King: Cocksure

Chapter XXXII

American Zeitgeist   

This novel include graphic sex scenes, some involving minors, rape and forced sex.  It is purely a fantasy and is not depicting real people or events.  It is intended as a satire and is meant to be both funny and stimulating. The stories have a political slant as you will see. I hope you enjoy them.  New chapters will be published as they are finished.

(Mffffffffff)

In the mid-summer of 2009, my life was turned upside down by events beyond my control, some of which I have already related and others only briefly described.

I consider myself a very stable, not-easily shaken man.  No one wants to be considered a crack pot, least of all someone running a billion-dollar enterprise.  So I have saved the circumstances of the arrival of Efram in my life until I have had time to consider the events myself and get some perspective.  Also I wanted to be able to put things in context.

This is not a ghost story.  I don't believe in ghosts and Efram is not a ghost. When he first appeared, I was stuck by how solid and in the moment he seemed, just as my Mom had described. She's seen him from time to time since she was a little girl and believes him to be her real father.

Efram is quite obviously of this earth, yet dimensionally challenged.  He can only make short visits from wherever the hell he is.  As I have related earlier, he began to fade from this dimension after his brother Vlostock and Rashan made contact with the Quin portal buried in a cavern in an African volcano.  Somehow, Efram was healed and erased simultaneously.  The Efram I know is both stronger and more mentally alert than before he was struck by a hail of gunfire in Los Angeles prior to World War II. 

I have asked him what it is like where he is and he has given a rather murky description but says it is a place between the dimensions where Belial retreated during the destruction of Atlantis.  So I take him at his word. For him, it seems time hardly has transpired at all but he is able to get strong sensations from our time/space coordinates that tell him my Mom or her offspring are in real danger. 

So he saves his energy and manages to break free momentarily from his dimension to warn us or save us from impending danger.   He saved Mom, whom he called Miri, from the assassin Negroso in Oregon when she was still a child.  And he's saved me on more than one occasion, although I wasn't aware of his presence on every occasion.  How else do I explain Terry Dendrige practicing squirting just in time to stop a band of terrorists from killing me?  That was too lucky to be due solely to luck.

It was Efram who came to me and warned me that my luck was about to change, however.  For the better.

 

In a quiet suburb in Juarez, Mexico,  a half dozen members of the Cordela drug cartel strutted down a tree-lined dirt road. Everyone else on the road gave them a wide birth if they could.  Anyone watching the six blue-jeaned males could know instantly they were looking for trouble.  They pushed a teenage girl up against the adobe walls of an old shed and assaulted her.  One ripped open her blouse and another ripped her slacks off her and let his rough, grimy fingers do the walking through her nether regions.  She would have screamed but another of the gang had his hand cupped over her mouth and his other around her throat.

The gang was about to complete their rape, when an apparently drunk swarthy man stumbled out of a nearby alley.  He rubbed his eyes and studied the gang momentarily.

"Hey you piss ants," the drunk said. "Leave that woman alone."

"What did you say, old man?" the gang leader said.

"I tol' you, bastard, to let that woman go," the dark figure said. "Do it or you will have to deal with me."

"And who are you?" said the leader of the gang.  The rest of the group continued to assault the woman.

"Perhaps you know me," said the drunk with the shadow on his face.  "I am known as Negroso."

The gang laughed. 

"Negroso is a legend from this neighborhood from long ago, a myth really," the gang leader smirked.  "You are claiming to be a dead man.  A killer.  But we will be happy to accommodate your death wish."

The gang leader started to pull a gun from his pants pocket, but he was dead before the weapon was leveled.  His head exploded in a geyser of gore that sprayed his companions and the girl.  The man who called himself Negroso had guns aimed at the rest of the gang who all stopped their rutting to stare at the assailant.

One by one, their bodies were flung backwards by shots from Negroso's pistols. The girl was left standing naked in a cloud of smoke, drenched in blood, and surrounded by bodies.  She began to scream with clenched fists and stomped her feet in the brown dirt.  Negroso stepped closer to her and whispered:

"Stop your wailing bitch or I swear I will rape you myself."

She looked at Negroso through blood-caked eyes and body trembling in fear.  She was instantly quiet.

"That is so much better," he said. "Now dress yourself as best you can and go home and clean yourself.  You are a fuckin' mess."

The few people on the street that day stepped gingerly over the bloody corpses.  Hardly anyone gave them much notice.  More than 75 people had been killed in town due to cartel violence in the last year and the neighbors knew better than to mess with cartel dead no matter how badly they began to stink in the hot sun.   The police and the cartel (which in this case were one and the same) dealt with their own dead and cleaned up their own messes.

Negroso walked away unmolested.   No one dared to look at him as he departed.  As far as they knew, he had materialized out of thin air.  And they hoped desperately he would return to the realm from which he came and leave them in peace.

"Negroso has returned from the dead," one ancient woman murmured. "The devil again walks among us."

  But she was wrong.  The arrival of the devil was still to come.

In Los Angeles, it was a hot mid-summer day with the smell of smoke from raging brush fires burning nearby.

"This is paradise?" Dez said as she sat by the pool at the mansion.

"I know," I said.  "The damn fire season extends almost throughout the entire year now out here in sunny, smoky California."

"I'd guess you have climate change to blame but, of course, that's all a myth," she said "It's not really happening.  But give me a nice summer day in Minnesota anytime."

"Well, it was good you could fly out for the board meeting tomorrow," I said.  "I hope things are well back in the Midwest."

"The girls are fine," she said. "They are getting ready to head back to school this fall, all but Terry, here, whom you stole from us."

"Yes, but he took me under his wing and made me a super-star," Terry said grinning.

Like all of the other women surrounding me, Terry and Dez were sunbathing nude.  Donna, Lori, Devin, Mandy, Loyola, Piglet and Cilla were also nude resting in various poses in chairs nearby.  It would have been difficult to imagine more lovely companions.  I'd invited Creech to come as she had to last year's pre-board meeting swim party at the mansion, but she refused.

"How are you and Creech getting along these days," Dez asked me.

Terry answered for me.

"She's become real possessive of him lately and acts like she's mad at him most of the time," she said.

"Yeh, she's acting like a jilted teenager," Piglet said.

"Oh Lord, don't I know that feeling," Dez laughed.

"Yes, Mr. Surecock is a dick ting," Pigelet said.

"Oh, like you don't complain because you don't get more boner," Terry said. "You're as a 'dick-ted' as the rest of us."

"Hey, squirt slut, just because you can pick off a fly in midair with a dick up your ass doesn't make you a super-star," Piglet responded.

"How much money did your last video make?" Terry countered.

"Squirt-slut videos always make more money than anal-slut videos," Piglet said. "And you had to become both."

"Girls, girls," I intervened. It was good natured teasing between them, but Piglet had a temper and I was certain her comments would escalate into uncharted realms if Terry kept the pressure on.  All of the other girls but Terry had learned the futility of trying to get the last word with Piglet.

"Okay, Mr. Surecock, we'll be quiet," Piglet said. "But aren't you afraid that nicely packaged wiener of yours will get roasted in this sun?"

"Don't you worry about Brad's wiener," Cilla spoke up. "I take care of it just fine."

She did, too.  She insisted on rubbing lotion on it every night before bed. Then she'd fall asleep with her hands protecting it, unless, of course, there were other users or abusers of it.  When they were finished, she'd rub it up again and go back to sleep with her hands in a protective position again.

"Cilla is the only one so addicted she can't  go 10 minutes without touching it," Mandy said.

 "I've devoted my life to it," she insisted.

"Girl, you're just plain cock crazy," Dez said. "Devoting your life to Brad Surecock's cock is like devoting your life to an alley cat.  You're never sure when it will turn up, where it's been or what condition it will be in when you see it next time."

"Or what other pussies it's been with," said Loyola added.

"Yes, that is a concern," Dez said. "It might even turn up in a crazy GOPussy like you."

"Well, Dez, an alley cat gets tired of Democrap all the time and needs to move up to some top cat tushy, eventually," Loyola said with a smile.

I'd been surprised by the warm relationship that had formed between Dez and Loyola, indeed between Loyola and the rest of the girls.  Loyola was one of those classic beauties that made other women jealous.  Only Claire and Devin could rival her good looks or her sometimes imperial manner, but Loyola fit right in with the other harem girls and assorted hangers on who lived at or visited the mansion frequently. We we all awaiting the influx of other girls from the studio and clubs, other board members and invited guests. In was just mid-day and the party would go on late into the night.

"Better Democrap than the GOPoop you Bushy cunts gave the country for eight fucking years," Dez said.

"Amen to that, sis," Loyola said. "But I notice Obama hasn't gotten us out of Iraq or Afghanistan."

Dez and Loyola had known each other since the Republican convention a year earlier in Minneapolis and had come to a close personal relationship and a grudging respect for one another's political viewpoints.  Both were firebrands for their personal political views and just because Loyola had changed her party affiliation, that didn't mean her views on political manners were any less conservative.

  "Give him time, sis," Dez said.  "You Bushites fucked up the country so badly, it might take a century to put everything back together."

At least the banter between Dez and Loyola was friendly and thoughtful.  One could not say the same about the political debate elsewhere in the country at the time.  The health care town panels were raging around the country at the time with particular emphasis on the "rage." Discussions swirled around death panels, Obama's nationality, illegal immigrants and a host of other non-issue issues.

Dez and Loyola were proof that despite all of the craziness in the nation, there could still be warmth between political rivals and that discussion needn't devolve to the lowest common denominator between Americans. Still, I saw some guests I didn't recognize were starting to arrive and I figured we'd better wind down the gentle teasing, at least for the time being.

"Donna, do you know who those people are with that big guy there?" I said.  "And who is the big guy"

"I don't know all of the names but Creech told me you said to invite them," Donna answered. "I think the leader of the group is a guy named Peter Joseph."

"Must be the group from the new Brisbane club," I said.  "I've never personally met the management from there but I don't think I should greet them with my roasted wiener swaying in the breeze. Let me go upstairs and put on some pants."

"Those Aussie girls in that group are going to miss one of the world's seven wonders," Loyola said. "But from the looks of that big fellow there, I would guess they've got some excellent wood down under as well."

The "big fellow" wore dark glasses and and a tan jacket that encased his positively massive shoulders.  He didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him despite his massive size.

As I turned to run upstairs flashing my naked buns, the big fellow was excusing himself from the group that accompanied him.

"Thanks for the ride," he told the group.  They waved friendly goodbyes.

 

"Cilla, this is ridiculous," I said.  "I can handle my own dick while I pee."

"Brad, I've never known a man yet who can consistently hit the toilet when they pee," she said. "Every man should have a personal pee assistant to help aim at the target and lick off the drops."

"Okay, lick them off after you shake it but for chrissake, hurry," I said.  "I have to get back downstairs.  I have important guests coming over."

Cilla had insisted on coming upstairs with me to help me dress. And piss. She also milked me dry of a half quart of other fluids.

We emerged shortly later from my room arm in arm. She was giggling and I was talking to her when we bumped into the massive man we'd seen arrive earlier.

"Oh excuse me," I said, a little perturbed that a guest could get upstairs unchallenged.

"No, Brad, excuse me," the man said. "I wonder if I could speak with you alone for a moment."

"Well we would be more comfortable downstairs," I said.

"What I have to say must be spoken when no one else is around."

Now completely on guard, I slipped my arm out of Cilla's and urged her to run downstairs to tell Donna or her guards where I was and who I was with.  She left reluctantly.

"That was stupid, my son," the man said. "You've only limited the time we have to speak making necessary another visit. And believe me, these visits are difficult."

"Yes, they will be up here soon, so speak fast,"  I said.  "I figure you have at most five minutes before Cilla returns with Donna and the cavalry."

"Okay, so I will say my peace and go," the man said.  "My name is Efram. You are my grandson. Your mother, Miri, is my daughter, though I did not know her long when she was a child. She was raised mostly by other family members, including Vlostock, her uncle."

"Wait a minute..." I said.

"You wait," Efram said. "You said I had five minutes.  I have a special warning to deliver to you on this visit.  I'd say more but you've left me no choice.  You are in great danger.  The forces of Belial are congregating in your time and space.  I do not know what is afoot--something about what my father, Mortuse, called the 'ircenrraq'--but soon a family member will be taken, perhaps killed.  I do not have the connection or the energy to act in her behalf.  Perhaps you can save her.  Bring all your chickens home to protect them, including Miri and your siblings. I will will have other messages later, but for now, I must go."

Efram turned to run down the hall.

"But why?" I called after him.

"Why?"

"Why Belial? Why now?" I said.

"It is the convergence of events in this time in America," said Efram.  "It is the spirit of the times."

I was about to tell him that the direction in which he fled offered no escape.  But he was gone when I turned the corner to look down the corridor into which he'd fled.

Donna and three equally naked female guards came running after me with guns drawn.  They actually looked kind of silly running armed and naked.  I guessed that was meant by naked weapons or carrying a not-concealed weapon.

"Buckner?" she asked.

"No, something weirder," I said.

 

The man named Negroso stood in front of a small, run-down hotel in Juarez.  He had American money in his pockets, not pesos, and he wondered whether his money, printed nearly 70 years ago, would be accepted in modern-day Mexico.

"I will gladly pay for your stay here," said a tall, reed-thin man emerging from the shadows.

"Who are you?" Negroso said, about to pull his pistols.

"The name, sir, is Buckner," the man said.  "First name: Gustav.  I have been expecting you, though I wasn't quite certain exactly where you'd be. I tracked you down from the shooting earlier today.  I figured it had to be you. One man wiping out six armed rapists.  Who else could it be?"

"I have always hated rapists," Negroso said.

"Yes, on that point we will have to agree to disagree," said Buckner. "The one I serve has need for your services even though he agrees with me on the general desirability of rape as a political strategy."

"Political?  Strategy?"

"Yes, Senor Belial warned me that you were a rather simple fellow, not given to sophisticated political discussion.  Still, you have talents we can use."

"Here in Jarez, the town of my birth?" Negroso said.

"No, you are headed to California to meet with another associate of mine, a Mr. Salgalcano,"  Buchner said.  "I am heading to Atlantic City to take care of some other family business.  Mr. Salgalcano will explain to you what is required of you in the sunshine state.  Fly safely."

"Fly?"

 

I sat stunned as the party gathered steam around me.

"Brad, are you okay?" Cilla said.  "I should not have left you."

"I am fine, Cilla," I answered.  "Just let me sit here for a time and think."

"Brad, you haven't told me," Donna said. "Who did you and Cilla see upstairs?"

"Donna, if I told you, you'd have to kill me," I said. "I certainly not going to tell you on the evening before our summer board meeting with all of the investors here."

"But you will tell me?"

"Eventually," I said.  "But you won't believe me."