God of the Game (Dreamstate) (50 page)

Have you? I asked.

Yes. Jimmy replies. That’s so much more e
nticing than the ridiculous sex act.

I am angry. I pound the semblance of his chest.

Jimmy only laughs.

An eternity...and he lets me suffer?!

Jimmy laughs some more.

All men are bastards.

He chuckles in the wind. You would not have wanted it any other way. You’re hurt. You’re strong-willed. Stubborn, but weak.

I don’t want to talk to him. I ask him to shut up. And I play the silent game once again.

83

The last time I gave Jimmy the silent treatment was the day we died. The day he gave me incredible sex. Today, he treats me to another unforgettable experience.   

Jimmy just wants to fuck my mind; I never really got it.
The meaning of it, that is
. I mean, I got it, often. He gives it to me, he frequently fucks my mind. Drives me mad, toys at my emotion. He then makes love just to sedate me. And sate me, I have to add.

But what is mindfuck really? Is it lobotomy? Psychological warfare? An opiate for the masses?

According to the iconoclast, Jimmy, mindfuck is merely mind control. A thief creeps into your brain; he takes over.

Proven by death, the afterlife is darkness. An empty sheet of white paper. A blank canvas. In the beginning, god created the heavens and the earth. But before that, he was thinking.
She
was thinking.  Contemplating. Deciding. Occasionally, her subconscious takes the lead.

God’s an artist. She paints the emptiness
into a motion picture. You’ve seen what I can do, composing a world out of neon lights, cheesecakes and sausages. But it’s nothing special. That’s because all of us are capable of doing so.
Whatever we can imagine
; only thing sad is that our fantasies are limited. And often lonely, if we are honest.

That’s where Jimmy comes in. He’s a virus. He’s a disease. Cancer cells. He wants to conquer, rule the worlds. Jimmy’s a massive id with a huge ego desiring to assimilate all gods in death. And Jimmy’s got tons of patience. He can wait forever and ever. For the opportune time. But the more souls he consumes, the more powerful he becomes, and the brasher his approach. Jimmy rams down dimensional doors one after another, hostilely occupying the eternities of individuals.

At least I never had to endure his aggression. Jimmy was always sweet with me. Psychotic; but sweet. I was one of his firsts when he was yet a gentler man. In his later conquests, I rode shotgun, participating in the vileness of battle. In Jimmy’s dream, I was his warrior goddess.

84

Rewind. Do I hate him for creeping into my mind? Without consent, like daddy? Like the way I hate daddy? Problem is I could never decide whether I really hated my father. I loved him, I did; but he’s despicable.

For that I hate him.

Always attracted to problematic males - that’s my weakness. The more they abuse me, the more they mindfuck me, the more I love them. Not that I want to...when I’m rational, but, mostly I’m not...rational; so I do, I love them. With all my bleeding heart. And yes, I can be such a bitch when men fuck with me without permission, when they get me in positions I do not approve. I can cause a bloody racket. The irony is that they’re turned on when I put up a fight, `cause in the end they have a way of making me submit, a way of cooing my feminine struggles, filling up my bitchy foul mouth.

Then I am a docile animal. All theirs to dominate.

So how did Jimmy do it? Jimmy’s cosmic voice bouncing in the void, I pretend I can’t hear it, though it’s deafening. He’s whispering sweet nothings
into my ear. Suddenly, a rose pops out of nowhere. Drops to my feet. And a note. I’m tempted to pick up. Read what it says. But I stand ground. I’m not the same girl I was an eternity ago. I’m a strong chick now, a chick that cuts cocks.

Oh, did I mention I have a medical condition? Vagina dentata; cunt with teeth. Sharp canines, grinding incisors and chewy molars greet any guy intimately. Jimmy better be scared.

But he’s not.

Instead, he’s already in a fleshly manifestation, a mortal incarnation. Right before my very eyes; in a tux. Only that the pants are round his ankles, and all eight inches of his love is showing wide.

Jimmy. Such a risk taker.

I said, aren’t you afraid what I’ll do to your little
bir-die
...?

Jimmy just shakes his head. Grinning simultaneously.

What a pervert. Like daddy; only that daddy would have panicked if pussy could bite.

I tease
Jimmy. Do a strip dance to the extended guitar solo of
Comfortably Numb
. That’s what Jimmy will be after
me
, the second word of that Pink Floyd song. As for
comfortable?
That, I doubt it.

Naked now; I giggle, and say pussycat is hungry...
grrrr
...and wants to eat a
mousy
... 

Jimmy is aroused.

My hairy pubic region is a jungle lodging a monster. He parts the vines. As if it is a stage show, he unfurls the curtains. The labia are the lips of a cave, and Jimmy lifts the gums of my orifice. Wet, razor and salivating is what welcomes him. 

Jimmy moans and confesses how much he wants to be eaten by me. Not by any other woman, but me. Only me. Sharon. And he launches
into my mouth, (the one I talk with), his muscular tongue flickering inside, and the reservoir of Eros gushes forth from my heart into his gulps.

I’m divided, I don’t care; I just want him to take me then and there. Part of me wants to bite him off. T
he other wishes his penis is a Bowie knife, a nuclear submarine. Let a duel begin.

And s
o it does. Sparks fly as sharp things collide. Jimmy’s metal snake is pummelled and punctured by two rows of spikes. In retaliation, the serpent is spitting venom, acid to corrode the jagged barricades. The hiss of the iron reptile is loud and commanding; but the solid purr of the feline is as sharpened chimes - bells that kill, music that maims, and pubic hairs which stand on ends.

The snake recoils for a lunge, an accelerated spring as the mammal opens its mouth to roar, hoping...hoping to penetrate and sink poison
into the heart of kitty-cat.

Error. Bad timing. When t
he serpentine being attacks, pussy’s jaw slams shut. A metallic
zing
, and the head of her slithery enemy plunges to the ground within.

Liquids are spewing forth, a damaged fire hydrant, and Jimmy, for the first time, has got a look of horror on his face.

But nah, it didn’t happen this way. Only in my fantasy did it.

The real horror was how chummy my vagina dentata warmed up to Jimmy’s organ. The damn pussy went all mushy, started rubbing itself against his shaft. Salivating, but for the wrong reason.

Jimmy’s dick numbs my teeth to sleep; and they withdraw.

I am a regular girl again. Funny thing, I like it. It’s nice having a penis inside without breaking it off. Jimmy’s the first man in the afterlife that has successfully fucked me. Says something, right? Says he’s special. 

And as always, Jimmy’s one heck of a love machine. Brute. Violent. The way I like my steak. H
e slows down after I’d climaxed; then he allows the ripples to spread across my lake as tiny raindrops descend from his sky. O’, Jimmy can be so tender when he loves. My flowers open up to grab his dew. Then he quickens his pace again. Jimmy’s giving me the Venus Butterfly, also referred to as the one hour orgasm, and that bastard is making me cum and cum and
cum
, all OVER!!!
And all over again!
He’s so evil, so cruel...I love him;
I love him
. Ohhhhh...Jimmy, I love you...I love you, you damned man, you stupid asshole. I love you.
Make me grovel, make me beg
. I surrender, I give up. O’...I surrender totally...totally; Ohhh...Jimmy, I’m yoooooooooours..........

85

Jimmy’s set up a conglomerate. It’s a corporate takeover. All my neon lights, cheesecakes and sausages now bear his mark, his logo. The soldiers of his empire are marching in to my kingdom in a showy military procession of order, discipline and uniformity, whilst overhead the air force shrieks in an honorary formation of victory. Of course, I yielded willingly.

My boyfriend’s banner
is red with a white circle and two black thunderbolts crisscrossing at the middle. In truth, it approximates the Nazi swastika, but with more graphic menace. Jimmy admits he was, but is no longer, a fan of Adolf Hitler. They are both painters. But Jimmy’s more talented, and
way
more handsome. Jimmy’s also not a failed artist. Adolf is. That’s why the German resorted to political despotism. Jimmy need not succumb to such primitive methods. He conquers by means of his art. During our heart-to-heart sessions, our intimate confessions, Jimmy says he was upset with Hitler. A little pedagogical rejection caused that boy to drop the brush and pick, in lieu, a fascist flag. Such a wuss! Adolf Hitler could have been so much more other than bemoaning most dearly that he was not an anonymous wanderer painting a picturesque, romantic, classical and historical Italy in 1942.

Jimmy flutters. Jimmy laughs. Then Jimmy lets in on a secret. I am curious, it sounds like hot gossip. My ears are perked. Jimmy says he’s got Hitler in the cellar; his first conquest, the Third Reich, the dictator; now just a prisoner. Forever a prisoner. Jimmy laughs some more. I join in.

Jimmy says he’ll take me go see him.

On the way dow
n to the cell, Jimmy describes Adolf’s world. He’s a terrible architect. Told by teachers he had talent in this department, yet lacked the raw skills needed for the specialization because he did bad in earlier education, he was doomed and ruined to be a nondescript imitator; I don’t know if he regrets having not studied harder, but Jimmy says, see his designs and you will cringe. That’s how horrible they are.

Such an imposing man,
you would think his afterlife would be grand. But he just likes to be shitted and urinated on all over! Scat and watersports. Rumour had it, but is now true, that the fuehrer was a bisexual amphetamine addict, a sexual fetishist suffering from
monorchism
and syphilis, and an indulger togging up in ladies’ lingerie. For those in the dark, a
monorchist
is a man possessing only one testicle.  Colourful character, this Hitler, but now he lies in bed, drugged out; and thanks to Jimmy, the highlight of World War Two’s number one antagonist, and arguably Villain of the Century, is the eager anticipation of the daily visits by ex-lovers, who come to crap and pee upon his body whilst telling stories of an Aryan utopia. Behind bars Adolf sits, and Jimmy taunts his ancestry – son of an illegitimate child, Anti-Semitic Adolf Hitler’s grandpa was a fucking Jew.    

Jimmy recounts the story. It was real easy trapping the fuehrer. All Jimmy did was to leave a lollipop spiked with his favourite narcotic and stick it on top of a pile of dung in a manner it resembled his lost testicle.  Hitler leapt with glee, and his future after suicide now belonged to Jimmy. But enough on such an absurd personality. The life to pass, I rode on Jimmy’s iron horse, his motorcycle; charging into battle. I was in the sidecar next to him actually, shooting machine guns, waving axes and clobbering those who dared oppose with a warhammer. Mostly they were just raids and plunders. Villagers were terrified of our imminent attacks. He would burn huts down and rape pretty girls. I urged him on. It was nicer to be a cheerleader than the victim of forced intercourse.   

When the empire was substantial, I stayed home and bitched
about the house. I was queen bee in Jimmy’s absence. He was on crusades, expanding boundaries to faraway lands - like Richard the Lionhearted and Alexander the Great.

You can say, in loneliness, I became Babylon, mother of harlots, robed in purple
, gold and scarlet; but mostly, scantily clad. I drank blood, and was a lustful vampire. Orgies were frequent in the castle. Kings and merchants crawled to my throne to perform the adoring act of cunninlingus. In return, I, the goddess, the high priestess, blessed them, and their nations and businesses flourished. As long as they worshiped Jimmy and paid their tributes that funded his expeditions, they prospered. Go out of line, and a fate like Hitler’s wait.

I think I do a good job running the kingdom. Better than Jimmy. Guys, they’re all about war. Boringgg... Power
can
be intoxicating; fact! But ambitious men know of nothing else other than to attain it, (
o’, the glory of battle
), but shrug, they know little how to exploit it. That’s where a woman comes in; spending hubby or boyfriend’s money to plush up the place. Home sweet home for him to return to. That’s why Adam needs Eve. If she’s not around, he won’t know the difference between office (
garden
, in Biblical rhetoric) and house. Everything will look the same. Eden will be monochrome and one-dimensional;
though he’ll probably be saved from the Fall
.