First, Dylan eats his friend’s vas deferens. It is a small
brown streak on a sheet of white paper. Dylan is not wearing a shirt.
There is blood smeared down his chin and torso. “It used to be like
four times bigger when it was wet,” informs his friend. Dylan licks the
paper clean.
This is a cannibalism party, a Donner Party. There is an
overturned fridge full of bloody, ice-encrusted bones—those who
did not survive the winter. “Man burgers” fry on the barbecue. No
one has really touched the tofu baby. There is a bowl of green
brains. Small children are silhouetted in the windows of the house next
door, undoubtedly confused.
In a creepy, spider-web-infested shed, people are getting large
metal hooks pierced through their backs. Outside the shed is a large
metal scaffolding for human suspensions. Several people take
turns flying around in small circles, hanging from their shoulder
flesh. Lina, the “Queen of Spears,” gets six metal skewers pierced
through her neck, and one through her cheeks. Dylan holds her hand and
I focus on giving off good energy; he says she’ll feel it if we emit
negativity. One by one the metal skewers penetrate the skin on her
neck and fight to make it out the other side. I can feel the
tension release from her body like a wave as the sharp metal tips
finally break through. The energy in the spider shed is unreal.
Ashamedly, I confess to them that I feel like a voyeur. They respond:
“Voyeurism is participating.” JEFF KIRBY
Want to make The Stranger think they’ve got AIDS blood
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