J crouched in his quiet white cell. For almost two years he had been an inmate of Trak Rehab on Saturn, his body racked body with excruciating pain. It took only a single grain of Jock to put him in a state of hyper-addiction and the withdrawal symptoms were a total mother-fucker.
The rehab process had been intense; involving ECT, cold turkey, being subjected to the Ludovico technique, being dropped in cold water and, most cruelly of all, being forced to watch hours and hours of Perfect Match. The hum of the air-conditioning was the solitary audible sound in his environment. His head was shaved and he was now fitter, but he still craved the blood of Germy... and a really nice daiquiri. It was discharge day!
He felt the cool wind of relief as he was discharged from the institution with a few bucks and a ticket to an orbital space station that was somewhere in the vicinity of Mercury. He had heard through the grapevine that Germy, after fleeing a gang of very upset mutant body builders, had landed himself (through forged legal documents) a base level job in the galactic public service. Wanker!
J’s body slowly reformed as the intergalactic transport crew moved forward and suckled parts of his body to ease the cold act of transition. J submitted to the collective pleasure of their tongues for some time, but then remembering his mission, shook them off. He took a small flask from his pocket and sprayed its contents in their direction.
“Fuck off!” he screamed, “can’t you see I am in haste?”
They fell to their knees and dissolved in a Margaret Hamilton-ish sort of way as J ran from the pod station into the boulevard below.
Mercury was a wild planet and J was hopeful he would find the object of his obsession there. For he was certain of one thing and one thing only: his adventuring through the galaxy had warped his mind to such an extent that the only thing his fragile bubble mind would hold with any degree of certainty was that he was the reincarnation of John Hinkley and Germy a reborn Reagan. He knew how to kill him. He checked his pockets.
“Bugger,” he thought, “I’m all out of dissolving solution.”
Inflict Kafe Gavani On The World
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