Kali Among The Tribes: Life In The Spirit

-That's not right.

-Yes it is.

-It's not. There's a feel about the thing.

-The place?

-No, but--well, yeah, that too. But I meant with her. I don't know exactly how to--

-You said that before.

-About her?

-Right. I still don't see it.

-You totally missed it.

-How could I? We were both here.

-But not the whole time. I think it happened while your mind was wandering.
And I think you daydream too much. That’s some fuckin’ imagination you got on you.

-That’s got nothing to do with it.

-We’ll see. C’mon. Let’s keep going.

Farther along the corridors. It’s a short walk but seems to take forever. A kind of shadowy golden light laminates the doors and walls. From another time. Just old enough to remind one of home, of origins. Two young men of sound mind in search of experience; in search of their own depths.

-God, it was fucking glorious, I tell you. There were—there ARE—other places, man.

-You and your ‘other places.’ Are you done?

-Why did you come, then?

-I’m looking for something, too.

-How do you remember it, then?

-I’ve already told you. A vision, pointing us toward something else. Something we haven’t found yet.

-But you say you didn’t see her.

-No, I said I didn’t RECOGNIZE her! Why are you having so much trouble with this? All I’m saying is that she couldn’t have revealed herself like you say, that’s all.

-She did. And it was fucking glorious.

-(Shakes his head in frustration) C’mon. Just a little bit farther, I think.


-That’s right, you fucking ugly piece of shit monkey, take it! Take all of it, goddamn you. See? You like it, don’t you? Fucking stupid monkey likes sucking cock! Don’t you fucking gag, motherfucker! You take it deeper, c’mon, all of it.

She rams Paul Bunyan’s dick all the way into his mouth till it's tickling the back of his throat. He can’t help gagging.

-Speak up, bitch! She taunts. Let’s hear you speak now. Go on!

Muffled grunts, TV gorilla sounds. She thrusts her hips forward so hard this time that the force nearly jerks his head off and the gargantuan, big-ass strap-on dick may well have punctured his lung, judging from the way he went into seizure mode. She jerks it out with a swift whipping of her regal hips and the fucker throws up all over the place. Strung upside down and blindfolded is one hell of a hard way to puke your guts out. She slaps his puke-drenched face back and forth with the massive dildo. Beat ya senseless, motherfucker, that’s what’ll happen to ya. Slap welts and a fuckin’ harelip onya with this big hard fucker! (Where do you get a dildo this big? Gotta be for mules, for chrissakes.) Guy could be dying from throwin’ up upside down, choke to death or some shit. He’s definitely kinda spinning out here, but big girl just laughs and laughs. Points at him, taunting. Spits on him. Oh, she LOVES spitting on him. Total contempt when you spit right in his worthless fucking face. Repeatedly.

She turns her big ass on him and sticks it in his face. His face perceives those divine, massive orbs, smooth as silk and stronger than dirty bombs. Nose fulla puke, he can still smell the animal bouquet of her asshole. She shoves that meaningless nose deep into it. He’s still not through puking and it’s running down her leg as she grinds her beautiful fat ass into his face. Growing bored, there’s nothing left to be done but to cut him down and fuck his ass up royally. She flips a lever on the wall that releases the ropes and Pig-boy Shit-balls falls straight down on his fucking head: Really hard. Twitch, kick, spazz, flip and flop. Super funny shit and she’s laughing her ass off. Reaches down so arrogantly and pulls him up by his hair to a sitting position. Rips off the blindfold.

-You’re gonna watch this shit, motherfucker, she says. Now get your ass up.

He’s like fucking stunned from the whole trauma, and she has to help him to his feet. No problem, jerk his fucking hair up even harder. Omigod, he’s just standing there trembling, hardly able to stay upright. He’s naked, with puke all over his face and HIS cock is almost as big as Paul Bunyan’s dick. Well, not quite that big, but springboard steady, to be sure. She laughs at him again, the ultimate humiliator, She.

-Keep those hands down, now, she says. I’m gonna show you what it means to be a woman!

She rears back and sucker-punches him, all she’s got, bare knuckles, right in the middle of his face. Blood spurts, puke flies, and he goes down like a $2.00 whore.

-Awwwwww, he moans.

He shivers on the floor.

-Get up, she says, standing over him. Get up right now, or I’ll fucking kill your ass!

He tries, but that blow was massive. His nose is bleeding badly, and split lip for sure. Again, it takes some hair pulling to get him up. She gets him to his feet, still yelping, and VERY SHAKY.

-Hands down, motherfucker! She yells.

Here it comes again: Straight right fist hard to the mouth and he almost flips over backwards as he hits the floor.

-Ohhhhh! Ahhwwwwww!

His groanings punctuate the triple blood flow she got out of him with that one. Knocked out the fucker’s front teeth. Lip looks like someone cut it open with pinking shears, and the nose: broken sure. Writhing epileptic style on the floor in blood pool, puke-laced and scarcely knowing. She isn’t finished. The afternoon drags on longer.

-Get up! She keeps yelling, but no response.

So, for who knows how long, she keeps picking him up by that hair, propping him against the wall, raining punches like mortar fire, and watching him slam to the floor again and again, gurgling pathetically. Beating him to a bloody pulp with her devastating bare fists.

-I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to kill a man with my bare fists, she says. Well, fuck-boy, (slams another uncontested roundhouse into the wretched remains of his face, disfigured beyond recognition) maybe you get to find out, too, hmmmm?


It’s so cold out here. Godforsaken except for the stars. Beautiful multitudes of them, sharp and crisp as crystals, strewn to the outer limits of eye-grasp. Unseasonable, this near-frost in the brambles of the 4-corners. Spirits of slain red warriors dancing through our minds as we seek to hook one and curry a ride into dark and dazzling higher dimensional space. Not so easy, but what an arena within which to make ones' stand! The moon is full and beats like a musical heart exuding its energy in spades.

-Goddamn, aren't you freezing?

-Definitely cold.

-It's eerie out there. Too quiet.

-It's supposed to be quiet. It's the middle of nowhere, for chrissakes.

-Not even a fucking cricket.

-Probably frozen. Besides, I don't think they're out this time of year.

-Guess not. Hey! Check out this bedroom. We didn't see this one before, did we?

-I don't think so.

They turn this way and that, snooping by the moonlight that spills through the curtainless window.

-Nothing in here. Look out there, though. Man, I'm tellin' you, it's fucking creeped-out out there. If you just keep looking, you can see something. Something moving, just a little bit.

-Where?

-Different places. Just look for a second, will you?

-See, this is exactly what started the whole thing. You kept talking about seeing spirits.

-No, I didn't. I said that YOU were. And you were confusing them with this so called 'perfect woman.'

-No! That's not right!

-Whatever. Are you looking?

-I'm looking.

Do they really exist, all those shadows he sees moving? Now that it's dark, the familiar glow of the afternoon sun abandons him to the quantum vagaries of the desert night. Looking out onto the stark landscape, there's a feeling that grips you. LOTS of extra-dimensional shit going out there, even for the unbeliever.

-There! It's fucking Indians, man. I'm tellin' you, it's like spirits and shit out there!

-(Frustrated) C'mon, now you're the one not making any sense. There's nothing out there but scorpions, and it may be too cold for them, too. There's nothing in here, either. I thought you said it wasn't much farther.

-I didn't think it was. But everything is different now. Now, I don't know.

-Look, here's the hallway. C'mon, let's try to find another room.

Dimmest sliver of light some ways down. In his head the vision of Indians shifts to hot legs and ass. Moving, moving. Mmmm. Provocative.

-I think I see it, he whispers. A girl's legs and maybe her ass. Really nice.

-Fat or skinny?

-What?

-The legs.

-Ahhh, sorta medium.

-That's not it. But try not to go back to Indians.

-OK.

Closer to the light now. So faint, such a sliver, but sure. Groping, groping, feeling for wall. Then...

-Omigod, there's the door.

-Jeezus.

-C'mon. Slowly.


They push it open, and there she is. In the dim light of a small table lamp. That face; unspeakably fat and beautiful. She sees them peering through the doorway, and wicked witch-laughter, shrill and terrifying, fills the thick chill of the air. She is lying on a buffalo rug, a man's head buried between her huge, gorgeous thighs, his face shoved up tight into her ass, only a small shock of hair lying limp against her sublime white leg-flesh. She wears black thigh-high stockings, held in place by the delicious straps of her garter belt. On her feet are skyscraper high heels, and her voluptuous upper body and luscious fat arms complete a vision of omnipotence incarnate in female form. The man's body has long ago gone still. She continues to crush his skull just because it amuses her. The two lads hear the cracking sounds as those powerful legs bring their immeasurable pressure to bear.

-I told you, goddamit, I told you!

-I didn't remember. Shit! I'm sorry. Why couldn't I--?

-But I kept telling you! Fuck! Let's get outta here!

Legs flutter ineffectually. Going nowhere, and now the cold reaches the bones and marrow. It happens in dreams, too. Running, running, struggling with everything you've got, but you can't move.That wicked laughter. The strange flicker of light from that bedside table lamp. Terror grips the heart as it all begins to add up.

-Ogod, it can't be her. I can't move!

-You've got to! C'mon!

-Shit!


Morning falls on the red soil in and around what the White Man calls Monument Valley. A small dwelling in the remote desert is surrounded by legend, by tales of a Woman so powerful that she crushes men like cockroaches, of strong young male bodies broken into halves by the press of massive legs, so beautiful and so strong that no one who has ever come into their presence has lived to tell about it. All around the world, in cities large and small, the spirit of this fat goddess is alive in violent women who control their own destinies with their iron wills and killing-machine bodies. She is Kali, Eternal God-Queen of Destruction and Death. You may recognize her on sight in one of these exquisite women. If you do, you will just as quickly catch a glimpse of your own fate. But there is nothing you can do to alter it.