Upgraded Services for Humilderies, Miracles and Blessings

Beginning today and throughout the entire cycle of moons 

Care for your medical emergencies will be administered as follows:

Humilderies (non-wound related, unless surgical, viral or bacterial infections, all mental health gripes, transplants, mysteries): Report to your district's clinic-cantina or the centre indicated on your W.A.S.T.E. papers. We have regular drugs as well as a full complement of palliative applications and potions to help get you through this humiliating loss of control over your own health and back to living and working responsibly. 

Miracles & blessings: Please report to Central Shiv Joint, MPS Village. We'll do our best to process your miracle or blessing with the respect and reverence for which you've been chosen. Our services can include (in return for registering your miracle or blessing with MPS Ministries): scar preservation and wound color retention, healing-in-place procedures to help you retain and leverage all received limb and/or spine morphoses permanently and in accordance with lavajraja (say "vajraja" here), prosthetic K5000 signals that can also help you retain mobility, retrieval (if granted by predator) and pickling of lost body fragments through certified MPS processes and authority, and discounts at any MPS pilgrim's hut or hunter's burrow, as available, for all future miracles and blessings alms tours you may find yourself up to embarking upon for a holy and prosperous career toward La Mthyuh. If you are blessed with any future events such as a targeted beach dump or punishing splash at Fire Shore, we will provide all required apostilles and transmittals free of additional charge.

Evolving Ministry Notification [frag.]
"Upgraded Services for Humilderies, Miracles, and Blessings"
MPS
Phyllis [trans.]

I only want to waste this day

 

jarring when the screen goes blank

mind is awake but the body is numb

same if you like to party or paint

might look dumb when it's said and done

 

might feel great when yr at yr peak

creed might translate to the joy of life

wait another 20 years before you speak 

never live long enough to get it right

i only want to waste this day

on vanity and distractions

waste it into infinity

there's no tomorrow and that works for me

though it doesn't cure the anxiety

get to hang onto my piety

nose is open to society

Reptily-ily

Hard scrabble

 

JAN: What should we do should we make it so the genders are a grab bag that one can assign oneself in any combination, or are we saying these were assigned divinely, not by choice, that it's the Body that came out wrong. Or not that at all. How shall we know. What can I ask that doesn't put me at a disadvantage. It's supposed to make me vulnerable. That's so I can understand. I who don't understand. The understanding stands in the soul of the haver of the identity. We know from years of being referred to as it/ that that it seems maybe to us petty demanding the gender after you are already distinguished clearly from other classes of ambulatory sentients like the grasshopper. 

PEG: It sounds like you've been thinking deeply. Why? 

JAN: ...

PEG: I was listening. I agree you're vulnerable, but not because of the new gender directives. They are only asking that you be sensitive and thoughtful. If you're already that, you'll have to do shiv all day. 

JAN: They're asking for more than that. To get a W.A.S.T.E. I have to say that I've earned nothing if everyone didn't have the opportunity. That obviously counts out all K blood because as enormous soaring reptiles there are gigs necessarily exclusive to us only. 

PEG: What's really lame is the whole premise that we're included now since we're not going to kill hunt or eat so what have we really gotten in return.

JAN & PEG TOGETHER: Friends' Service Hangers! 

JAN: I feel a lot fresher in general. I focus on the day to day. There's some good kibble and fruit snacks. 

PEG: Tell me in a thousand years. How content you are. They think we're vampires just because of our lifespan is long and theirs is short. Because you're a seroconversion, you're not all K, and you're new anyway. I don't want to bring you down. K's fly spread eagle. 

Peg and Jan have been lying back sunning their tummies with their elbow spikes holding them up with their dorsal flaps unfurled in the wind. It's an ancient river bed. Their spines have broken through the outer crust of sediment and leave canyons of shadow and dust behind when they each roll to the right pull up their left spike and slam it in again way up pointing toward the cliff face. It looks like they're about to ski, or fly, but instead they leap at the rock horizon with their toe claws and scoop the air behind them and scrabble craning their necks up the cliff to their hangout. The rock has been hollowed out and boulders pile up at the base, which is also where they drop the extra bones. 

JAN: Is it because you're a lesbian you try to discourage me? I have joy thinking of my husband and wish we will be together? You want me there under your dark cloak? 

PEG: Haha bitch shut the fuck up. 

PEG & JAN: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

JAN: They is some mens around here an my nose is open.

PEG: There is no mens. Just more gender question marks either being ported by pharmsupply or coming in wild like you through The Crack. Now go back and read the directive. This is your life now. Jan is far too small to have a meaningful relationship with you anymore. That's all in the past. He's tiny; you're big. Doing this is not about that. You have to represent the boundary-lands. 

JAN: No I get it it's not even about like I'm here with you or you with me or we're here together. It's more about this rock shelf and some snacks and the open air and the mist and what we mean and what we can do but don't do. 

PEG: But also what we did do history and what we do do because of our air skills and gravitational importance and in terms of fertilization to all the chank communities.  

PEG & JAN: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

per Phyllis (embedded)

Sports N' Sex Crimes Bugle

Better psych care

At some level they all knew they were bad and that the only good would be to wipe each other out and to enjoy doing it. 

There was also thanks to the shiv an intense respect for the individual spirit in each putrid violent body, sprites who were challenged to but could not become angels and were unavoidably and irredeemably sucked into the gravity of their hollow pelves, long fingers, and tiny manus.

"List of lists, I've lost my license." Jan spoke with her mind only, but it was real language. 

Peg: "You funny."

"I mean I really los... oh, damn."

"Ya they make them so thin they can get lost in a clump of pycnofibes on your ass."

Both: "Hahahahahaha!"

Jan: You know, Peg: I could just swoop around with you forever. 

Peg: That's what this is, this moment.

Their wings were on slow beat two, three times. There were no peaked or valleyed panoramas, just some yellow mist and greenish floor which both stretched out and curved down as if over a globe through all the angles they could see out of. 

My dorsoventral flap is really chafed. 

I like the vet-mix salve down at Friends' Urgency Hangar. It's practically a spa. 

Ya, I need to get my W.A.S.T.E. stamped soon anyway. I'll get the lavender. I know which one you mean. 

The day they started giving out Waiver and Acceptance of Social Toxicity Estimates to K's was the day they say we got our freedom. 

Better psych care anyway. 

I say volca to that. 

K's fly spread eagle.

 

Trans. by Phyliss (embedded)

Dear Vikki Madrid:

RE: LET'S BE HONEST THERE IS SHAME IN W.A.S.T.E.

Thank you, Vikki-- I will contact Vikki Toledo.

In general I do not feel that I have a good grasp of exactly how I am supposed to go about either requesting or receiving a W.A.S.T.E. cert or even what those W.A.S.T.E. accommodations are supposed to be or not be.

I would rather not have to wander around like a beggar trying to convince the odd RTD jockey or Shootervax  administrator to help when I need it. Do I have to explain to them that I am W.A.S.T.E.? How does it work, exactly?

I do not know whom I am supposed to approach, what type of accommodation the Clinic is really willing to provide-- if any-- and what the Clinic's responses are to my remaining concerns about accommodation, which I provided months ago.

The Institute is a more hostile environment for me now than ever, and it's very difficult to focus on my patients and other aspects of the job that used to make it seem worthwhile knowing the level of hostility my mani-pedi supe and her OR posse have for me. I feel even more vulnerable and unprotected from this mizus whose behavior I have directly reported to you now that it's clear the Clinic supports what she's done and has rewarded her for it. This is literally terrifying to me.

I believe it would be better for me to request a lateral transfer to a unit where I can do my work without being the object of permanent shade and complete unwelcome from above no matter how well I perform or do not perform. I have always been qualified to work in High Grooming, I already vacuum eye shiv and pull foreigns at other ranch and rig sites; maybe at Chukkachank HG, I could be granted enough hours to actually buy food and make payment.

Alternately, or additionally, I still believe I should be paid for work that I was promised when I cancelled my Dorsal-Stoma residency and came on board nearly full-time at the invitation of Vikki London. She told me in front of witnesses that even if it did not work out, she would make sure I got the same number of hours in mani-pedi to make up for any lost hours in RMP. That was a lie, and now there have been major economic consequences for me (and many more coins for her!). In the meantime, another worker of the preferred species ratio in that department who started the same time I did is still enjoying most likely double the pay I am making after I got the shaft from the two newly promoted mezus who have enjoyed no consequence while my career at the Clinic (and my bank account) is ruined.

The stress caused by Vikki London's and Vikki Belfast's workplace brutality toward me has caused a lot of depression and anxiety and contributed to the loss of my relationship with the flake I was planning to marry and general deterioration of my ability to cope with confusing pre-and-post-procedural duties and other stressful aspects of the new environment I now face after making lawful and dutiful complaints with no positive results whatsoever, only punishing and negative ones.

I still believe that Vikki London and Vikki Belfast broke the law (discrimination, bias, anti-whistleblower activity, retaliation for reporting bias and intimidation, bullying; no Due Process), and that she and Overmizus Belfast tried to cover it up, and that the Clinic is also breaking the law by brushing my complaints under the rock and hoping that they go away with time.

You and the Institute should know that I am nowhere close to being ready to drop these topics, so I hope that you have not done so either.

Thank you,
Donna
"K's Fly Spread Eagle"

Managers and their girlfriends

At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.

Hello?

At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.

Fine... wow! You don't waste time. I tried that already though so why not...

Please keep your eyes and thoughts away from the cursor, sir. It will be just a moment longer.

I feel a little violated.

You are not violated sir, this is a routine check to help support your help ticket alert. Oops-- sorry.

I didn't need that finger haha. Or the comma splice! Did I do that?

Ok, sir you can reinstall eye contact and tissue decisioning after toggling the puppy icon. I have determined that your issue was caused mostly by self-pity and inability to accept change. Several times when I attempted to get near the dishwasher and the really bad mess in your kitchen, I could barely hold on because the Filter has worn so thin. This is your doing sir, and I must remind you that the filter cannot be replaced easily. Any further attacks on MPS property, even with sarcasm or parody, will result in consequences that will be automatic. No confirmation number or supervisor will be able to help you with that. MPS will assume management of your entire Recreation and Other discretionary fund and commence allocation of all personal property and savings by subscription only, rates to be determined by most recent W.A.S.T.E. rating and discretion of chank-level managers and their girlfriends.

Personal Growth Now At Capacity

There are dead smells coming up through
the floors and a stirring in the bong water
but my golden center rocks imperceptibly
on its axis, still, no matter how the planet
shakes, an invisible thread pointed straig-
ht at heaven allowing me to bend only in
orchestration with the divine & timeless.
The growing of a self as nirvanic system
has been a fraught journey of learning 'n
veracity, but now at the edge of space as
I know it, growth has met its full capacity.

by Donna

Suede and lillies

Tonight I was waiting in the sitting room over at the W.A.S.T.E. office in Dubbaberra, and a sexy cougar, a little grizzled, slid onto the vinyl padded chair next to me. Her purse was flipping long leather show-cowboy fringe everywhere. She dug and dug for her citation with me staring in the periphery of her vision, maybe even closer in, maybe why she couldn't find it. The colors of her eye makeup looked glow-in-the-dark against her brown tan. I could smell suede and lillies. I said you smell nice. She said thank you. Maybe it's too much. I said no, it's nice. She said it's White Diamonds. I said ohhh... She said it's the one that elizabeth taylor designed. I started to say something, but then I just nodded-- in fact it was nodding similar to what elizabeth taylor did a couple of times in a mirror crack'd.

A Waiver and Acceptance of Social Toxicity Estimate is what the Preservation Society gives out to some of us who don't like to schmooze or are terrible at it, those of us who see pretty much everything as schmoozing where two or more persons are interacting. This is how we're protected by our government: doing for everyone what we can't do in smaller groups or individually, in this case forgive. So with the certificate we can work at certain kinds of government jobs where we can't be fired just for being unpleasant. We would have to physically assault someone, and then of course there's prison for that. A fellow entitlement holder came strolling by. “Hang in there you two. If it gets rough, just surf it out.” He busted a pantomime that quickly turned vulgar.

Then she starts in about shooting fully organic K's in the groin with her bb gun down in Fordamall way back when. Since that’s basically their only unarmored place, the only creature that flies with its legs spread eagle would start swooping in tightening circles with their legs close-pressed in pain and crash and die or get slaved out half alive to electronics houses. People in Fordamall couldn't tolerate White Diamond’s ways, her attitude or her tone, which rang sociopathic to real animal lovers.

I started thinking about Reptily and all she meant to me, even with my thigh bone embedded by her claw tip permanently, and as this hard woman's story got more down and out, I started thinking yeah, good, you deserved it, and you don't deserve forbearance. Someone should have put you away or taken you out before you had a chance to ruin those lives and their babes’. But that was a point for preservation of the state. We’re none of us deserving, yet we still have to consume, conserve and create wealth, keep pace. No one is worthy of a W.A.S.T.E., not even the most beloved; if they were, they wouldn’t need it, and if they got it, it wouldn’t be grace.

Liberty chank

Neighbor A: loose cats

• feeding is the main thing in our lives.

Neighbor B: pen dogs

• I knew we were different because Peg would take us for dinner at the AM/PM at 1:00 am and when teachers asked would I do that in my own livingroom, the answer was always yes.

Neighbor C: wasp nest

• a fixed income means you prioritrize; luxuries gained always outlive debts n' obligations

Neighbor B: leaky pipe

• it's the landlady's joint, but a beacon for trouble

Neighbor A: no W.A.S.T.E.

• I don't need no stinking waiver. Until I was in my 30's, I procreated mechanically. When I first learned about cross-sexual reproduction, I didn't see the connection with desire. Was a tam wen a woman didn't know the cause of her labor. Now that I am Ruler Queen, only the protection of my children and conservation of my lands matter, plus romantic gratification. Neither Neighbor B nor Neighbor C can provide any of that.

Neighbor C: stucco gaps

• Happy hour food, garage sales, 30%-off last day and bulk meat; a rice cooker. This is how we mate.

Neighbor C: barbeque

• Our chillun are gone, and we live in Liberty chank, the cheapest of all the chanks, so we are happy camping out on this land with no leaks or rain. It is similar to waiting for rescue on the surface of the moon, not really mattering.

Neighbor B: mud puddles

• Everywhere we step there are trials, plagues, pest. I seem to be the happy voodoo doll, banshee flapping.

Neighbor A: mosquitos

• creatures come to me, but never to kill. their pulling from every direction keeps me erect and surprise moving to their wim. if i keep drinking nectar in, my pores, wicking, can fight this gravity.

Drop-In Center

In this village, there's still a camera shop.
But the money stopped with a red dream
And chop, chop. We put a drop-in center
For the third gender made whores of, but
They mothers started showing up. My son,
You told me you went for bleach, shaves.
Sheaths. This is where the rice thrasher's
Dogs and chillun play Carom with poker
Chips. The neighbors came round with
Sticks and chrysanthemum paste. There
were fights, but now when we see goat heads
In the street, we can say, here, I brought
Some money. Internationals need batteries.
No more swatting; you must say hi to me.

I am Hoolie

HIV Bros

They had their shivknives drawn steak sides up, and Jer felt his upper gingiva pulling back and drying out. He was hissing like a possum in a corner. Then he looked up at Ken and had to chortle. They were 2 skeletons dipped in Flesh-Color Paint. It was a kick when they argued cuz they knew they were already ded. "You are funny to me just as you are tragic to others," explain Jer. "Phukyu bitchcunt I pis on you; I cut you," was Ken's retort. Then they both busted up laughing and allowed themselvz a few moments of cardiac arrest. Gasping for breath, Jer say to Ken: "You know I hate everyone else even more than us." "That's coo; me too," sputter Ken, coughing up blood.

Pre-Mortem Lover

I heard you needed someone, heard you as an African-American. Now I bring you this white woman, freshly dead and off the grid, for it's said you can afford the latest remote muscular decisioning, which triggers the subtlest possible reflexes, all depending on the narrative.

Your sophistication exceeds even the most urbane of the high-chank natives because of what you've seen. If someone's going to be educated while lifeless, it oughta be she, a blonde, a zygote mom, related to dream deities.

Now you see my wing, like a pleather grey cape with veins, which enables me to swing high and elevate. I am, in fact, a sort of bat; my powers are sonic, if anything. Here's what Connie's pre-mortem lover said:

I lyke what they're playing at yor fyunral;
I lyte myself a pyre in yor honor.

My only chance at breath is to praise you;
My singing purges the waste that was ours.

"The Chama"
Reptily

Fire Ants Led to Warts

She began feeling as tho she shdn't even be doing normal everyday things like taking her film to have it developed or replacing the filter of the forensic bucket.

Since she'd not had to renew her Waiver and Acceptance of Social Toxicity Estimate, it still felt like a marked worl. Her society wd never regain her trust.

It had been a healthy communal impulse to stand in the front yard with a hose. Nodding. To neighbors, passersby. Fire ants are so tiny and light that you don't feel them coming, but Connie felt the mist of a spurting rubber leak along the fronts of her ankles.

They kept biting and biting and pushing their announcements sub-cutaneously. Connie remembered a documentary about Africans who went insane and fed themselves to muddy river crocs at the itching created by some parasitical worm. It wd hypnotize cobra like before attaching to the neck or rectum and pumping its load of larval serum directly into the esophagus.

Connie looked down at her bloody fingernails in the observation room at Pharmsupply. She'd been clawing at her ankles and forearms in a blackout. Then she looked up into the unforgiving Diagnostic Mirror. The insects were gone, but a single HPV wart had been able to spore across her entire hide in sprays. Infinite beige ellipses, slightly raised, now monumentalized a paroxysm of histadelic rage.

intraceptive missionaryism

NO SHOW OF BLOOD CITING.
We noticed as we swung by to check for blood on your door
that there was none. and now, in the light of our torches,
you seem quite agitated, maybe insane. we are afraid for y-
our soul. we are afraid of what our God might do to you if
we decide it is appropriate. He may cause us to harm you
badly, and your family, and your future generations. we are
here to perform an intravention to protect you from any
further danger. Do you have a knife, or have you lost it?
Where are your lambs-- or have you failed to fulfill even
that most basic of norms? You are harming everyone by your
non-conformism. You are attacking our way of life, and we
are tired of being victimized by your mocking, obscene exi-
-stence which is only meant to cleverly highlight the futi-
lity of our Reproductive Circle.
...
UNAPPROVED DISCONNECTION FROM COUNTY FILTER, GRID, OR DISPENSER.
FAILURE TO COLLECT PROSCRIPTIONS.
We noticed as we scanned your home that you have taken the
dangerous step of disconnecting from your county's Filter
of Loathing. This will mean that the intended effects of
the drugs we have proscribed for you which were meant to
counteract the sickening effects of the pulses will spiral
out of control with nothing for them to heal. In addition,
the local Pharmsupply has informed us that you have not e-
ven picked up your proscriptions for several months. We h-
ope that you have not engaged in this type of antisocial
behavior as the result of financial difficulty. We care a-
bout the wellbeing of all members of our community, so we
are generous to remind you that discontinuance of a manda-
ted service or medication does not constitute release from
responsiblity for payment.
...
[Text of two ancient tickets found in Peg's glovebox, clipped to the back of an expired W.A.S.T.E.]

HEADACHE! Peggy Speaks Out

Well that's just it, I told them, when they first asked me why I wanted to do it, and I wasn't expecting that question, I explained it in terms of it piques my lit-crit clit, it gets me all up in the prostate of my mind, that kind of thing, and but whut I dint tell them was, well that's because maybe I didn't know it then even as my All Knowing self, that wow yeah, it goes way deeper than that.

And, right, I was trained! What a waste. I can't even say that I remember any of it now. Because it was just so godamn important in the grand scheme of things, thought some bozo, who? we may never know, that I go AWOL.

The kids-- props, I hope. God forbid I was really their mom. That would just ice the whole tragic mess. What... can I remember? How can I explain? I just... you know all I feel here, rubbing my temples and scalp, is pain. And everything in between. Pain! It's all that's left.

Waste Box

What he'd wanted to convey folded all up in on itself like a credit security, a dimly glowering cardboard box.

Only Exercise we Get

it may also seem paranoid that we
always running to the window if w-
e hear a sound on the street, other
dogs barking, any plastic tires be t-
hey on a Big Stone or the waste bo-
x. but I realize now it's all the exer-
cise me and the bitches get. unless
i run around in circles and letem ni-
p at my ankles in a useless frenzy,
we all sitting down or loungin out b-
ig time. we can hear that life is blo-
somming everywhere, and in burs-
ts, occasionally, right in the framey
ovda livinroom winda. weird grainy
film of an era, average people, on a
street. Through the polyshiv lace c
-urtain. while we? whose recordin-
g it? get this, bitches: if they try a-
nythin? you bite. they'll member it.

W.A.S.T.E.

Kug was busy trying to beat himself into a slumber chemically. He had full pharmashiv, so he was well stocked. What he really wanted was to just talk to someone, but he'd have to sign a Waiver and Acceptance of Social Toxicity Estimate to get the vouchers, and it just wasn't worth it. But when would they all be able to relax. There was always something coming at them. The funny stuff, then some spooked attention, and then the dereliction.

Three beautiful dogs lounged all around him. One was fluffy and soft, with a crazy look in her eyes and a very high pain threshold. Another was gingery, spotted, danced for chicken. Finally, Juniper was just naughty. Half of one eye was blue, the other a quicksand of sentiment. La La's toe had been taken by a gopher, yet she hadn't flinched. M'Lady's passion was birding, and they sometimes called her Dog Bird or Pickles.

He hid his watch in a drawer when he realized the ticking had been driving him mad. He stared at the glass of water serving its second night on his bedstone. Dust, including a hair, lolled on the surface tension. "My own story twists like a question mark on the skin of my tomorrow," murmured Ted. "I cannot rest while I want so badly to act, to pierce that membrane. I want to tell the story so that I do not end up in prison," he wrote in the themebook next to his water glass. There'd be plenty of time the next day, though, to tell the story. He'd have a cement mine to tell it to. All day long.

10. Time is a Liar

Reptily sat on a footstool before a fire she'd made. Her specialty was burls, but she could also read the heat spots and Burnt Issue of cones, ashes and legumes. This oak burl had burned through the eve of and into the first morning of the new W.D. It was disturbingly reminiscent of a six-hour vision of hell she had experienced using wood from the same river bed the winter before. It's sandy, but it's cured. Miss Sprint just must not have been hosing them down. But fire's eye knows all. It can still carve its message.

She poked at the chunk of glowing wood and lifted it trepidatiously, as if she expected ugliness. "Yes, it's all written there." Reptily let the sandy, helmet-like shell of bark fall back on its tortoise legs of cinder. "Now it must burn up from the bottom. There will be a mark in the sand."

"All year, I do nothing good. I am a samurai against all best choices. I want this WD to break, and in her last flame, for the Mhuthya to roil up and bring home her bad daughter. Bad hunger to good. Vol-vol. God is pleased."

"All year in my pain I treat others bad. The world is my suffer. I am your food Mhthyuh, is me to take to your bowel. Vol-vol.

"All the days I eat I say I have something bad. Vol-vol. Vol-vol.

"I am only so sweet to get birds in the trap, and they rot. Because I have too am too much Mhuthya. Vol-vol.

"My children are lost. I have no children. Take my children. You are their path. But eat them last. Vol. Vol.

"Even temple mascots chew their own bones for me to complain vol. Even my babies have crawled away.

"I put my hair in fire to feed you, vol, I am gorged with lush diseases of lust and mimesis, horror and disgust, fear, misrepresentation, betray, go over, don't listen, TV all time, wastebag, simpleton, hypocrit, make death.

"I am fresh and livid and salt regret, vol. This day. Last day. You ate them all. Vol. Vol."

Reptily's spiny forehead rested on her knees now. There were more items, but why.

"The sloth, the fool, the reaper. I can only see myself, but I cannot see..."

It would be soon now. If she got the 2-spear sign, she could fight and run ahead. Trapped at home was a murder to her.