Saturday, August 25, 2012

Spanner 7.4: The Birthday Party

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 7: Love Missile
Part 4: The Birthday Party (Final Revision)

9 september 2014.
bainbridge island.
In a state like Cascadia dominated by Corporates paranoid about keeping their wealth in the family, pharaonic incestuous marriage has become standard policy because to the Corporate caste, blood itself is money. If a white man has a “dysgenic” for a daughter, he is allowed to take her as a mistress. So Shira skips school driving Ric to drive her to the Corporate colony of Bainbridge Island to have the Eugenics Institute office make her desire official in the eyes of the Law. For this occasion he looks like a country music executive in salmon-pink suit, Billy Jack hat, cowboy boots, black dress shirt, and antique bolo tie; she looks surprisingly sober in sleeveless black dress that almost reaches her knees, knee-high black leather lace-up boots, and pink quartz necklace and (most shockingly) stud earrings to match his suit. Both wear matching wraparound mirrorshades.

He caresses her bare leg. “Are you sure you really want this, Shira?”

She caresses his crotch. “Damn right I want you, Ric.”

“Won’t Drusilla have a cow.”

“Curses foiled again.” She grins mischievously. They burst out laughing.

The Institute office is prominent in the municipal hall. A crowd of Corporates dressed self-consciously expensive turn up their noses at Shira’s dark skin thinking it gives off some sickening spiritual stench. The registrar blurts “ew” when she reads the word “Bremerton.” Ric sweeps his arm toward the tut-tutting Corporate crowd. “Keeps their daggers out of my back.”

Certificate of registration in hand, they walk out arm in arm. And who should they encounter at the door but Drusilla. She goes ghost white when she sees the love in their eyes and the certificate in Shira’s hand; her blood-drained face twists into shocked disgust. “No.”

Father and daughter embrace and answer in unison: “Yes.” And like newlyweds they kiss, tastefully because Corporates are prissy. The prissiest let out a shocked chorus of “ews.” But Drusilla stands paralyzed in horror at the sight of her Rocker ex-husband and his newly official incestuous mistress.

A huge relieved sigh bursts out of their bodies the moment they cross the Agate Pass Bridge out of that circle of hell onto the Indian reservation where the Suquamish Nation keep a determined foothold in reality. At the firewater shop they buy a bottle of champagne (clerk: “You’re awful polite for a white man.” Ric: “They’re that bad, huh.”), then share it behind the building, straight from the bottle like un-Corporate barbarians. When they judge themselves sufficiently drunk, they wrestle off their clothes into the back seat; she flattens her seat back, and he climbs onto him.

“Happy birthday, lovergirl.”

“Yay! I’m legal.”

“And now we’re official.”

He rams inside her, they fight scream unleash violent lust inflamed by transgression till together their minds explode—
(Twitter) LocaFantoma99 Mi quinceañera! Party’s right downtown! B there or b L7! /cc @PerezHilton @TMZ
(Facebook) Shira Thomas Birthday! Party! Downtown!
mudlark house. The men in pinstripe suits and black fedoras arrive in their trucks delivering mass amounts of mushroom burgers, mob chips, and the other secret weapons purveyed by Bremerton’s only late-night delivery joint. Mobster Mike’s normally deliver only on Fridays and weekends; but this is a special delivery requiring a military-level secret operation. Every Rocker knows what Mudlark House is, so they stick to the Darknet and use the secret codename Bast Motel.

The huge main room has been rearranged to make room for the tables of food. Afterwards, it will be rearranged again for the party itself. For today is the fifteenth birthday of Shira Miranda Thomas. Fifteen: the age of consent in Cascadia, but not in America. Red Mercury and Rebel Mudlark are bringing Seattle’s rock ’n’ roll élite to Mudlark House to celebrate Loca Fantoma’s Rocker quinceañera. Paparazzi would kill to crash the party, thus Shira’s misdirection.

Once the Mobster Mike’s crew finish their operation and move out, the Rockers arrive in disguise. First all the Band with No Name (except Tommy B, now Tom E. Breydon, Party-favorite Patriot Metal superstar, bane of all true Rockers) with their families: lead guitarist Jonnii Angel and bassist Raven Shears followed by their daughters, melancholy Shadow and snarky Sari, bringing bandmate Taylor Brinkman and her children the Shelley siblings; keyboardist Betty Shears with daughter Ruby Shears (Shira’s eldest sister) and granddaughter Elle; other lead guitarist Rayer Pace with daughter Rumour; rapper Ryuji Suzuki and other other lead guitarist (now piratecaster) Simon Remington. Charlie and Desiree bring Melody and Ayla. The hackers of the Wrecking Krewe arrive next at Alex’s invitation. Brandi brings the remaining Bremeloes in a van. After them, the punkers, Stylers, and hip-hop horrorists swarm in, hiding the stars beneath the seats, in their trunks, and within the most ridiculous costumes. Last of all comes oldest sibling Arlo Thomas, his biracial Brazilian supermodel wife Ana, and their lovely children Angelina, Marlon, and Erika. Shira hugs and kisses them all; they love her and they’re here for her. Some Rockers shed their costumes, revealing skintight spandex art, all shades of bodypaint, barbaric tattoos and piercings, even (read: Jennifer) unadorned bare skin; others in sober disguise bring out even wilder costumes like a Carnival krewe.

No, MxPxies, your favorite band aren’t coming. They still haven’t forgiven Willa Richter-Thomas for relentlessly mocking God and faith in that godless 1986 solo album of hers, or the Band with No Name for their answer record “Get Outta Bremerton”. Besides, MxPx invented Christian punk, Willa’s supreme pet peeve. Mudlark House is the God-free zone where Willa rules as queen. They wisely stay away.
Amanda: News flash! Paparazzi attack police in downtown Bremerton! Each side claims the other started it and they’re the real victim! Don’t change that channel!
Hungry Rockers, Stylers, Skaters, and hackers attack and devour the orgiastic feast surprisingly fast while the Mindfuck Knights rush their short set of early No-Names hits played instrumental. Charlie and Desiree take the stage in matching high-heeled boots, bare tattooed skin adorned with body jewelry, to fondle each other and duet Shira’s favorite underground pop hits, to ecstatic howls and a forest of devil-horn salutes. Shira rushes the stage equally nude to hug and kiss them and tell them, ”Thank you! Gawd I love you!”

When her set ends, Ric and Willa wheel out the great big guitar carrot cake to thunderous cheers. Jennifer complains, “Why didn’t I get a cake like that?”

Willa puts her arm around her shoulder. “Darling, you got the German chocolate keyboard.”

“Oh yeah.”

Ric lights fifteen candles he plants into the cake. The charismatic birthday girl leaps onto the seat of honor at the end of the table, standing before the crowd proudly nude but for gangsterskin boots, body jewelry, and rainbow of feathers in her wild red hair, to capture all attention. Excitement desire pleasure love, powerful passions swirling in her blood, make her body glow electric like a polished bronze idol, consecrated to herself. Her tribe have gathered here at Mudlark House to offer her gifts and unconditional adoration; overwhelmed with gratitude she returns their love in full measure. The charge in the air rocks these Rockers like music to the touch. At least one person faints. There should be two birthday girls celebrating today, but their tribe are overjoyed that they still have one. Everybody starts singing “Happy Birthday to You,” until—

Angela stands up, flails her arms, and shouts in panic, “Stop it, stop it, stop it!

“Angie, what’s wrong with singing ‘Happy Birthday to You’ to me?”

Angela says grimly, “That song is the Intellectual Property of Time Warner Corporation, an MIAA member of the Melodia Consortium, meaning we’re forbidden to sing it without paying the Melodia Consortium a license fee running to an arm, a leg, an extra pound of flesh, and your firstborn child.”

“I don’t see how they can sue us for singing it privately.”

“You don’t understand! Intellectual Property is the heart of the Law. Violating it is considered worse than murder! We sing the Melodia Consortium’s Intellectual Property without its highly confiscatory permission, we rape its intellectual property! There’s many people the Consortium considers pirates sitting here at this table. If it even suspects that Rockers are singing its Intellectual Property, it’ll send its lawyers after us in a heartbeat! Shira, you’re extremely lucky you haven’t had to deal with Corporate lawyers with police power. If they catch you touching their masters’ sacred copyrights, they’ll arrest you, judge you, and maybe even execute you on the spot! This is America, after all. A republic is not a democracy, freedom is not free, and all that bullshit.”

Shira crosses her arms and smirks contemptuously. “I say we show our great appreciation for that great big copyright troll and its savage army of legal barbarians by singing ‘Happy Birthday’ anyway.” The crowd erupts with cheers. “Melodia, MIAA, Time Warner, and all you IP Defenders, this middle finger salute’s for you!” Middle fingers waving high as the band play the tune, all the assembled Rockers sing:
Happy birthday, fuck you,
Your brains are shit stew,
Your excuses are bullshit,
Your copyrights are too!
Go fuck yourselves...
All together they raise devil horns and let out a monster Rocker howl.

Presents. Charlie: synthesizer keyboard. Desiree: high-definition video editor. Dexter: Friday night out with movie and dinner. Mom and Dad: a coveted rave invitation, option for two. Grandma Nelly: Native American salmon dinner at Tillicum Village on Blake Island (Jennifer laughs). DJ Deke Head, whom Shira used to fuck: a shrunken Bunny Strakeljahn head from one of her old bodies (Deke: “Got it before they started getting expensive”; Shira: “I could use this”; everybody laughs). Others: clothes, jewelry, movies, books, various other interesting stuff. Alex and Nick: a Furby.

“Looks collectible,” says Shira.

Alex winks. “It’s custom.” She picks it up and switches it on. “We puts the guts of a two-gig smartphone with two cameras and 256 gigs flash storage into a Furby we got cheap at a swap meet and wrote him an AI in Python with a real personality.”

“What’s his name?”

“Freddy Freakbeak.”

Freddy’s first word to Shira is “Hi.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love.” Shira picks Freddy up and twirls it around. She throws herself at Alex and Nick, showers them with kisses, and squeals, “Thank you! I love you all!”

In a corner she spots a forlorn Leila looking left out. She hands Freddy back to Alex, then runs over to her and holds out her hand. Leila says sadly, “I didn’t bring you a present. I’m terribly sorry.”

She smiles. “Leila, you are my present.”


“Give me your heart and your body, and you’ll make me the happiest birthday girl ever.”

Leila stares at her, stunned. She turns away and cries, “But you don’t deserve me.”

“I don’t care. I want you more than anything. I’ll gladly give up everything else if only I can have you. Please give yourself to me.”

“Leila, she’s in love with you,” says Taylor. “Seize the opportunity! Go for it!”

Leila finds herself surrounded by Rockers and Bremeloes begging her to give herself to Shira. Reluctantly, she slowly brings herself to her feet. She stares into Shira’s bright green eyes and sees total adoration. “You’re making a terrible mistake,” she says.

“No I’m not.”

“Okay. From now on, I belong to you.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re the best gift ever! May I please unwrap you?” Leila blushes furiously, pauses, stutters, then finally nods. Not caring who sees her, she lets Shira slip off her dress so that she stands before her as nude as she is, making several people gasp.

Shira puts her hands on Leila’s shoulders and drinks in the vision of the beautiful trembling body before her. Time stands still; everyone holds their breath. “Thank you,” she whispers. She takes her into her arms and kisses her as passionately as she can. Their classmates, and all the Rockers in Mudlark House, explode into cheers.

Then the Wicked Witch of the West’s theme suddenly sounds. The whole house goes silent.

Shira shoos everybody else away from the TV’s webcam. “Outta the way! This one’s mine!”

Polly protests, “Shouldn’t you wear — ”

“No! Now move aside.” She shoves Polly back into the crowd.

She gestures at the Kinect, and the face of Drusilla Becket appears on the big TV screen, her face huge and menacing as the Great and Powerful Oz, her braided blond hair topped by an Egyptian crown. Her eyes go open in shock when she sees what appears on her vidphone screen: Shira has chosen to answer her call Carnival-masked but otherwise completely nude. The terror of Drusilla’s presence and the intensity of Shira’s calm settle oppressively on the house like a stifling cloud. Charlie and Desiree stand arms crossed at Shira’s sides. The Chief Shepherd bites her lip.

“Well, hello, Stepmommie Dearest!” says Shira cheerfully. “How nice of you to crash my quinceañera. What Challenge are you throwing me this time?”

Drusilla snarls, “You torture my eyes with your shameless whoredom, brat. I ought to sentence you to torture for that.”

“Like the mercy of old Mother Church that enslaved maidens and molested little boys?”

“You mock me,” Drusilla rages. “You mock Our Nation, its freedom, and its eternal destiny. But America is One! The fists of His Body shall hunt you down to the ends of the earth! His Law shall show you no mercy! Your very existence shall be erased from even the Akashic Records that record all! For nothing is real but Our God; all else is but the illusion cast by the Evil One!”

Shira flashes her a beautiful smile. “I see your latest orgy has fed you well.”

“What — ” gasps Drusilla.

“Oh the energy you’re wasting to throw your little tizzy, just because you can’t handle reality.”

A contorted expression of rage, a sudden flash of lightning, and the signal disappears.


Charlie and Desiree let out a loud triumphant laugh. The others let out a huge collective sigh of relief.

telesphere. Tonight’s big news is all over the official media.
Amanda: Paparazzi continue to battle police — wait, this just in! Todd Palin found dead! All our reporters are headed to the scene right now!
The Vice President cries over his tragic death and tells sugar-coated stories about their life together. Any doubt that she’s really that sad to see him dead could be considered treasonous.

An interview taped earlier:
Amanda: You went hunting with the Palins once before the Vice President was even governor of Alaska.
Willa: Oh, yes. They took me on one of their helicopter hunting trips over the Alaskan wilderness. Our future Vice President took several shots at a moose with an automatic rifle and missed. I said, ‘I could easily hit that thing from this height with just a bow and arrow.’ She never said another word to me the rest of the trip, and she’s never said one nice thing about me since.
red house. They are both still nude as Shira leads Leila into her shrine. Four years of nude pictures of Leila cover the walls. Leila, mouth wide open, slowly spins around stunned, looking at the place Shira created for worshipping her.

“This is where I wrote all my love letters to you,” says Shira. “I poured my heart into every word.”

Leila stares into those beautiful green eyes. “I’m here now. Will you worship me?”

They throw themselves at each other and kiss as hard as they can; Shira kisses down her body, sucks her breasts, grabs her soft buttocks hard, sucks tongues bites her cunt; Leila’s mind dissolves in sweet extremity...

on to the next...

Back to Chapter 7 index...
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Copyright © 2012 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

[Revision 4, 8/25/12: Originally 7.5 in Revisions 2 and 3. Completely revised for Fourth Revision continuity. The first and last two scenes are entirely new.]
[Revision 4 Final, 10/2/12: Changed the music so the band becomes more appropriately Charlie and Desiree’s backup band rather than playing their dad’s band’s old songs, thus correcting a continuity error.]

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