New England Balls
Update -- Got our second test print in from the printer... magazine is at final draft. we're livin hard but we're living. praise allah from our islamic prayer bunker


Dawn stretched across the suburb, painting the identical houses bright against the bare horizon. Sebastian winced as he stared North, towards the cubist blot of San Antonio. He was dressed in a fuzzy, unwashed bathrobe with his great green penis sticking out. Sebastian was a martian, and this was 1950s America. Was there prejudice? Yeah, sure. But Sebastian the Martian didn't give a shit. He had a two foot penis. He picked up his daily copy of the Express-News and loped inside, scratching his single martian ball. 


Sebastian's human wife, Jennifer, was getting the kids ready for school. Their kitchen was a glimmering edifice of conveinince, the product of a recent windfall and directed by Jennifer's favorite ads. She could make bread from scratch, run 6 gas burners simulanteously and relax in front of self-timing and self-cleaning oven. Martians did okay. The kids were unkempt and disapointing; Mark was too human, Susan too dull. 


"Good morning, children," said Sebasatian as he sat down and opened his paper. The headline was "NIGGER," in massive print, and every story was a repetition of the word. Sebastian, exhasperated, read aloud: "Nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger." 


"Well that's a fine way to greet the morning," chided Jennifer. "A whole pack of niggers!" She was wearing a tight, six-strapped leather outfit and boots with grinning skulls built over the toe in chrome. Above this, she had tied a matronly apron. She looked like Christie Coassack during her memorable topless scene in 1989's "The Brain," a horror film featuring an excellent and unhinged performance from David Gale. 


"Don't blame me," said Sebastian. Jennifer hurried around the table, deploying bacon and eggs. Sebastian took a bite of toast and continued: "It's all 'nigger' in the paper today, just one word, over and over. I think they're trying to tell us something. And this looks delicious, hon." 


Jennifer sat down and served herself. "Thank you. I suppose this is like when the New York Times printed the word ASSHOLE as its headline and filled every column inch with asshole asshole asshole, over and over and over. These editors have quite gotten away with themselves." 


"I agree," said Sebastian. "The whole stinking world thinks it's making art. Always some statement, this or that, typically political." 


"Or purely provactive," suggested Susan. The little girl was missing two teeth. 


"Shut the fuck up you goddamn retard," snapped Jennifer. "Jesus fucking christ your father and I were trying to have a conversation."


"Every fucking time," said Sebastian. He slammed his hand on the table, rattling the plates. "Every fucking time!" 


The raised voice made Mark cry. 


"See? See what you've done?" demanded Jennifer. "You made your brother cry with your goddamn lousy interjection." 


"Purely provacative," said Sebastian, in mocking sing-song. "Purely proactive." 


Jennifer's eyes were cold as steel. "We gotta make this bitch pay," she said. 


Sebastian smiled wickedly. "Fuck yeah." 


Jennifer bit her lip and leaned across the table, smooshing her corseted breasts together. "I think we should create a deliberately short-sighted and unsustainable social system which ensures we will be permanently wealthy while our dickbag kids are indebted and destroyed. That's what I think." 


"You are wicked, my dear," said Sebastian, his massive martian member throbbing against the wood of the table. "But I have something even sweeter in mind. I think we should just continue to act selfishly in our personal and professional lives to the point that our selfishness forms into a culture-wide depression, a suicide that sweeps the earth from end to end, unmaking all the perilous progress of civillization and condemning this little cunt to life in the dark ages." 


"That would teach her not to interject," said Sebastian. 


"In the end that stunt in the newspaper is really nothing but the truth," Jennifer said. "It's all one big obscenity." 


Sebasatian looked straight into Susan's wet, dumb, retarded, cringe-inducing, vomitus, odious, uncomfortable, unsavory and doomed eyes. "It is now," he clarified. "You had to open your big mouth." 






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