Is it real or is it make-believe 

I lifted the burning stick out of her perfectly crafted belly button and stuck it between my bleeding lips. 

Fucking fun. Fun fucking night. 

She started coughing up the blueberry pie and stomach acid. I rolled my eyes and went back to the fat baker slicing up the student by the bank. 

I was having a rough day, week, month, year and life, but she took the cake tonight. 

A cloud of blue smoke flew past me. It smelt like a massive unrelenting death. 

I breathed it all in. And focused my eyes. 

The baker had an elegance and dance with the knife. He reminded me of a figure skater gliding across ice. 

It was the scene that kept my attention, but it wasn’t the only horror down there. Hundreds of people were janking about. 

A little girl screaming on her knees, blinded by some caustic substance. 

An elderly woman’s teeth were knocked out by a flying bowling ball. 

A courier strangled dead, hung by electrical wire. Nipples removed for some silly reason. Sickos. 

Really. Whatta night. 

I hit a rusty nail against the balcony’s metal railing. 

What now then, I asked myself. 

What now. 

I turned my head up at the skyscrapers and let out a howl. 

Tonight was the night. Sticky City burns. 

“Can we talk??” she cooed at the back of my head. 

I wasn’t in the mood. 

I threw her out the window. Godspeed. Bon voyage. 

Céline Dion began playing from somewhere. 

It’s All Coming Back to Me Now

Poor women. Stiff person. 

“BAEBEEE! BAEBEEE!” 

‘What part should I play tonight?’ 

What part had I already played? 

I flicked the stick from the balcony and went to the bathroom to get my helmet. I’m a superhero now. I’m the chosen one. I was. I am. 

My helmet was a bright yellow bulb with scores of tiny pink dots. Hard plastic too, or metal or Kevlar or DevCen or stone. I don’t know. It did the trick. 

The powers came and went. And varied considerably. I wasn’t invincible, I could very well die if I wasn’t careful. 

I always had my helmet. 

I kept the book with me at all times. I invented special clothing just for it. All my jackets had a big pocket hidden at the back now, a flap to keep it safe. The book slammed into my spine as I walked. It wasn’t comfortable, but I didn’t give a fuck. Would you, huh? 

Small price for keeping your magic safe. 

I took a quick look in the mirror before I opened the door. My chin was stained red. Same with my fingernails. Crimson claws. 

The only side effect of FUNK 58 was a mouth full of blood. Everything in there bled. 

My gums, my tongue, my palette, lips and tonsils. 

I’m skipping us forward seven months. When I got back to Sticky City I did a lot of drugs and fucked a lot of women, occasionally I threw them out of windows. Nothing much happened. Until tonight. 

Carnage State 

My life had spiralled out of control. I didn’t even recognise myself anymore. But that’s a lie. I never had a strong sense of self. I was whatever I was at any given moment. Things had still spiralled though, I knew that much about my life. 

The city was on fire. Buildings were burning everywhere. I had no idea why. I never kept up with the news. People seemed upset about something. 

I held the paranoia close. For some reason I kept thinking it was all about me. It was my fault my favourite place was falling apart. I don’t know. 

Still don’t. 

I got to the other side of the street, to the same spot the baker had done his work with the knife. The puddle of pinkish goo was a surprise. She looked human from the balcony. 

I had the urge to kneel down, stick a finger in it and lick. I resisted. 

I walked down the street to my nearest Lucky and went inside. 

I bought a bottle of BooBoo Bru and emptied it into my gut. I was sleepy. All that havoc, all that mayhem. I wasn’t that tired, but I was that sleepy. 

A big blue dude was watching me, the other end of the store. He had thick metal chains wrapped around his fists. I smiled at him, nice guy. 

For fuck sake. What was this feeling anyway? 

Some thing like angst. A smiley teen spirit. 

The big blue dude walked towards me and opened his mouth to speak, revealing three gold teeth and no more. 

Before he spat it out, I stabbed him in the belly. I didn’t have time to negotiate. I rarely do. 

My mind started hurting. Not my head. My mind. You might not think there’s a distinction. I happen to believe there is. 

How many had I killed now? 

I’m still the hero though. 

I don’t know why I enjoyed killing so much. 

I don’t even know if I did enjoy it. 

Did I enjoy it? 

I don’t know. 

There was always a relief that came, after. 

The stupid thing fizzed on the floor. 

I caught my reflection past the wall of Juice. I still looked young in a washed-up teen idol kind of way. 

The lines weren’t so deep yet, the hollowing skin not yet near completion or critical. When it happened I’d invest in some new skin anyway. Probably. Looks help. Nobody suspects. 

After leaving Lucky I went to get some chips. I wanted them Belgian Frites, but the Belgian Frites place was no more. It was occupied by a brigade of thugs. Kankies too. 

I kept walking. I walked the entire length of The Red Line. This city was precious. People had complained about it for years. They were all wrong. They yearned for the old days. The old days were shit. It’s these days now, it was, with the buildings that stretch to the outer fucking layers of the atmosphere. It’s the here and now that’s golden. 

Well it was. Tonight seemed to be the end. 

The smell of burning Kank was everywhere. Clouds of red smoke drifted by. 

I tried not to get any inside me. I’ll never be that. I’ll never be a fucking Kankie. 

It doesn’t matter what happens later. I’m not a Kankie. Never. 

The sky was black hot. 

I minded me own bizniz. 

Juice and blood were being spilled. 

What was I wearing? 

I was somewhere between orgasm and suicide. 

This minute I felt the thrills, the next I felt the deep dark empty canyon of the dead. 

Maybe I’d go hang myself and wank it out before the end. The last breath, the last sploooge. A smile in the mirror. Bye bye. The chosen one is no more. 

Something told me that I couldn’t. Something told me FUNK had bigger plans for me than that. 

And I didn’t know how to feel about it. Plans? Plans for me? Somehow it felt okay though. 

It never felt like FUNK was something separate. A nuisance fiend here to bless me, force itself upon me, use me. It felt a part of ME. Something that had always been waiting for ME. 

But maybe I’m just saying that. Maybe I’m just talking shit. And writing it down. I don’t know. Do you? Hah.! 

Fuck it. And Fuck it again. . 

I had to do something with this didn’t I. Something. I didn’t know what. But something. Something meaningful. Doing something meaningful in a world long lost. 

Hard job. Tough go. Oh well. I wanted to. 

I saw a pigeon land on a wooden fence. I waved to it. I felt really happy. The pigeon looked like a swell guy. A real king. 

His little pigeon head shook and spun. He gave me a wink and I raised my fist in solidarity. Rebellion my beautiful pigeon friend. Rebellion. 

Our rebellion. 

I sat down on the steps of City Hall surrounded by burnt out Kank Tanks. 

What the fuck am I doing with my life? 

I laid back and let my head hit the brick step behind me. My eyes were on the stars. Somewhere out there. Some far off place I was born, to some cunt mother and dead father. 

The stars spoke to me sometimes. Tonight they were silent. 

Maybe I’d head back to Monroe and buy a shack, bring a chubby woman with me with chubby tits, drink coconuts all day and OD in the sea. 

Maybe she’d have a giant brown cock. 

I really love giant brown cocks. 

“Ahhh Sticky City.” 

Things had crossed a line. This was no longer a few isolated incidents. The entire city was writhing, scratching the skin, through the muscle to the bone. 

Fingernails digging. 

A group of children, no older than ten rode past on their bicycles. They all had knives and guns, one had a boomerang. 

I was enjoying this. Even if depressed and drunk and worried about the only place I felt home burning to the ground around me. I was enjoying the moment. 

I saw the taser before I felt it. 

ZAP! 

…a little brown girl appears 

“Before we go any further we should discuss the damage your friend did.”

“I don’t have any friends.” 

His pale pink lips curled with a dirty grunt. 

GRunT 

He was old and worn but had a childish inability to grow the facial hair of a man. His salted beard was patchy and shit. 

He approached a metal chair hanging from a rope on the wall. He untied the looping rope and held the chair in his hands. Pro wrestling. I was still hungry. 

Sometimes I fantasise about being back behind the dumpster. I wake up and go about my day. I never know what FUNK 58 is. I remain me. 

The me I was then. 

Anyway. 

He hit the chair against the floor and screamed in Italian, sounded like Italian. His screamed Italian only made me hungrier. 

Pepperoni motherfucker. 

Pepperoni on Italian bread on a bed of pasta and spah-ghe-tti. Oh you mother fucker. 

Italian cities have such tasty sounding names. That’s what I started thinking. 

‘Naples, Rome, Bologna, Turin, Parma, Rimini, Cagliari, Pisa, Pozzuoli…’ 

How fun, how Tas-t-eeee! 

The chair flew across the room and hit my ankles. It hurt. Fucking shit. 

He picked up a can of petrol, popped the lid and poured it on one of the old looking desks by the far wall. 

Where was FUNK? Why hadn’t it saved me. It should have saved me by now. I was the chosen one right? I was told that lasts a lifetime. 

Why hadn’t I saved me. I had the powers all by myself. Right!? 

I could save me . 

? 

As the desk fire went mad, I looked down at my body. I was naked with the exception of a dirty white towel covering my cock and balls. Thanks. 

My beautiful body was now a dark blue bruise, from my chest to my toes, everything hurt. 

I decided to call him Timbob and his main muscle Mr Thumb. Now that I think about it, maybe it should have been the other way ‘round. 

There were sixteen others, guards all dressed in the same black suits. Legs spread in Vs, hands clasped at their cocks. Same stone-dead expression on every face. 

Timbob took a rusty spoon from his pocket and smiled. 

He stuck the end of the thin handle in his ear and scooped out a pea of yellow brown gunge. He stuck the spoon-y end in my face and spread a grin. 

“Where is this, exactly?” 

Timbob was taken aback by the question.

Insulted I would ask it. This was his big moment after all. And here I was acting so casual. Acting like the chosen one who’d make it out with ease eventually. Hope so. 

“This is HELL!” he yelled. 

‘HELLLLLLLLLLL!!’ 

He yelled again. 

“Yeah sure, but where exactly is this place?” 

Timbob’s eyes fell a thousand feet. Sadness. . . 

His nose scrunched, and his eyelids twitched. 

“We’re in MY BUNKER, and since you are about to die a horrible death, I suppose I could tell you, fuck, I’ll tell you everything if you like.” 

“No that’s fine, just tell me where we are, thanks.” 

He stabbed me in the chest with the spoon. 

It’s always the twist that gets ya. He was twisting. I twist myself. No worries. Nothing personal. It hurt. 

Pain is real. 

I now had a spoon in my chest. 

What happened to my schoolboy love. 

…? 

What happened to that girl? I still remember her smell. She smelt better than anything. I can’t even describe it. Just one of a handful of things I would never be able to paint. I’m great with words. I’m a great writer. The smell of the dirty blonde hair of that 13 year old girl defeats me. Every time. 

I was dying folks. I was dying here from a spoon. I had the memory of her love in my heart in those last moments. How many thousands of years ago was that now. Whatta life. Goodnight. See ya in Andromeda or some other galaxy with some other beautiful name. We really should have kept The Milky Way, The Milky Way. 

Milky Way 

Timbob now held another spoon. 

“FUCK YOU FUCKING FUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

I screamed the alphabet next. 

Only because I had only recently learnt it. I used to fall off after the letter ‘t’ … a few weeks ago I learnt the rest. 

“…U V W X Y ZEDDDDDDD!!” 

I was on my back ONE TWO THRE..

I saw the child out of the corner of my eye. 

A little brown girl. She was carrying something heavy, some machine. Looked a mix between a microwave and a vacuum cleaner. 

My heart refused the last E. Shoulder up. LBG started the machine. 

BAAahhhhh 

BAAAAaaaahhhhhhhhh h h h h . . . 

A typhoon in a whorehouse. 

AROUND and AROUND and AROUND we go. 

The sound of elemental particles waking up from a deep sleep. SLUMBER to THUNDER. Bang bang, we’re going big. 

Timbob dropped the spoon and tore at his ears. 

“SP-OOON BITCH FAGGOT!” 

Mr Thumb ran towards my little brown angel. 

MY LITTLE BROWN ANGEL !!!!! 

In a dramastic cute poof of purple smoke Timbob and Mr Thumb disappeared. The sixteen brutes around them remained. 

Ay!? 

They were scared and angry. I was still hungry. 

I asked the little brown girl if she could use the machine on them too. Complete the job. Make them go poof. 

Apparently that was her plan. Apparently it was “likely a misconfiguration…” 

She was grabbed first and then I was grabbed. They seemed more concerned with her than me. 

The Toilet and The Wrench

The strip lights on the ceiling flickered in a calming rhythm. I was drenched in some cool liquid. 

Tasted salty. 

I was crapped out on the floor against the steel door. 

What day was it? I never could remember. 

I could never remember. 

The little brown girl was sitting on the toilet, her head resting on her bloody hands. She glowered at me. Eyes full of disdain. 

A little nugget of pure rage. 

I liked her. 

I was now trapped in a toilet with an angry child. 

The walls were slime green and the lights a damp yellow. A pink triangle air freshener hung from a string over the toilet. It smelt like England. 

England. What a place. 

Who was this girl? She looked born of the jungle. 

Raggedy dress one size too small for her. Vinyl black hair chopped at odd angles. Wrinkles under her myopic young eyes. 

Her pupils were only black. 

I was going to name her but decided against it. 

I shook off the wetness, got up and walked towards the sink. I stood looking at the space a mirror should be. 

Cracked green. I felt a bit sick. 

Staring at the wall I decided on the perfect plan. Sometimes I can explode the air around me, all it takes is a small flame and a lot of concentration. 

I was sure of it. I’d explode the air and we’d leave through the rubble. No problem. 

I got the lighter out of my jeans and got in position in front of the door. 

You know when basketball players go to take a free throw, that’s what I imagine I looked like. 

Professional. 

Bent at the knees, I turned my head to check on the little brown girl. 

“The fuck.” 

The girl opened her mouth to reveal a gummy bleeding mess. 

It took a few seconds but then it hit me. FUNK. 

I thought back to the hyena on the boat. 

“You’re not the only one.” 

“And 58 is not the only FUNK.” 

Fuck. 

The little brown girl smiled. A red tooth grin. 

She looked at me with a healthy amount of disgust. She was smart. I was smart too. But I was also fucking dumb. This little brown girl was probably dumb too in her own ways. 

“What are you?” she asked. 

“Human, real one too.” 

“And what are you?” 

“I’m not. But I grew up with a human family, in a human village.” 

“What planet?” 

“Not a planet, a station. One of the first Chinese Long Melds.” 

1Gen 5STAR Red Long Meld. Wacky. Wacky shit! 

“When did FUNK choose you?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve had it since I was a baby.” 

She jumped off the plastic toilet seat and gave the door a powerful karate kick. 

“Maybe before then.” 

She looked at me and then kicked it again. Harder. 

“What the fuck have you even been doing?” she asked with a faint hint of love. 

“Not too sure, I just make it up as I go.” 

“Is that what you’re doing now?” 

I flicked the lighter for a full minute but no flame, no smoke. We really were trapped in here. Her questions were making me think too, and I didn’t like that. I thought – introspection – maybe once or twice a year. Any more than that was a worthless endeavour, a waste of fucking time. 

Once or twice a year was always the sweet spot for me. It never came from someone else either. I wasn’t too fond of that. But I was growing fond of her. Scary. 

“We’re not getting out of here any time soon.” 

“It will be fine.” 

I just needed to think. I told her to sit back on the toilet while I did just that. 

I walked the rectangle of a room. No images came to mind. No thought. Usually walking lights up my mind. I can live entire lifetimes in my head when I’m walking. Seriously, entire lifetimes. 

I kept walking but nothing. Maybe it was because she was there too, usually I’m alone when I walk. 

I stopped and took a look around the room. Not much to work with. 

Toilet, old ceramic, classic …

Sink, same deal, classic … 

A bathtub would have been nice, there was just enough room to fit one in too. 

The yellow strip lights, walls, dirty off-white tiles by the toilet, and the air freshener and its string …

I reached out my hand and pulled on the thin white string. The pink triangle jolted violently up and down. Hmm. 

It was really fucking weird she had red blood. She wasn’t human. Or did FUNK just turn your liquid red no matter what. And why the fuck would some artificial little girl be chosen? I didn’t know. I don’t even know if I know now. . . 

I might have stared at the air freshener for a full thirty minutes. 

I decided to ask her name. 

“What’s your name?” 

“I don’t have a name.” 

“You don’t have a name?” 

“I don’t have a name.” 

Shit. 

“Well I’ll give you a name then.” 

“Just keep calling me little brown girl.” 

“You can capitalise it in the book you’re writing if you like.” 

My heart sucked up all the blood it could and held it in horror. 

Hey. 

I was writing a book, in my head, not this one. It became this one. I don’t remember. But. I do. 

Little Brown Girl. Her powers were completely different to mine. FUNK gave her the ability to read minds and wander hers through time. And she had a lot more practice with her powers than I had. She was born this way. I just arrived. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not always on, just a small advantage here and there.” 

‘Just a small advantage here and there.’ 

“Yeah.” 

I flared my nostrils and widened my eyes. I don’t know why. 

“To be honest, a lot of the time I fucking hate it.” 

She knocked on the door with her knuckles and let out a loud sigh. 

“I can tell you’ve really been going through it, if you think it’s bad for you right now, it was worse for me.” 

“Worse how?” 

“Growing up with superpowers is the ultimate cunt fart!!” 

I’d never heard someone say ‘cunt fart’ before. 

I pictured a trucker, some built lesbian in leather, hot sticky thighs,

,,, and pulsating, Smelly Pink Pussy. 

Y U C K Y 

I saw it open and close, breathing before a sneeze, ah ah chuuuuu pfffffflllllllllaaaaaaaarggggpp CUNT FART . 

I suddenly remembered she could read minds. 

My daydream vanished and I was back in hell. 

This toilet. 

She was now busy with a toothbrush. 

“I’m attacking its weak spot…” 

“…any second now!” 

“…ANY SECOND NOW!!” 

She was finessing the plastic stick in and out of a  small triangle hole in the wall. 

She put all of her little brown heart into it. 

“Yeah, well, not working is it, we should take a break, get some rest.” 

“Shut up! Do you hear that?” 

There was a knocking from below the sink. 

Knock 

Knock 

“Yoooo hooooooooooooooooo.” 

Little Brown Girl ran to the sink and stuck her eyes at the plug. 

“They call me The Wrench.” 

The crackling moan of a long-dead technology. 

A narrow echo of time. 

Ghoulish grey. 

“My old name was Stupid Music, I changed it. Stupid Music is super really poetic and weird, but The Wrench just tingles me in ways that I can’t explain to you now.” 

Through droplets and dreams

       or something like dreams 

The Wrench whispered into me 

“There is a key, a key on the other side of the door, it is the key you will need to unlock the top.” 

I opened my eyes and flared my nostrils again. 

I kicked my left boot with my right and then I kicked my right boot with my left. 

“Be careful. Tread light. Tread slight.” 

I pulled Little Brown Girl out of the sink and pushed her towards the door. 

.

“Oi!” cried The Wrench. 

“HAH!!”

“Turn on the fucking tap please.” 

I turned on the tap. 

And The Wrench disappeared. 

I stood there mildly annoyed. 

“Hmm…”

‘Wait, he didn’t tell us how to get out of the toilet.’ 

Just as I finished the thought, the room drowned in water and the walls burst open.

We were free.

FUNK FEVER 

I picked up the wet key and looked around the bunker. Nobody was there. In every direction the only sight dripping grey walls. The only sound, background from the beginning of existence. 

Where were all those henchmen? The big tough boys, the muscle? 

They were all gone. We should probably have been getting gone faster too. 

Why did they lock us in a toilet? 

And why had this girl come to save me in the first place, I hadn’t even asked her that yet. Why the fuck hadn’t I asked her that yet. 

I felt sick. I wanted to rest. I wanted to stay. 

There is something about the dark and the dank that make me want to stick around. Slow things down. 

My head hurt and I couldn’t remember how old I was. 

I rubbed my eyes with my left hand and scratched my dick and balls with my right. 

I was becoming aroused or something. My dick was hard and hot, ready for action. My eyes closed. I was squeezing my junk. 

Flowers drenched in black oil. Pretty. Infinite dead women legs spread. From lips to lips. 

MY COCK A SWORD. 

“You probably just got FUNK FEVER.” 

She spat some blood onto a pile of bricks. 

“FEVER?” 

I was done for today. 

“Come on.” 

She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a long concrete ramp I hadn’t seen the first time I was here. Things were spawning. Where had that pile of bricks come from too? 

The desks were gone. 

What. 

“Take me back to whatever fuckhole you live and I’ll fix the fever. I’ve had it before, I know what I’m doing.” 

The ramp was long, it went on for what must have been at least 300 metres. At the very end was a blinking blue light. Bold. Brilliant. 

As we walked the incline I lost my ability to speak. Brain. Throat. The connection was dead. 

I kept repeating words that began with the letter b to myself. 

Beach. Bastard. Bingo. Banjo. Bollocks. Bombastic. Bank. BigBiteBitchBurger.  

I couldn’t think of anything else. 

I felt like singing a song. Maybe I did. 

The light got closer, or we got closer. 

Yeah, we got closer. 

Bold. Blinking. Brilliant. Blue. 

I shuffled towards it, pulled by Little Brown Girl.