The Puppeteer Trilogy by Mike Marino (ebook reader that looks like a book .txt) 📕

Polio Boy has cracked the Nancy Drew Columbian crack cocaine cartel. Polio Boy has a new weapon in his asshole arsenal boys and girls. Tom Swift, his Special Ed friend from down the street has designed a special wheelchair outfitted with NRA approved fully automatic machine guns and tear gas rockets. Now Polio Boy is locked and loaded and ready to bust the Party Hearty Hardy Boys and their sex crazed gun moll, Nancy “Scarface” Drew.

In this exciting libido laden children’s story Nancy “Scarface” Drew runs a white slave dope and prostitution ring where she kidnaps Little Orphan Annie and has her working the streets pulling tricks for every Big Daddy Warbucks that can hum “Tomorrow, Tomorrow” while being driven in a Heidi Fleiss  Limited Edition Lincoln with fold out bed.

The story takes a sinister turn when Polio Boy stumbles on a lead about an upcoming drug and sex orgy at the home of Blondie and Dagwood, notorious wife swappers who were caught red handed with their hand deep into Brenda Starr’s cookie jar while Lil’ Abner (nicknamed Lil’ because of an erectile dysfunction problem discovered while in the boys shower after gym class one day after a dodgeball tournament).

Present upstairs at orgy central, the bi-sexual Jughead was getting it on with Archie while Betty and Veronica were doing a double dildo dance with Maryann and Ginger for a three hour orgasm tour while the Skipper was playing with his Little Buddy (that’s what he called it anyway!) Meanwhile Dobie Gillis was in the basement snorting coke helping Maynard G. Krebs OD on a heroin hot shot..while hot, hot, hot Thalia Meningitis pole danced with Jack’s Beanstalk.

The Orgy was officially called the Annual Orgy and Bess Saturday Funnies Frolic. Believe me, why do you think they called them “comic strips”? The Jetsons were regular robot swappers and Judy and Elroy may have been brother and sister but insisted on incest, Southern Style. George and Rosie the Robot had the bot hots for each other while while Jane Jetson got her booster rocket goosed getting Flintstoned with Wilma and Betty.

One of the more famous puppet lines happened when Wilma Flintstoned smiled and admitted….”that Jetson woman has one hell of a lift off! I always thought Betty was an up and comer, so to speak, but when you countdown with Jetson you can really get your moon rocks off.

During the grand boffo SRO finish, The Dragon Lady Transvestite Midnight Show with the virginal Snow White takes on the Seven Dwarfs in a Sexual Endurance Bondage Tag Team Grudge Match...the doors burst open and Polio Boy let loose a barrage of lead from his wheelchair! The Hardy Boys flee the scene and later found hiding out at the D Bar Eh Canadian Ranch run by Spin and Marty,

The Drug and Sex Ring is destroyed. Polio Boy is hailed as a hero in a wheelchair...just like his grandpa, FDR Boy! A chip off the old block.

This time a different judge found the production “not in keeping with the norms of the community” and T Rex was fined $1,500 dollars and the puppets were placed in solitary confinement with no chance for puppet parole!

The local art world was kicked in the balls and knocked on its collective fat pompous ass with the opening of Kathleen Morphine’s latest gallery showing of “Obsolete” that was designed as an artful foray of social commentary of those and that which  has passed it’s useful life from the public pay phone, shoe repair shop, newspaper to sex. Not that sex was passe’ but how it was being performed today with the aid of mechanical devices, masturbation and props.

In one of the displays designed to comment on  gender gentrification and change, she had a collection of naked Barbie dolls with the Barbie heads removed and replaced with naked Ken heads, while the headless Ken dolls were now sporting very feminine Barbie heads. Neither Barbie nor Ken had glorious genitals to write home about...in fact they were non existent altogether.  A condition Ms. Morphine referred to as the Vaginal Void and the Phantom Penis syndrome.

Mannequins also played a part in the performance as a group of them, throw aways from a local Lord and Taylor store at the mall were grouped together as a gang of groping gangsters utilizing all manner, shape and size of battery operated devices spelunking sexual caves in search of a journey to the center of the earth.

Yet another display was a rather large globe of the planet such as the kind you’d find in a classroom with various toy robots, toy military tanks, bombs, soldiers, spaceships and few M-80 and Cherry Bomb fireworks glued to North America and Europe demonstrating that the planet itself, therefore humanity was becoming obsolete through self destruction.  On the last day of the showing the crowd gathered around as the M-80’s and Cherry Bombs were lit and exploded utterly destroying the globe, planet , Earth as it blew apart in pieces.

The true gauge of society’s view of sex was the inclusion of live nude models engaged in “regular sex” … Sado Masochism sex… sex with an inflatable doll….and same sex sex. The patrons got to voice their opinion and the results were inconclusive although at the time of the voting there happened to be a group of mental patients (sexual deviates from Upstate  New York...where else?) who wanted to know where all the farmers daughters in pigtails having her first period were hiding.

To emphasize the self destructive nature of pollution on the planet there was large canvas that covered one wall and attached to it were various items of trash found along the roadside and elsewhere surrounding a large portrait of Iron Eyes Cody crying as he stares out over a landfill of old cars, hubcaps, used condoms, beer cans and syringes left behind by junkies, as a forest fire burns out of control and one of its victims is the charred body of Smokey The Bear, who we are told was a pyromaniac at heart and started all the fires in the first place. Don’t forget….”Give a Hoot, Don’t Pollute!” spoken by a crazed owl who was shot by mistake by a group out hunting for Big Foot.

Ms Morphine also had an electronic performance of tv’s stacked on top of the other, sort of an electronic totem pole minus Eskimos. Each screen had a continuous looped video of Max Headroom, assorted Star Trek holograms, anime characters and the UFO festival in Roswell, New Mexico. Not a live human in the whole damned Brady Bunch of computer generated clones of clones of substitute human drones.

At the end of the gallery showing, as the last ounce of wine and last morsel of cheese was about to be consumed, a projector placed a massive video of an atomic explosion obliterating everything and everyone in its nuclear path..as the mushroom cloud rose higher into the atmosphere the words “Duck and cover, have a nice day!” filled the screen.

Yep, life itself would soon be obsolete on our present course making  the entire gallery exhibit just experienced itself obsolete...therefore you were never here at all….You have now been rendered….OBSOLETE!

 The ballet recital was ready to rock, roll complete and replete with a back up band, or what Alexia was billing it as, “a symphony of ballet, booze and blues” was causing nerves to be as frayed as old wiring in a crumbling ancient ghetto tenement. T. Rex Fitzgerald and Kathleen Morphine would be on hand to not only lend moral support to their ballerina comrade in arts arms, but cover the event with written word and a stunning array of black and white photography capturing every eruption of this debut form of graceful movement that had never been attempted or on display before. Again...a zen moment of time of one hand clapping.

The band, had taken the name Narco Marx and the Night Train Hipsters after their favorite cheap brand of wine best served from a bottle stashed in and plain brown paper bag, the way the sterno sommelier of some dark alley dumpster would recommend.

The recital was booked in an old Boston pub that the vice squad had to close down last year but was now open for business under new ownership for recital rentals (it had a great stage) Jewish weddings and Catholic funerals and bingo along with Amish pole dancing and mud wrestling competitions with free valet buggy parking.

The band had miraculously mastered every nuance of ballet music and rock and blues. A musical mixture not unlike combining heroin and cocaine...a real speed ball of Swan Lake meets Smoke on the Water where a death defying arabesque blends with a Latin “West side Story” Puerto Rican salsa as it begins to melt and morph into an artistic adagio before your very eyes. A movement of fluidity and grace to a sound that goes from classic guitarist riffs by Carlos Montoya to Carlos Santana on uppers at Woodstock.

Showtime was still three hours away as the Narco Marx Band set up to go through a sound check and to make sure they had the playlist in everyone’s hands so there wouldn’t be any screw ups. Anyone who had a habit and needed a fix had to go out back and shoot up no later than 6 P.M. As for the drunks, usually to be found among the family of drummers and tambourine players were to have their last drop well before curtain time at 7 P.M.

The media and it’s Boston art cadre had all been invited to cover the event, as well as patrons of arts and member of various groups who funded the arts. Nothing like a few arts grants to help open a permanent home studio, recital facility and school for budding ballerina blossoms in the garden of grande jete and ballerinos, those daring young men with ballet bulge that separates the men from the boys.

The Narco Marx Band now included a trumpet player, a cat who would sniff glue from a bag when no one was looking but what the hell...if it made him play as well as it did...he should get a years free supply of Elmers Glue! The band also added a harmonica, key of C and G player. A down and outer they discovered passed out on a Boston subway car claiming he was a dead spirit come back