Vanillah* Lounge, Insomnia East  
Pseudo Akaash
(love, sex, no-sleep, insanity and some other bollox)

THE B-ANDROiD AB28

He said, he was new to this game but always ready to compete.

Freak out!

I'm a freak!It was a good Saturday for a change.

Took a Mate and her Kid to a Design Class at The Whitechapel Art Gallery - "Playing with lines."

On the way in I'm looking at a weird poster hanging on the wall in the hall.
Strange swallen displaced lips devouring a slice of ham.

At the end of the class we designed a 3D body model (Miss Pretty - pic right) and the Kiddo made a massive scene when I added my unique touch of genius and turned The Beauty into a Ms Hyde Drug Addict with powerful green vapours spreading from her stomach via a lippy-rouge, so sexy...
The Kid cracked the shit - I could not give one..
I only thought of what I dreamt of last night.

Arrrrrrrrrrrgh!
So I did it.

                             *     *    *

                THE BRISTOL ANDROID

                              
                                                           YEAH-SSSSS!



Friday night, 16/10/2004, 19:33

Freak out!
Freak out!
Freak out!

'Where you going?'
'Southall with mates.'

22:56, some bar in Piccadilly

'Bloody hell! What was I doing for the past 28 years!?', he pauses after snogging heavily.

It is Friday night, best time ever to study Reptilian Phylogeny in London. By 11pm any human still single on the dance floor will attempt to mate with any odd reptile for the sake of extending his family tree.

Some cheesy house music and suddenly I get that 'Marvin Gaye Feeling' as I feel his hands on my lower spine (reaching for the tail)..
Electricity.
He kisses my neck.

'All the snogging outside!', kitchen staff passed by with a crate of empty beer bottles, it is almost eleven.

'I'd take you back with me but the family might throw a wobbly'

'We'll go back to mine.', he says.

After a couple of red wine glasses I ended up fuck knows where (North of the River) in the arms of a beautiful stranger.
He was from up North.
He spoke softly.
He was kissing like mad, biting my lips, caressing my head and playing with my hair.

Any moment now under his exploring fingers he might feel the bulge of my real hair tucked in plaits under the short brown wig, I was afraid.

You see, I do not trust these Northeners to know what I really look like.

A friend once said, they all got two heads, one of them is removed at birth, if you look close you will see a scar on the neck. Let's check this theory..

I sat close, so close I could feel the pores of his skin breathe and wrapped my legs around him.

'Close your eyes'
He did.
'Keep them closed.'

His neck was smooth, it was safe to continue.

Pulling the pins out I quickly got rid of the "furry animal" covering my head.

I was hoping he wouldn't freak out.

'I go back with a brunette and find a blonde in my bed. This is like a threesome.', he took it like a man.

We performed strange rituals all night.

'You gotta suck my nipple!', he would shout out now and then just to amuse the neighbours giggling on the other side of the wall.

'Grrrgh bldrrr more frgh meeeow yeah yess meow YESSS', the gift of tongues took the conversation over.

'You gotta teach me some of that Newspeak', he says.

He was like a miraculous Kissing Android programmed by some-one very clever to satisfy all Mona's carnal needs.

'The tongue is wasted on the mouth', the Northern Star is travelling South and the wave of pleasures moves down below. The gift of a tongue..

'Fucking hell!', that's all I can say for now.


                             *     *    *

It's 5:30 in the morning and all the cab fares have to be paid in advance in the North City.

A Turkish cab driver behind the wheel of a 6 sitter taking me back South, where I belong, is scrutinising me from head to toes.
Do all Turks drive peoples' carriers in London?

'You're not from London?'

'Course I am'

'What's your name?', Ahmed's voice is ringing some disbelief in my previous statement.

'Moana'

'Melina...?', he deaf or something.

'Moana. Moana Shaye.'

                             *     *    *

I got back around 6am to find whole of the area I live in closed off by the police.
The place was crawling with cops and military.
Right at the top of my street, about 10 metres away from my door an abandoned car was smoking.
You could smell some strange chemical in the air.

'Mona, you hopeless slut, you', is God trying to tell me something?
In my heart I felt the car might explode any moment.

Yellow-jackets with helmets on were approching the vehicle carefully now and then taking some bits and pieces out of the open front.

Went straight to bed. I may get blown up in the air with whole of the SE15 any moment.
So what!? I got laid.
I was so tired (loved up and shagged out) I could not give a toss, literally.
I've lived.

                             *     *    *

The morning found whole of my body throbbing and a permanent smile on my face.
My lips were pleasantly sore.

'Who's the fairest of them all?', I ask the mirror.
And the big massive red swallen mouth goes,

'IT'S YOU!!!!!'
Forget the lipstick for a week or two.

'When I get paid I'll have mine done too.', a mate is looking at my mouth on a Saturday morning during an art class in Whitechapel Gallery.
We're drawing detached body parts to serve as wall paper design elements.

So I decided to keep mine this way, hopefully with the help of The Baby-Faced Bristol Kissing Android, the "AB28".

'Well, I'm willing and able to be of service to you, my dear. Whenever those lips need servicing, especially those your mates can't see, we'll have to meet.'

'If you insist. When?'

The communication device flashes green and the familiar sound alerts to a message coming through.
I reach for the phone but funnilly so I don't seem to be able to hold on to it as if it wasn't really there or is there something wrong with my hand..
Guiding my index finger towards the not-so-long-ago sore lips just to verify the sin, I find myself nothing more than a sleepy oblivion..

                             *     *    *

The AB28 fucked Mona's brains out.
Some of it got scattered round his bedroom playfully and still glows in the dark since, just like a starmap of a remote Intelligent Galaxy.

'I must go back there to pick up the missing bits, coz I ain't too sharp since', Mona's still smiling on a Sunday morning,
'Otherwise I'll always have to pick *your* brains in a moment of crisis', Alice is listening to Mona's shite with a sly, ironic smile on her lovely "pyccki" face.

'Always glad to help you regain your focus. My soup! Mike's so ill. Gotta run.'


                             *     *    *

The flashbacks were too strong so..

I wrote this on an empty stomach on a 78 to Whitechapel on a bright Saturday morning.
I love making up stories on love making, especially on the public transport.
When I rang the bell in Altgate East the driver did not stop.
I didn't have a breakfast yet but have not been feeling hungry since.


Mona Shy, 16/10/04
About Mona - click here
Freak out!

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