By Warren Ellis
Burned-out deepest dick Michael McGill must jump-start his occupation. What he will get as an alternative is a livestock prod to the crotch. The president's heroin-addicted leader of employees desires McGill to discover the Constitution—the genuine one the Founding Fathers secretly devised for the period of gravest problem. And with God, civility, and Mom's selfmade apple pie already lifeless or loss of life, that point is now. yet McGill has a expertise for stumbling into each conceivable depravity—and this situation is using him even deeper into America's darkest, dankest underbelly, towards obscenities that boggle even his brain.
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You only sleep with them, but they jump someone else any time a chance to stay in practice raises its head. ” “Multiple orgasms. I get off fast and often. Which means any guy fucking me feels like James Bond. ” “Or-gas-em. I’ve heard of those. ” She laughed, which I liked. ” I groaned, checked my glass. Groaned again. “Vodka later. Talk first. ” “The usual is that…well, I met someone the other day who put it well. ” She arched a drawn eyebrow. “There are eight bars around this block. I naturally find the one where the barman accessorizes with human headskin.
Green eyes studied me from picture frames of intricate eyeliner and shadow. I was abstractly aware of wanting her to like me. ” Her eyes sparkled in the dark. “Come on. I’ll buy you a coffee. ” We took a cab to the Shark Bar, a block down from CBGB, where they skinned anyone who complained about cigarette smoke. The barman wore the scalp of a Straight Edge punk boy from San Jose as a hat. It was going yellow and crunchy around the edges despite frequent applications of handcream, but the lovingly tended brush of peroxide mohawk was as thick and lustrous as the fur of a pedigree cat.
Some poor mad bastard strapped into a rubber lizard suit and paid ramen money to stomp on a balsa model of Tokyo. There was a clumsy cut, and then another pretend lizard-monster clumped across a bonsai Tokyo. The picture quality was different. It was cut in from another movie. Cut back to Godzilla; but in slow motion, with a rose filter over the image, and what sounded like Justin Timberlake mixed in over the top. There was a perceptible shift in the audience. I heard the guy next to me hold his breath.