TUMBLEWEED CONTESSA

Monday, April 28, 2014

Short Story -- Part II of In The Beginning...

In The Beginning...

Part II

©Mimi Wolske, March-April 2014

Morgan - INALSEAD Agent

I know INALSEAD hired me because of my mixed blood. Hey, I know I have this albino look...at least I have blue eyes. I look like my mom and her people—not like that thing Ren dragged back to base.

Any hopes he has of adopting it are killed when two international police come into Cap's office and take it away. Besides, it totally does not look like me. It is dark with dark hair and dark, bug-like eyes...and it's fat. But humans don't look at differences. We're aliens—we all look alike. That's laughable, but I don't laugh while Cap scrutinizes me.

INALSEAD still believes I'm going to lead them to where my mother and her people are hiding. Cap hopes I will, but he knows I won't.

"Look, Cap, Mom's people are not imperialistic. That's one of those common characteristics forced on them by the UPs, ya know?"

"All I know is I'm under pressure by the Universal Police to find them and send them to the detention camp for identification and processing."

Cap's okay, but he's one of those bald, middle-age bosses who doesn't know how to lead, he likes us all too much...all of us. That's why I stay. He's on the line, I know it. But, hey, I love my mom. I can get another job and another boss. I've got just one mom.

"I don't know where they are," I lie.

Cap's office door opens and Ren steps in and closes it behind him. He looks at me and says, "They're here for you, Morg."

Cap stands and his chair rolls back and hits the wall. "What the hell did you do now? Dammit, Morgan, I can't keep covering for you."

Suddenly, the door opens again and two officials and two UPs barge in. For me, it was like going through a revolving door and nothing making sense once you make it to the next exit. Here we go again and again and again and...

"What the—"

"We're here for Detention Hunter Morgan," one of the officials says.

She says it with a smirk in my direction. Linda Appleton. She'd been after me since the time she'd been forced to release me so the INALSEAD could use me to round up law-breaking aliens. I smelled her alien blood the first time we met. She was a hider, a deceiver, a half-alien, half-human just like me; except she didn't have a single tell-tale sign. She was even a carded human. I'll never know how she deceived the blood test because her kind don't have "blood".

"That's AGENT Morgan, and where's your warrant?" Cap asks, and holds out his hand.

The other official slaps it into his palm while one of the UPs pulls my hands behind my back.

"Not that plastic cuff," Applestone gnarls. "She can slip from those. Here, use these."

I watch as she hands them six woven cylinders. What the hell are those?

"What the hell are those?" Ren asks.

"Something similar to what the Chinese used hundreds of years ago and that aliens are unfamiliar with," Linda says. "This is a variant on their finger trap; this, however, uses even pressure to the digits and at the same time immobilizes the joints. It serves a similar purpose as the Chinese's ancient cuffs except not even her strength will be able to break them."

I feel the UP slide my index fingers into opposite ends of a cylindrically woven braid, then one each onto each of my remaining four fingers and finally my opposing thumbs. When he's finished, I react like any captured animal...I pull and try to break free. They tighten up on each digit and it feels like they're constricting so tightly they might be cutting off my life juices. I stop.

I hiss at Linda as the UPs pull me pass her. She grins. I hate this alien-human.

"I'll have you out shortly," Ren says. I appreciate his promises and loving encouragement.

So what happens when you meet the love of your life and you're not totally human? I blink both lids and smile. "Sure, Ren. I'll wait for you down at..." Where was I going?

"Where are you taking her?" Cap demands authoritatively. God, I love my boss. I think he can read my mind sometimes. I give him a look of acknowledgement.

"The Einstein-Hawking's Brain Probe Institute," the other official said.

I look over my shoulder just in time to see that official point at the warrant he slapped on Cap's hand. Cap opens it and is reading as they yank me out the door.

I hate that probe. It turns the world into a bizarre carnival of the absurd for more than seventy-two hours after they're done probing. It also causes temporary Akinetopsia. That's a neurological reaction that causes motion blindness in aliens, and for the first day afterwards, it's impossible to perceive motion. Weird but true and the last time they probed my brain, I didn't get out of bed or open my eyes for two days.

"Cappppp!" I yell, and struggle against the UPs' grasp of my arms. I'm strong enough to shake them loose, but they react quickly and one punches me in the gut while the other holds me.

"Don't try that again or you'll get worse."

"Now, now men. We must be nice to the alien or she could report us for police brutality." Applestone laughs as if that statement is a joke.

"As if anyone would listen. Or care," I add the last statement as a self-pity, negative attention getter.

When Applestone slinks up to my side, I get a whiff of something foul. She's recently come of age and any alien within a few hundred miles and astute enough to recognize she is in season will be heading to this encampment. Reptile aliens, like her, are highly areeusocial and I'm willing to bet my last Universal dollar she is the single fertile queen here. She's going to be breeding a caste of warriors soon.

"I should warn the humans about you," I hiss. "In which of this planet's caves are you going to be having your first season of sex? It's going to be an extra large and deep one is my guess."

She raises one five-digit hand and strikes my cheek. "Awww, I think that's going to leave a scar on your pale skin."

My tongue goes to my cheek. I can feel the rise of where one of her claws dug into my thin skin. I stretch my tongue up to look at it. There's no blood.

She leans in with a warning look in those unappealing reptilian eyes and speaks so only I can hear. "Open your mouth to caution anyone, and you'll be in that cave with me."

Universe Official Linda Appleton

My six-digit hands try to break free of those cylindrical digit cuffs to no avail. "Keep your forked-tongue threats in your mouth, Appleton," I sibilate.

There hasn't been an alien-against-alien war since the Great Universal War of 2315, but if she is, in fact, the queen and is ready to reproduce, there will be an uprising that will make GUW 15 look like human play. Am I willing to die in some cave with reptile aliens who want their shot with their queen?

"Are you ready to die for these low-life humans?"

TO BE CONTINUED

Part I of In The Beginning... is also posted on this site

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Saturday, April 26, 2014

SHORT - Micro Flash Fiction: In the Beginning... Part I

In The Beginning...

©Mimi Wolske, March-April 2014

The report sent to me stated on line 49:

It was created from some sort of organic life substance, but there was intelligence behind its creation.

Good God! It was everything that was against nature as humans know it and I wonder what the hell I'm going to do if this one evolves into something else on my watch.

It can only be referred to as the Big Bang of the Brain.

Those words pop out on line 129 because I never subscribed to the Big Bang theory. I know; that puts me with all those religious fanatics of past centuries just before the war. But, I mean, chimps have problems with the abstract—even when they are taught our language, so how could I believe? Okay, I'll give you Dali. That man was surreal enough to have gone through some sort of mythological bang or intervention by ETs.

"You have to be kidding!" I throw the report on the ground. In all probability, this thing in my partner's arms is going to have the same DNA as humans. Seriously. These theorists and scientists want me to believe some alien genes were grafted into humans by the very beings this thing was spawned from?

"I did not come from that!" I grumble, and I spin to face Ren and the dead monster lying behind him. I point a nervous finger at thing on the ground.

Renardo Gumbo is the name Ren gave me when we first met, but we both know I don't believe him. He says, "How can you say that? Just look at this baby. It looks every bit as human as you."

For a single guy, he's holding that thing pretty confidently. But, Ren isn't one of those pre-twenty-fourth century macho types...at least not when it's just the two of us.

"I need proof, not theory," I complain, and reach into my bag. I need my drugs; I'm getting what the medical authority can only call something close to a migraine. Pointing at the dead thing that had given birth to the surviving thing in Ren's arms, I say, "It's going to grow up and look like that!"

I pop two Topamax tabs and swallow. It's an antiseizure med, but they'd prescribed all the Triptans before any medical authority would admit nothing seemed to work. Damn! I kept telling them that. I'll never understand why doctors don't listen.

My names Morgan, I'm thirty-two, still single—by choice, thank you very much—and work for INALSEAD. That's the acronym for International Alien Search and Detain. It's sort of like the bounty hunters of twentieth and twenty-first centuries, only we go after beings who mate with humans.

Some human guys get high and they'll screw anything. Even an ugly alien.

It's the male aliens that scare me. Well, I've seen the length of their reproductive organ. Good Lord! It must be two feet long.

Blaahhhhh. That kind of crap gives me the shivers and makes me want to puke.

Well, in the final analysis, it doesn't matter what I think. Alien sex is against international law.

"Man! I never knew you were prejudice!" He shakes his head and exhales a heavy sigh of disbelief. "Man!"

His laser gun slings low on his hip, he draws that little being closer to his chest, turns his back to me, and walks away. He couldn't look further from some modern-day cowboy rounding up aliens.

"Where you going? Get back here!"

"I'm taking this baby to the ship where it's warm and where I can find something to wrap it in."

We round up law-breaking aliens, not alien orphans. I can see Ren getting too attached and I have to figure out a way to get rid of that thing without seeming I have any animosity towards its.

Its kind. Ha! Blasted aliens went from simple bacteria-like organisms to beings far more complex than humans. They brought their diseases to this planet and killed off about a third of the world's population, and not even the strongest anti-alien-biotic works on them. After two centuries, we're still trying to coexist. They're just existing.

Enough postulating. I take off in a walk-run over the large rocks so I can catch up with them.

"You know that thing has a dad that's probably still living—if its mother didn't eat him."

Ren ignores me and keeps walking. We're close to the ship when he rounds on me. His head cocks to one side and by the look in his eyes, I know I'd give into any request from him.

"What?"

"They don't eat us and you know that. Your prejudice is still showing. Or, should I say your ignorance?"

"Fine! Sorry. You just don't understand what it's like trying to find your place in this world when you're half alien, half human."

I think the Topamax is beginning to kick in. I have that distinctive ear ringing and it's becoming difficult to concentrate and keep focused. God, I love drugs that work.

"If you really mean that, you'll marry me and then we can adopt this cutie."

I make a dead stop in my tracks.

Marriage?

To Ren, who's one of the few men on this planet who's a one-hundred-percent-certified-card-carrying human being? Is he serious?

"Are you serious?"

To Be Continued

POLITICAL MUSINGS: Why A Constitutional Convention?

©Why A Constitution Convention?

Mimi Wolske, April 2014
All Rights Reserved

What's going on do you suppose?

Do you know what's proposed?
Oh, I totally expressed curiosity
At the gathering of states, you see,
For the purpose of amending
Our Constitution...I'm sending

them note: NOT sure I endorse this idea

That's gaining traction in Arizona.

There could be the possibility

Of myriad mayhem. I'm wary.

IMHO, making all members of

Congress subject, not above,

The laws of this country

Is a wonderful idea; am I too overwrought

Believing calling a Constitutional Convention is not?

DID YOU KNOW THAT pursuant to Article 5 of the US Constitution, if 2/3rds of the states call for such a convention, (meaning 34 states) it MUST take place in such a convention and that the ENTIRE Constitution is subject to review and can be altered and changed? This could be everything from installing “social justice” to the dissolution of the federal government. Everything is on the table as if we were back in 1776 Philadelphia.

This is an unprecedented event to amend the U.S. Constitution emerging from the states. Normally, Congress proposes a bill to amend the Constitution as was the case with income tax. KEEP THIS ONE ON YOUR RADAR – we are looking at the potential for real change good or bad...

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

SHORT: ©SHADOW CHASER

by Mimi Wolske, April, 2014
All Rights Reserved

"You're not smarter than me." Beaming with pride, her eyebrows arched, Jen offered Lindsay a smirk.

Lindsay shrugged a shoulder. "I not me, and you could be correct, but I seriously doubt it. Besides, I'm braver and have more muscle," she said, and raised her right arm, bent ninety degrees at the elbow, and flexed her bicep.

Laughing and pointing her index finger at the small bump, Jen said, "Mine were bigger than that when I was two."

Lindsay knew that was probably true. Her cousin had more shape than any girl she could think of, so, it only stood to reason some of those curves must be muscle. She angled her head, looked at the pathetic muscle straining to look larger, raised both arms over her head, performed a cartwheel that ended with a roundoff, she stood straight and said, "Well, I'm prettier than you."

She immediately was sorry she said that. Jen's fat cheeks, chubby arms, and obese belly distracted from a softness and even a prettiness in her face. Her almond-shaped eyes, as bright and blue as the Mediterranean Sea, had the most luscious, thick, and long lashes that could draw a stranger into them—if anyone ever took time to get pass the pudginess.

"Oh! I'm sorry Jen." Lindsay flushed an embarrassed reddish-pink.

"I know I'm portly. My step-sisters are even fatter, but Gail tells me every time we all sit down to eat just what a pig I am."

"Ohhh, what a bitch! You couldn't be more right on about those Precious Princess Pigs."

Jen took one of Lindsay's hands in hers and handed her a carved comb of ivory and boar hair. "Here; I want you to have this."

Lindsay's mouth opened into a perfect O. "Oh, Jen, this is beautiful." Her eyes traveled to Jen's.

"It was my mother's. She gave it to me before she died."

"I can't take it. Here."

She tried to hand it back to her cousin, but Jen shook her head.

"I want you to have it."

"But I can't. It was your mother's, not mine. You can't just give it away."

"Please, Linds, take it. And, I'm not giving it away. I'm giving it to you."

"I'll put it somewhere safe and it will be yours whenever you wish to have it back."

Lindsay shrugged out of the strap that hung diagonally across one shoulder and she opened her leather bag attached to the two ends of that strap. Placing the comb carefully in an empty pocket, she glanced at Jen. She had to be certain her favorite relative was not teasing her. But, Jen turned her back to Lindsay and raised her hand level with where Lindsay imagined her eyes were.

Jen was crying?

"I hate Gail," Jen said as she spun on the heel of one foot and faced Lindsay. "I hate her. Do you wanna know why?"

"Okay. Why?"

"Because she wants me to call her mom. I'll never call her mom and I told her that. So, she convinced Dad to send me away to school. Not her girls, though. Oh, no; not those spoiled pigs."

"Is Uncle Dick going to do it? Send you away?"

Jen nodded.

"The bastard," Lindsay ground out between clenched teeth.

"I hate her. She's like the wicked witch who has so much power that Dad doesn't even know what she's doing to him."

"She only has power if you believe it. It's an ancient trick—a riddle would be more appropriate, I believe—of the power game. You see, there was this a religious leader, a king, and a woman of unequalled wealth. Standing in front of all three was a mercenary. Each of the three commanded the mercenary to kill the other two. Do you know who lived and who died?"

Jen's eyebrows were drawn close together. "I guess it depended on the mercenary; didn't it?"

"Why? He didn't have a crown or any wealth to speak of and he wasn't in any religion's favor or in favor with any of their gods."

"I don't know what you expect me to say, but the mercenary had weapons and he had his own power over life and death."

"Well, consider this. If we are to believe that mercenaries rule, then why do we pretend kings and other leaders of countries hold all of the power?"

"I don't like stupid riddles," Jen complained.

Lindsay sighed and smiled. "Can't you see that power exists where people believe it exists? If you believe your step-mother holds so much power over Uncle Dick, then she does. But, if you don't offer such belief to her, then it is you who holds the power over your father."

Jen stood akimbo and crossed her arms. "I still don't like riddles."

"Then think of it as a trick, Jen. A shadow, the same as Aunt Gail is a shadow of your mom. Aunt Gail has no power and she knows it. You have the power and it scares her. So, what does she do? She convinces Uncle Dick to send you away. She probably had to make some sort of bargain or offer him something she knew he'd really want."

"But I'm just a kid. I have no power."

"Yes you do. You have your father's love and with that love, you cast a very large shadow."

Monday, April 21, 2014

POETRY—LOVE: Addicted to His Love

©Addicted to His Love

Mimi Wolske, April 2014

She wasn't one of those;

you know the type...

they never experience

negative consequences

of their addiction. She knew

when she crossed the line.

Her addiction was gradual—

in the beginning

it was sporadic,

then it became something

she wanted monthly;

eventually she needed it daily.

To fulfill her needs,

increasingly,

she began to rely on it...

it calmed her, energized and

balanced her emotionally...

until it was important to her.

It was more than sweaty palms,

a dry mouth, and a

fluttering heart; she was thinking

of him day and night, night and day.

Her addiction became passion,

a rush of pleasure, a deep bonding.

Feelings of attachment

deepened, affection

increased, bonding was all

and it became her analgesic;

the stronger love grew,

the more powerful its affects.

She was addicted to his love;

it motivated her;

happiness and euphoria

were stimulated; she was

more productive and she enjoyed

the rewarding experiences he gave her.

They became best friends,

confidants, and lovers.

She knew from the point

they began sharing secrets that

the line had been crossed and they were

attracted to each other like lode stones.

She remembered

as if it was yesterday

when she first felt his breath and

heard his voice that resonated and

made her feel euphoric and desired—

she'd be lost without him and his love.

She came to know him,

know exactly what

he liked and what pleased him,

she knew what he did not like...

he was a combination of gentleman

warrior and a happy, little boy.

When someone tried to

do something bad to her,

he'd get angry and protect and defend her;

he always knew what to do no matter

the difficulty, the problem, or situation,

he always had the right answer—Love For Her.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

SHORTS - FLASH FICTION: EXPOSED

This was beyond bondage.

This was fear.

This was becoming survival.

^©Exposed

Mimi Wolske

Tears streamed down swollen cheeks as Robyn spun on a three-foot platform, naked and tied to the platform on her hands and knees while all three orifices were pounded by BigDick. BD was the battery-operated, custom-made orgasm machine with its multiple, larger-than-human, rubber cocks.

In the dark recesses of a copy of Louisiana's Big Easy sex club, a platform altar spun. Mud spattered the one window like a Jackson Pollock painting and prevented any outside light from entering and any pervert outside from being able to see into the room. Every male and female, with a perfect view from their chairs and sofas in the circular theater, shouted, "Faster. Fuck her faster." The man at the controls, who sat quietly behind the members, increased the speed another notch and smiled.

"Best entertainment in months, Ron. Where'd you find this one?" one of the patrons of BigEasy asked, and took another, long swig of his drink concocted by their host.

The handsome, young professional laughed wickedly. "On Facebook about a year ago. An obvious and easy target since she was writing erotic porn stories."

A female patron set down her glass of the same concoction and asked, "Whatcha promise this one?"

Ronald didn't pause to think. "To expose her to the most debauched sexual experiences her limited imagination could hope for."

"Faster," came shouts from the balcony over the circling altar. Robyn's moan was muffled by the ball gag in her mouth.

Ronald edged the orgasm machine up another notch.

The lights in the chandeliers flashed. The altar slowed.

BigDick halted abruptly.

The lights went out. The altar stopped.

"What the...."

Strange gagging sounds came from the revolving stage. Those in the front rose and tried to move further back.

A frightened, painful scream shattered the Pollock window.

The sounds of something slurping grew louder.

Ronald ran to the door and opened it. The light from the hall drifted into the circular room inch by slow inch until it became like a spotlight on some horrific alien beast on the altar unplugging its mate from BigDick. The bound female being ravished by Ronald's machine morphed before club members' eyes.

The long tongue of the alien reached into the balcony and decapitated a woman, then brought the head to its open mouth. The head was devoured.

The fully morphed female alien stretched her tongue, wound it around Ronald, and yanked him back into the room of torture. She ripped away his pants with two of her eight hands. Two hands bound his arms and two more his legs. Shredded material littered the floor. She opened her mouth and drew in her tongue. One of the last two free arms was thrust up his ass and the other up the meatus slit.

Survivors screamed in horror knowing the beasts would be taking them next.

Be careful what you effing play with.

Monday, April 14, 2014

POETRY - ROMANTIC: Virgo and Aquarius

Virgo and Aquarius

©Mimi Wolske, April 2014

There exists a tension

between the moment

and the permanence,

between the flash of life and

the patinated reflection

that is years and years old.

If you can believe

what you see here, or there,

are you aroused by

some kind of feeling—

is it a vulnerability—

or the possibility of one?

How do we begin to

address this relationship...

not the process or the

rationalism,

which in our modern world

are stifled to often?

Dazzling light becomes subdued

polarity that's lost in an

emotional entanglement

of kisses, embraces, and tears,

which are credulous promises

of love's endurance.

Unreserved, we fell into

an unconditional

love that met the desired

qualifications of

promise through actions with

a capacity for so much more.

A desire for order, a lust for chaos,

perfection and intelligence,

honesty and trust, obsession

and eccentricity,

a unique and surprisingly

comfortable union coexists.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

POETRY: Her Sanguine-Colored Rue

Her Sanguine-Colored Rue

Mimi Wolske, April 2014

She'd considered herself a master,

A tormented, public artist;

She hoped this one work would vindicate her.

She called him her womanizing lover.

A blank canvas stretched taut before her

Waiting for her palette's embittered story.

Hands chased his words with arabesque brushes,

Mixed shades, drying water-colored untruths

That had stroked her with Olympian deceit.

The colors she used, trapped in swirls

Of liquid ichor, created lips and

Crafted his long fingers that were his lies.

Painted fingers pushed away red, permed curls

Then spun silver threads between his thighs

Like unspoken hues once believed in his eyes.

A golden shower of myth would be his;

Her coppery ire, her iniquity,

Possessed artist's hands molded handsomeness.

Relentless, consuming, erosive waves

Colored the maleness that was his fame.

Shrouded in despair, her horsehair tongue cursed his name.

Unlike the painted god placed before us,

We'd sat back, watched her painting come to life,

Observed jealousy grow and wind her tight.

Eternity would not belong to her.

Toleration lost, her heart on her sleeve,

She surrendered her brush, touched palm to paint;

She'd believed all his stories of romance,

His tales of wooing and domination...

His untruths became her unfinished work.

We minimize the screen, roll together.

He coaxes a blush pink and blissful moans

From my half-formed lips as he gives me his.

Tactile heat burns and he sinks into me.

Lusty, breathy, we are our own canvas

And keep love alive in oils that won't gel.

Friday, April 11, 2014

POETRY - ROMANTIC: This Is Not Californication

This Is Not Californication

Mimi Wolske, April 2014

Every time we meet

I want you off your feet

I wanna touch your skin

Kiss your lips...kiss them again

I wanna hold your hand

Feel your silky hair and...

And then he added Baby

I am there, oh, Baby

Tonight you'll get the last

Semen doesn't come so fast

Baby, you're so naked

And trembling sated,

sighing, and smiling, too

I'm giving all to you

Talk dirty to me sweet

You've swept me off my feet

You've pushed me to my back

You're my aphrodisiac

And I told him You're hot

So give me all you've got

Such a tiny pressure

But taken in measure

It's our love on a wing

And it's stimulating

Then he said Oh Darlin'

You are veneration

What's the hullabaloo

My affection's for you