Sub Specie Aeternitatis 4. The Mile-High Club.
Sub Specie Aeternitatis
Episode 4 of 5
The Mile-High Club

Paul is talking to Karens A through C and I've kinda got KarenD all to myself and she starts telling me some crazy shit, yo. I'm only half following it, though, at least at first. I've reprogramed big chunks of my frontal lobes to run a simulation of myself and I intermittently put the simulation in control of my chatting with KarenD while I eavesdrop on what Paul is talkin' about with the other Karens.

Karens B through D are going to be bridesmaids in KarenA's wedding. I almost gag to hear Paul ask "what kind of bridesmaid's dresses are you wearing and what color?"

Aparently KarenD was running a simulation of herself while talking to me, because she suddenly raises her voice and speaks over her shoulder to answer Paul's question.

"If chrome is a color then the answer is 'chrome' and if a thong can be a kind of bridesmaid's dress then the answer is 'thong.'"

This Karen is the best Karen.

It seems KarenD had a pretty remarkable initiation into the mile high club. I'm still not getting a lot of the details in the first part of her story because I'm busy trying to deactivate my simulation of myself and I accidentally trigger a simulation of myself simulating myself simulating myself. . . and the temporary infinite regress crashing my frontal lobes is a little distracting. I finally get my lobes under control (which is damn tricky since the frontal lobes pretty much are the seat of executive control, so I'm controlling control which requires getting the control of control under control. . .)

Slaughterhouse Paul: Duuuuude! Infinite regress?

Slaughterhouse Pete: Ahhhhhhh! Yes. Thanks.

And that snaps me out of it.

KarenD now has my full attention. And just in time too, for the, um, climax of her story.

"He let it fly all over my face and tits and though it was pitch dark in the crashing airplane's bathroom (the power having failed utterly) I could see his junk 'cuz the picoreactors in his cum's nanobots made the goo glow green. I felt the hot protein on my skin get hotter and dig deep into my tissues as the 'bots sought out my synapses. Seconds before impact, the 'bots found their targets and ignited a temporal lobe seizure, the kind that induces intense religious ecstasy. I ground my clit on his shoe and screamed and came and realized that I was God driving this machine of meat, nay, this entire fucking airplane, into an explosive unification with very fabric of eternity."

"Nice, Care-end. But how'd you survive?"

"Time-Release Time-Capsules. You know, time-travel pills? The plane crash actually takes place in the future about a year from now. I'm released from that future at just the right moment and I bail out three years into the past, that is, two years into our past. But now I'm fated to repeat the final three years of my life over and over."

"Like boot stamping on a human face?"

"Yes. Like a boot."

"Nice."

Paul starts layin' some shit on the chicks about how "spiritual" he is. I bust his balls, but I'm smart/lucky enough to do it telepathically.

Slaughterhouse Pete: Dude. You're "spiritual"? I thought you were made of meat. Now I find out you're an ethereal matrix of vibrations from the UltraVoid? And you make fun of me for consorting with the ElderGods?

Slaughterhouse Paul: Wake up, DumbAss. I am softening the chicks up to do some God Bombs with us.

Slaughterhouse Pete: Um, I think they're already softened up for some God Bombs. I can't believe you didn't catch any of KarenD's story.

Slaughterhouse Paul: I can't believe you just said "um" telepathically.


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Next episode: God Bombs