V.A.P.I's Brief Pleasure (boyxboy)

Snake is a seventeen year old boy with too much time to waste, too many drugs to do, too many game consoles to steal, and too much porn to watch (on Porntube, his favorite site). V.A.P.I is a human alien hybrid, created in a lab by a mad scientist who loves Deepak Chopra and cat videos. Snake and V.A.P.I fall in love, have anal sex, do drugs (not in that order, but you get the idea) and learn the meaning of meaninglessness.

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10. Calvin: A Dying Breed

When I woke up it was still dark outside. At least, I thought it was still dark outside. Turns out I had been drugged and was being held prisoner in a bunker, and it was actually three in the afternoon, and I’d been asleep for three days. I didn’t know that yet though.

I thought the head throbbing and the dry mouth were from the drugs Vapi had given me, or maybe because I’d had a shitty sleep, but they were actually from the tranquilizers that were being injected into my big toe every six hours. Again, I didn’t know that yet.

Actually, I didn’t think anything was up until I rolled over and noticed that I didn’t have any crumbs stuck to my back. Which was weird, because I always had crumbs stuck to my back when I woke up.

Then I noticed that my pillow was harder than normal. And so was my bed. And hey, I wasn’t even on a bed. I was on some kind of foam mat. And when I opened my eyes, everything was completely black, not even a little bit of light coming through the bed-sheet that I taped to my window, because there was no bed-sheet taped to my window, because clearly, I wasn’t in my fucking  room. Had I gone blind? And what the fuck was that buzzing sound?

Cold, sweaty panic punched me in the gut. I jumped up, started pacing and shaking my head, and my hands, and kicking my legs like they had all just fallen asleep, thinking if I just shook hard enough I’d be back in my room.

But I didn’t get teleported back to my room, so I started whimpering, “Help… Help... Help.”

My voice sounded like I’d been chain- smoking for days. I put my hands out in front of me, stumbling, trying to find a wall, a  light switch, a chair, anything-- but the empty darkness seemed to go on forever. Finally my hands found cold cement. Which was weird, because why would the wall be cement unless I was in a basement?  I walked  along the wall, terrified that I’d lose it  and be left alone again in the black. After what seemed like an hour, I found a door. My hand gripped the doorknob and gave it a twist, but it was locked. I pulled on it, pounded it with my fists, shoulder checked the fucking thing, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I got that really shitty suffocating feeling, like someone spread tar over the little opening in your throat that leads to your lungs.

“Help!” I shouted again, this time starting to cry a little bit, a little sob right on the ‘lp’. “Hello? Where am I? Please…”

I was about to scream when I heard a hum-- a sound  like someone plugged in a giant refrigerator . A cold breeze tickled my bare feet.  An orange light flicked on and  lit up a long steel table that was only a couple feet away from me. The light made me squint, but when my eyes adjusted I realized that it was only a dull glow. It was coming from inside the wall on the other side of the room.  

Where the fuck was I?

A glass wall that cut the room in half. In my half:  Scalpels. Needles. Those gross Ziploc bag looking things that doctors hook into cancer patients. Stainless steel cabinets. Incense. A bunch of amethysts. A Bob Marley poster. Mandala posters.

Oh, and I was wearing one of those white tarps that they stuff hospital patients into. I felt my balls dangling out in the open-- a really vulnerable feeling, especially in a situation like this.

“Hello?” I said. My voice cracked. “Who’s there?”

Nothing. Just my echo.

The steel table started to shake. Then a few needles fell on the floor. Then a loud, wet cough. Then a voice that sounded like a guy who just stepped off a motorbike with a cigarette between his lips: 

“Shut the fuck up.”

My chest tightened. I looked up, down, side to side. The voice sounded like it was right next to me, but the room was empty.

“Where am I?” I asked, panting.

The man cleared his throat. “In an underground laboratory ya fudgepacker.”

The way he stressed the ‘pa’ in fudgepacker made me feel, somewhere in my stomach, like he wanted to hurt me. Made me feel like he knew something. That maybe I was being punished for what me and Vapi did.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He exhaled like he was puffing on a smoke. “Calvin,” he said.

“Look man, Calvin, I don’t know what I did… but please,” I started to cry, “please just let me go home.”

“Jesus. Stop crying,” he sighed. “I’ve been down here ten years, don’t hear me squawking.”

I was in a nightmare. I had to be. One of those nightmares where, you know, you get caught selling crack or you accidentally burn down your grandparents’ house and you get sentenced to life in jail, and then you look around your cell and you say to yourself, ‘This is it. This is my life now. Forever.’

Except I wasn’t in a dream. This was real.  Ten years? Did the guy say he’d been in here for ten years?

“Why … am…. I …. down…  here?” I said, sobbing, taking deep breaths after every word, my voice up a few pitches from the sexy  low hum that I’d been practicing for the past seven years.

 

“Because the doctor needs to check you for impurities. You licked his pet’s asshole and now he thinks you’re contaminated,” he said. When he talked, the orange light in the wall flickered.

“With what? Contaminated with what?”

“I dunno. AIDS? You shouldn’t have gone near his favorite little project. It’s like you scratched the man’s wheels.”

I fell against a stainless steel cabinet and then slid on to my ass. My head started spinning. “How did you get me here? How did you guys get me out of my house? What did you tell my--”

Something behind the wall rumbled. I heard the hum again and felt more cold air flow into the room. “Goddammit,” Calvin said. He grunted like he was trying to squeeze out a massive shit. “Ah! My programming is starting to kick in.”

“Your programming?” I asked. “What are you?”

Calvin didn’t answer.  Every time he inhaled the wall lit up brighter.

“Just one second sausage jockey. Okay, yup, this is it.” The humming stopped. The wall dimmed again. I gripped a cabinet handle. Calvin exhaled and then started talking like he was trying to read a grocery list really fast.

“Hello Kyle Pudenda I’m Calvin in the event that you wake up before Doctor Josef R. Danika, surgeon biochemist physicist geneticist genetic engineer computer scientist inventor of the Lips Nips n’ Hips cosmetics line, psychonaut yogi and all around nice guy can’t reach you I have been programmed to inform you that you are completely safe totally fine in fact please enjoy the mandalas and the incense they are there to soothe you oh and there is a singing bowl in the cabinet.” Calvin took a deep breath.

“Once the doctor has tested you for psychological impurities you can return home your mother has been informed that you are spending the week at a friends’ house please enjoy your stay  if you have any questions or concerns don’t hesitate to ask me, Calvin, for more information I am here to attend to you while the doctor is away.”

Calvin started coughing and spitting--wheezing-- as soon as he stopped talking. I guess the message was supposed to make me feel better, but I felt worse, because none of what he said made any sense. I was contaminated? With what? I looked at my arms and touched my face. The word ‘contaminated’ made me think of people with big pus-covered scabs, zombies,  and a picture of this dick that was so covered in genital warts that it looked like a beehive made out of skin. (Don’t google genital warts.)

“Where… Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m this room,” he said. He snorted, then spit.

“What do you mean? Why are you fucking with me like this? Please just tell me.”

“I’m not fucking with you ass bandit.”

“What’s happening? What are you?” Tears started blurring my vision.

“I’m one third living human, one third dead human, one third computer, and a whole cup of pissed the fuck off. Quit being a pussy. God. Besides the doctor and his freaky little experiment, you’re the first person I’ve talked to in ten fucking years. Ten fucking years and I’m saddled with some little queer. Man up.”

I tried to stop crying, but I couldn’t. Runny nose, globs of spit at the back of my throat, shaking like a trapped mouse that was about to get stomped on. The whole deal. I hid my head in my hospital tarp.

“What’s going on? Please… please just let me go home.”

This was all Vapi’s fault. What a dick. He tricked me. Got me to like him (or at least, got me to want to suck his dick), then stuck me in some kind of bunker with mandalas and surgery tables and… incense. I wish I could tell you that I wanted to punch him in the face. But I didn’t want to punch him in the face. I didn’t want to see him again at all.

“If you don’t stop crying, I’ll turn this room into a freezer,” Calvin said. “Or I can give you one of these.”

I heard a sound like clicking fingers shooting towards me lightning-fast from the orange wall. An electric shock zapped me  right on my ass. The shock jolted me to my feet and I knocked a tray of needles off of a steel cabinet.

“Okay!” I shouted. Angry sweat replaced my tears. “I won’t cry anymore. But can you stop fucking with me and tell me what’s going on? Who are you? What do you mean you’re this room?”

Calvin sighed again. “Fine shit licker! I’m Calvin Palmer. Or I used to be Calvin Palmer. Used to drive truck. A man’s job, looking after his rig, something a little fag like you wouldn’t know nothing about. Ten years ago I was driving down highway forty-three, just past Lumberton. Was Christmas day. Just had some rain the night before and the whole highway was a sheet of ice. I bet you know what happens next. Some idiot forgets there’s a stop sign on the intersection of forty-three and Grizzly Trail, shoots out in front of me. I hit the breaks. Last thing I remember seeing before my rig hit the ditch is my load heading for the driver’s side window. Then I wake up… sort of. I don’t sleep anymore.

“I wake up and I got no body, but I can still move. Not walk like you do, more like I’m wind and I can choose the direction I blow in.  Only there’s nowhere to go. Everything’s black but this red light, and I can’t get close to it. It’s like a magnet is pulling me back whenever I try.  I could’ve been trying to catch that light  for months, who knows. Time doesn’t matter much anymore.

“Anyways, eventually I hear this voice. It’s the good old scientist. He tells me that he saved me from the accident. Says he can’t put me back in my body, but that I’m still half alive. Tells me that I have a very special job. That it’s my job to communicate with the spirit dimension. Starts praying and chanting, farting on wind chimes. I keep telling him there’s nothing there. It’s fuckin’ empty. No spirits to talk to, just him making bird sounds and playing bongos. He gives up. Decides I’d be more useful if he programmed me to run his lab. So now I’m his bitch. I’m this room, and I do what he tells me to do. Like I said, I’m part alive, part dead, part machine. Got it?”

If Calvin wasn’t just making shit up then I felt kinda bad for him. “That… sucks,” I said.

“Not much different than when I was alive. You’re gonna get it worse than me. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was already dead.  Oh, and I didn’t fuck his toy.”

“What do you mean? You said that he was gonna let me go once--”

“I didn’t say anything. He programmed me to say that. If that was me talking, I’d have said you’re fucked. I’d have said you’re gonna wind up with your brain in a jar and a dream catcher glued to your balls.”

I grabbed the first thing I could think of to use as a weapon (a really pointy amethyst) off a shelf and put my back against the wall.

“Where is he? Where’s the scientist?”

I heard three quick, gentle taps on the glass divider that separated me from the other side of the room.  I turned my head to see who made the noise.

“That’s him there,” Calvin said.

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