Chapter 4: headfuck

"Okay, so you wanna get fucked? Head Fucked?" They now stare at him blankly, but in rapt attention - that was previously focused towards "veg" subjects, ranging from canine care to herpes prognosis. At this moment, the room had been abuzz with conversations. Two or three strains among these voices in the buzzing room also engaged in a discussion of this swole alumni - one of their very own - among them, not corrupted by a single day of indiscretionary eating, denying the existence of atrophy, and looking as good as they never even did at their prime. Those voices discussed of his enigmatic profile - that blurred out of imagination on magnifying into detail, and how even his facticities were unconfirmed. Now they all were bringing him into their vision's best focus, so that their confused eyes could convince him to help their imagination at a game that they'd obviously never even heard of.

"So, who all here know Frank Sinatra?" There were many raised hands.
"Well, he's dead."

"Just a sample of how it could be... a headfuck... grabbing, humorous, and DARK. Alright, should we go for one?" He saw some nods in the silhouettes. "I won't do it unless there is a 100% audience, which means ALL of you..." More heads nod, until all of them are seen pulsating - albeit arrythmically - at the same time. That is when his voice fills the room again; "Great. Green flag. So I'll begin..."

"But there are a few rules:

1. Positive criticism is appreciated
2. Negative criticism or taking offence is banned. A single wretched voice condemning me to damnation, or summin' like that, and I'll stop.
3. Nobody is allowed to punch me - now or afterwards.

All agree?"
They merrily did, acting as if they were in a fucking Walt Disney fucking Mickey Mouse episode.

"I have been..." he began, pausing to collect words for his upcoming fuck. These 'fucks' were a part of every avant-garde wind-out session among his university colleagues; liberal arts colleges do bring in that something extra. Everybody wanted to fuck. Everyone loved getting fucked; the harder the fuck, the more they loved it. Their fucks could be anything that can grab an audience 'viscerally'. Among these people, messing one's head was considered highest recreational activity (albeit some had, by now, extended its underlying philosophy to their professional and public matters). On any meet following a good fuck, they'd go "Woah, she fucked us hard the last time," or "Oh, Jimmy, you rarely fuck us these days. Can't get something up?"


Though this 'fuck' was a metaphorical one, tonight he decided to use a literal 'fuck' to fuck them up.

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