The Orange Dawn Of Some New Insectoid Civilization Dropping Bass
"I am in a spacesuit & she is dancing in ecstasy & jungle DJ's are connecting wires to turntables, 'Check, one, two!' with the careful precision of insects, like golden ants building pyramids in the orange dawn of some new insectoid civilization dropping bass."
You know, people think five-thousand years ago civilization started with the Egyptians, but no, it started five-hundred-million years ago with insects, BUZZ! YES! Imagine we are a team of prim-and-proper archeologists traveling deep inside the African Congo, where on steaming river banks we discover colonies of giant red ants, eyes glowing in the MDMA shadows, the direct descendants of that first insectoid civilization five-hundred-million years old.
Journeying down huge ant-hill tunnels we arrive at the king's chambers and spy a literal underground party of insects dancing and rubbing their exoskeleton asses together, SCRATCH! SCRATCH! creating the vital, high-pitched sounds of vinyl scratching African diamonds. BONG! Entering the chamber we bow and greet the red-ant Egyptian promoter-king, on his throne with rastafarian dreadlocks like George Clinton spinning high-speed, Parlementric/Funkadelic techno, YEA! While beautiful arthropod sex-slaves feed him grapevine e-pills of methylene-dioxy-meth-amphetamine, better know as MDMA ecstasy.
An e-pill crumb travels down the insectoid’s digestive system and is molecularly-altered into a powerful, killer-bee sexual pheromone hybrid, finally reaching the all-important ASS GLAND, which is secreted as a gentle, MDMA-pheromone fart, PSHIT! The king's mix fills the chamber with static electricity buzzing from two bug-eyed turntable-sized hard drives energizing, ionizing, and surprising us, "HUH?" as we are infected with electric, insect-sexed pheromones of love, SMOOCH!
Even Natasha, the conservative librarian of our archeological team is infected, her areolas growing incredibly hard, until reaching critical-mass density, and become exoskeleton nipples! Natasha moans, groans, and releases sex-stoned pheromones of her own, as every synapse in her hyper-sensitive sexual subconscious is blown wide fuckin' eagle open, UH! and she experiences the intoxicating transformation of inhibition to pleasure, found only at an underground party. Natasha opens her blouse, sheds her spectacles, and starts shaking it with all four sexes of insects on a hexagon-shaped, bee-hive Saturday Night Fever dance floor, WHEW-WHO!
In the orange glow of the festivities we kick back and smoke a peace-pipe with the insect king, POW! WOW! WOW! WOW! starring up in amazement as we contemplate his pimpin' chill-chamber covered with ancient insectoid hieroglyphics detailing the history of underground parties that started a billion years ago, SSSsss...WHOA!
by TJ Richter
© October 15, 2001 Theodore J. Richter
