.
"Mmmm, he looks just delightful!" I thought, perking up a bit. I began to examine my cuts, bruises and bullet holes, slowly inserting my rubber gloved finger into each one. They became more wet as I thought of how the doctor would soon be examining me.
This made me remember that I had to clean myself up a bit in the netherlands, I was wearing a rinforced tungsten carbide chastity belt which I hadnt taken off since I died. I searched in my pouch for the key.
It was not there!
I scrabbled around in the dust, ferverishly. The doctor was drawing closer. I could smell his sweaty flesh and dimly thought
"Sweaty flesh on a doctor? That doesnt seem very hygenic." But forgot all as I turned my autumn eyes to his luminous orange ones.
"This looks bad, very bad." said the doctor, snapping on his own pair of gloves
"The wounds I mean, not the girl!" he gave me a playful wink and my belt nearly melted off of its own accord.
"Who would do such a thing?" He asked the atmosphere.
"I dont know, its a mystery." I pointed out. "But whoever they were, they stole the key to my reinforced tungsten-carbide chastity belt!"
"Aaaaaah." He frowned gravely. "Now that is a crime of the highest magnitude."
We exchanged meaningful glances for a while.

The next morning we awoke to find we had melted into a puddle of our own eyes. I whipped out my trusty spatula and made hot crossed eyes for breakfast while our new peepers grew themselves.
"Mmmmmmm" said the doctor, as he shoveled them down.
"I've been thinking while I slept", said he, "And I think that we'd better go straight to Venus to have your belt removed. We can sort out the rest of the mystery once that's done."
"Okay" I simpered, and we set off in my ship.
The sex shops on Venus double as hospitals treating sexual ailments of all kinds. Once there, I was poked and prodded with all the instruments , by a woman who looked like a fairy princess, but felt like ten charging hippopotomi.
"What is your name, age, height, weight and spitting distance?" she asked.
"How often do you piss, shit and empty your ovaries? How many people have punched you in the guts? When did you last kill a man, and did it make you feel like a real woman? Did it? DID IT!?" She whispered with a voice like a tinkling bell.
Aftr ten hours of this and similar, she at last brandished a pair of enourmous tungsten-carbide snips.
"Hold tight!" She chimed, and 'SNIP' 'CRACK' 'CLITORIS' the belt fell to the floor.
I was overjoyed.
"Hurrah!" I shouted, leaping into the air and streaking out the door, literaly, as I was naked from the waist down.

I began to slow down as I was reaching the ship. Only then I noticed the large crowd of beautiful Venusian women parading around my vessel. The doctor lowered a pair of binoculars from his eyes as I entered the cockpit.
"They have a wide array of sexual implements in that place, don't they?" He asked
"Because I might need all of them to sevrice this lot!" He hooted "Wooowoo! Rrrowwrr!"
My face fell. And by that I mean all of me sagged to the ground. Looking down at myself I couldnt say I blamed him. Venus women bathe in liquid milkilicone every night, and resurrected great artists paint their faces and bodies every day. I was still covered in bruises and scratches and bulletholes. My t-shirt was torn and muddy, and my hair was matted with eye-juice. And I wasn't wearing pants.
"Sigh" I sighed.
The doctor noticed my reaction and patted me on the arm.
"Dont worry!" He said brightly, "There is such a thing as a mercy fuck you know!"
I jumped up like lightening and bounced onto his knee. "Well lets GO!" I shouted, and we rocketed outta there.

Later, smoking a post-coital cigarette, the doctor nudged me.
"I hate those Venusian women, anyway." He said. "Much prefer someone a little rough around the edges like you,
especially when they're not wearing any pants! Besides, those bulletholes..." he trailed off and I felt a Loveboat song coming on.
"By the way, I'm not really a doctor, and I figured out who killed you." He said.
"Who?" I pushed my ears up over the edge of the covers.
"It was the gingerbread man. I found evidence everywhere. He's struck before, plenty of times, quite careless. He kills with kindness, you see, and buiscuts, and pies. Much more powerful than bullets. Someone else must have added those later."
"Oooooooh" I said, tilting my head. "Thats funny considering he wasn't even in the story at all before now. Not much of a mystery then, is it?"
"No." said the doctor. "It isn't."


Blogger Gorilla Bananas said...

This looks like a good story for Foot Eater, linked at my blog. His work involves dead bodies, but his fantasies about them are tame compared with this.

12:39 AM  
Blogger Face said...

Thanks, Mr Bananas. I read Dr Foot Eaters one about doctors, it was most informative, especially the link to an article about illiterate vandals in the paediatricians section! I almost laughed my face off


5:09 PM  

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