SPACE NOIR BAR by Mike Marino (good novels to read TXT) 📕

in storage in a back room at the office on Retropolis. It’s a beautiful sleek shiny silver job  producing a pull away Joan Jett G-Spot G-String G-force made for easy excursions on planets with minus-Earth gravity and can magnificently handle in the atmosphere in the Retropolis gravity field. The system is highly responsive in flight, to the point where I need to closely control my head, arm and leg movements in order not to enter an uncontrolled spin as a Mad Hatter Tea Cup Whips and Chains ride at one of the Betty Page S & M amusement parks favored on the de Sade moon of the Pandoran planet in the Marquis Galaxy.

The engines on my pack, and all jetpacks require precision alignment during set-up in order to prevent instability and a NASCAR spin out. A computerized electronic starter system ensures that all four engines will ignite simultaneously. In the event of a spin, the wing unit can be detached and both passenger and the wing unit will drift gracefully to Terra Firma on separate parachutes, shaken, not stirred, James Bond style.


I always jet-packed solo...now I was holding on to an Oriental pilot that I wasn’t sure had the skills of a fortune cookie! “Ready for lift off?” Long Wang inquired. “Give it a goose Wang, ready to rocket and roll!” I replied nervously. What if I lost my grip? What the hell could I grab to hold on to? His name is Long Wang, so if he lived physically up to his name and actually had a long wang, maybe that was a clue. Long Wangs long wang would act as an airborne tether.

I no time to think as we left the ground with fuel packs sputtering dangerously until the fuel ignited completely in both engines and we were Peter Panning smoothly, except I was flying with Tinkerbell while Poontang and Strangelove  were tripping with Wang Chung, the Ru Paul of the Cirque de Soliel. Christ, if Arthur and Sandoz saw us now they’d swear they were watching an Ed Wood movie.

Wang Chung yelled out, “Not far now, but it is better to jet over than dodging laser fire on the ground all the way.” Well, yes and no. We could still be shot down from the ground or dethroned by a drone, but, in the grey-black smoke and purple laser haze we weren’t an easy target. “There it is!” Strangelove yelled. I couldn’t see a bloody thing, but all the others were excited leaving me feeling like I was Helen Keller at an art gallery NOT appreciating the treasures hanging on the walls as though they were cattle rustlers in a dime novel strung up by vigilantes with the townspeople gathered around singing “Amazing Grace” while children ate cotton candy and used slingshots to fire rocks at pinatas so they could run off with jawbreakers and toy guns.

“Where is it? What is it? I can’t see a damn thing!” I cried out. “It’s a rift to the Aldous Huxley parallel universe, Yucatan. You’ve heard of a Worm Hole where you enter in one location and emerge at the other end in another location?” I nodded in the affirmative. “Yeah like a suppository going through the center of Uranus,” I replied.

Long Wang finally cracked a Shinto eating grin. “Ha, yes Mr. Yucatan. Only this is no suppository going into the crack of a rift!” (I had to give him credit for that one!) The Rabbit Hole to the Huxley universe, as I was informed, was well hidden  in plain sight yet was unseen unless you were experienced. Maybe I needed a pair of Rowdy Roddy Piper “They Live!” sunglasses to fully view the rift. Either way we were about to enter the revolution ready to chew bubblegum and kick ass...and yes, you guessed it. We were all out of bubblegum!

The story of its discovery is legendary.  Supposedly, one of the hottie Oriental Eves of Destruction (I’m a Thai man myself) found it accidentally incidentally. Not only does it take you to another geographic location..but, it also takes you to a parallel universe, real Superman/Bizarro stuff of a comic book nature, so finding the Trifecta of the  Rabbit, the other rebels and the Falcon is impossible unless you know where the rift is. It’s Paradise Lost and Found as you enter through he Aldous Huxley Doors of Perception

“Hang on!” bellowed Wang Chung, and suddenly there was a force of energy that almost loosened my grip on Long Wang. Lightning surrounded us with a cacophony of zaps and pows, bangs and booms. As we entered the Huxley Rabbit Hole with our velocity increasing voraciously as it propelled us into it deeper and deeper. I felt like a jet packed penis penetrating Heidi Fleiss.

The noise and lava lamp  light we were traveling through had my head in a leg lock. Except for the flashes of light everything everywhere was black...blacker than I had ever experienced before.
We emerged shaken not stirred, no worse for the wear and were now in the Huxley parallel universe where refuge seeking rebels could regroup, plan and plot revolution and protect the Falcon from those who would use its uncanny power to crush resistance and impose its power and impossible restrictions on any planets freedom.

I was prepared for that aspect of our adventure, and looking forward to meeting “The Rabbit” I had heard so much about. I also wanted to explore this new universe. Maybe there was another me here, but, mostly it was the attraction of seeing non-robotic real women in great numbers, like Surf City, where dwell two girls for every boy so I could wax my woody on a sandy beach and hang ten with a Pineapple Princess or fidget with Gidget. With my luck, Gidget would have a robot surfer boyfriend. I can see it now...Gidget Balls Gadget!

As we landed on soft ground my head and my eyes began to clear and I could hear the shrill call of a Mandarin mockingbird, very rare as it could speak in different planetary languages. I had one for a pet once as a child, but it flew into a glass building blinded by sunlight and was brain damaged. At that point it became Lenny Bruce and only  told dirty jokes

I also noticed something else. Color! We had left an urban environment of smoke, haze, rubble and dark shadows. No as we emerged through the Huxley Portal there were yellow flowers, blue trees, a red sky and magenta colored grass and a clear sparkling stream with singing fish not 50 yards away. The air was clear..no dust, no haze, no dark. There was color everywhere. Bright colors and intense rainbows crisscrossing the sky with a Monet flair. The perfume of flowers intoxicating and addicting and sensual. My senses were on overload taking it all in. Nature as I had never known it in the grime of old Detroit, was now making love to me on a bed of jasmine and feathers. Even the people were colored. I never saw colored people before.

As I was taking it all in Poontang broke my concentration. “Well Doc, here it is.” Then Long Wang chimed in speaking to Poontang and Strangelove.  “Welcome home ladies. The Rabbit has been expecting you. You’re welcome too Yucatan. We need someone like you. Welcome to the Revolution!”
Chapter 25 - Mad Hatters of a Lost Dimension

 

 

Working in the dark underworld of a disastrous Dystopian Detroit in disrepair as a disreputable cheap detective,  everything and every client was a study in non-technicolor mental breakdown black and white, yin and yang.

Making matters worse,  the physical decay of a distressed Detroit was my also my home, my habitat of habitual gloom, doom and death  amidst the crumbling buildings of a proletarian society bearing the burden of constant scrutiny and surveillance by a paranoid government. Life was bleak on Bleeker Street...and even bleaker on Beaubien where I hung my fedora in the office.

Now, I find myself on a journey, or rather a questionable quest fueled by my desire to have Soma infused drunken sex with an Eskimo-Asian who entered my office, my life, my mind, early one evening. We had left the void of everyday Detroit life, entered a vortex of revolution, hounded  by a trio of gangster and government agencies hell bent on killing us once we had the “treasure” in hand. I didn’t expect much from life so I knew there was not a guarantee we would come out of this unscathed or alive.

We went willingly into the rift in the parallel universe where we found ourselves  washed  up on a shore of brilliant colors and intoxicating scents matched only by the aroused aroma of Poontangs poontang which was increasing minute by minute driving  me over a sexual cliff.


Gone were the blacks, greys and haze of the battleground of the Kotex Vortex. No crumbling skyscrapers to crash down around us and mingle with the rest of the rubble. A Rubik’s cube of devastation had retreated like the tide and before us lay a lustful  Lucy in the Sky terra firma with an invisible invincible Mad Hatter conducting a sexual symphonic scene from “Fantasia” complete with dancing brooms.  Now I really wanted to get in the sack again with Poontang...the Fantasian Asian and dance in her pool of  moonlight!

We had officially stepped through the psychedelic looking glass and a psychotic Mickey Mouse had become Timothy Leary on purple double domes and I was enthralled by the sensory deluge of a fugue in a spiritual redundant repetition. Everything about the Rabbit Hole  burst forth on the anthropological horizon as blinding as a Clockwork Orange Julius Soma flashback. It was the placenta of an orgasm of light and color and lava lamps and light shows and psychedelia along with enough sexual hallucinations to penetrate a Berlin Wall concrete chastity belt topped with strands of pubic barbed wire.


I looked around in awe as I swore I could see and fathom, not imagine, and positive they were not holograms,  but were indeed an army of  “Hi-Ho it’s off to work we go” dwarves, My imagination not being fooled or fueled by chemicals saw  dangerous dancing dinosaurs, macabre mops, beastly brooms and flying flaming fairies all set to a musical backdraft that put you into a blue moody mood of moody blue hue where pink Floyd flamingos dancing fantastic fandangos  descended from a Jimmy Page stairway to heaven. It was the flash from an atomic detonation or a Family Dog light show at the ancient Fillmore Auditorium listening to Inna Gadda Da Vida.

The show must go on…this was a wonderland, where Alice without malice danced while amphetamines and marijuana sang  to accompany the Minstrels of Mescaline during the opening act, as Snow White disolved turning  into a pile of cocaine and Sleeping Beauty took a hot shot of heroin, while Mickey joined the SDS on LSD and took to the streets of Chicago with a gang of dancing brooms that eventually met their demise on the campus of Kent State a few years later. The Seven Dwarves became the Chicago Seven Dwarves and went on trial for Fucking up Beethoven...and Donald Duck was banned in Sweden for