Harry Guakomoli discovered Girl Oslo was right: The slit had an elasticity that allowed The Guak to fit. He barreled through and crashed to soft spongy ground. Soft spongy pink ground. Our hero jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. He was in a cavern, its walls and ceiling a vibrant fuchsia. The only way out appeared to be the same way he came in. This must be The Pink. "Clever name," thought The Guak as he rolled his eyes.
The chamber was empty save for the throne in the center of the cave. It comprised of breasts, penises, labia, buttocks, scrota, and mouths of all sizes, shapes, and shades. Sitting upon the throne was a dark man smoking a blunt. He looked mighty sharp in his green suit with gold pinstripes. Several gold chains hung around his neck and a large gaudy ring was wrapped around each finger. His gold bowler and long dreadlocks framed the man's face nicely.
At each foot knelt a barefoot woman in a gold bikini, her arms wrapped around his leg. To his left was a curvy white girl with a wavy ginger mane that cascaded down to her bottom; to his right knelt a black lady as voluptuous as her caucasian counterpart with a ridiculously over-sized afro.
"This is a seriously whacked out dream you're having, son," the man spoke, flashing his diamond-encrusted platinum grill. "Some hardcore Henry Darger-type shit."
The Guak didn't know who Henry Darger was, and he didn't want to know. He clenched his fists and cracked his neck.
"Whoa, whoa! I'm just here to talk."
"Start talking then, fuck nuts. Who are you?" The Guak growled.
"Right to the point. I can appreciate that," the man said right before he took a long pull off the blunt and let the smoke from the marijuana and tobacco slowly seep from his mouth.
"I'm Filthy O'Possum, and I'm here to save you from a life of slavery. And possibly from dying."
The Guak had heard of Filthy O'Possum. Father Bruce had spoken of him once after catechism. The clergyman claimed O'Possum was the patron saint of sexy visions according to voodoo, santeria, and other schools of black magic with African roots. Our hero got the impression Father Bruce was full of shit about a lot of things and not a very good priest.
"This is what that Nazi jerk-off has in store for you. Sure, kicking ass and fucking bitches is a blast, but the trade-off is servitude to a Master Race shit heel," said Filthy O'Possum.
"Why do you give a shit?" asked The Guak. He found this "Filthy O'Possum" highly suspicious.
"Because you're my descendant."
Our hero looked at the near ebony complexion of Filthy O'Possum and then at his own pale, almost pasty, arm. He shot this strange man a look of skepticism.
"Us O'Possums have always had a sweet tooth for white chocolate," Filthy stated with a sly grin. "So our line lightened over the years so much our African roots are unnoticeable...on the outside. Like in Pudd'nhead Wilson."
The Guak didn't know what Pudd'nhead Wilson was and didn't want to know. This was obviously thinking time, and that didn't sit well with our hero.
"So not only will you be Maschinemensch's bitch, but if he ever found out what's pumping through your veins he'll hit that control rod until your head explodes."
For some reason he can't explain, The Guak believed this man. His ancestor, Filthy O'Possum, patron saint of naughty dreams, was telling the truth as ridiculous as it sounded.
"I've been in many a tight spot before. Why are you helping me now?"
"Because last night you became my last living descendant the moment you killed Sasquatch MacGillicuddy."
"For real? That waste was my brother?" The Guak asked. This sounded more and more weird.
"Don't be stupid," Filthy said as he passed the blunt to the white girl who immediately took a monster hit. "He was your half brother."
"We had the same mother? She was a voodoo priestess, right?"
"No, no, no. Don't get me started on that crazy vindictive bitch. Because that whore had to go and be a twat you can't have kids."
This was serious thinking time, and The Guak was in over his head. And that made our hero ornery.
"You better start making sense or I'm going to rip off your head and piss down your neck."
"Okay, okay, brother. Fucking relax," responded The Guak's ancestor. "Your pops was an odd man who searched the world for odd ladies. Real strange chicks. And eventually he would get it on with 'em. Siamese twins. Albino quadriplegics. Hairless yetis. Goat girls. Whatever. So joining a traveling circus seemed the logical choice to sate his taste for the physically and mentally weird. And then that...that...your mother came along. He was smitten at first sight. She must have put some charm on him because there was nothing special about her. But she was evil. As evil as they come. But he was in love and would never leave her, so I tried invading her dreams. Tempt her to stray. Yet her subconscious was impenetrable. I suspected the strumpet possessed some gris-gris that protected her from me and my ilk. So I went after him. But he only fantasized about her. Fucking gross. After you were born I decided to pull no punches and used every sexy dream manipulation tool at my disposal. But I went too far and the onslaught killed him."
"That was mighty fucking stupid of you," stated The Guak.
"No shit, motherfucker!" snapped Filthy O'Possum. "Your old man was dead, and your mother knew it was me who killed him. But Colonel Carl didn't believe her. Who would? So those carny freaks burned her at the stake, but before she died she put a hex on you. She cursed you to be forever childless. It was obviously to spite me more than anything. Sasquatch never had any children, preferring the company of Thai lady boys. So now you are the sole living member of the O'Possum bloodline. Maybe I'm just a sentimental old fool, but I wanted to keep you alive at least long enough to find someone to lift the curse so you can spread your potent seed around."
"Ummm...thanks?" said our hero.
"Don't mention it, my boy," replied Filthy. He placed a hand atop the head of both kneeling ladies, who passed the blunt back and forth between them. "So Harry O'Possum MacGillicuddy Guakomoli, The Motherfucking Guak, before I wake your ass up so you can be righteous and crack some Third Reich skulls, do you want to have your way with either of these fine honeys? Or both? Or maybe just watch them make out? It's pretty hot."
"No, I'm good," The Guak answered. "But I have a question: why go through all of this trouble with the elaborate scenario instead of just bringing me directly to The Pink?"
"I'm the patron saint of dirty thoughts. I've got some wiggle room here, but I still got a mandate."
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