In My Time of Dying

From: Sister Decadence <>
Date: Sun, Mar 28, 2004

So, a local band (as heard on Hour of Slack) called the Necro Tonz
had asked their Yahoo group members to script their own deaths, being
particularly concerned with all thigns Deathlike. So far, there had
been no response, so today, I wrote up something real quick and posted
it there. I kinda like it, it's horrific in idea and rather funny in
execution. It's based on 2 things: A) the Subgenius actually taking
over and Pinks being mere nothings in power as well as real life and
B) me being a more popular/well-known internet model than before, due
to the Church's rise. With that in mind, I offer to you, my absurd


Sister D got off the plane in New York City, a bit anxious at what to
expect. There was to be a HUGE Subgenius convention in town and she
had to do a talk on what Connie had done for her life. So much, she
thought, so much. After finding the Church, "Bob" and better yet,
Connie, her life had changed for the drastically better. The sex was
better. The money was rolling in and the fans....oh, the adoring fans,
all wanting to see her, meet her, have just a little PIECE of her.
This suited her just fine, after years and years of being basically a
comic book, sci-fi reading geek, she was now an internationally known
Internet Subgenius model & preacher, promoting not only happier sex
lives for all but acceptance of larger sized women, who had all just
languished, withered and been miserable under the former Pinks rule.
None of that while SHE was in power! Freaks, big women, and weirdos
all had places in her regime and ALL were more fabulous and beautiful
than any inane, skinny Pink loser.

She went throught the baggage claim, her bodyguard and most recent
lover, clearing the way for her through the airport and toting her
bags for her once they finally arrived on the carousel. As she was
looking around for the proper exit to get her to a taxi, she saw, down
sidewalk a bit, an amazingly HUGE group of people with signs, banners
and t-shirts, all bearing her logo, picture or name. And she started
to hear them chanting as she & her bodyguard walked down the interior
of the baggage claim area toward the crowd: "Sis D! Sis D!" they
yelled. "Oh my god, how many of them ARE there this time?" she asked
her lackey. "I can't even tell," he replied, "surely there's
hundreds!" "This is crazy," she said, "all the taxis are out there and
those people are all blocking my way to them, let alone to get to our
hotel! What are we going to do?"

As she stood there, pondering, one of the avid fans spotted her and
screamed, "There she is! It's her, it's her!" They turned, as if with
one hive mind, and started running down the sidewalk toward her. The
first wave of them hit the door nearest her and they started pouring
in. The glass door quivered under the onslaught of bodies then snapped
clean off, falling into the airport and shattering, spraying glass
everywhere. The delirious fans didn't even seem to notice, they just
kept on coming, yelling & screaming, chanting her name. "Oh. My. God."
Sister D. managed to get out, before her bodyguard looked at her and
said, "Run." She turned and took off, kicking off her beloved vinyl
platform heels, knowing they'd be lost in the melee. She sprinted for
the escalators and just as she reached the bottom, the first ten or so
of the horde caught up with her. "Sister D., may I have your
autograph?" one panted. "Sister D. I love you!" another screamed.
"Sister D., please, come stay with us tonight!" "Sister Decadence!"
"Sister D!!" she started up the escalator but several hands pulled her
back down. She fell at the bottom and then the hands were on her and
she could feel more and more arriving, pressing in around her, closer,
closer. Someone tried to help her up and as she was being lifted, she
felt it, the first tug on her hair. She heard a voice, "I got some! I
got some!" and realized a swath of her hair had been yanked out at the
roots. "Are they crazy?" she thought. "Ow." Then, amongst the myriad
number of hands on her arms, face, body and legs, another hand reached
out for her and she felt her dress tear. "Damn, that cost me plenty
and I love this dress!" she thought. "Hey," she tried to say through
the hands on her face, "you guys need to back off, I can't breathe!"
But they kept coming. "How many were out there?" she tried to
remember. "And where is my bodyguard?!" After that it became a
nightmarish blur...hands grasping, tearing, hitting, hurting, all of
them trying to get that PIECE of her. And they did. Her clothes were
eventually torn completely off and her hair was halfway gone, all
pulled out by the screaming mass. Soon, too soon, she started to feel
the pain, a growing, living thing in her. The ceaseless pummeling
became deadly...a horrifying realization dawning in her mind, that the
pain, yes, there was pain, was starting to seep into her
consciousness. Her legs, were they broken? Had someone hit her that
hard? And that dull feeling in her shoulder, that white-hot ache, was
it dislocated? Still, they came upon her and pulled and hit and tore,
all wanting her to be theirs, just for a moment. As she felt her arm
go....oh god, it was OFF...she started to go black. They fell upon her
completely and as she felt the last of her hair torn out and a slash
across her face, she succumbed, her last thought being, "Oh god, this
is going to make a great story."


"It's not an orgy unless you have grapes.
Without grapes, it's just group sex."
- Chas

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Original file name: In My Time of Dying.txt - converted on Saturday, 25 September 2004, 02:05

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