The Asylum

[Artina Heartflash]

Tio slept, his head cradled on Amber, and as he slept he felt his legs growing roots through the floor of the waiting room, he felt the xylem rising to turn his whole body into wood. He heard Amber murmur to him, sing-song in heavily accented four-fourths rhythm.

“Be my Yab-Yum Tree” sounded and resounded through his pertrifying trunk.

He took a last look around the waiting room and saw the yellow banner proclaiming “Welcome to Charenton!”

Panic overtook him, and he struggled, twisting and turning to free him from his own roots. Amber awoke, herself panicked at his gyrations, and desperately asked him of his problem.

“Charenton!’ Tio shouted at her. “Charenton!”

“Where is the Marquis?” he demanded firmly; “I was meant for Bedlam, not Charenton!”

He managed to tear one and a half legs free of the floor, and he felt his chest began to heave with breaths laboring against the creeping woodiness.

“No!” cried Amber, “You are safe here. Look around.”

Tio looked around the room again. A turkey vulture stood to the east, behind the yellow banner. A turn to the south, and another turkey vulture came into view. The same with the north and then the west. His eyes quickly turned east again, and the vulture had been joined by a coyote. As Tio stared, ravens, hawks, eagles, and a condor appeared. He spun around, and found each other direction similarly populated. Back to the east. Pumas, panthers, ocelots, and bears crowded behind the yellow band along with the others, and at their feet stood fishers and weasels, and otters, and others too numerous to name. The room was encircled, filled in every quarter, and they all cawed and crowed and growled and snarled, straining at the yellow tape that they could not cross.

“See,” said Amber reassuringly, “we are safe here.”

“You are not Electra,” Tio declared as he tore himself from the last of his roots.

“But I am close to being Electra,” Amber protested.

“Not close enough; you seek safety above disorder."

“Damyata! Damyata! Damyata!,” and with Amber’s invocation three orderlies entered from the hall. The central one bore a strait-jacket in his hands, and all three looked like Tio.

“No!” shouted Tio, and he dove to the POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS banner to tear it from its anchors.

The carnivores and scavengers stampeded into the room, mauling and biting at the orderlies, at Amber, and at Tio himself. Limbs and viscera were torn wildly from trunks, and scattered wildly around the room until neither Tio, nor Amber, nor orderlies were recognizable. A calm descended over the waiting room, and then each attacker searched the commingled remains for a single piece of flesh or bone. When each had its particle, they gathered in front of the chair-in-the-center-of-the-room and reassembled Tio.

A new noise now, a question, and Tio opened his eyes. The-woman-who-had been-a-nodding-horse stood before him, asking what he wanted of her.
“Much,” he thought to say, but remained silent. Amber still slept peacefully on his lap, her arms and legs and breasts still attached to her trunk, and her trunk still intact, her viscera unspilled.

As he sat silent he saw the woman turn to an eye of the room and engage with someone -something - outside. Outside! There was an outside! Bedlam might still be attained. The woman was marvelous in what she knew. She must have been pumping - pumping what? - from beneath the floor. Ink! It must be ink! Ink to write the story on the tatooed man’s body. She DID know what it said. Maybe she was even the ONE who wrote it.

Tio stood, letting Amber slide slowly and softly from his lap to the floor, and addressed the woman-who-must-know.

“Is that,” he said, pointing to the chair-in-the-center-of-the-room, “the Sipapu?”

Artina knelt and looked at the significant hole in the floor directly below the throne-chair which now had metal wrist bars on its arms and electrical coils around the heart shaped back.. She wasn't sure if the hole was the portal where the mythical tribal ancestors first emerged from the primordial underworld regions into the earthly realm. She put on steampunk goggles with red lenses and sniffed as a few untranslatable whispers rose in smoke up from the hole.

She unbolted the legs of the electric throne from the metal platform and pushed the seat fully aside. Down into the manhole in the platform she peered, her head disappearing momentarily as she leaned into the well. One whisper became a moan, echoing in its hollow. "OOOOHHHH TIOOOOO!" reverberated the voice.

Artina leaned back from the hole, a Bedlam cube in her mouth. The cube had a red cross in one corner. "Tio, could you please help round up the animals? This place smells like a zoo," she said.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Public Notice posted:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bethlem_Royal_Hospital

All visitors who would like to redecorate a room after the structure of Bedlam, please feel free to do so.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Artina knelt and looked at the significant hole in the floor directly below the throne-chair which now had metal wrist bars on its arms and electrical coils around the heart shaped back.. She wasn't sure if the hole was the portal where the mythical tribal ancestors first emerged from the primordial underworld regions into the earthly realm. She put on steampunk goggles with red lenses and sniffed as a few untranslatable whispers rose in smoke up from the hole.

She unbolted the legs of the electric throne from the metal platform and pushed the seat fully aside. Down into the manhole in the platform she peered, her head disappearing momentarily as she leaned into the well. One whisper became a moan, echoing in its hollow. "OOOOHHHH TIOOOOO!" reverberated the voice.

Artina leaned back from the hole, a Bedlam cube in her mouth. The cube had a red cross in one corner. "Tio, could you please help round up the animals? This place smells like a zoo," she said.

Tio watched intently as Artina checked out the manhole. The chair had transformed, and Tio was intrigued by the heart back encircled with electrical coils. While the-woman-who-was-trying-to-know was at her work, Tio gathered Amber up in his arms and sat her, still asleep, on the chair. He quietly snapped the wrist bars over her carpals and wrapped the coils around her naked trunk. She stirred when her left nipple got tangled in a coil and sparked, but she still wasn’t Electra and stayed asleep with a few comforting nipple tweaks from Tio.

He heard his name called, then, from some disembodied, but clearly not disemboweled, voice, and turned back towards the-might-be-Sipapu.

Artina was bent over, kneeling, and looking into the hole in the floor.

“Oh My! Lordosis!” exclaimed Tio upon viewing her feline posturing, “it surely is la reina tigresa herself!”

"Quelle Bellevue!" he added, as as a glimpse of her womanhole, caught through a tear in her jumpsuit, quickly brought all his members to attention.

She sat up, then, her mouth cubed, and asked for some rounding-up help.

“But the scavengers and carnivores aren’t into numbers,” Tio observed, yet he still went to help her with the hole, wondering why she hadn't consulted the mathematicians outside..

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Tio watched intently as Artina checked out the manhole. The chair had transformed, and Tio was intrigued by the heart back encircled with electrical coils. While the-woman-who-was-trying-to-know was at her work, Tio gathered Amber up in his arms and sat her, still asleep, on the chair. He quietly snapped the wrist bars over her carpals and wrapped the coils around her naked trunk. She stirred when her left nipple got tangled in a coil and sparked, but she still wasn’t Electra and stayed asleep with a few comforting nipple tweaks from Tio.

He heard his name called, then, from some disembodied, but clearly not disemboweled, voice, and turned back towards the-might-be-Sipapu.

Artina was bent over, kneeling, and looking into the hole in the floor.

“Oh My! Lordosis!” exclaimed Tio upon viewing her feline posturing, “it surely is la reina tigresa herself!”

The sight of her womanhole, raised and readied, quickly brought all his members to attention.

She sat up, then, her mouth cubed, and asked for some rounding-up help.

“But the scavengers and carnivores aren’t into mathematics,” Tio observed, yet he still went to help her with the hole.

Artina felt a draft beneath her as she squatted. "What the fuck?!" she spewed, sending the cube tumbling from her mouth as she looked between her legs. "I have to go sew up this dang hole in my jumpsuit. Must find some thread or bandaid or something to fix that tear."

She headed for the hall again, holding her crotch as she wobbled quickly away, leaving Tio to dispose of the animals and tend to Amber on the electric chair of love.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Artina felt a draft beneath her as she squatted. "What the fuck?!" she spewed, sending the cube tumbling from her mouth as she looked between her legs. "I have to go sew up this dang hole in my jumpsuit. Must find some thread or bandaid or something to fix that tear."

She headed for the hall again, holding her crotch as she wobbled quickly away, leaving Tio to dispose of the animals and tend to Amber on the electric chair of love.

"You threw a cube at me," Flare said while stepping in front of her. "A strangely marked cube composed of twentysix cubes, but twentysix is not a cube itself and I can not assume there is a cube internally to at least make it one. I'd ask you to solve the conundrum, but I approacched on this subject tangentally when I really wished to discuss your sine curves." He said, stepping uncomfortably closer to her., so that if either moved a hand forward they would wind up touching the other.
"Don't press her personal sphere," Dramatic said from the walkway above, "before you understand her radius."
"But you don't understand her diameter," Flare retorted, while gesticulating around her breats without touching them. "Besides, I believe she is as amorphous as I instead of deliberately solid like you."
Dramatic jumped off the walkway again, landing this time in a hexagon on his elbows and knees too. His distance was still nonthreatening. "Perhaps, like a sine curve, she fluctates between the two."
"You turn words into weapons."
"You turn words into poetry."

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"You threw a cube at me," Flare said while stepping in front of her. "A strangely marked cube composed of twentysix cubes, but twentysix is not a cube itself and I can not assume there is a cube internally to at least make it one. I'd ask you to solve the conundrum, but I approacched on this subject tangentally when I really wished to discuss your sine curves." He said, stepping uncomfortably closer to her., so that if either moved a hand forward they would wind up touching the other.
"Don't press her personal sphere," Dramatic said from the walkway above, "before you understand her radius."
"But you don't understand her diameter," Flare retorted, while gesticulating around her breats without touching them. "Besides, I believe she is as amorphous as I instead of deliberately solid like you."
Dramatic jumped off the walkway again, landing this time in a hexagon on his elbows and knees too. His distance was still nonthreatening. "Perhaps, like a sine curve, she fluctates between the two."
"You turn words into weapons."
"You turn words into poetry."

Artina emitted a noise which sounded like an amused laugh interrupted by a clearing cough of dignity. She tightened the top flaps on either side of her camo jumpsuit's broken zipper, pulling together her breasts and deepening the cleavage. It was a self protective gesture, but she knew it would probably look like a tease to the men.

She rolled her eyes and quickly muttered "40 D". With her shoulder to Flare, she pushed past him smiling, "Excuse me, Flare", and leaped over Dramatic in a single bound. Into her room she hurried, and shut the riveted metal door.

When she emerged from her room again, she had a serious smirk on her face, Her new black latex catsuit was covered with padlocks and chains and prickly bullet belts of German machine gun links crisscrossing her torso.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"Meh... No one around." Artina looked up and down the hall and shrugged. Then the silence was broken by an interjection which sounded much like young Dorothy of Kansas. "People come and go here so quickly."

Munchkin giggles followed her as she walked down toward Tat's room.

Tat was asleep, lying on his belly. Artina sat down beside him on the rubber mattress and set her crown on the weeping angel statue next to the bed. The full bright moonlight from a nearby window poured onto Tat's back, allowing her to see a few more markings on his skin. Each vertebrae of his spine was a darkened shadow, each enhanced with a single large stud. Tattoo of a blue tinted rib cage had partial overlay of trailing gothic feather patterns, several black pennons red tipped as if blood-dipped.

She drew her hand admiringly down the studded backbone between the wings, following the curve down to the crack of his gluts. He was sleeping nude, something she had never seen him do before. He stirred slightly as she placed a palm on each of his twin curves and sighed, feeling the power in the slight flex of the same muscles.

He looked back over one shoulder sleepily as he turned sideways to the woman leaning close. "Mama, you're playing with danger. I am not going to help you commit sexual suicide."

Within seconds, he dozed into calm snooze again. Artina didn't know what to do. Why would someone so beautiful and esoteric accept no worship? His peaceful contours stirred her as much as the violent features she had seen the day before. Two contrasts of expression, and she loved them equally.

She sighed, wanting to curl up with him inside whatever dream he was enjoying. Still, his words gave her pause, for they had sounded like a warning. So she just sat in wonder and held herself as still as the weeping angel of stone by his bedside. "Maybe tomorrow shall be better for activity" she thought. "I hope so, for every one here."

She buried her face in her hands briefly. "My life is so....dead," she groaned softly.

"Sssshhhh, mama. Your angel will come in good time," whispered her son.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

The twisted barbed wire crown pulled at her tangled hair as she awoke. She smelled gunpowder green tea leaves boiling.

She recognized the feel of the vending machine behind her back as she sat on the floor. "How did I get back in the waiting room?" she wondered aloud. "No one here. Did I sleepwalk? Did someone carry me? Was it a spirit that moved me?"

She tried to recall her dreams for a clue, but her mind was full of silver floaters and those mists were evaporating as the dawn rose. Her surroundings were hazy, but she knew her eyes would focus soon.

The first thing she saw was a grey, rectangular film on the floor. With a gentle scrape of rough nails, she picked up the photograph. A long sigh trailed out her peach rimmed lips as she examined the image of blindfolded scorpion-male who embraced a swooning female. The blonde female's brow was adorned with diamonds of poison. "Oh, death, where is thy sting?" she commented.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Then it began: the obnoxious belching. Artina hated the repetitive sound;it felt to her like the core of hell was releasing its guts into the air. She glanced at the hole under the electric throne. No...no sign of it spewing lava unto the room. Still the heat was becoming unbearable as the noise continued. She could not determine if the heat was her anger emerging or some external influence.

Next the sneezing started, and she covered her head as if being bombarded by some huge unseen swarm of killer bees. She imagined the pollen on their stingers being shaken like black clouds across the room as they zinged and zanged sharply. How she HATED the blasts of their droppings. She could smell the germs they were flinging about on their buzzing wings.

"DAMMIT!!!! DAMMIT!!! DAMMMMMMITTTTT!!!!" she screamed angrily as she ran back to the safety of her room.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"Why is this water pistol in my drawer?"

Artina stared at the transparent blue plastic pistol in her hand. It was empty but wet. She tossed it over her shoulder as she continued to scrounge through the contents of the dresser drawer. She picked up a wad of chewed gum---or was it a masticated condom? She didn't what to think about it, and pushed it under some grey AC DC boxer shorts in the back of the drawer. Then she grabbed something that felt like a head of spade shaped latex. Drawing it out, the length which followed the reptilian head was shockingly long. Realizing it was a huge dildo, she was both repulsed and fascinated by its girth and measurement. Two feet in length and about as wide as her forearm it was.

At that moment she realized she was not in her own room.

A shadow fell over her from behind. Whipping about, she saw the open window and the silhouette of a man crouching like a gargoyle on the sill. His neck was bent forward as he was looking down at the street far below.

"The carrion has not been moved. Its charred carcass still remains on the path to learning," he grumbled.

He stood upright and reached his right hand to the sky, to a cloud which looked like a large hovering wing. His left grabbed a curtain rod hook protruding from the top of the window frame.

Artina's heart raced wildly in fear. "TAT!! NO!!! "

He shifted his naked body so he could lean farther out the window, and gazed down at the grounds below again. "If I land on that carrion, I could save the world."

Artina realized he was speaking of the school bus which had burned on the street days before. She shuddered at the thought of losing him to the mangled steel which had been meant to transport pupils. She took a step toward her loved one hard, a stomp to get his attention.

"If you jump, the fires of Armageddon shall explode and spread to the ends of the earth!"

She didn't know why the phrase popped from her mouth, but was encouraged to see him look back over his shoulder, his mouth open in dull surprise.

"But imagine, mama: No more wars, no more dead people, only free spirits."

"And none will ever know all you were or what became of you... not even I". She took another step forward as she spoke, and held out her hands, flexing her fingers to beckon him into her arms. "You mean the world to me."

"But what am I to Heaven?" he answered.

"You might not know the answer if you allow yourself the downfall."

Her arms wrapped tightly around his thighs to hold him steady. Her cheek pressed into one of his hind cheeks as she hugged and begged, "Don't jump to conclusion, stay with me and teach me."

He wavered slightly, then slowly stepped down, back into the room and stared into the woman whose eyes were like mirrors. "I wasn't going to do it anyway. I would have dragged you with me and I never want to do that."

Artina stroked his bare head in gratitude and affection. For the first time she noticed the tattoos of spiraling thorns which wreathed his skull. She buried her face in the side curve of his neck. Her eyes sparkled at the flare of diamonds which now hung in the piercings caused by her own barbs days before.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Crosst one the manyfold iron ramparts floating 'bove the bottom floor, stood two spirits cursed together at opposite ends. For while many an pernicious argument these phantoms held in the byways and highways and sideways the asylum contained, neither had ever cause to come to blows with the other. But like an ocean and a mountain, friction was ever present and ground away on both. For these reasons and possibly others, unuttered, two spirits stood crosst the rampart with weapons drawn.
One, a steel armored swordsman without his features visible to the eye nor did he ever seem to emote them. 'Twas the opposite of the expressive minstrel with an instrument gripped round the neck. Now the beautiful instrument would become the ugly subject of a battering rage, the wroth held twixt the two phantoms.
A metal spirit charged the musical spirit, who spread his hands to the ends of the guitar. The musical spirit deflected a blade with metal strings, each string snapping in a cacophony of small twangs. But for his loss he was able to swing round the metal spirit and body him towards the rail. Again swung the sword but again the ministrel caught the edge on his axe. Pressing the body of the axe, the ministrel was able to lift and force the clattering spirit off the rampart into the space below.
Down the ministrel called, "You may armor yourself in metal, but I would die for it."
But space gave way to stone, and the armored spirit disintigrated into small blue motes of hazy light. Upwards they flew, upwards and toward the rampart. On the original end they recondensed towards their previous form. Once again the armored warrior joined battle and waited not one jiffy before closing towards the duel.
But now the minstrel was left with only a broken axe, barely held together by thin rods running down the neck. His axe would only take one more blow and the warrior was not going to wait. The minstrel charged, crazy axe held over minstrel's head though askew. When the instrument came down, though, it was into a wall of metal, an unexpected second armor before the first one. There was no time to question the sudden presence of a shield, for the sharp point thrust into the minstrel's neck fleshily. And there was much blue light as the minstrel fell toward the ground. When he two, reformed across the catwalk, the warrior spirit laughed cruelly.
"You can not die for metal, for you have already died once for something far less. You died for youself."
"Laugh you may, but did you do better?"
"No, but I did not lie to myself after either."
And so they stood crosst the iron rampart, two ghosts with skeletons and corpses and ghouls of animosity 'tween them.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Artina observed the two as they paused in their conflict. She noticed that they had knocked over the holy kettle of wroth broth from its open shrine on a metal rampart above. Yes, anger was respected in the asylum, even sanctified, if the anger was considered to be righteous. Yet the root of the violent interaction between the two was a mystery to her.

"What is the cause of all this metal madness?" she cried to Flare and Dramatic. "And for what cause do you fight?"

She sensed the presence of another at her side and turned to see what it was that tickled her.

"What is on your head?" she snapped.

Red feathers stiffened on the bone colored scalp of the man who was startled by her sharp question. "Oh, I found this boa scrap in your boudie box."

"My booty box?!" Artina was confused and amused.

"Boudoir armoire."

"You look like a cockatoo head".

"I'm going to strut out to impress some chicks, mama. See you later."

"Tell me about your experiences when you return, Tat." Artina watched his ass as he stepped out onto the street. "Steer clear of Putrid Witch. If she tries to come within pole length of you, drop an outhouse on her."

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"Mama, you still watching those guys on the rampart?"

"Yeh. Nothing else to do today. It's Slug Day. I have never seen a stare down last as long as this one between two spirits. I am betting the one who looks like Zakk Wylde in the Fedora will win. Maybe I should toss him a Hypno-Vertigo guitar?"

"Mama, I met a girl I like."

Artina's heart fell. She wanted to be Tat's lover. The thought of another female capturing his attention made her bite her lip in frustration. Still, she knew she had no collar on Tat. Had he returned to her just to bear news of planning flight again?

"She asked me 'Are you Abraxas?' Her squeal of delight made me preen the bulge in my jeans. Then this dude walked up behind her and growled, "NO, he's ABRASUX." Tat shook his head, the red comb of feathers rustling as he did so. "I didn't like the emphasis the guy slurred on that last syl...sylbull...slyable..."

"Syllable" corrected Artina.

"Yeh. He called me a cock head."

"How did you react?"

"Like this." He pointed to an image across the arch of his abdomen, an atomic mushrooming cloud. A Totenkopf badge hung in his navel. The base of the cloud was hidden, the stem rising visibly above his low hung jeans.

"You blew up? Dropped a bomb on him?"

"No. I simply pointed to the tattoo. He turned skunk stripe white and ran, tripping over metal garbage cans in the alley."

"You were in Death Row."

"Yeh. The girl stayed. She said she liked the rapture of the fiery tornado." He stroked the flame twisted funnel tattoo above the atomic blast and just under the red biohazard symbol which contained the black cardiac image. "But when I dropped my jeans her blue lipped jaw dropped too. She rolled her eyes and walked off."

"I'm sure it was the name 'mama' in the electric heart tattoo on your ass that killed her interest," smiled Artina Heartflash. She hugged him, jostling him playfully, glad to have him back.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Artina observed the two as they paused in their conflict. She noticed that they had knocked over the holy kettle of wroth broth from its open shrine on a metal rampart above. Yes, anger was respected in the asylum, even sanctified, if the anger was considered to be righteous. Yet the root of the violent interaction between the two was a mystery to her.

"What is the cause of all this metal madness?" she cried to Flare and Dramatic. "And for what cause do you fight?"

"Nothing," replied Dramatic whilst, at exactly the same moment, Flare replied, "everything."
Again, the two clashed, seasoned veteran in a suit of metal containing a heart of selfishness, against the drifter poet in a suit of selfishness with a heart of metal. The fight would be one sided but for the raw enthusiasm of the poet, his lust for the taste of life.
Dramatic raised up his sword to enact his dire purpose, and Flare raised his guitar to ward the blow. But Dramatic was still fast, and with a move of experience kicked Flare through the face and knocked him to the floor the blade followed soon after, and then rebegan the stand off twixt two spirits unkillable.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Midden the standoff there came a lull wherein the two spirits, perhaps bored of their sport or simply desiring of the privacy of their own thoughts left their strife and went to opposite rooms. These rooms, not clost against visual intrusion nor against audible, were thus for all to see. Twas not the wish of either to hide, lest the other think they were preparing some secret trick, some method killing a spirit.
Flare, poet of modern age, played music of grand and enraged stature. One could believe the instrument, the poor insturment, would being to smoke and engulf itself in flame for the way it was played. The scale, the arpeggio, the chord all played with such speed and power as to show a part deep in the heart of the phantasm. There was no music for the common nor for the lover, simply music for the anger of a thousand generations.
The mage-warrior sat in his room, thrusting his hand out and repeating one phrase; trying to retain what had been taken from him as he was relocated out of his world.
"Creari lucem." cried the warrior, though nothing happen. "Creari Lucem!" he cried again, expecting better. "CREARI LUCEM!" he roared a final time, though again nothing happened. Toward the wall flew his helmet, cast in a final act of frustration. And though the poet was of light brown hair with green eyes, the warrior was revealed to have blue hair with grey eyes. Their faces though, the visage was shared twixt them. and indeed, both looked only like half the man. Someone was missing from these faces, something that prevented them from being total in themselves. Specific this missing factor was, but there nonetheless.
Who can read the mysteries of the Universe?

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"Creari Lucem!"

The warrior's words stirred Artina and into the shadows of his room she stepped, holding a 12" bronze candle. The wax of the candle was shaped as a nude man and woman intimately entwined, one wick protruding from where the heads joined. She placed it on a knightstand , turned and pressed a strange looking flame starter into the warrior's palm affectionately. Tightening her hand over his fist, she suggested, "Create Light, and Carpe Diem, Dramatic."

She returned to her open room and sat down in front of the screen of signals and searched the webs which unfolded to her eyes. " Angels...Illuminati...crosst..." A map appeared before her, Ohio and Pennsylvania she recognized.

Suddenly she felt like she was wearing an orange, star covered pointed cone on her head. About her four similarly attired males ran, waving magical wands and, stuttering "Magical Mystery Tour Bus is late!!!"

She pushed her hand over the face of the signals screen and shook her head. She wouldn't delve into the mystery right now. She needed some coffee. Grabbing the mug with the pic of an air force woman riding a bomb in the clouds, she plopped back onto a loveseat and slurped softly.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

**************

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Artina felt a draft beneath her as she squatted. "What the fuck?!" she spewed, sending the cube tumbling from her mouth as she looked between her legs. "I have to go sew up this dang hole in my jumpsuit. Must find some thread or bandaid or something to fix that tear."

She headed for the hall again, holding her crotch as she wobbled quickly away, leaving Tio to dispose of the animals and tend to Amber on the electric chair of love.

Tio gathered up the yellow banner from around the room and fashioned a lariat.

"Get along little doggies," he sang as he lassoed the coyotes first and then the wolves.

Had them all penned when he started on the big cats, and still he sang. Rounded up almost all of them, and they all got along, much to his surprise.

"Must be music to soothe the savage beast," he thought, "or was that savage breast?" He never was quite sure of the words, but that word - breasts - reminded him that he had to take care of Amber back on the electric chair of love.

Just a turkey vulture and a mink left now, and he'd have the whole meangerie-a-trois rounded up to five, or maybe ten, or...

"Artina just told me to round them up," he observed, "but she didn't say if she wanted it decimally or hexadecimally or even vingessemally. Damn!"

The lasso was all tied up with the other tsvi, and Tio dove for the vulture and the mink. Frightened them both so that the mink jumped out of its skin and the bird squawked a few tail feathers off.

Back up to the waiting room then, and he could hear voices off in the distance, in the rooms and on the ramparts. But there was Amber, all right. Still barred and coiled in her chair.

Tio took the turkey tail to her, and she laughed and twitched until the chair was tumbling all over the room. He chased her, but kept on tickling her until he realized that the feather was making her fly around the room like that. He dropped the feather and pressed on the chair arms to nail the seat back to the floor.

"Amber!" he said with a touch of eureka, and he spread her legs wide. She was wet of thigh from all that laughing, and he began to dry her off with the skin that mink had left behind. 'Round and 'round and up and down her thighs he rubbed the fur, and soon Amber was all a-glow. The coils around her it up like Coney Island on a Tuesday night in July, and just about everything in the room came flying at her. Tio himself was drawn right between her legs, and as he started to kiss away the last drops of dew that were still on her thighs, he heard metal, almost like bells, crash against the outside wall of the waiting room.

"Must be her electromagnetic halo," Tio said as he looked up from between
Amber's flashing thighs, "I hope there aren't any armoured warriors around; it could be the start to a bit of an Armageddon."

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Meanwhile in her room, Artina examined the progress of a mask she was creating from leather scraps, bullion and tiny slave bells. She had so little materials with which to work, but a nearly infinite amount of ways to arrange the same. It was a matter of which conglomerate appealed most to her.

But today nothing she created seemed to appeal to her; it was frustrating. Again and again she created and destroyed, trying to make some beauty of the matter at hand. "Damn" she said of her latest attempt as she held it close to her face. "Now it looks like a mask of Ganesha." She tossed the project aside with a heavy huff.

She was surprised to see her son kneeling in between her legs. "Mama, I hope you never tear me up and throw me away like one of your no longer desirable creations," he said.

Artina looked at him in wonder. He poked at her padlocks and pulled at her chains on her catsuit in curiosity. "Why the Houdini costume?" he asked.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Tat sensed there was some deeper problem causing Artina's frustration. The frayed bullion she was trying to incorporate into a mask was symbolic of her own rich, inner weave of emotion and thought.

"All things are interconnected," wailed his mom. She held up a strip with chain link pattern, then knotted it. "But I feel all tied up in my own designs and NO one seems to care or try to connect with me." She shook her chains noisily. "HOUDINI WOULDN"T EVEN BE INTRIGUED TO OPEN THESE LOCKS!!!"

Tat looked at the padlock on the external chastity belt and raised a dark eyebrow. "CLIMAX lock?"

"Yeh! and it's antique!"

"That's heavy," murmured Tat, weighing it in his hand.

"I throw gifts at people and set up throne in this place and what has happened to date? The throne gets claimed by Tio as Amber's--- "her" throne. Flare didn't care about the Xs and Os of kisses and hugs on the Rubiks cube. He only wanted to discuss my sinuous sex curves. I left an intimate candle in the warrior's room. I don't know yet what he will do with that.

"I like these people and am trying to be friendly but I am so misunderstood and no one has been so personal as to call me by my name yet! What am I doing wrong?

"AH!!" she coughed. "I hate it when I feel left out. I don't want ANYONE to feel left out here! But at same time, I don't want to offend by stepping on any one's sensitive toes. Am I destined to forever be a voyeur, an observer, a lonely misfit?!"

"Mama, I think I can help...or I could try ..." offered Tat, stroking his lips thoughtfully as he said so.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Tio strained in vain to rise from Amber's thighs until he noticed the iron collar that was around his neck.

"How the hell did that get there?" he wondered and then realized it was drawn by the electromagnetism. He struggled to think thoughts small enough to let his head slip through the band and was surprised when he actually succeeded.

"No," wailed Amber as Tio rose, "No. come rub the fur on your Amber again. I'm powerless without it."

With the power outage, everything fell back into place, including Amber. She crawled from the chair to Tio and wrapped her arms around his legs.

"Where is Artina and the Tat Man?" asked Tio of the waiting room, and heard only the cacaphony of animal sounds from beneath the floor. "I need to see her. Or them. I need to know where we are. Why does she always take herself away when I try to speak to her? Or is it the Tatooed Man who absconds with the funs?"

He made for the door to the hallway invoking her name, "Art-in-a, Art-in-a, Art-in-a, Art-in-a," hoping to hear a reply that was more than an echo.

His progress was slow; he wondered also why it was so hard to lift his feet from the ground. As he chanted for the woman-who-had-been-there, he heard a voice rise in response. Looking down he saw Amber and heard her whispering "close enough." He was confused; Amber wasn't close at all, and definitely not close enough, to Artina. He knew Artina was distant, perhaps very distant, and Amber was right there at his feet.

"No," he said looking quizzically at the-woman-attached-to-his-ankles, "you want me to stay. I want to go away. Artina keeps going away; maybe she's where I should be."

But then he worried that the man with tatoos would keep her from him. "Maybe I should get tatooed," he opined, and stepped from Amber's encircling arms to find some ink.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Tio strained in vain to rise from Amber's thighs until he noticed the iron collar that was around his neck.

"How the hell did that get there?" he wondered and then realized it was drawn by the electromagnetism. He struggled to think thoughts small enough to let his head slip through the band and was surprised when he actually succeeded.

"No," wailed Amber as Tio rose, "No. come rub the fur on your Amber again. I'm powerless without it."

With the power outage, everything fell back into place, including Amber. She crawled from the chair to Tio and wrapped her arms around his legs.

"Where is Artina and the Tat Man?" asked Tio of the waiting room, and heard only the cacaphony of animal sounds from beneath the floor. "I need to see her. Or them. I need to know where we are. Why does she always take herself away when I try to speak to her? Or is it the Tatooed Man who absconds with the funs?"

He made for the door to the hallway invoking her name, "Art-in-a, Art-in-a, Art-in-a, Art-in-a," hoping to hear a reply that was more than an echo.

His progress was slow; he wondered also why it was so hard to lift his feet from the ground. As he chanted for the woman-who-had-been-there, he heard a voice rise in response. Looking down he saw Amber and heard her whispering "close enough." He was confused; Amber wasn't close at all, and definitely not close enough, to Artina. He knew Artina was distant, perhaps very distant, and Amber was right there at his feet.

"No," he said looking quizzically at the-woman-attached-to-his-ankles, "you want me to stay. I want to go away. Artina keeps going away; maybe she's where I should be."

But then he worried that the man with tatoos would keep her from him. "Maybe I should get tatooed," he opined, and stepped from Amber's encircling arms to find some ink.

At sound of her name, Artina poked her head out the door of her open room. "That sounded like Tio," she mumbled, chewing on a bullion strip. Suddenly she realized she didn't like the taste of bullion wire. "I need to eat some spaghetti noodles instead."

Then she saw the tiny blood trail on the floor, and Tio dragging his feet with Amber's nails digging into his ankles. "CRIPES...Do you need a bandage, Tio?" she called.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

"Damn, this is slow going," griped Tio as he struggled to find some ink, "and painful, too."

No ink to be had; must have all been spilled by the newspapermen reporting on Armageddon, but he did find some capellini in the breast pocket of a tuxedo.

Suddenly Artina was there. Well, her head anyway, poking out a door.

"A bandage?" thought Tio; "whatever for?" and then he looked behind him, looked at the place where the head of Artina had been looking.

Sure enough, there was a thin, small, smeared trail of blood coming down the hall. Tio followed it with his eyes as if it were some the spore of some poor bison isolated from the herd, and found it ended at Amber, who shouldn't have been there.

"I stepped away from you pages ago," he protested as he wondered why she was leaving a smeared trail of blood.

His eyes continued up her naked, blood-smeared form until he saw the problem: her nails were dug into his ankles, and he was standing in a growing puddle of blood.

Now he knew why Artina had asked about his need for a bandage, and he wondered why she hadn't asked after his other needs. Maybe she had some ink, after all.

"A bandage?" he said, "Thank you, Artina, but I think I could use a claw hammer first."

And then he began to panic.

"For want of a nail, a shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, a horse was lost; for want of a horse a kingdom was lost."

"No, not the Kingdom! Come on, man," he ordered himself, "get a hold on things!"

And then he realized the only thing he held was a handful of cooked capellini.

"Care for some angel hair, Artina?" he asked, and wished he'd had some calamari ink sauce to flavor it for her

 

[Dramaticflare]

"Creari Lucem!"

The warrior's words stirred Artina and into the shadows of his room she stepped, holding a 12" bronze candle. The wax of the candle was shaped as a nude man and woman intimately entwined, one wick protruding from where the heads joined. She placed it on a knightstand , turned and pressed a strange looking flame starter into the warrior's palm affectionately. Tightening her hand over his fist, she suggested, "Create Light, and Carpe Diem, Dramatic."

She returned to her open room and sat down in front of the screen of signals and searched the webs which unfolded to her eyes. " Angels...Illuminati...crosst..." A map appeared before her, Ohio and Pennsylvania she recognized.

Suddenly she felt like she was wearing an orange, star covered pointed cone on her head. About her four similarly attired males ran, waving magical wands and, stuttering "Magical Mystery Tour Bus is late!!!"

She pushed her hand over the face of the signals screen and shook her head. She wouldn't delve into the mystery right now. She needed some coffee. Grabbing the mug with the pic of an air force woman riding a bomb in the clouds, she plopped back onto a loveseat and slurped softly.

Dramatic cast the lighter back at Artina's head but it turned into a butterfly halfway there. When Dramatic tried to squash it he felt himself tumbling instead. Something had changed, but everything remained the same. It was in the moment that Dramatic decided to he didn't hate Flare enough to go through this, but Flare was nowhere to be found. Dramatic returned to trying to cast magic.
Flare was following a blood trailing Tio, yet he seemed to absent-mindedly playing his guitar. He saw the woman, yet cared not to. He saw Artina, yet wondered where her son-lover was. He always seemed to be nearby.
The two both ignored their thoughts of the other, and focused on something else. Yet their brother was never far from their mind, and they both wondered how to be rid of him. They were at a war that had no meaning, and would both fight out its conclusion. There is a war in ignoring your enemy, if only because it prevents love.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

"OH Tio, nice tuxedo. Underneath wear you a Speedo?" sang Artina as he pulled the pasta from his pants pocket. "Are you sure that is not Amber's hair? You may bring her into my room...or set her in a vacant one temporarily. The choice is yours I suppose. Unless she wishes her own voice to decide where she should go."

"Flare, don't slip on the blood. It's not yours to tred as you shred." She smiled. Artina had some metal in her blood and it was no poison to her. She had bitten into The Alien's surfboard years ago and she became a silver rider for a long time.

Her face grew solemn but her eyes still held their light, shining at the appreciated company. "You can come into my room," she invited them. "I have curiosities for show and tell."

Her eyes grew wide with excitement. "OH by the way, I saw a solar spirit dancing this morning, in a flaming twist. Space.cum. Tornado season on the sun."