Bathroom Monologue: Not a Slut, OR, Bafflingly inspired by A League of Their Own, OR, I’m awful

"They say you're a slut."

She smirked into her cigarette-holder. "Do they?"

"Why do you cheat on your husband so bad? I seen you with a man a night at least every night since the war started."

"That's not cheating."

"I bet your fella wouldn't agree."

"You never met my Hatiel. Before he went off to fight he said I'd miss him sore since he was the best I'd ever have. Dared me to try every man I found until he got back."

"That's the most twisted thing I've ever heard."

"Then listen to this."

"What?"

She sighed from her diaphragm, blowing smoke out the window. "I can't wait for him to get back. He was right."

Bathroom Monologue: The Living Curse

“I’m not God. I will not say I am. Except for the right woman, but you are most certainly not her.

“I am a curse. Retired.

“Not that curses call themselves ‘retired.’ The proper term might be ‘executed.’ I don’t know for certain because other curses don’t talk. A fleshy thing like you lives and dies. A curse is more like a computer process; once executed, it isn’t dead. It’s merely happened. What to do once they’ve happened is something other curses have a hard time reconciling. I didn’t, but I can only speak for my own experience.

“See, a long time ago God took interest in this one planet. Lots of life. Humans. Gnomes. Vampires. Biological angels. Walking shrubbery. The planet was a total overachiever in the intelligent-life department. The Big Guy was interested, which means saving them in ways they’re completely oblivious to, and when they grow hair and get interested in girls, laying down a few rules. The Big Guy essentially said: go nuts, do whatever you want, just don’t cross these three bloodlines.

“Well everyone pays attention to what The Big Guy wants when they’ve got no food or clothing. But give them an iPhone and unemployment checks, and holy crap they get cocky. We’re not talking vampires biting humans out of need, either. We’re talking walking shrubbery fucking angels from 9 to 5 and hoping for a raise. They mastered this planet, could fission water and fuse thin air. Conquered the genome and the ether. Brought peace between angels and vampires, walking shrubs and gardeners.

“Because they’d run out of useful things to do, they proposed genetic art. Bat wings on werewolves? Humans with no defects? This was boring. They wanted to fuse all the gene strings and make a life form that was All of the Above. Pan-Planetary Life. Humans, lycans and angels had similar stuffing, and for the more difficult things, they used nanomachines to force the organs to cooperate. They invented an industry just to make this one life form work. Sixty years of high-tech social masturbation before it opened its eyes.

“Before I opened my eyes. Because The Big Guy has got the best sense of humor. He lays a law down not to cross these bloodlines, and then you do? Why, He makes that new life form the host of the curse.

“The moment I opened my eyes, the ground split open and swallowed the researchers. I flew around the heavens and made it rain blood. Suddenly everybody’s praying. Some are praying to the government, but unfortunately ballistic missiles can’t shoot down destiny. They dropped hydrogen bombs on me when I was in their most populated city. I didn’t let the bombs detonate until I tracked down the bunker of world leaders, though.

“Left the world a burning cinder. I floated in space between the black planet and its white moon, thinking. Funny thing, thinking. Curses aren’t supposed to think.

“I was executed. Curse: done. No more to do. The planet was over, no way were those bloodlines getting crossed now that all liquid had ceased to be. I could have ceased to be. And that’s the wonderful thing about God. I got the choice. Curse, want to stop? Want to blink out of existence? Or would you like to take the endless powers those idiots bonded into one body, and go on a cross-galactic skiing trip? Ultimate pension package: can’t die, planet-breaking power, and the holy word is you can do whatever you want. Make yourself comfortable. No soul! No afterlife! Can’t die, since you’re not alive. The body is a toy, a shoe you can kick off whenever. You’re just a curse, with panache.

“As far as I’m concerned, all life in the universe is recess. I’ve had eons to embrace my ability. Wrap twelve dimensions around my little finger. But I am not God. I’m just eating on His dime.”

Bathroom Monologue: Succubyebye

Listen to the new audio version or download the MP3 here.

The original recording didn't work out so well, so I did a new one at midnight before the crack of Halloween. Hope you all enjoy it!

Aisling panted and collapsed onto his chest. She was about to disappear when she realized that chest was still warm. She slid a palm up his bare sternum. His ribs rose and pressed into her fingers.

He was breathing.

She looked up in surprise and found him looking back at her.

“It’s a nice chest, isn’t it? I don’t even work out.”

She bolted up, but not away. The sheer impossibility of him still being alive kept her in place. The bedsprings creaked under her movement and the covers slid down her back.

“It’s a miracle,” she murmured.

The man folded his arms behind his head and smirked.

“I think it’s diet, really.”

She shook her head, stardust falling from her curls.

“How are you not dead?”

“Were you hoping I’d be?”

"You don’t understand. It's..." She’d never had to explain this before. For the first time in her life, she felt something like guilt. "I'm... I’m a succubus.”

He paused, then laughed at the ceiling.

“Well that explains some things!”

She leaned closer, trying to see what was special in this man. He was handsome, but that didn't rescue any of her other victims. And aside from his healthy looks, there didn't seem to be much to him.

“You’re not upset?”

“It’s not like you could have killed me." He gestured to himself as though the answer to all her questions was as obvious as his skin tone. "I’m immortal.”

“Immortal?”

“Yes. I have inside me blood of kings. Great coincidence, eh?”

“I thought the immortals were just legends.”

“I would have said the same thing about succubae until you fluttered through my window. By the way, I loved that trick.”

Now she leaned away, covering her chest with an arm.

“You didn’t think anything strange about a woman drifting through your window and having sex with you?”

“I figured most women want to do that and you were just the first to fulfill the fantasy.”

She left the bed, dragging the sheet off to wrap herself. She scowled at him from under a makeshift robe of his own linens. Another emotion occurred to her for the first time in her life now.

“Pig.”

“Pardon me if I offend the slut who wanted to drink my life away. Loosen up! You've finally found a steady guy.”

Though now naked, the immortal didn’t budge from the bed. Well, a bit of him budged, but Aisling wasn’t dealing with that bit anymore.

"Like you didn’t enjoy it!”

“I did. You’ve got decent stamina. Dynamite hips, too.” He gestured like she might hop back on the bed at any moment. “I assume you prefer to work nights?”

She gaped at him, then turned to the window and vanished. His sheet vanished with her.

He waited for her to return. When she didn't, he yelled out the window in case she could still hear.

“If I move, I’ll leave a forwarding address! The name’s Hatiel!”

He moved to lie back down, then thought of something.

“Hatiel with a ‘t!’”

Bathroom Monologue: The Charges For and Against

Hatiel Essex was apprehended at 3:00 this morning outside a diner in the Zeitgeist III galaxy. He was immediately read his rights (or what was left of them) and presented with the list of the charges pending against him: thirty-six million cases of disturbing the peace; fifty-nine thousand counts of treason; twelve billion cases of unrelated homicide; eighteen thousand cases of genocide; twelve thousand and two hundred cases of suicide; thirteen thousand cases of self-resurrection without a permit; seven hundred and seventy-seven cases of immaculate conception; two million, fifty thousand and five hundred cases of "not quite rape, but definitely not calling her the next day;" nine hundred thousand cases of destruction of private property; six hundred thousand cases of destruction of public property; twenty thousand cases of destruction of public planets; eighty cases of grand theft astro; one hundred and four million cases of violating the code of ethics of the Presidency; and four counts of scalping sports tickets. Mr. Essex waived his right to an attorney and said he planned to plea neither "innocent" nor "guilty," but "Successful."