The Future

Imagine I am Ocean World's crystal-meth Wicked Witch of the West, "Hello my prettys, AH! HA! HA! HA!" and floating through halogen-blue clouds, PISH! of nitrous oxide, it's the future comin' at ya full of laser beams, ZEE-OOP! & projection screens, WOW! & optic fibers to take you high diving board higher, BOING! like some intergalactic lesbian dolphin in heat, lusting after a sexually-ambiguous under-age CK1 ocean mammal in Aqua Dyke magazine, ah Ah AH AAAhhhaaa! and then getting it on with a Calvin Klein CK1 model, kA-CHINK! transformer doll, "Oh my God! Advertising is a penis popping out of a vagina!" But it's O.K., because it's in neutrally-colored high-impact plastic, BINK! like screaming arc-angel lesbian-dolphin penetration in space, ready to assume any form to satisfy your desires, SLURP! ah...

by TJ Richter

© November 26, 2004 Theodore J. Richter

"They had those Calvin Klein CK1 ads years ago where they had these underage kids and they were shooting up their crotches to see their underwear. That was supposed to be decadent. All those kids were sexually ambiguous and I kind of felt sorry for them. I felt like they were being exploited, you know? They didn't know. So I thought, if you going to do that, why not go one step beyond, why not get underage ocean mammals and exploit them?'"

1-800-SHROOMS

I was working at this advertising agency on Fifth Avenue called, Mad Dogs and Englishmen when I had the yen to do some mushrooms. This was back in the 90s, in the hey day of "The Pope of Pot," so the Village Voice was chock full of advertisements for delivery services offering drugs. Things were not working out for me at the agency, and my production supervisor, a hot Irish lass from Dublin I had the hots for, suggested I call 1-800-SHROOMS. In less than an hour a deadhead delivery dude w/wrap-around sunglasses looking suitably gonzoid promptly arrived with my stash. I didn't know what to do, so I suggested I pay him in the bathroom, "I'm not doing business in a bathroom!" he cried out indignantly. Wow, a deadhead with edge, I thought, looking like a tough-guy secret service agent for Mr. Jerry Garcia himself. I whispered to my production supervisor, "Dude is here with mushrooms, what do I do?" So my production supervisor yells out in her thick Irish brogue so the whole office could hear, "If you want to buy some mushrooms, just take out a conference room!" Whoa! I thought upper management was going to bust me, but no one seemed to care, people just smirked. I signed out a conference room, and did business with Jerry's kid. The shrooms looked kind of scraggly, but they did have the tell-tale hallucinogenic blue streaks in them.

After work, my hot Irish production supervisor gave me a wink, and I munched the 'shrooms in the company conference room, so by the time I got home I was tripping my brains out. I hallucinated my dark, tiny apartment was the infinite cosmos, and I was a dolphin in space with a jet pack, wagging my tail, swimming around the solar system, it was fucking amazing. I looked down at my light-grey bell-bottom trousers, which appeared like a finned dolphin's skin torso and started thinking about how much my hot Irish supervisor turned me on. I saw the slit the fly made in my pants, and thought, "Holy shit, I'm a lesbian dolphin!" truly freaked out. Then, I remembered male dolphins have a body-slit their penises emerge from, just like my pants. I looked down again, and hallucinated I had a huge fucking dolphin cock erection. "Fuckin' A!" I thought. Next thing I know I am fucking this pristine white arc-angel in space lookin' like a ghostly version of my hot Irish supervisor floating in zero G, YEA! At the peak of sexual ecstasy her mouth opened up letting out a stuttering lesbian dolphin/arc-angel scream, ah-ah-ah-AH! The friction between our bodies and the outer "space" was so great our fucking movements created huge red sparks, bizarrely silhouetting our joined winged/fin body-form flesh, the whole universe erupting around us like a great molecular grinding wheel, BUZZ! wearing us down atom by atom until out body forms disappeared, utterly consumed in the red sparks which ripped apart the fabric of space itself revealing a truer, blacker "dark energy" void behind. Wow, this is profound, I thought, this is what advertising is all about, fucking nothing.

by TJ Richter

© 04/17/08 Theodore J. Richter