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mensional erotica。 A heaving panorama of taut buttocks； pert nipples； milk…white thighs； armpit hair and exposed front bottoms。
Dan took a major bow toward his viewing public。 Willies of every colour and hue came and went across his shoulders。
'My dear friends；' said Dan； in a manner much favoured by American Evangelist fornicators of the late eighties； 'my dear； dear friends。 I am with you once again。' Dan made a profound and sacred sign。 The Pavlovian bunker…bound responded。 Ringpulls popped from Buddhabeer cans and the narcotized contents bubbled into waiting throats。 Today's delivery had been double…strengthened； just to be on the safe side。 Dan filled in the twenty seconds before the beer took hold by performing a little dance amongst The Lamarettes。 In the control room Rex began to feel somewhat strange。 He found his right hand pulling at a ringpull that wasn't there。 Things were being clearer and clearer to Rex Mundi。 Mickey Malkuth entered a lift many floors beneath。 Second anonymous torturer was with him。
'Showtime。' Dan twirled upon his heel。 'And what a show have we got lined up for you tonight。 It is going to be big and when I say big； what do I mean？'
The bunker…bound knew exactly what he meant。 'Big；' they went； all together。
'After all； who is it that cares for you？ Who clothes you？ Who loves you？ Yeah； that's right。 It's me。 And that's why you love me； isn't it？ And you do love me？ Don't you？ Love me。 Love me。 Love me。'
Rex peered down at the performance。 He chewed upon his knuckles； he felt wrong inside。 He perused the console deck before him。 The show's running time flashed； five minutes gone already； how could that be。 He looked out at the Dalai。 Dan made another profound gesture。 Rex yanked at his trouserleg。 'Gotta get a beer； gotta get a beer。'
'Easy Rex。' She seated herself beside him。 'You're not thirsty。'
Rex couldn't take his eyes from the Dalai。 'Gotta get a beer。' Christeen pulled his face away and gazed into it； she turned down the sound。 'Conditioning。 Don't watch him。 You're not thirsty。'
'Thirsty？' Rex stared into her eyes。 'Why should I be thirsty？'
'Why indeed？ Now if you will kindly place yourself behind the door。 Do you have your gun？' Rex proffered the piece； the way one does。
'Now； hold it in your right hand and count to ten。' Rex did so； the door burst in。
'。。。 ten。' Rex swung the gun。 Mickey Malkuth hit the floor。
'And just to four this time。'
'Two。。。 three。。。 four。' The second anonymous torturer joined Malkuth in the 'prone position'。
'Thanks again；' Rex pocketed the pistol。 'I owe you。'
'You owe yourself； Rex。' The lad peeped over the console deck and down through the plexiglass toward the studio floor。 'He's on to me； then？'
Christeen nodded； Rex didn't need to see her。 'You just retired without the pension。'
Rex slumped back in the AC's chair。 'I hope I'm doing the right thing。 I do appear to be a little short of options right now。'
Christeen drew attention to the liberal distribution of KOed station folk。 'I think that no matter how you might unwish it； you are mitted。'
'I hate him。' Rex turned away from the glass。
'So do I；' said Christeen。
'I hope you won't accuse me of fatalism；' whispered the dangling Deathblade。 'But having given my all to the considered assessment of our present situation； I'm forced to conclude that there is no hope left to us。'
'Very well put； old muckamuck； but never say die； eh？ The fact that we are currently hanging upside down before the viewing public； with explosive capsules nestling in our privy passages； might on the face of it； I grant you； appear cause for just concern。'
'On the face of it？'
'But；' Rambo rambled on； 'I myself subscribe to the credo of 〃think positive〃。 Should the worst possible occur and our bums blow us to oblivion； we must look on the bright side。 We will be making a political statement。'
'Making a mess of the studio； more like。'
'Eric； in some future time our names may well be writ big upon the wall of martyrdom。'
'The blood is running to what remains of my head。'
'Chin up； think of England。'
'Of where？'
'Never mind； it's just a saying。'
'It's the questions I worry most about； Rambo。'
'Questions； Eric？ Do you mean like； what does all this mean？ And is there really a divine purpose behind it； and things of that nature？'
'No； Rambo。 I was thinking about the questions the Dalai will ask； I hope they are on gardening。 Do you think he will let us choose or will we just have to take what es？'
'We'll just have to play it by ear； Eric。 No offence meant。'
'None taken； I assure you。'
'Extremists and heretics；' the Dalai was screaming； 'like really bad people。 Like well； you know； how bad can bad be； right？ Really bad； yeah； you got it。 They hate me； so they hate you； it's the same thing when you think about it； know what I mean； innit？ These people just hate； that's all they do。 Who needs them； do you need them？ I don't need them。。。'
'He's talking gibberish。' Rex had fearfully tweaked up the sound in the control room； but wasn't daring to look。
'He's talking the universal tongue。'
'He is what？'
'The language of the stoned； the blitzed； the smashed and well and truly out of it。 The Enlightened。'
'But it's rubbish； it just goes on and on。'
'Enlightenment is like that。 Refined knowledge is no knowledge at all。 Every question has a million answers and all of them probably wrong。 The Dalai now has his followers narcotized； he speaks to them in their language。 We've all been stoned at some time or another and felt certain that we knew what was what。 When we woke up the next day and couldn't precisely remember； what did we do？'
'We got stoned again。'
'Precisely； the bunker…bound will recall some of it； the bits that are drummed into them and they'll be back for another helping。'
'Then surely I have listened to this； again and again？'
'Rex； you slept through the most part of it with your eyes open。'
'My uncle taught me。'
'And you know now who killed him。'
'Yes； and I know why。'
'So； keep watching the show； carefully of course。 There's a very good bit ing up in just a moment。'
'Dear friends； do you have your remote controls at the ready？ Yes； I just know that you do。 Well； I'm gonna ask you a question and you； the viewers at home； are gonna answer it。 You got the two buttons； right； one marked yes and the other marked； you guessed it； no。 So I ask you the question and you have the choice。 All ready； right。 The question is； should we let these vindictive murderers and would…be assassins of my good person live； or should we blast the heretic sons of Satan off to hell； live in colour？'
'One feels the question might have been better phrased；' Rambo observed。
'If the opinion of a man with half a brain is of any interest； I have the feeling that our goose…flavoured food cube is well and truly cooked。'
'Now the choice is all yours。 It's a yes if you want them blown to pieces； and a no if you don't think they deserve to live。 So what's it going to be then； eh？'
'What about the don't knows？' Rambo