Lance Olsen - Sewing Shut My Eyes

One second he’s there and the next he detonates, ka blam ! covering the ceiling, which has become ants, and the walls, which have become ants, and the floors, which have become ants, with, weh-hell, ants and more ants and chunks of organs and flaps of skin and wads of hair, his organs and skin and hair, which now sprout compound eyes and six legs apiece and antennae and almost imperceptibly small stingers on their bottoms a-and start tooling away, single-file, a miniature battalion of buggish body parts marching in different directions, merging with the ant-soup all around them, the ant sea, the great ocean of Antlantis, a-and Ker lies there in his lace bra and panties, terrified, flat on his back, just watching his shredded selves disappear into the deep, into the dark, into that huge black nidus of bloodcurdling selflessness…

85. THE DISCOVERY: CHANNEL

“Ker?” Syndi asks tentatively, poking her head through the apartment door. “Ker? That you? Hey, happy birthday, lover!… Hey… but… uh, what’s all this ?”

128. SWEEPS: NEWS: TIME

We exchange memes in the night, with our bodies’ erotic contact, just as bacteria exchange genes …

37. TIME FAMINE

200. THE LOVEBOAT

How many teenagers are left?

First four. Then three. Then two.

Now only one.

The most beautiful. Fair angel. Eighteen and mostly naked.

Lace panties and over-large Sick Poppies t-shirt of this black woodcut of this male bedbug stabbing its beak into this female bedbug’s abdomen, preparing to release its sperm into her wound and bloodstream.

Wire-rimmed glasses bespattered with mud. Wet ponytail come undone. Honey hair matted to face.

It’s… hey… it’s Syndi !

Ker’d recognize her anywhere.

She’s trapped in the barn of the desolate farm, stalked by Zodiac Killer, homicidal maniac.

Violent rainstorm crashing outside.

Lightning.

In each enormous flash a huge shadow looms closer.

She screams piercingly. She crawls. She stands. She sits, paralyzed by mortality, preparing to learn how to lose gracefully.

Zodiac Killer wields a pitchfork in one hand (Timex on wrist, you can’t miss it) and a whirring chainsaw in the other.

He towers over her, laughing.

And then, unexpectedly, he chucks the pitchfork to his left, the chainsaw to his right.

Syndi cringes.

The chainsaw sputters and dies.

Zodiac Killer reaches up, grabs hold of his ski-mask, and tugs.

Beneath the mask is… is… weh-hell… it’s Ker !

Syndi looks up, disbelieving at first, then a grin gradually spreads across her sweet countenance.

She breaks into laughter.

Stands, enters his parted arms.

“Ker,” she says, “Ker… ”

“It’s okay, babe,” Ker says, wearing his beige sweater with maroon stripes, “we made it.”

They embrace.

They kiss.

On the lips.

Syndi reaches for his belt.

Ker reaches for her pert teenage breasts. For her firm belly. For the astonishing curve of her spine.

33. STEAL MY THOUGHTS FOR MONEY

97. LOVEBOAT: THE SEQUEL

Kerwin Penumbro feels like a million bucks.

000. IMMORTALITY: STEALTH

The phone rings.

Ker’s eyes pop open.

He’s been sleeping.

The room’s dark except for the blue photonic haze from the Stealth’s screen.

What time is it?

He reaches over and picks up the receiver.

“Myellow?”

“Mr. Penumbro?”

“Um, yeah?” he says, blinking himself awake.

“Mr. Penumbro, this is the police calling. You’ve been listed as next of kin on Syndi Shogunn’s living will.”

“What?”

“Ms. Shogunn was attacked in the parking lot of the police station, Mr. Penumbro. The Zodiac Killer. She’s in a coma at the hospital. You should get down here fast as you can… ”

59. MIND AS CATHODE-RAY TUBE

164. DELTA: ART ALLUSION: SWEEPS

“Claude,” Claude’s father Clyde, man with the knowing smile, says to the cute little French boy from the soft-drink commercial as he steps off the wedge-shaped spaceship, all happy endings, “you know I love you.”

“I love you too, dad,” Claude says, wearing a beige sweater with maroon stripes.

They grin.

They embrace.

They kiss.

On the lips.

Claude reaches for Clyde’s belt.

Clyde reaches for Claude’s breasts. For his belly. For the astonishing curve of his spine.

13. UNCLE BUDDY’S PHANTOM FUNHOUSE

Man thus becomes the sex organs of the machine world just as the bee is of the plant world, permitting it to reproduce and constantly evolve to higher forms …

141. AS SEEN ON TV

The phone rings. Ker’s eyes pop open. He’s been sleeping. The room’s dark except for the blue photonic haze from the Stealth’s screen. What time is it? He reaches over and picks up the receiver. “Myellow?” “Ker?” “Um, yeah?” he says, blinking himself awake. “Ker, it’s me.” “Syndi?” “I’m running a little late. Be home in ten. Happy birthday, lover… ”

177. SHE DO THE POLICE IN DIFFERENT VOICES

“I see a young woman,” says psychic healer Abbey Rode, whose hair reminds Ker of a red rubber wig. Abbey has that slack-muscled serious-yet-utterly-accepting face that only drugged children and talk-show psychic healers have. Her eyes are closed in concentration. “Blond hair. Wire-rimmed glasses. She’s on a farm, an isolated farm, a-and she will die tonight… ”

209. PLAY: SIN

Zodiac Killer wields a pitchfork in one hand and a whirring chainsaw in the other.

He towers over her, laughing.

Syndi cringes.

The chainsaw flies down.

But misses.

Syndi leaps up, head-butting him in the groin, and he folds in pain. She yanks the pitchfork from his grip and drives it home, smack into the middle of his forehead.

Blood burbles from his lips.

He does that death-shudder thing people in low-budget made-for-tv movies do.

Syndi yanks out the pitchfork, reaches down, grabs hold of his ski-mask, and tugs.

Beneath the mask is… is… weh-hell… it’s Ker !

Syndi stares, disbelieving at first, then a grin gradually spreads across her sweet countenance.

She breaks into laughter.

“About fucking time,” she says.

999. HOPE FLOATS

91. RUBBER WIG: ART: CRIMES

A woman with stelliform shoe-polish black hair’s head derricks up and down in a man’s naked lap.

The camera pans back.

A tv delivery man in khaki shirt is taking her from behind. Between his legs lies a second woman clearly wearing a cheap blond wig, lapping at the delivery man’s genitals. Ker can’t get a good look at her.

Buh-but, even in that wig, from this angle it looks just like…

217. ADDRESS AT VISION 31

The rock’n’roll star hangs under the ocean, ultramarine, pine green, indigo, gray, singing for his mate. Bubbles sizzle out of his mouth. He raises two fingers to his forehead in a flip salute to posterity, unaware of the great white shark speeding in from behind him, flawless teeth in its grin.

14. SWEEPS: AS A SOAP OPERA: VANISHING POINT