06-04-2019, 06:14 PM
"That's right," The Cara-Thing said, in exactly the way one might if one were slowly drawing a knife and staring at the vulnerable back of the foolish hero of a western, walking behind him along a ledge in a torchlit abandoned mine. "Now, he died of multiple shank wounds in prison brawl, which you used this power to make him provoke, and then it failed you today, and now you've been shanked too. How does that make you feel?"
Helen had to think about that for a moment, and why the memory felt so odd.
"Hmm... see the poetry there, certainly. Not sure why the thing didn't work. Oh wait! That just happened a little bit ago, didn't it? How long ago was that?"
"Oh, who can tell, "Cara-Thing said. "You passed out pretty quick there. About the time Maisson was ripping off your clothes."
Yeah, he's good at that," Helena said wistfully, then something dawned on her. "Oh, GOD no! This is one of those fucking Near-Death Vision things, isn't it? I hoped those were all movie bullshit."
"Nope," said Sally-Thing. "it's happening, all right. Contessa Helena de San Finzione," The audience chanted along with her. "THIS! IS! YOUR! DEATH!"
"Well, maybe," Cara-Thing butted in. "I mean, you're a hot, rich, famous white chick, so they're probably trying real hard to save you up there. Out there. Down there. We don't know how this works, to be honest."
"Ok," said Helena as she tried to bring the left side of her brain into the conversation and her right hand joined her left in slowly exploring her breasts. "This isn't a concussion thing, because someone would have doped me up or brought me out of it by now, and if it was a nightmare, I'd have woken the fuck up when you two first started looking creepy. Not like Sally and Cara's usual 'too damn happy to be trying to seem relevant at 4 am' creepy; but like what anti-drug cartoons try to bullshit kids into thinking you see on drugs."
Cara-Thing answered her.
"We could be all of those catching up with you, who knows? Point is, you're stuck here and you're going to have to ride it out."
"Well, this is all in my head, right?
Do I have any control over it?" Helena asked.
Sally-Thing answered her. "The whole world is staring at your naked body and can see you're getting turned on by it while you're being interviewed by grotesque mockeries of people you detest on too visceral a level to even hate-fuck..."
Helena cut her off excitedly.
"I know this one! It's because my True Father and My Husband were both senior citizens the whole time I knew them! I have a great respect for the elderly as a result! I'm no morning person, but I've become accustomed to waking up with the sun; and you're the first people many of them see when they turn on the TV in the morning! I hold you in contempt for spoon-feeding them a steady diet of Pablum.
That's why I've been idly playing with my tits this whole time! Because that's at least a cheap thrill, and that's more than you cackling harpies have given them since trampolines were 'the latest fad!'"
"Well, bully for you, Helen. You certainly put the real us in their place. I'm sure they're really stung by that. So, try it. What do you want more than anything in the world right now?"
Helena thought. A lit cigarette appeared in her hand. She took a puff.
"All right, let's see where this goes," Contessa Helena de San Finzione said as she uncrossed her legs. She held the cigarette to her lips in her right hand, rested her left on her hip, and leaned forward to stare into the camera; thrusting her breasts deliberately now. She blew a smoke ring as she spoke to the viewers at home with a wicked grin.
"Don't touch that dial, folks."
* * *
Helen had to think about that for a moment, and why the memory felt so odd.
"Hmm... see the poetry there, certainly. Not sure why the thing didn't work. Oh wait! That just happened a little bit ago, didn't it? How long ago was that?"
"Oh, who can tell, "Cara-Thing said. "You passed out pretty quick there. About the time Maisson was ripping off your clothes."
Yeah, he's good at that," Helena said wistfully, then something dawned on her. "Oh, GOD no! This is one of those fucking Near-Death Vision things, isn't it? I hoped those were all movie bullshit."
"Nope," said Sally-Thing. "it's happening, all right. Contessa Helena de San Finzione," The audience chanted along with her. "THIS! IS! YOUR! DEATH!"
"Well, maybe," Cara-Thing butted in. "I mean, you're a hot, rich, famous white chick, so they're probably trying real hard to save you up there. Out there. Down there. We don't know how this works, to be honest."
"Ok," said Helena as she tried to bring the left side of her brain into the conversation and her right hand joined her left in slowly exploring her breasts. "This isn't a concussion thing, because someone would have doped me up or brought me out of it by now, and if it was a nightmare, I'd have woken the fuck up when you two first started looking creepy. Not like Sally and Cara's usual 'too damn happy to be trying to seem relevant at 4 am' creepy; but like what anti-drug cartoons try to bullshit kids into thinking you see on drugs."
Cara-Thing answered her.
"We could be all of those catching up with you, who knows? Point is, you're stuck here and you're going to have to ride it out."
"Well, this is all in my head, right?
Do I have any control over it?" Helena asked.
Sally-Thing answered her. "The whole world is staring at your naked body and can see you're getting turned on by it while you're being interviewed by grotesque mockeries of people you detest on too visceral a level to even hate-fuck..."
Helena cut her off excitedly.
"I know this one! It's because my True Father and My Husband were both senior citizens the whole time I knew them! I have a great respect for the elderly as a result! I'm no morning person, but I've become accustomed to waking up with the sun; and you're the first people many of them see when they turn on the TV in the morning! I hold you in contempt for spoon-feeding them a steady diet of Pablum.
That's why I've been idly playing with my tits this whole time! Because that's at least a cheap thrill, and that's more than you cackling harpies have given them since trampolines were 'the latest fad!'"
"Well, bully for you, Helen. You certainly put the real us in their place. I'm sure they're really stung by that. So, try it. What do you want more than anything in the world right now?"
Helena thought. A lit cigarette appeared in her hand. She took a puff.
"All right, let's see where this goes," Contessa Helena de San Finzione said as she uncrossed her legs. She held the cigarette to her lips in her right hand, rested her left on her hip, and leaned forward to stare into the camera; thrusting her breasts deliberately now. She blew a smoke ring as she spoke to the viewers at home with a wicked grin.
"Don't touch that dial, folks."
* * *
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