For a moment, I considered rushing him now and blowing us up. The problem was, too many innocent people were near, including Walter Kez—or whatever his name was. I wished I'd asked the director about the wedding! I hoped it was still supposed to be like the choreography I had seen before, where Father and I were alone on the stage. That would be
the moment
.
I stopped behind an empty chair. The crowd hadn't let up at all.
"Bombastic fantastic!" enthused Father, over the roar. "I got you a Poünd outfit like mine, but that's the greatest suit I've ever seen in the history of my life!" Turning to the others he said, "Look at him! It's like
Adjoining Tissue!
Remember that epic?"
"An all-time classic," screamed Jun.
"We're going all out!" said Father. "You have to hang with us now! You can't leave when he's getting Ültra again!"
Around the circular, shiny ultramarine table, where rest bowls of puffy snacks, bottles of wine, programs, and what looked like motorcycle helmets, sat twelve others. Starting on my left and going counterclockwise was an empty chair, presumably for Elle after the wedding, then Walter and his uncle in his beetle-green suit and necklaces.
The rest I recognized like I might have great aunts and uncles. Back when the rages were happening, I saw them every night, but now, it was just once a year at the product shows. Jun, the ceo from BrainBrain, who had become a soft, rounded little man, wore a black suit covered with little mirrors, green makeup, and vampire hair. He smiled at me and the flesh around his eyes turned wrinkled and dry. To his right were the lettt brothers. Both had muskrat faces—all pointy noses, toothy mouths, and bushy blond eyebrows. Their matching articulated aluminum shirts made them look like robot clichés. Looped around their necks was a half a mile of orange string. Beside the aluminum twins was the president of iip-2. Instead of Ültra, she seemed to think she had become a teenager again and was dressed like an
Om Om
girl in a brown suit with her lips cut open. The next two wore striped jackets, plaid shirts, and awful nonwoven ties. They had on so much crusty purple makeup they looked more like two freshly dug-up beets. I didn't know who they were or what company they represented. Finally, the man in the paisley robe, neon shirt, and a frilly tie that looked like soap suds, was ceo of slt. Ten years ago he had had an aneurysm at the PartyHaus and since then never missed an opportunity to tell me we were alike.
Beside the slt man sat Father's woman. She had bright green hair and red-colored teeth. Through her transparent orange dress, I could see the phrase
gender fatality
scrawled across her breasts in what looked like dried blood.
By this time, the crowd had settled down. The people at the table said hello or sang lyrics at me, like the lettt brothers did.
With their arms over their shoulders, they screamed,
"One crusty bruise to remember her by!"
Then they laughed triumphantly and got compliments from the others.
The ceo of slt man winked, and said, "You and I . . . we're heart attack twins!"
The
Om Om
woman got up, came around, and kissed me on the cheek. "I've christened him with my blood!" she exclaimed in her rasping voice. "Now, we're blood lovers." As if giving advice, she said, "You should cut Elle and suck her wound, like they do in
Crüsh Töne.
"
"No!" said Jun of BrainBrain, "
Perfect Infinity Dëath
by DïkCräkør! It's romantic how they poke each other with those splinters."
As they all began arguing which Ültra disaster my honeymoon should be like, I told myself this would all be over soon, and I wouldn't have to see these creatures again.
Walter glanced at me fearfully as though afraid I was going to tell the world about his identity crimes. Frowning, he said, "I think something bad is going to happen."
As I nodded at him, the house announcer began again. "Get in your last orders now. The show is about to start!" A moment later, the voice sped up. "Fine china, plumbing, and fireworks graciously provided by Oh!Teen. Slut cakes and taproot beverages and suppositories by Frix Corporation. Also, please take a moment to check your listening and viewing helmet—provided by Volvo-Sony ltd. We'll let you know when you need to put it on."
A waiter, with a RiverGroup logo scarred on his bare chest, stepped beside Father.
"More shrimp loops, love chips, and those salamander hotties," Father said. "Oh, and a dozen bottles of the Frix Carrot-Chablis for the table." Leaning toward me he said, "Watch this." To the table, he hollered, "Ültra is the greatest of all time!"
Like lemmings, they all cheered back. Jun stood, beat his chest, and bellowed, "Deadly Ültra calamity in my brain pan!"
Right,
I thought, as I grabbed one of the programs and began to flip through the shiny, unreadable ads, photos, and promises until I found a schedule. It read: 1. Hiro Bruce Rivers on Business. 2. Super-secret guests introduce new music from Alüminüm Anüs and Dark Cästle of Poünd. 3. Exciting super-upgrade announcements. 4. RiverGroup new product demonstration.
"When is the wedding?" I asked.
"Shush!" shout-whispered Father, as he leaned toward me. "It's a damn surprise!"
"Everyone knows!"
"Yes, but if we pretend it's a surprise, they can think they're smarter than us." He laughed and said, "That's the trick! People love to think they're smarter than you. And it worked," he smiled. "They're all here. Two days ago, they were threatening to give up on us, but the lousy, dumb bastards are here!"
Tan-colored foundation covered his skin. It had looked good from far away, but up close, it accentuated all the lines around his eyes and mouth, like a million, tiny, dry tributaries. Across his forehead were three deep valleys. The top two arched smoothly from side to side. The third dipped toward the bridge of his nose and came close to two vertical lines that rose asymmetrically between his brows. What occurred to me was that he looked more like a grandfather than a dad.
"But when is it?" I asked again.
"Can't wait to get into her salmon-skin panties?" As he laughed, I could see how the alcohol was slowing his motor skills and making his eyelids heavy.
"The greatest Ültra band is Töxic Tësticle Färm!" proclaimed green-faced Jun as he held up his arms as if in victory.
"No!" scoffed Father, whipping his sleeves at him. "Alüminüm Anüs is the greatest. They're big lard! They kill those tiny Tësticles in every way!"
"Tësticle's
Kiss the Axe Meät
," declared Jun, throwing up his hands again, "is the greatest God damned, total, super, fucking classic of all time—forever—no argument!"
"God, no!" cried Father. "It's butt garbage! Right, my spaceship?" He looked to his girl, but she just shrugged. "My dick can fart better than that song!"
While they swore and argued about bands, costumes, and lyrics, I watched Father. The problem was, after drinking carrot all afternoon, and now with his old rage buddies, he was happy—happier than I had seen him in a long time. I didn't like it. He had no idea what I was going through or felt, or why I was going to destroy the both of us.
"Can you feel it?" he asked them, gesturing around the PartyHaus. "A fearful anticipation is building like a pandemic! And we're in for real, clean-your-colon Ültra."
"We never miss Anüs," said one of the lettt brothers.
"Not one single performance," agreed the other.
"I missed them only once," said Father. "And I was unconscious!" He laughed, and then added what he thought was the final punch, "Same result, though!"
As if to derail his evening, I told him, "I saw Mother."
Turning, he asked, "What are you talking about?"
"I saw her. I talked to her!"
"You better not!" he said, leaning in so we wouldn't be heard. "I forbid it! I let that whore see you after the shooting, but I don't want you talking to her or hearing any of her super-bullshit lies."
"And now!" boomed the house voice, as the curtains parted to reveal the enormous gold, silver, chrome, ice, and black-satin decorated stage. With its three sets of curved, light-blue stairs, angular crystalline walls, and strange, intricate dark blue foliation, it resembled the collision between a glacier and a lingerie factory. On the fifteen-story-tall screen in the back spun a thousand RiverGroup logos. "It's time to say hello to a man so visionary, he has his toilet paper laid out for next week . . . a man with so much brains, he has to keep most of them in his colon . . . a leader so strong, even his underwear stands at attention!"
As the crowd laughed and clapped, I told Father, "They're not lies!"
"I don't want to hear it!" He pointed one of his thick fingers in my face. "Shut up about that bitch freak of your God damned mother!" Grabbing one of the carrot bottles, he downed a thick gulp.
"She told me everything." My words were swallowed up in the announcer's.
"Join me in welcoming President, ceo, coo, cio, cpo, Chief Programmer, and all-around Super Code Bastard, let's tear down the PartyHaus for the biggest, loudest, and the lardest rager of all time . . . Ültra lover, silence hater, the screaming, howling master of the pelvic thrust, party critter numero uno, Hiro . . . Bruce . . . Rivers!"
After glaring at me once more, Father jogged to the stage and tripped up the five steps. Once he'd regained his balance, he cried, "Children of pain! Let's rage on the stage! Let's crack our spine and drink wine! Let's grind our ass and make some gas." The audience's enthusiasm dimmed as if disappointed with what were the oldest and lamest Ültra shouts. Undaunted, he pumped his fists in the air and sent the floppy bags of his shirtsleeves in motion. "Be my Ültra baby of anguish!"
That got them going again.
"Come on up!" he said to his girl. "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce my newest cunt spaceship, Jenni Haska-Martin-Biochem, who used to work as a monkey trainer for Frix Corporation." As she came to his side, he walloped her plastic-covered ass. "She's great, but with this great crowd tonight, you never know, maybe I'll meet someone new!" Jenni puffed out her cheeks and made an angry face. Many laughed as if she were funny or cute.
"All joking aside," continued Father, "this has been a great year for us at RiverGroup. Yeah, we had a few days in fucktown, and hey, there are always critics." He curled a lip in my direction. "We're back, and let's fuck the critics. We don't make our SymmetryMax products for critics! RiverGroup makes our stuff for love. And our love is stronger than ever!"
I wanted to scream at him, but told myself to be patient.
"Believe me," he continued, "we've got some secret and stunning surprises later, so stick around for the whole incredible show." On the huge screen behind him appeared a series of complicated neon pie charts that zoomed in and out, broke apart, and reassembled themselves like a mad geometric ballet. As he spoke, his girl, maybe thinking this was her moment, began licking her lips and caressing her chest. As people hooted and yelled, Father would smile and wink as if he thought it was for him. "Today," he said, "RiverGroup SymmetryMax Super-Secret-Pass 45.882 is used by forty-two percent of the market. Our SecretSuite is the standard with fifty point three percent. And our new SecretDuper Embedded CodeBitch Asymmetry-Regulator is
the
measure for critical applications with a whopping twenty-two percent!"
The screen was filled with numbers and graphics all flying around like gnats. I took the vial from my jacket and gazed at the flesh inside. My poor Nora. I couldn't believe what he had done to her.
"Yeah!" said Father, who had noticed Jenni now stroking her crotch. He started doing his pelvis thrusts at her. "It's about love, Ültra children! It's about love and love is all about forgiveness. We're still strong. We're still there for you! We love you!"
Clutching the vial, I shouted, "We hate you!" and felt like I'd been possessed, like the Ültra color of the suit was contaminating or infecting me. For a moment, I wondered if I should tear it off before I lost my mind.
Walter stared at me. Across the table, though, green-faced Jun pointed and said, "That's right!" With what looked like venom in his eyes, he added, "Sweet hate!" It was odd that Father's biggest client and one of his oldest friends had just agreed. Or maybe he was drunk on carrot and had no idea what he was saying.
Sirens began whirring. Blinking orange lights surrounded the stage. Hospitality girls ran toward Father and Jenni with helmets.
"You know what this means!" said Father, apparently done with his boring business charts and his ridiculous dance. "Time to rage!"
The announcer said, "Attention! Attention! Please don your safety helmets and make sure they are securely over your ears and eyes." The voice sped up again. "By attending the RiverGroup product show, you wave all rights expressed or implied, includin—without limitation—the right to sue for optic nerve, ear drum, spinal cord, or any sensory damage, and you will not hold RiverGroup, its affiliates, or subsidiaries responsible. Safety helmets provided are not endorsed or guaranteed by RiverGroup, and should they fail, are not the liability of RiverGroup. In the event that a situation arises concerning injury, our hospitality girls will assist you, but they are not medically trained personnel and cannot and will not be held accountable for further injury or negligence." The voice returned to its normal speed. "To introduce our first song, please welcome the gigantic and super-celebrated epic star of
Blood Bile and Cum2
, Erik Heimlick!"
As Father and his girl took their seats, he turned away as if he were going to ignore me the rest of the show.
From stage right, Erik came rushing out covered in nothing but his own glistening sweat. "I will shatter your nuts!" he said, as that was the dreadful catchphrase that had made him famous. "Wow!" he continued, peering all around, "This is . . . I don't know . . . I mean . . . there aren't words to describe it . . . gosh . . . it's just so beyond words!"
"I saw Tanoshi No Wah," I told Father.
"Shut up! Shut up!" he roared, then glanced about as if afraid what everyone would think. In a shout-whisper he added, "Don't mention that shit. It's all fucking lies. All of it! God damned lies! Now shut your mouth, or I'll beat you right here."