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November 2005

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11/14/2005: "D&D 4 R&R"

music: cool jazz
mood: mysterious

I threw a blue blanket over David Lynch's head yesterday. Dead David had started to make unwanted suggestions, not that he had ever said anything that I needed to hear. Lately, though, he has been most annoying, in a dark, evil, unsettling kind of way.
"Why don't you kill someone? Then you won't be queer."
"It's easy to be a terrorist with just a few simple household chemicals."
"No one would ever suspect you of being a killer, so why not grab some stranger and strangle him? Go to a gay bar, find some pathetic loser to take you to his place, and murder him. He'd probably give you a blowjob if you want."
These were his nicest suggestions. I almost threw the accursed head through a window, but my hand stopped an inch short of grabbing him. That's why I threw the blanket on him; I was so relieved when he shut his mouth. I was tempted to look but I managed to stay clear, and the next few days went by in peace. No evil ideas, no visits from the looked like I could muddle through my empty life in peace for a while there.
I threw myself into my job, and was extra nice to all my family and friends. Yet this did not give me any satisfaction, and I found myself sinking into a malaise. Without realizing, I sat with my notebook open, directly underneath the head.
"Hey, Mister Integrity," came a voice from beneath the blanket. I screamed.
"I thought I had shut you up," I said, and I found myself crying. "Can't you just shut up?"
The disembodied laugh shook me. "Come on sunshine. I'm here for you." When I said nothing, the head continued. "You didn't think a blanket would silence me, did you?" Again, I was silent; again, I was shaken by that laughter. "You did. You did think that was why I was quiet."
My tears were uncontrollable, and I stood up and made for the opposite corner.
"Stop right there," the head commanded, and to my horror, I was frozen in my tracks. "The Frenchman
has you in his grip, and as I am his greatest creation, you must obey me."
"No..." I said, but it was barely audible.
"The Frenchman will be here soon, so let's give him a show. Put on a smile, and take off your clothes."
Grinning like an idiot, I let my clothing fall to the floor, until I stood there with a big smile and an erection. "You are a queer, aren't you? No, you are queer, so queer you want to stick your little prick in my big, fat mouth."
I made jerking motions as I walked back across the room, as I tried to fight his power over me, but it was to no avail. I lowered the head until it was next to my penis, then I thrust it into his mouth.
"I just love your movies, David. I'm beginning to understand Mulholland Drive now."
There was more laughter. The Frenchman had arrived. With the laughter, there was the sound of film cameras and the heat of powerful lights.
"Don't turn your head, little man. We will record your degradation for posterity, and you will love it."
I wondered if this would be happening if I had killed someone as the head wanted, but the thought was overwhelmed by my pleasure. Soon I climaxed, and looked into the head's glazed eyes and swooned, and then the whole room went black.
As I hit the floor, I heard more laughter.

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