Even though I wrote this chapter from scratch in July and all its story ideas are new, it has its roots in the mid-Nineties origin of Spanner. First I read Camille Paglia’s Sexual Personae in 1992, then I found the infamous yaoi manga Desperate Love 1989 (Zetsuai) in fan translation online in 1996. The combination was as explosive as the chemical reaction that results when you put metallic sodium in water, and Spanner began to take its mature form as the yuri manga I wanted it to be. You can consider this chapter an aftershock of that mind bomb.
Special Guest Stars: President Sarah
← ...from previous
Chaos Angel Spanner — Book 1: Rock City Blues
Chapter 7: Here Come the Brides
Chapter 7: Here Come the Brides
Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women
to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism,
and become lesbians.
Rev. Pat Robertson
(defending Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda on 11 September 2001)
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
Irina Dunn
to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism,
and become lesbians.
Rev. Pat Robertson
(defending Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda on 11 September 2001)
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
Irina Dunn
9 September 2014
After school, Team Bremelo go out for a Friday-afternoon get-together at the new Pizza Mafia restaurant opening up downtown. The outing doubles as an early birthday party for Shira, who turns fifteen in just four days.
The current core membership: Shira and Jennifer; the Shelley twins; Cory and Kio; and new member Brandi. They have pooled their money to pay for the food. Seika and her cousin Harumi tag along because they can afford to buy their own, and because Seika offered to pay any overruns.
Harumi says in broken English, “Shira-chan, how you beat all those guys?”
Cory answers. “There’s four or [looks to Brandi] five people in this room who own the Israeli fighting styles. I’m one of ’em. But Shira’s the best.”
“What Cory means,” Shira hastens to add, “ is that we’re so familiar with Israeli fighting styles, like krav maga and haganah, that we can beat ’em in just about any fight.”
“Everybody in the Church of America is required to learn Israeli martial arts, you see,” adds Jennifer. “Once you fight enough of ’em, their styles get very familiar indeed.”
“Now we can tell Lorelei and them we’ll have a GSA as long as they’ve got us around to fight for it.”
“And whoever else needs someone to keep fighting for our basic civil rights, too.”
Seika blushes at the thought that has been on her mind all day. “Uh, that reminds me. Jennifer, is it true that you married your own mother?”
Harumi gasps in shock “What?!” Brandi looks at Jennifer sidelong, one eyebrow cocked.
Jennifer giggles. “Uhh, why, yes. I did marry my mother. And that’s a long story...”
25 August 2014
As the Corporates fly into cleared-out Manhattan for their failed initiation of Steve Jobs and Apple into the Cartel, President Sarah Palin announces that her divorce from Todd Palin is final. She is now free to marry whomever she wants. And she intends to marry him on September 11, one of the New Confederacy’s holiest days.
The world press explodes with rumors of the groom. Is it another politician? a member of Corporate royalty? a celebrity (presumably not the tarnished Mel Gibson)? one of the converted Evangelical pastors whose inquisition keeps her in power? Jesus America Himself? The bookmakers are already making their bets.
26 August 2014
Todd Palin threatens to sue his now ex-wife. All the sleazy newspapers and sleazier tabloids in London’s Fleet Street bid for his tell-all exposé.
9 September 2014
When Jennifer Richter-Thomas wakes up to a beautiful morning, Willa is still asleep. Jennifer stretches and yawns. She struggles out of the bedcovers, then unwraps Willa from them. They are both nude; it isn’t right for a married couple to have anything between them when they sleep together. Willa rests peacefully on her back. Jennifer gently puts her hand on Willa’s breasts.
You’re so beautiful, my bride. To me you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world, no matter what anybody else says.
Moving slowly and gently, Jennifer sits atop Willa’s hips. She cups Willa’s breasts in her hands and firmly caresses them. She leans down so she can kiss Willa’s breasts one by one, planting a long, firm, gentle kiss on the right nipple and then the left.
“Mmmm,” says sleeping Willa.
Jennifer moves up Willa’s body, presses her lips to Willa’s, and gives her a long passionate kiss. Willa lets out another soft moan, but remains asleep. “I love you, Willa,” says Jennifer.
She sits up and gently squeezes the beautiful breasts of the woman she calls wife. She wonders whether she should wake her up. But then a mischievous idea comes to her. Something Shira would think of...
She smiles mischievously. “Well, sleeping beauty,” she says to Willa, “I’ll make love to you in your dreams.”
Keeping Willa’s breasts firmly cupped, Jennifer moves down to kiss them. She showers Willa’s breasts with kisses. Then she puts Willa’s right breast into her mouth, applies pressure with her teeth, and slowly sucks upward until she is holding up the nipple by her teeth and tickles it with her tongue.
Willa, still dreaming, moans with unconscious pleasure...
1 May 2013...
A warm night on the downtown Bremerton boardwalk. Willa Richter-Thomas walks hand in hand with her fourteen-year-old daughter, Jennifer Blair. Willa is not in a good mood.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” asks Jennifer.
Willa hugs her daughter. “Oh, it hurts when your worst enemy in the world just happens to rule the world. And that’s the understatement of the millennium.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh yeah. You went to bed before it happened. The protests had barely even begun when they started cracking down and the media blackout began.”
“What were they cracking down on?”
“It’s May Day, right?”
“Yes...”
“You remember what May Day is, right? I’m not talking about pagan holidays.”
“International Labor Day!” Jennifer beams, proud of herself.
Willa does not smile. Jennifer’s smile disappears. Willa says, “It could be the last International Labor Day in history, if your stepfather has his way.”
“Oh my god — what happened?”
“Last night — it was daytime in Europe — millions of workers protested against what your stepfather and his Corporate friends are calling the ‘United Corporations.’ Or rather, they tried to protest. The Cartel sent millions of its bloodthirsty mercenary thugs, and its armchair-general executives took over all the armies and police, who eagerly turned against their own people and massacred them.”
Jennifer gasps in horror. “Oh my god—”
Anger seeps into Willa’s voice. “By then, all the world’s media corporations announced their grand merger into one gigantic monopoly. Called the News Corporation, of course, still controlled by our so-called friend Mr. Rupert Murdoch, Incorporated. He decreed a total media blackout. So not only are millions of workers now dead or in concentration camps for their heinous blasphemy against your stepfather’s beloved [air quotes] ‘Law of Social Darwinism,’ all the survivors are going to be enslaved because that’s why the Cartel was started in the first place.”
Stunned, Jennifer says nothing and does not move.
Suddenly, behind them, a man cocks his gun and yells, “Freeze!”
Willa and Jennifer turn around to see an angry MIB in mirrorshades, pointing his Beretta at him. Willa says, “So you’re the assassin my ex-husband sent to kill me.”
“You are right, the Lord Doctor sent me to execute you, traitor Richter-Thomas. But your daughter will live. We claim her pure blood is the property of the United Corporations Eugenics Institute!”
Willa and Jennifer stare at each other in incredulity. Then Willa says defiantly to the enforcer, “I’m afraid he didn’t tell you how hard I am to kill. Not that you’re likely to survive long enough to tell him.”
The Eugenics Institute agent shoots at Willa’s head and hits air. Willa ducks and rolls toward him, knocks his head back with a rising elbow smash — but hits metal. She winces and groans in pain. The agent knocks her back several meters so that she hits the boardwalk railing and nearly falls over into the water.
He grabs Jennifer hard by the arm and lifts her up as if she were a feather. She tries to knock his shades off only to find out they’re implanted into the bones of his face.
A shot rings out from the railing. A hole appears in the agent’s neck; blood spurts from it. He puts his hand to the spurting neck wound, looks at the bloody hand, licks the blood. “Aw, no... Jesus America save me...” He drops Jennifer, stands motionless on his feet for several seconds, then falls over dead. Jennifer looks over toward the railing and sees her mother holding her pistol up.
Mother and daughter stare at each other for an endless moment, refusing to breathe. Willa puts her gun back into her purse. They run to each other and collide into each other’s arms. Jennifer cries and cries. Willa says, “You’re safe now.” But for how long...
1 June 2013...
“No, you cannot!” shrieks Richard Becket. “It’s not possible, it’s not moral, it’s not...”
“Fair?” mocks Dr. Willa Richter-Thomas, his longtime enemy. “I thought that word wasn’t even in your vocabulary.” She waves around a copy of the United Corporations Charter.
The Chairman storms up to her and leans down into her face. Even at 182 cm (about six feet in the British Imperial units still stubbornly used in America), Willa still looks short compared to the two-meter-tall Chairman. Yet she isn’t the least bit intimidated, so she doesn’t lean back; his nose touches hers as he stares down into her face. He growls, “No, I won’t let you.”
She smiles and shoves the Charter up into his face. “Seems here, Dick, that there’s a loophole right here in your Charter that allows just this. I can easily get any lawyer to cite you the chapter and verse of it. But if you read your American Constitution, you’ll find that any treaty ratified by the Senate and signed by the President becomes the law of the land, in effect part of the Constitution itself. That, as you well know, includes the Eugenics Program. The loophole, which your CEO friends insisted on putting in, allows anyone who is Incorporated to take any mate she pleases, no matter how dysgenic. Therefore, to put it bluntly, there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
Chairman Becket throws up his arms and storms off away from his onetime sister-in-law. After five ragged paces, he turns back to her, points at her, breathes heavily as he stumbles for words, and finally says, “You know I’ll change it back, Willa. I’ll make it right this time.”
“And then your entire Eugenics Program will collapse. Yet keep it the way it is, and you’ll have every Corporate princeling in the Cartel at your throat in no time flat. And so I have every right to marry my own daughter. I have absolutely no intention of ever letting your sick toadies have my daughter for any reason whatsoever. Eugenics Program or no Eugenics Program, I intend to protect my dear Jennifer from you and all your kind. And so I’m making her my wife, and then I’m going to make love to her every day we remain married. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
21 June 2013...
Willa Richter-Thomas’ wedding dress is simple, but Jennifer Blair’s is exquisite. Jennifer looks like the beautiful angel people have been calling her all her life.
Drunk with ecstasy, Jennifer says, “I do.”
The Mayor of Boston says, “By the power invested in me by the Commonwealth of New England, I pronounce you husband and wife.” The huge crowd bursts into loud cheers. Before the Mayor can say anything else, Jennifer throws herself into her mother’s arms, and they kiss passionately. Mother and daughter are now husband and wife.
Outside the festivities on the Common, Willa’s enemy, the Prophet Drusilla Becket Pernell of Dictel, Incorporated, leads a huge crowd of politically connected evangelicals, Minutemen, neo-Nazis, and “God Hates Fags” cultists in a massive riot. President Palin herself and other prominent members of Operation Permanent Republican Administration walked here arm-in-arm with Reverend “God Hates Fags” in support of “morality.” (Willa: “Pop quiz: What do Conservatives mean by ‘morality’?” Jennifer: “Sexual fascism based on [air quotes] ‘traditional’ marriage arranged by Cartel-approved eugenicists [sticks out tongue in disgust].”) But when one of the Minutemen tried to assassinate Willa and Jennifer and was shot dead by a police sniper, the whole crowd outside exploded into mob violence. President Palin and her entourage fled in their stretch Hummers, leaving the rest of the conservative crowd to face the riot police. Before the people inside can go out and dance in the streets, the policemust clean up the Neo-Confederate riot. There’s no love lost between the Imperial authorities and local police.
In the nineteenth century, “Boston marriage” was a byword for de facto lesbian marriage. Then in 2004, eight years before the coup, Massachusetts became the first state in the Union to legalize same-sex marriage, making the old slang term a legal reality. After the coup, as President Palin reconstituted the Confederacy on the Union’s ashes, one of her first decrees was to forcibly merge all the New England states and former Canadian Maritime provinces into one state of New England, in order to limit Yankee and liberal influence over the Confederacy. The new “Yankee Republic” began defying her immediately. Now there is talk of secession — but any Yankee attempt to secede from the Confederacy would be met by war...
Eventually the riot fizzles out, allowing the celebration to begin. Interviewed by a reporter for Boston television, Willa explains: “Our aristocratic Bourbon friends down South and their Copperhead brethren around here managed to slip a little something into the United Corporations Charter, changing the Cartel’s Eugenics Program just a little bit. It seems some of them are so obsessed with the purity of their blood that they refuse to mate with anyone but their own siblings, like the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt. I must thank them, especially my ex-husband Henry Becket of Dictel and his beloved sister Drusilla, for making this occasion possible.
“Mothers, it is now possible for you to marry your own daughters, at least in the Commonwealth of New England and other enlightened countries in the EuroAmerican Union. There’s a whole horde of barbaric Corporate princelings trying to steal your daughters. If you see any chance they’ll take them away from you, marry them as soon as you can. That way you can keep them protected.”
Further north, in her place of exile in the wilds of Newfoundland in far northern New England, Drusilla Becket watches in horror as her nemesis willfully violates the laws of God and eugenics by marrying her own daughter. “This is horrible!” she cries out to her older brother Henry. “Can’t we do something about this obscenity, like destroy Boston?”
The Doctor steps into the living room, still fussing with his tie. “We can do better than that, Drusilla,” he says with absolute confidence. “We can deconstruct.”
Dru gets off the couch, stomps up to her brother, and stands on her toes to get in his face. She shrieks, “Did you see what that woman did, Harry?”
Henry frowns. “What did she do, Drusilla?”
“Your ex-wife is marrying her own daughter.”
“What?!”
22 June 2013...
Chairman Becket says to his brother the Dictel CEO, “Now you’ve done it, Harry. You’ve created a monster.”
Henry Becket snaps back, “Don’t blame me, Richard! It wasn’t my brilliant idea to bring back the God-damned Confederacy! I for one never thought you of all people would lose New England!”
“Well, it’s gone for all intents and purposes, brother, just because — I can risk saying it now — the ‘damn Yankees’ still want to keep their precious ‘Boston marriages’ legal. And now your dearly beloved ex-wife is using your ‘purity clause’ to spread her insane idea of mother-daughter marriage all over Europe! All because every redneck oil baron in Texas would be breathing down our throats? Well —”
“It was not about what you call ‘redneck oil barons.’ The Purity Clause isn’t for them. It’s for us.”
“Our family?”
“No. Our people. The Dragonites.”
A warm night on the downtown Bremerton boardwalk. Willa Richter-Thomas walks hand in hand with her fourteen-year-old daughter, Jennifer Blair. Willa is not in a good mood.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” asks Jennifer.
Willa hugs her daughter. “Oh, it hurts when your worst enemy in the world just happens to rule the world. And that’s the understatement of the millennium.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh yeah. You went to bed before it happened. The protests had barely even begun when they started cracking down and the media blackout began.”
“What were they cracking down on?”
“It’s May Day, right?”
“Yes...”
“You remember what May Day is, right? I’m not talking about pagan holidays.”
“International Labor Day!” Jennifer beams, proud of herself.
Willa does not smile. Jennifer’s smile disappears. Willa says, “It could be the last International Labor Day in history, if your stepfather has his way.”
“Oh my god — what happened?”
“Last night — it was daytime in Europe — millions of workers protested against what your stepfather and his Corporate friends are calling the ‘United Corporations.’ Or rather, they tried to protest. The Cartel sent millions of its bloodthirsty mercenary thugs, and its armchair-general executives took over all the armies and police, who eagerly turned against their own people and massacred them.”
Jennifer gasps in horror. “Oh my god—”
Anger seeps into Willa’s voice. “By then, all the world’s media corporations announced their grand merger into one gigantic monopoly. Called the News Corporation, of course, still controlled by our so-called friend Mr. Rupert Murdoch, Incorporated. He decreed a total media blackout. So not only are millions of workers now dead or in concentration camps for their heinous blasphemy against your stepfather’s beloved [air quotes] ‘Law of Social Darwinism,’ all the survivors are going to be enslaved because that’s why the Cartel was started in the first place.”
Stunned, Jennifer says nothing and does not move.
Suddenly, behind them, a man cocks his gun and yells, “Freeze!”
Willa and Jennifer turn around to see an angry MIB in mirrorshades, pointing his Beretta at him. Willa says, “So you’re the assassin my ex-husband sent to kill me.”
“You are right, the Lord Doctor sent me to execute you, traitor Richter-Thomas. But your daughter will live. We claim her pure blood is the property of the United Corporations Eugenics Institute!”
Willa and Jennifer stare at each other in incredulity. Then Willa says defiantly to the enforcer, “I’m afraid he didn’t tell you how hard I am to kill. Not that you’re likely to survive long enough to tell him.”
The Eugenics Institute agent shoots at Willa’s head and hits air. Willa ducks and rolls toward him, knocks his head back with a rising elbow smash — but hits metal. She winces and groans in pain. The agent knocks her back several meters so that she hits the boardwalk railing and nearly falls over into the water.
He grabs Jennifer hard by the arm and lifts her up as if she were a feather. She tries to knock his shades off only to find out they’re implanted into the bones of his face.
A shot rings out from the railing. A hole appears in the agent’s neck; blood spurts from it. He puts his hand to the spurting neck wound, looks at the bloody hand, licks the blood. “Aw, no... Jesus America save me...” He drops Jennifer, stands motionless on his feet for several seconds, then falls over dead. Jennifer looks over toward the railing and sees her mother holding her pistol up.
Mother and daughter stare at each other for an endless moment, refusing to breathe. Willa puts her gun back into her purse. They run to each other and collide into each other’s arms. Jennifer cries and cries. Willa says, “You’re safe now.” But for how long...
1 June 2013...
“No, you cannot!” shrieks Richard Becket. “It’s not possible, it’s not moral, it’s not...”
“Fair?” mocks Dr. Willa Richter-Thomas, his longtime enemy. “I thought that word wasn’t even in your vocabulary.” She waves around a copy of the United Corporations Charter.
The Chairman storms up to her and leans down into her face. Even at 182 cm (about six feet in the British Imperial units still stubbornly used in America), Willa still looks short compared to the two-meter-tall Chairman. Yet she isn’t the least bit intimidated, so she doesn’t lean back; his nose touches hers as he stares down into her face. He growls, “No, I won’t let you.”
She smiles and shoves the Charter up into his face. “Seems here, Dick, that there’s a loophole right here in your Charter that allows just this. I can easily get any lawyer to cite you the chapter and verse of it. But if you read your American Constitution, you’ll find that any treaty ratified by the Senate and signed by the President becomes the law of the land, in effect part of the Constitution itself. That, as you well know, includes the Eugenics Program. The loophole, which your CEO friends insisted on putting in, allows anyone who is Incorporated to take any mate she pleases, no matter how dysgenic. Therefore, to put it bluntly, there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
Chairman Becket throws up his arms and storms off away from his onetime sister-in-law. After five ragged paces, he turns back to her, points at her, breathes heavily as he stumbles for words, and finally says, “You know I’ll change it back, Willa. I’ll make it right this time.”
“And then your entire Eugenics Program will collapse. Yet keep it the way it is, and you’ll have every Corporate princeling in the Cartel at your throat in no time flat. And so I have every right to marry my own daughter. I have absolutely no intention of ever letting your sick toadies have my daughter for any reason whatsoever. Eugenics Program or no Eugenics Program, I intend to protect my dear Jennifer from you and all your kind. And so I’m making her my wife, and then I’m going to make love to her every day we remain married. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
21 June 2013...
Willa Richter-Thomas’ wedding dress is simple, but Jennifer Blair’s is exquisite. Jennifer looks like the beautiful angel people have been calling her all her life.
Drunk with ecstasy, Jennifer says, “I do.”
The Mayor of Boston says, “By the power invested in me by the Commonwealth of New England, I pronounce you husband and wife.” The huge crowd bursts into loud cheers. Before the Mayor can say anything else, Jennifer throws herself into her mother’s arms, and they kiss passionately. Mother and daughter are now husband and wife.
Outside the festivities on the Common, Willa’s enemy, the Prophet Drusilla Becket Pernell of Dictel, Incorporated, leads a huge crowd of politically connected evangelicals, Minutemen, neo-Nazis, and “God Hates Fags” cultists in a massive riot. President Palin herself and other prominent members of Operation Permanent Republican Administration walked here arm-in-arm with Reverend “God Hates Fags” in support of “morality.” (Willa: “Pop quiz: What do Conservatives mean by ‘morality’?” Jennifer: “Sexual fascism based on [air quotes] ‘traditional’ marriage arranged by Cartel-approved eugenicists [sticks out tongue in disgust].”) But when one of the Minutemen tried to assassinate Willa and Jennifer and was shot dead by a police sniper, the whole crowd outside exploded into mob violence. President Palin and her entourage fled in their stretch Hummers, leaving the rest of the conservative crowd to face the riot police. Before the people inside can go out and dance in the streets, the policemust clean up the Neo-Confederate riot. There’s no love lost between the Imperial authorities and local police.
In the nineteenth century, “Boston marriage” was a byword for de facto lesbian marriage. Then in 2004, eight years before the coup, Massachusetts became the first state in the Union to legalize same-sex marriage, making the old slang term a legal reality. After the coup, as President Palin reconstituted the Confederacy on the Union’s ashes, one of her first decrees was to forcibly merge all the New England states and former Canadian Maritime provinces into one state of New England, in order to limit Yankee and liberal influence over the Confederacy. The new “Yankee Republic” began defying her immediately. Now there is talk of secession — but any Yankee attempt to secede from the Confederacy would be met by war...
Eventually the riot fizzles out, allowing the celebration to begin. Interviewed by a reporter for Boston television, Willa explains: “Our aristocratic Bourbon friends down South and their Copperhead brethren around here managed to slip a little something into the United Corporations Charter, changing the Cartel’s Eugenics Program just a little bit. It seems some of them are so obsessed with the purity of their blood that they refuse to mate with anyone but their own siblings, like the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt. I must thank them, especially my ex-husband Henry Becket of Dictel and his beloved sister Drusilla, for making this occasion possible.
“Mothers, it is now possible for you to marry your own daughters, at least in the Commonwealth of New England and other enlightened countries in the EuroAmerican Union. There’s a whole horde of barbaric Corporate princelings trying to steal your daughters. If you see any chance they’ll take them away from you, marry them as soon as you can. That way you can keep them protected.”
Further north, in her place of exile in the wilds of Newfoundland in far northern New England, Drusilla Becket watches in horror as her nemesis willfully violates the laws of God and eugenics by marrying her own daughter. “This is horrible!” she cries out to her older brother Henry. “Can’t we do something about this obscenity, like destroy Boston?”
The Doctor steps into the living room, still fussing with his tie. “We can do better than that, Drusilla,” he says with absolute confidence. “We can deconstruct.”
Dru gets off the couch, stomps up to her brother, and stands on her toes to get in his face. She shrieks, “Did you see what that woman did, Harry?”
Henry frowns. “What did she do, Drusilla?”
“Your ex-wife is marrying her own daughter.”
“What?!”
22 June 2013...
Chairman Becket says to his brother the Dictel CEO, “Now you’ve done it, Harry. You’ve created a monster.”
Henry Becket snaps back, “Don’t blame me, Richard! It wasn’t my brilliant idea to bring back the God-damned Confederacy! I for one never thought you of all people would lose New England!”
“Well, it’s gone for all intents and purposes, brother, just because — I can risk saying it now — the ‘damn Yankees’ still want to keep their precious ‘Boston marriages’ legal. And now your dearly beloved ex-wife is using your ‘purity clause’ to spread her insane idea of mother-daughter marriage all over Europe! All because every redneck oil baron in Texas would be breathing down our throats? Well —”
“It was not about what you call ‘redneck oil barons.’ The Purity Clause isn’t for them. It’s for us.”
“Our family?”
“No. Our people. The Dragonites.”
2 September 2014
When Ariel Shield brings Desiree Richter-Thomas to her big Victorian house in Port Townsend, her ten-year-old daughter Uma Parvati greets her ecstatically at the door. Inside, mother and daughter kiss passionately like lovers. In fact, they are: they’re married.
Desiree sets down the briefcase by the big ornate couch. “So when did you two get married?”
Ariel, still holding Uma, says, “A few months ago, in Amsterdam.”
“Isn’t she a little young?”
“If she’s old enough for some Corporate overlord to covet her precious eggs for their perceived genetic purity, she’s old enough to be her adoring mother’s bride. As for you, if your mother can marry your least favorite uncle, and your favorite aunt can marry her daughter and get away with it, then there’s no reason why you can’t marry your sister.” Ariel winks.
“Ohhh...”
9 September 2014
morning. At first, Willa is tickled by giggling pixies. Then fairy dust starts to rain down. The world turns pastel and kaleidoscopic; everything becomes more vivid, reality spins like a whirling dervish whipping himself up into a rapidly building ecstasy. Gods and angels dance the world. The whole universe explodes into light, one two three times. Then Willa wakes up...
...and Jennifer’s sweaty body collapses onto hers. Jennifer brings her hand up so mother and daughter can lick their combined juices off it. When her hand is licked clean, they kiss. Willa caresses her daughter’s sweaty skin, first her shoulders, then the small of her back, then her soft buttocks. Willa never inherited an inborn incest taboo; consensual incest seems to have been a Richter-Thomas family tradition since the day thirteen-year-old Willa seduced her fifteen-year-old brother Cedric back in 1980, shortly before they went rock ’n’ roll. Cedric was so gorgeous then, she would say later, that she couldn’t control herself. Their children inherited their lack. Willa and her daughter knew their marriage would be easily consummated.
“I love you, Willa,” sighs Jennifer. Her blissful face glows gorgeously.
“I’ll have to make love to you while you’re sleeping, too,” says Willa.
Jennifer smiles. “I’d love that.” She kisses Willa again. “I wish we could dedicate our whole lives to nothing but making love.”
“You know we’ve got lives we have to live outside this room,” says Willa gently.
“I want to be your wife forever.”
Willa caresses Jennifer’s face. “You know I’m doing this to protect you. Once you’re safe, I want you to be free to find love for yourself.”
“But you are my love. You’re the love of my life.”
Willa laughs, then kisses her. “You know I adore you. I still want you to call me Willa, and you can still be my lover as long as you want. But I want you to have your own lovers that you don’t have to share with me. You can stay faithful to me as long as we remain married, if you want. But once you’re of age and safe, I will set you free so you can spread your wings without my help. Okay?”
Jennifer sighs. “Okay. But I want you to promise me we’ll still be lovers, whether we stay married or not. Promise?”
“We’ll always be lovers. I promise.” Willa takes her daughter’s face in her hands. “I love you, Jen.”
“I love you forever, Willa.” They kiss.
school. Shira and Jennifer greet each other, their cousins, and their friends (female as well as male) by hugging them and giving them a big kiss on the lips. Then she directs them to do the same to each other. Some of the girls shyly kiss each other on the cheek, while most of the boys don’t even do that and simply hug each other boisterously.
They get hit with various books, pens, and other random things. They turn around to face Charmian and her gang of mean girls. “Eww, stop that!” she shrieks. “It’s gross!”
Shira faces her in fighting position and summons Cory and a scowling Jennifer to either side of her. “Why, Princess Charming! How nice of you to deliver us a Team Challenge on behalf of Team God Hates Fags!”
“But —”
“Now lay off,” Shira snaps, “or I’ll invoke Gang Rules on you and your entire gang.”
When the principal summons Shira into his office, he says, “Don’t you know that public affection is against the Rules?”
Shira paces the office like a veteran lawyer such as her mother, as Dean Principal and Honey Sue Falconer look down on her suspiciously. “It’s against the Law, as laid down by the arbitrary decrees of the junta of the usurper President Palin-slash-America Exclamation Point. But your own Confederate principle of States’ Rights means the right to nullification, which means that this decree has already been nullified within the State of Cascadia, like so many others. It’s also perfectly legal to bully within the New Confederacy, but not in this state, which I should remind you is Anti-Sharia. Besides, as Superintendent of Schools of the Greater City of Seattle, my mother has already cancelled this favorite rule of yours.”
Falconer thunders, “Lewd behavior is forbidden by the authority of the Bible itself, and nothing can nullify the Law of God!”
“So quoteth she the Caliph,” says Shira contemptuously. Falconer gasps; Principal groans. Shira points at Falconer. “You forget, Major, that Cascadia is an Anti-Sharia state. Furthermore, we’re a Populist state you look down on as a mere colony, and in a Populist state the people, especially the people of the City, are in control and will defy your arbitrary decrees.” She resumes pacing. “But you Confederates are incapable of understanding a democratic society. You were always absolute monarchists anyway, and you’ve always been obsessed with forcing your own brand of Sharia on the world. That’s why you lost the War for Slaver Domination in the first place.”
Principal holds back angry Falconer and sighs in frustration. This time his smirk is much more strained. “Do you always have to keep slandering the Great Holy Rebellion to make your point?”
“Why not? You’re still fighting it. And you’ll still keep losing it as long as you keep fighting history.”
Pizza Mafia. Brandi asks Shira, “So why didn’t you marry your mother?” Jennifer and Polly look at each other, then at Shira.
Shira winks. “Don’t need to. Not Racially Incorrect enough. The Cartel’s eugenicists won’t touch me with the proverbial ten-foot pole.”
Polly says, “Surely some crime lord or sheik wants you in his harem...”
“And he’ll get his ass in big trouble the minute he tries to enslave me. And I don’t mean just me. He’ll have my mother to deal with.”
Jennifer says, “It’s only us white girls who marry our mothers, and for a specific reason.”
“Say it, girl!” cheers Shira.
Jennifer winks at her, then continues. “For some reason the Corporate aristocracy are obsessed with racial purity, so they set up a Eugenics Institute as a division of the Cartel and gave them control over reproduction. Institute agents search the world, looking for white girls they deem [air quotes] ‘pure’ enough, and then kidnap them and auction them off to Corporate overlords for shotgun weddings and a life as breeding slaves. So to protect their daughters, mothers find every way they can to scrounge up the money to buy Exceptions from the Cartel so they can marry their own daughters. Once they’re married, the eugenicists can’t legally touch them. So if the Cartel eugenicists try to force Polly or me into breeding slavery, our mothers can sue them to get us back with extra damages, especially if they have to hire bounty hunters [points at Shira and Brandi] to rescue us first. And that’s why Polly and I married our own mothers. Nonwhites, which the Corporates disparage as [air quotes] ‘mudbloods’ unsuited for eugenic breeding, are safe from that kind of breeding conscription. So, as much as Shira and Hope adore each other, they have no legal need to marry, so they won’t.” She winks at her cousin again.
Shira winks back. “That’s why.”
10 September 2014
Todd Palin is found dead at the bottom of the South Platte River wearing large concrete footwear and showing signs of grievous injury. Someone (everyone has a good guess as to who she is) tries to spread rumors that he was assassinated by some mafia: the Russkies, maybe, or the Chinks, or the savage Spics from Mexico or Colombia or wherever. Their spokesmen deny any desire to murder him; he would have been too precious an asset against his ex-wife. Everybody knows only one mafia in the Confederacy has any reason to kill him, and that is the Honkies. Minuteman. But they answer to the one person with the motive. Nobody dares say who that is.
The President cries huge crocodile tears over her ex-husband’s tragic death. She tells sugar-coated stories about their former married life. No one dares admit that she’s really that sad to see him dead, out of fear that such an admission could be considered treasonous.
Vice Principal Falconer declares school out early and herds all the students into the gym for a mandatory assembly to watch President Palin’s speech. During it, Falconer and the mean girls wail loudly in unison along with the worshipful audience at Holy City. Honey Sue Falconer never cries except for the President. After the speech, she gives a rousing, tearful, worshipful, and incoherent speech; but everyone listening understands what she means: worship President Palin, or she’ll personally tear you apart limb from limb.
Suddenly she spots the dry eyes of the Shelley twins.
Her expression mutates into twisted rage. She points a twitchy finger at them. “You two over there who think you’re so pretty! Why do you feel nothing at our President’s terrible loss?”
Rob and Leila stand up together. Leila glares at the Major. Rob grins and says, “You’d better tell your President to conquer Europe first.”
Shira throws her head back and laughs.
Right after the President’s speech, Hope Maureen Reston, the embattled Metropolitan Seattle school superintendent, is one of many who go on television (carried live by all the local stations’ news departments) to offer her their condolences and sympathy. Immediately, there and all over the Confederacy, she is assailed by accusations of treason and “liberalism” (“racial code,” says Hope off camera, bitterly; “means ‘uppity mudblood’”) and the expected death threats from militant Minuteman lovers of “White Culture” determined to protect the Empire’s racial hierarchy. Later, she says, “Looks like the President’s spitting on my sympathy. Sucks to be her.”
The Team Bremelo central committee sit together around the table for an impromptu conference in the detention room that evening. Cory Belmont, big Kio Marques, head cheerleader Karen Kubota: Liberal Traitors (racial code for uppity
The big Hawaiian throws up his hands. “Why does the Major always have it in for us?”
“Honey Bunny hates getting pwned,” says Cory idly.
Shira grins. “Sore loser. I left Honey Bunny a surprise on her iPhone, by the way.”
“C’mon, people,” exhorts team leader Karen. “We gotta stick together and fight this injustice.”
“Yes, den mother,” whimper Cory and Kio together.
Polly glares at Shira and the Shelley twins. “Why did you have to pull that number on us?”
Gleefully, Shira and Rob (and, annoyed, Leila) answer: “Somebody had to!”
11 September 2014
To celebrate the second holiest holy day on the Confederate calendar, President Palin holds the most widely seen wedding of the twenty-first century so far. It is in fact a royal wedding, and the wedding is hers. It’s official: she is not marrying a billionaire Corporate overlord, a Republican power broker, a Shepherd of the Church of America, nor a European prince. In fact, she is not even marrying a man at all.
Her groom is the true love of her life. She is marrying Jesus America himself — the Imperial Government of the Confederate States of America. From this point onward, the American President shall be known as Sarah AMERICA!
Hope Reston watches the wedding of President and Nation with two of her daughters. The older one, Selene Carpenter, facepalms, shakes her head sadly, and gestures her intention to leave early. “I can’t watch this,” she says.
“Your loss,” replies Shira. She’s jumpy with eager anticipation. “I gotta watch this.”
“I mean, how can that woman get away with this?”
Hope says, “You know, Selene, if corporations can win seats in Congress, that woman can marry the government. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Mom, I don’t care.” Still blushing, Selene flees the embarrassment.
Shira narrows her eyes into that mischievous look and smiles. “I know...”
“Well?” Hope leans forward, waiting for her answer.
Shira directs her eyes up and to the side. “If Sarah Palin can marry America, then no one can stop people from marrying a corporation, sex doll, or guitar, or a robot or anime character like the otaku do in Japan...”
“And?”
She looks at Hope and grins mischievously. “No one can stop mothers from marrying their daughters anymore. Meaning: Hope Maureen, I’m in love with you, will you marry me?”
Selene rolls her eyes and groans. Hope laughs. “Oh Shira darling, I love you. But you know I’m already married to your father.”
“Yeah, I know, Mom. Know what I’m really thinking?”
“I can guess,” moans Selene.
Shira puts her elbows on the table and her head on her hands, and grins wickedly. “Just think: What would Rebel Rebel do?”
At the precise moment the President’s marriage to America is made official: on behalf of Willa and Jennifer Richter-Thomas, their lawyer Angela Coyne calls the head of the legal team challenging their marriage to announce her intention to overturn, based on the precedent newly established by President Sarah AMERICA! herself, all the laws and legal precedents intended to keep mother-daughter couples from marrying. The Charter decrees that United Corporations regulations trump national laws. The marriage of Willa and Jennifer is now perfectly legal, thanks to the President herself.
Also at that moment, many conservative women who worship Sarah AMERICA! as their holy prophet announce their intention to also marry Jesus America, divorcing their husbands if necessary or even putting contracts out on them, and change their own names to AMERICA!
At Cartel chairman Richard Becket’s golf-course mansion near Orlando, Florida, his brother Dr. Henry Becket glares down at him. “I thought America was supposed to be a moral country, Dick.”
The Chairman puffs idly on his expensive Cuban cigar. “Sarah AMERICA! is one of us, Harry. She understands us. She thinks like us. She knows what true morality means. It’s not about sex at all. It’s about the future of our race.”
Grimly, the Doctor says, “But the entire basis of her power is supposed to be ‘morality,’ as the Shepherds see it. Not just sex, but specifically marriage, and traditional marriage at that. In one fell swoop, she has shattered her own traditional marriage in order to wed an institution.” He paces in front of his sitting brother. “The thing is, Sarah AMERICA!, as she is now so bizarrely calling herself, has just ripped her own base of support right out from under her. Surely her Born Again base revoked their support the moment they witnessed this travesty. I predict our precious New Confederacy will not last the year.”
The Chairman sips his Chianti. “And then we can start running the country directly. After all, we’re the experts at running things. The rabble know nothing.”
“You don’t understand, Dick. That woman has just undermined the entire tradition of Western Christendom. She’s just created a monster.”
12 September 2014
In Rome, Pope Paul VII denounces the marriage of President Sarah AMERICA! to the American government. “Christian marriage,” he solemnly intones, “has always been between a man and a woman. Not only is this not a Christian marriage, it is not a marriage at all. No church of Christ has ever recognized the unholy union between a witch and an idol in defiance of God. If this is allowed to stand, America will have ceased to be a Christian nation altogether.”
From the Confederate capital, the Holy City of Colorado Springs, President Sarah AMERICA! snarls back: “Heya, Popie! You think you’re a Christian and all that? Well, you’re wrong. Ya don’t get it: Jesus is BACK! He came back on July 4, 1776 as AMERICA! An’ now I’m married to the Lord, hallelujah! Just sayin’.”
Enraged, the Pope declares the Confederate States of America a nation in heresy and forbids all Catholics to pay allegiance to it on pain of excommunication. A large number of white Catholics defect from the Roman Catholic Church and declare themselves members of the Church of America.
In Tokyo, otaku Hiromatsu Fukuda announces on NHK TV his intention to marry Aya Shibata. No, not the alter ego of the infamous Rebel Styles. The anime character. The one in those fighting and dance videogames.
Watching it on satellite TV, Shira says, “Oh, no he won’t.” When he actually does, she picks up the small plushie of NHK’s mascot Domo that Fukuda gave her in Japan. Recording the scene for her MyTube vlog, she first uses it as a voodoo doll and sticks pins through it, then rips off its head and litters her bedroom with its foam innards, declaring him absolutely baka.
In Las Vegas, a very drunken Elvis marries the deranged drummer of the hate metal band Gang to the Devil. He announces his new married name to the “metal militia”: Barney SATAN!
In the City of London, Chairman Becket grudgingly signs into law the exceptions that allowed mother-daughter marriages, mumbling imprecations against Confederate President Sarah AMERICA! throughout. After the signing ceremony, he cattily announces on international TV: “Dear Sarah [clears throat] AMERICA!, thank you for ruining the entire the United Corporations’ heavily funded and scientifically based struggle to improve the genetic stock of the human race. You have forced us to improve the race through the impossible means of money and persuasion. It’s the free-market solution, yes. But we had a good thing going, if only for two short years. We remain devoted to the elevation of the race. To that end, I offer Dr. Willa Richter-Thomas one million euros if she will offer some of her impressive genetic material to our noble cause.”
In cities and towns throughout the Confederacy, Minuteman respond to the signing with violent riots. They lynch suspected homosexuals, liberals, and traitorous-skinned “mudbloods” in an orgy of organized hatred. They wage war against local police forces, with many casualties on both sides. Minuteman boss Shawna AMERICA! goes on TV to announce that she’s putting a billion-dollar contract out on Richard Becket, Incorporated. The Chairman threatens to outlaw Minuteman and execute them en masse for treasonous acts of terrorism against the the Confederacy and the entire EuroAmerican Union. Shawna AMERICA! backs down and orders Minuteman to end the riots.
Despite the right-wing riots, the signing is followed by another wave of protective marriages between mothers and daughters, aunts and nieces, and sisters. Liberal countries and states throughout the EuroAmerican Union begin to delve into their backlogs of applications for same-sex marriages. The Eugenics Institute can do nothing more than protest.
In Bainbridge Island, the wealthy bedroom community across Puget Sound from Seattle, Drusilla Becket bumps off her elderly billionaire Corporate husband, Albert James Pernell after convincing the drunken old billionaire to redo his will to make her his sole heir. She also collects on a life insurance policy she had put out on him to the tune of eleven figures in Confederate dollars. Immediately, she announces her intention to marry America as soon as possible.
In nearby Bremerton, Willa Richter-Thomas calls up the TV news cameras for a press conference in front of Harborside Plaza’s famous dancing fountain. In front of an audience of reporters, fans, and TV viewers, she laughs at Chairman Becket’s offer and says, “Dream on, Dick.”
Shawna AMERICA! publicly challenges Willa to a pistol duel. Willa sends her a video in which she demonstrates her excellent marksmanship with 9mm pistol, sniper rifle, and longbow. Shawna AMERICA! withdraws her challenge.
Drusilla Becket AMERICA!’s estranged daughters, Charlie and Desiree Richter-Thomas, successfully acquire the exception that allows them to marry. Instead of going down to Las Vegas like their mother is doing, they bring a Presleyan minister (Elvis impersonator, female, gay) to Bremerton and rent the Kitsap Conference Center for their wedding. Friends, relatives, fans, entertainment reporters, and paparazzi crowd several blocks during the wedding. In Las Vegas, Drusilla badly receives the news that her daughters have already beaten her to the altar. She screams over the phone at her eldest brother, Chairman Becket, for opening up Pandora’s box. The Chairman protests that President Sarah AMERICA! started it by marrying the American government. But Drusilla is completely irrational now; her brother can only shake his head sadly.
After school, Team Bremelo gather in the high school library for an unofficial meeting. (At this time, ten-year-old loli Aira Izumi is already on the ferry from Seattle to Bremerton, running away from her abusive teenage lover, one Nenene Sasakawa.) Jennifer announces, “It’s official: my marriage to Willa is now secure.” The whole Team gives her a loud standing ovation. When the cheers subside sufficiently, she adds, “It’s officially an open marriage, so Shira’s perfectly welcome to share our bed.”
Shira runs over to Jennifer to hug her, kiss her on the lips, and say “Thank you darling. Now the three of us have to celebrate tonight.” She winks. Everybody laughs, even Leila (weakly).
Polly says, “Now, what does that mean for same-sex marriage without a Cartel exception?”
“I can answer that,” says Jennifer.
Kio yells, “Say it, sister!” The kids whoop and cheer.
“Right now there’s an intensive and well-funded research effort into efficient means of fusing mammalian eggs. Once that can be done, easily and cost-effectively, even the Eugenics Institute will lose their excuse for prohibiting same-sex marriage. There’s even talk about legalizing group marriage once reproductive technology advances sufficiently to allow the creation of offspring from more than two parents. The only explanation the conservative religious authorities will have left for prohibiting same-sex marriage is their perceived need to preserve traditional male authority, which as humanists we oppose.”
Lyssa says, “But isn’t terrorism the traditional means of preserving traditional male authority?”
“Of course it is. That means we’ll have to keep our fighting skills up. Remember how much both Sarah and Shawna AMERICA! hate me and my wife. Sooner or later, they’ll be throwing their Challenges at us.”
13 September 2014
Friday night turns out to be long. Cory and Kio take Shira with them to a warehouse party on Bremerton’s far Westside, where her cousin Alex Plus is DJing. Shira confronts two drunken and rowdy sailor boys who came to prey sexually on young female dancers like “Bremeloes” hunt sailors in sleazy Bremerton bars. When they spot the face of Rebel Styles on Shira’s sexy adolescent body, they go berserk and try to kill her, rape her, or both. She beats them up.
Alex drives Shira home to Hope’s condo after the party. “Damn, redhead, those guys really had it in for you.”
Shira smiles ironically. “They must’ve been watching too much Rebel Rebel.”
After Shira enters her mother’s flat and locks the door, she finds a surprise waiting for her. A young girl is half-standing in her chair in the living room. A look of total adoration comes over the girl’s face. “It’s you!” She launches herself into Shira’s arms. “I love you!” Shira’s jaw drops.
Her Droid Mega rings. It’s a video call from Nenene Sasakawa. She takes it. The notorious neopunk kogal, Shira’s bitter Styler archrival back in Japan, wears trashy goth-loli slut gear with matching eyepatch and grotesque makeup. The Droid gives Nenene’s location as Union Station, Seattle.
“You Shira Thomas?” asks Nenene. Her accent is Kanto, her native dialect Shibuya Styler, her English broken.
“And you’re Nenene Sasakawa. Long time no see, Ne-chan. So what goes?”
“Where my Ai-chan?”
Shira gives the interloper a skeptical look. “What about your Ai-chan?”
“Ai-chan mine, and she gone. I want back my Ai-chan.”
“Oh, you mean her?” Shira points the phone camera down so it points at Ai-chan.
Nenene’s jaw drops. “What?!” Furiously: “Shira, you bitch! You steal my Ai-chan!”
Shira looks into Ai-chan’s face and recognizes it. Aira Izumi is the onetime superstar loli who replaced Aya Shibata after Shira reached puberty and returned to America. Nenene Sasakawa, it seems, imported her and now claims to own her. Aira, it turns out, worships Shira. At only ten, she already speaks English much better than Nenene. Shira kisses the adoring loli hard on the lips.
Nenene screams in rage. “Why you steal my Ai-chan?!”
Shira holds out her Droid so its camera shows both her and Aira. “Steal? Who said I stole anything? I’ll bet money that her heart belonged to me long before she even met you.”
Aira holds Shira close to her and happily exults to Nenene, “Rabu rabu neeeeee!”
“Give back me my Ai-chan, bitch!”
Shira grins mischievously. “Sorry, Ne-chan. Life’s a bitch and so am I. Ai-chan, will you be mine?”
Aira gasps in shock and nearly faints. “Yes! Yes!” Aira and Shira kiss passionately.
They’re still on camera. Nenene lets out another furious scream. Shira and Aira turn to see the videophone picture spin chaotically. Nenene is throwing her phone onto the station floor. When the call disconnects on impact, Shira switches to one of the station’s security cameras. Nenene is stomping on her ruined phone with her punked-out hooker boots and screaming obscenities in Japanese and English.
Shira switches off the video and throws her Droid onto the nearest couch. “Now that you’re my Ai-chan, let’s go take a long hot bubble bath. We’ve got a whole weekend ahead of us.”
“Mm!” Aira struggles out of her clothes as fast as possible and skips happily to the bathroom.
Shira takes her time walking to the bathroom to join Aira, languidly stripping off her clothes as she goes. Would she have done the same thing had she been in Aira’s situation. Yes. As she strolls into the bathroom to join Aira, she gazes upon the joyful child in the hot bubble bath and revels in the realization that she has found herself a Rebel Rebel of her own.
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[Revision 1.1, 11/29/10: Made text and continuity corrections; added new text for clarity.]
[Revision 2.0, 12/3/10: Added one very important new scene and corrected dates for the following scenes.]
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