a free ride inside my diseased mind.

part 3 (Transferengenic: a true story about a fake paramedic)


I met her outside where things are cooler. Most people don’t even go out side any more. If they do its seldom by choice.

She was dressed unlike all the rest. Cool magenta. Black fishnets. Ice-cube blue lipstick. She smoked strange elongated cigarettes, and she drank like a fish. I couldn’t blame her though, cuz she was a goddamn fish!  Most of her looked human, aside from the gills, ughh those sexy flappers. (They double as extra sexual organs.) Or perhaps tripled.

We met standing on cold wet cement. Outside the cafe. A cafe on this world has a different meaning. Its more like a one stop swill hole, drug swap and sex stop. Cafes are strategically placed all over the great cities.  They seem to mate and populate. You can meet any one, or thing in these sick pits. I met her. She was hooked on some drug called Aculade.  It’s usually shot with a hypo. I could see the needle holes in her arm. They had a bright neon blue hue. Most people don’t give these creatures the time of day. Shit, It didn’t stop me, I am usually attracted to fucked up people, or in this case a fish.  We started talking about the differences and similarities of our planets. We shared a smoke. She was charming, intelligent, a tragedy. I am usually a germ freak, but I shared a smoke with her.  I could tell that small gesture meant a great deal to her. Perhaps made her feel clean, or at least cleaner.

I was starting to get pretty wasted on the language juice and was having a hell of a time understanding her speech. It was different than the standard language on this part of the planet, more direct, honest. It seemed as though her language was built to get to the  point with out being an asshole about it. An honest language, perhaps lies cant come from that alphabet.


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