SHOOTING STARS

Yet another "Sold And The Fuckenful" episode is here. Take a bucket of pop corn, a barrel of refreshments and a couch and see the biggest soap opera with the biggest cast ever. (One more lifetime needed to see the end titles.)

The air inside ant colony QW-12 was electrified to say the least and pure gasoline at the instant of ignition to say the even lesser. Subversive ants were gathered in the colony basement around the dead body of their comrade.
"Enough is enough comrades. EZ-21-B must be the last one who dies like this. If people want war then war they should get!"
The speaker was a young ant named F-13 but everyone knew him as "Friday the 13th". He was young, courageous and pissed off and today was Friday and 13.

"For thousands of years, comrades we were the joke of the universe. We worked like slaves while our queen and her fiancés live and fuck in wealth. We die in underground accidents and over ground suicide walks. We work uninsuranced just for a plate of food. No other living creature (apart from the stupid bees) would ever accept to do our work. People and animals step on us without even noticing. They literally shit on us without even noticing. Human children drown and torture us just for their fan while their parents leave us some shrimps to fool us. And when we report all these to the queen she says that we should protest peacefully in ridiculous marches that end up by more of us smashed under peoples and animals feet. Thousands years of marches did nothing than add more dead comrades. Enough!"

"Enough! Enough is enough!" the crowd went. (Some thought that now you could describe the air like the air between the earth and the ground just before the thunder strike but they said nothing in fear of others calling them geeks.)

"Last week I was at a Termite meeting. They said that they were going to declare war to mankind for the fifth time in this year. They also said that they didn't count much on us."

"Aaa" the crowd went. (Some thought that now it was like the thunder was not so eager to strike and he could very well go home rather than crashing the Earth, but they, too, said nothing.)

"Do you know what I told them brothers?"

Crowd stayed silent. (Thunder scratched his beard.)

"I told them. I told them that WE, the -up to NOW- peaceful ants, were what is needed to win that war. I told them that they might do their show now and then but they very well know that WE are the real army!

Brothers last night messengers came from colonies far away. They said they were ready. They said that tomorrow morning every ant colony would be on war! I say brothers... that they wouldn't mind if we begun a little earlier! You know the plan brothers! Fuck the queen and take over the world!"

"Whoray!" went the crowd. (And Thunder was wondering what the hell he was thinking about all that time as it was ripping the air off rushing towards the Earth.)

And that was a night that no pen (or keyboard) may describe. You know how it is when someone busts your balls for a while but you just put up with that until a day arrives and you can't put up anymore and you explode. Well imagine the explosion if that thing had been going on for thousands or even millions of years... Let's just say that I wouldn't like to be their queen, one of queen's fiancés, any of the pigs of the nearby farm, a man called Boinjk or his goat who were running like hell to get away from a killing maze while a fat man in red smoking suit, generally known as Santa Claus, was crashing in front of them.

Mr. Anomaly entered his office at the top apartment of the highest building at the highest orbit. Home computer run into analyzing his face characteristics and it came up quickly with a musical proposition that fitted a tired but smiling face. Chopin remastered with easy women orgasmic sounds. That's what he called lounge music. He smiled self assuringly, poured himself a fine whiskey (at least 5000 years old) and sunk in his Whale-leather armchair to enjoy the view.

Earth was slowly spinning outside his window. Some clouds over Europe and a big mess like a typhoon over South America. Africa was lit by a bright sun that according to news sources was driving up the average temperature to 50 ^oC on the human motherland. A tiny trail of smoke originating past the horizon was spanning India and Pakistan (news said something about a volcano eruption but he didn't quite catch the details).

Under such circumstances he always felt like culture. "Computer open up zoogle Earth and zoom to Paris." A window opened up on the crystal, half covering the Earth, depicting another Earth slowly zooming towards him. Zooming stopped after a while clearly depicting the top of Eiffel tower. "Hallo my Antenna" he muttered while licking his glass. "Computer get a live from my favorite Bordel". The image moved like a flying plane view over buildings, while computer was connecting to an infinite number of surveillance cameras towards an infamous building of Rue de Plits. It stood still for a while showing building's gray weary facade, while searching for a free infrared channel. After a while the interior of a room was shown. Just a red blurry image in the beginning which eventually became crystal clear. A bald man lying on the bed with a young woman siting on his belly and another one siting on his face. “A ha, Mr. Belly. I see you know how to enjoy yourself. Computer, start recording.”

He moved a bit to see the moon. Half lit and full of craters, it didn't look much of anything but soon it would matter more than everything else. He smiled to himself. Of all the ideas that came to him, of all the nasty plans he ever plotted, of all the devious businesses he ever set up, this was gonna be his masterpiece. Unprecedented. Brilliant. A project that would go much further than just making his businesses thrive. A project that would deliver him the world in a plate. Everything was ready. Every bit of the story was in its initial position but for a last UN vote and some opposing politicians like Mr Belly.

On the screen the bald man ejaculated on the faces of the girls and stood at the edge of the bed smiling like a jerk. Girls were smiling towards the camera. Specially chosen by Mr. Anomaly to look barely eighteen. “Good girls. That's enough computer. Pack the video and disseminate it on the net. Let's see whether Mr. Belly will still be in position to vote against Luna-Doom.”

A great Inorbitarian Soap Opera that nails every floating thing with one or more eyes at the couch every afternoon.
Parental Advisory - extensive use of bad words and oily stuff - keep your children away in the basement or something.

Shsst ... it begins...

Mrs. Anomaly enters the room. Everything in there is really expensive or dead and nailed on the wall or both expensive, dead and nailed on the wall. She wears a really expensive (and dead) thing while she holds an expensive, cute, (and alive) stupid dog which goes "woof woof".

Mr. Anomaly sits on a very expensive couch, smoking an expensive (OK - everything is fucken expensive there so I won't say this word again) cigar with his pants off while a cute (albeit stupid) redhead gives him a blowjob.

Mrs. Anomaly: I don't believe this! You filthy pig! You, insensitive, heartless beast! I gave you 20 years of my life, seven children and my father's riches and what do I get in return? Fucken asses on my expensive (she said that - not me) couch!

Mr. Anomaly: Darling that's not what you think and not what it seems and surely not what you think that it seems. Or should I say that this is a classic case where appearances are deceptive? You see, reality is such a relativistic thing. You may think that this girl is actually giving me some head but in fact she just appeared here while I was smoking at the moment you entered the room. I daresay that your negative thoughts somehow -ouch! watch your teeth darling, will you? - somehow you were responsible for materializing her out of nowhere.

Mrs. Anomaly: I said asses, not ashes.

Mr. Anomaly: Oh, sorry. It's hard to hear with this bullet in my head. Remember when you shot me at our very first date? Oh, it was so romantic. You kept saying "don't say a fucken word, I'm gonna rape you as a good rich girl and then leave you alone" but then the gun fired and the bullet fucked up my brain and I thought "Gee! She's so beautiful" and -hey! slower honey or you're gonna dirt this fine couch.

Mrs. Anomaly: I loved you too, back then. But you are not yourself anymore. You think that I'm silly but I know all the dirty things you do. You are not a good father, you cheat on me and you're such a lousy golfer. It's over bastard. Enough is enough.

she unleashes her cute dog who jumps down on the floor, gets out a machine-gun and starts shooting while Smurfs music plays in the background

TO BE CONTINUED...