Piss and Champagne

Story Info
Commodity fetishism in Thatcher's Britain
563 words
2.62
12k
1
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Master Cat, understated in black cloak, pink satin Stetson and jodhpurs, paid the cab driver and turned to face the ruin of the Pickled Pig. He rapped on the vault door. Curdy let him in.

"So what you got for me?" asked Master Cat.

"More fucks for your bucks," said Curdy.

They walked through the remains of the pub. Old fruit machine, beaten out of shape by the punches and slaps of disgruntled punters. Chairs and tables piled up. A musty blanket covered the wreck of optics behind the bar. They went into the cellar, which reeked of stale ale, urine and cigarette smoke. He switched the light on. Three undulating mounds lay under heavy tarpaulin. Curdy pulled the nearest one away. A child with a grossly distended head and a tapering, elegant swanlike neck, angelic eyes and a soft pursed mouth.

"He's a beauty," said Master Cat, running his fingers through fine black hair.

"I'll take him."

Curdy swept off the second cover. A young male Thalidomide victim.

"I thought this shit had died out..."

"Well this boy shows it's still in the system. Anyhow, retro's cool."

The boy did not have arms attached to his shoulders. A withered hand, on either side in graceful symmetry, fluttering in tandem like desiccated bat's wings.

"There's not much I can do with him. If he was an amputee it'd be different. Like this, I don't know."

"I told you before, it's a job lot. All or nothing."

"Well, if I'm gonna make a loss on him the rest had better be good."

They went further into the darkness. Curdy flipped on a light. A form under the dirty blanket wriggled. Curdy whipped it off. Master Cat recoiled shaken. A pretty young woman's head was attached to a snakelike trunk, scaly and ulcerated.

"What the fuck's that?"

"Novelty, I admit. Hey, but a player like you..."

"Why's its body like that?"

"Adapt or die," Curdy shrugged.

"Christ...how do you use it...there's no genitals."

Curdy rolled the creature on its back.

"There's a navel a bit cuntish."

Curdy rolled the creature onto its stomach.

"And some sort of aperture between the shoulder blades. It shits and pisses out of it. My little white whale I call her."

"Where did you round these up?"

"I didn't. They were bequeathed to me."

"Some legacy."

"So?"

"That," said Master Cat pointing at the Angel, "is class. This," he swept and arm in the direction of Thalidomide kid, "I can use, but this," he sank a toe into the soft flank, "I mean, think disease."

"Novelty."

"What?"

"She screams violation with a big v."

"How?"

"It all goes on in here," said Curdy tapping his temple.

"If you say so."

"You ain't seen the ne plus ultra yet."

"Eh?"

"Wop for the best, I think."

"Bring it on then."

There was a door in the far wall. Curdy went over to the old record player. A sassy brass section reverberated around the cellar. A gorgeous black hermaphrodite, ebony skinned, generously bosomed, diamond hand nightstick penis, sashayed in on a pair of stalactite heels.

Master Cat deep swallowed.

"Curdy...she's sensational."

The hermaphrodite smoothed down Master Cat's wing collars. He looked astonished and was visibly shaking. The hermaphrodite was breathily parting its lips near Master Cat's left ear.

"I'll invoice you," said Curdy, pausing on the stairs, the shadows hiding his disgust.

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4 Comments
nthusiasticnthusiasticalmost 3 years ago

Jeepers, Anony!

Can’t you take a joke?

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 10 years ago

Useless garbage. Besides, University of William Shatner doesn't even exist. No wonder you are such a feeble writer.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago
not erotica

As the previous comment said, this is not erotic, a story or acceptable here. Certainly not 'edgy'.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago

Your ongoing efforts to be edgy are continuing to fail. This, unfortunately, could only be reported for the underage. But reported it was.

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