HIROSHIMA YEAH!
ISSUE 38
APRIL 2008

CONSUME! OBEY! Do what your MASTERS tell you! They, after all, are rich and powerful so
THEY KNOW BEST! Alcohol and tobacco are BAD for you and drugs are ILLEGAL, so limit your purchases to essential items like low-fat food and wide-screen TVs. Stay healthy, for you are NEEDED as part of the WORKFORCE that makes this country GREAT. DO NOT buy bottled water because it�s bad for the environment. DO NOT question what the newspapers tell you. THEY ARE RIGHT! Content yourself with a long and happy life spent living in this wonderful New Utopia where every town and city looks exactly the same. With �chain-stores levelling horizons like A-bombs� (� Mark Eitzel), YOU NEED NEVER FEEL LONELY AGAIN! Welcome to HY!, media freaks. This one was written by Mark Ritchie and Gary Simmons, for all your passive-aggressive fanzine needs. We have a website but who CARES?!

HANGMAN WITH HARRY
A couple of months into my tele-sales job,
I found myself sitting next to Harry, one of the company�s �top performers�.
We were playing games of Hangman between calls. Names of films.
�Ginger Snaps Back,� he said, as I lost another game.
I shot him a puzzled look and said I had never heard of it.
Harry asked everyone around us and they all agreed that they�d never heard of it either.
We all laughed but it was a desperate kind of laughter,
as if the world was about to end and everyone was resigned to the fact.
Instead of the job becoming easier to deal with, like you may imagine,
it in fact proved to be quite the reverse,
as if the weeks of rejection had battered me into submission
and made me realise what a shit I was,
how I was an annoying inconvenience in people�s lives,
how my very existence hinged upon doing something I hated to the very core of my being.
�Another game?� Harry asked.
�Why not?� I replied.
I won that one.

WHAT THE GOOD PEOPLE THINK
They won�t miss us
as we lie dead in ditches,
bodies tortured and broken,
our lives snuffed out like candles.
They won�t miss us
because we are poor,
worthless,
with sewerage running through our failing hearts.
We�re not doctors, lawyers or estate agents
making the wine bars rattle
with our witty repartee
and loose morals proudly on display.
No.
We�re too busy struggling, surviving,
getting by as best we can
in rented rooms with paper thin walls,
shutting out the cold, joyless daylight
with blankets over the windows
and another sip of strength.
They won�t miss us,
these �good people� who lecture
from the safety of television studios and pulpits.
Their world will continue
as if we never even existed at all.
And, to them,
we didn�t.

THE WORRIER
The middle of the night is the worst.
That's when he worries about death,
illness,
the existence of God,
people breaking into his room
and stealing his possessions
or the place going up in flames.
He worries about these things during the day too
but it's always much worse at night,
as the windows rattle
and the storm within and without grows and grows.

236 CLYDE STREET
I worked there sometime during the last century
and, again, for a few months at the beginning of this one,
answering phones, photocopying,
drinking illicit cider from coffee mugs with Joe,
getting so wired on Benzedrine and booze at one Christmas party
that I sat up all night, terrified,
and spent the next few months attending AA meetings.
Soon, it will be gone.
All its ghosts silenced,
all its glories buried,
paving the way for bright, new luxurious ruins.
I stand across the street and watch,
wine bottle in hand,
as the bulldozers sing in the sun.


13.7 BILLION YEARS OF HELL
Selected Dispatches from an Unwilling Player of God�s Little Game
By Gary Simmons

They fuckin� started at 8am and woke me the FUCK up! Then, at 7.30pm, I had DAYLIGHT comin� through my window! The CUNTS were using MASSIVE umpteen billion watt lights. If I wanted to live in a fuckin� FILM studio, I�d move to fuckin� Bore-ham-WOOD! I told the CUNTS that I�m trying to �unwind� and I�ve got DAYLIGHT comin� through my �office� window! They then put a big screen up to mask the glare. WHY THE FUCK DIDN�T THEY DO THAT IN THE FIRST FUCKIN� PLACE?!?! We spoke about the vid they were doing, for Moloko. I said I�d never heard of �em (I HAVE, but I wanted to be a sod) and then I said I was into Whitehouse, SPK, Nurse With Wound, Throbbing Gristle� the CUNTS had never HEARD of �em. Comin� down to their level, I said �Well, I also like the Sex Pistols�. They said �Oh, we worked with the Sex Pistols�. I said �Yeah? Glen Matlock�s the nicest one� (er, not that I have ever MET Johnny, Steve or Paul� OR Sid!!) They said �Who?� I said �He�s the original bassist�. GOD!! These people are beyond CONTEMPT!! (As Bennett once said of the Soho Whisky-A-Go-Go management and their �Iranian bouncer thugs�! Nice one, William!!) Film crews really think they�re something special� special� special, DON�T they? Can�t they just see the blindingly obvious fact that they are nothing to me, NOTHING?! THEY deal in fantasies, the CUNTS. WE muck-in with REALITY!! Now I suppose I�ll have a whole bunch of Moloko fans doing a pilgrimage to the fuckin� house where they shot this video. I don�t think I can take much more.
*
Today I just ate and stayed in bed with Star Prak "Enterprise" and some other stuff on my HDD. Also photographed some still-frames of Karloff's "The Mummy" (1931) coz it scared the SHITE outta me when I stayed up to watch it, aged 11!! Now I just feel EMPATHY with that poor, bandaged fellow. My room is a dustbowl, my to-be-played CDs are a'piling up. I can't be fucked with it all just now. Dad won't even let me take the car "in case (I) crash". God! All the lyrics to all the songs I like could be strung together to make a BIBLE (the Third Testament?!) of my own!! It's all there, in the songs, my whole fuckin' LIFE!! This isn't REAL� I'm "on" SOLARIS!!
*
I've given up worrying. Dunno how I did it. Maybe, after all the hells of depression, I just can't see the POINT anymore. AND getting older and nearer to my warm and cosy GRAVE! Well, I don't know anyone (or THING) that survived. As is written on the wall in my Throbbing Gristle video of "Heathen Earth": "WE ALL DIE". Yeah, it's corny, but it'll do for me. Roll on fossilisation day-eeee!!

GEROPAGGIE�S �THE PONCE IS BACK IN TOWN� PLAYLIST (AND MAN, SHE WAS HOT� SHE WAS A�STEAMIN�!)
SEX PISTOLS � ANARCHY IN THE UK � LIVE. LP (Another part of my cornucopian 48th birthday prezzies from Mark. Quite possibly the best live R�n�R album I�ve ever heard. Bootleg/Glitterbest/Warner� I don�t mind which. 19??)
SEX PISTOLS � GUN CONTROL. LP (�Recorded live at Winterland, San Francisco, CA, U.S.A. January 14, 1978. The very last performance of the Sex Pistols� and most likely the greatest live R�n�R album I�ve had the pleasure of havin� my ears �blouwn out� by. Yes. Bootleg. 19??)
WHITEHOUSE � RACKET. CD (Complete and utter fuckin� BOLLOCKS! Nah, just kiddin�. Susan Lawly. 2007)
SUTCLIFFE J�GEND � TRANSGRESSION. LP (Sits nicely in my �record-collectors-are-pretentious-arseholes� long-player accumulation, right next to my copy of SJ�s Pleasure Corpes Japanese bootleg. Dunno who was responsible for all those old illicit Come Org vinyls, eh Juntaro? Oops. Dogma Chase. 2007)
INTRAVENOUS IN FURS � HEAVY LEATHER PARTS 1 + 2. CD (SEE review in HY!#34! HEAR Simon-Sir-Ram-Mick �do� a G. P. Orridge! TASTE the serious drink and druurrgs �stupidity� in Part 1! LASH my tanned bootocks with cruuuel INSTRUMENTS, until they are truly unrecognisable AS bowel-tocks! SEND me photos of �gunged� St. Trinians schoolgirls (cos I ain�t seen it yet and it sounded right up my street). Smith Research. 2007)
V/A � UNTITLED. Homo-sexual-alone-oh taped cassette (From my vanished, if not vanquished, Polish pen-pal and editor of Eld Rich Palmer, Krystof Sadza. The best pole is a DEED pole. Contains a Shining Vril/Knifeladder split CD and tracks by Kranioclast. 200?)
KSU � NASZE S?OWA. CD (Kindly donated by some Polish punk chippy called Adam who works on Alan�s new gaff three doors down. It�s all in fuckin� POLISH, the foreign CUNTS! Fuck OFF Adam, fuck OFF Greg, fuck OFF Moses. Go back to your OWN cunt-ries and don�t come back until you�ve mastered the language of the GODS!! Eastern Euro-Rock for Eastern Euro-Rockers. Beautifully melodic and pleasant enough, generally harmless. Sonic. 2004)
V/A � GODSPUNK VOLUME FIVE. CD (25 tracks by I�m-too-fucked-to-work-out-how-many-bands� 28, I think. My UNBIASED view would be: Las Vegas Mermaids RULE! And, Carl, STOP grooming my fuckin� BITCH or I�ll have her WELL slapped-up! OK?!?! Pumf. 2007)
V/A � TRASH ON DELIVERY. Audio cassette tape. (Babysitters, London Cowboys, Dogs D�Amour, Nikki Sudden (who told Simon-Sire-ram-it-up-my-HOB and me off once for talking loud too close to the stage while he was on�) and more, all point to a 1980�s long-haired-glam-fag-bumfuckery past. Well, HONESTLY! Flicknife. 198?)
V/A � TOTAL ZERO STUFFS (AND MORE) FOR GARY. Audio cassette tape. (Homo-ERECTUS-taped cassette �done� for me by Juntaro Yamanouchi. The cassette itself is a Japanese AXIA 50 High Position with the words �J�Z ON THE STREET. EXCITING SOUND FOR MUSIC FAN�. Jizz on the street, eh? Those Jap Bukkake sluts do it EVERYWHERE! Phycus, Knurl, Disipline X, The Rosary, The Gero-P�s �We Are The Gero-P� unreleased bonus track for CD of the Gero-P recorded in 1985, and all rounded-off with the Ramones� �Poison Heart�. 200?)

Juntaro � Happy 41st birthday for 16th January 2008� WHEREVER you are!

MUSIC
THE CURE � THREE IMAGINARY BOYS (DELUXE EDITION) (FICTION/POLYDOR)
Strange what people send into HY! for review. I�ve NEVER been a fan of The Cure, although I did buy a couple of their 7inch singles way back in the mists of teenage twatdom (one of them, called �Catch�, was really nice). When me and my friend Dave went to the one-day XFM festival in Finsbury Park in 1993, we didn�t even bother to stick around for their headlining set, THAT�S how little they interest me. Nonetheless, here I am listening to their �classic 1979 album debut album remastered with an additional extras CD of 20 period rarities� (according to the slipcase blurb), and it�s DREARY, WOEFUL stuff, an ORDEAL from start to finish. Robert Smith�s whiny, spunkless voice just makes me want to PUNCH FUCK out of him. Behind all the badly-applied-on-purpose make-up, baggy black jumpers and hairspray, you just KNOW that he�s one of the world�s most BORING men.

PORT CITY MUSIC � S/T (SELF-RELEASED) www.portcitymusic.com
Here is a band from the USA (Savannah, Georgia, to be precise) with a ten-track CD that contains everything from warm, Go Betweens-style indie-pop fuzz (�Sunday Best�, �Field Day�, �You Should Care�) to intense ballads (the hushed �Rachael� - which was praised in a previous issue of HY! when it appeared on a compilation CD - and �Sitting Beast�, a wonderfully moody song reminiscent of Nick Cave) and sampled shenanigans (�American Day Dream�). Then there�s the bargain basement Beach Boys romp of �Proletariat Party Song�, �Flight� (with lilting chorus and charming female backing vocals) and, perhaps the greatest song here, �Where Were You?� which appears in two versions, but the �Reprise� is the superior one, bringing to mind  - as it does - Idaho (the band, not the State) in its gentle splendour.

VERMILLION X � S/T (SELF-RELEASED)
Before Port City Music, there was THIS lot (the common denominator being main PCM guy Philip Palmer and guitarist Toby Taylor) who, on this 2004 CD, blend swirly soundscapes of chiming guitars with the mellifluous voice of Angela Fish to very nice effect. It�s tastefully done and not a million miles away from what the band Howling Bells are currently doing. Brooding opener �Come Seething�, the Walkabouts-esque �Movement� and the twangy �Restless� are all especially stirring moments.

NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS � THARMUNCRAPE AN� GOO (SOLEILMOON RECORDINGS)
This is a 14-track CD-with-no-individual-track-titles from 1997 (sent to us for review from the lush pastures of rural Wiltshire) and I WAS going to describe it as �ambient�, only the clever-clever sleevenotes inform me that it ISN�T ambient OR �industrial� OR even �chill-out� as it �differs radically in content and intent to any of the above genres, which it has often been clumsily lumped together with�. Well ex-CUSE ME! This is actually rather pleasant � humming along nicely, as it does, with random bagpipe skirl, daintily thwacked drums and leisurely prodded keys. Sounds like something you�d hear on an episode of �The Clangers� or �Ivor the Engine� through a drowsy haze of cough mixture and travel sickness pills. It�s a tad samey and overlong, though.

GG ALLIN � WAR IN MY HEAD � I�M YOUR ENEMY (AWARENESS)
Backed by some heavy riffage/roughage courtesy of Shrinkwrap, GG throws down some tasty spoken word shit, letting us know EXACTLY where he stands on subjects like murder (�a very positive thing�), suicide (�your last reward and final thrill�), sex (�straight fucking is boring and for the useless love-making morons� if I want a partner I can find some sidewalk prostitute or some drug whore bitch�) and relationships (�I hate people�). It sounds like GG�s parts were recorded on a dictaphone during one of his many stints in prison and the music added later on, perhaps even after his death - he died in 1993, when this CD came out. But, but, BUT his spirit lives ON!

EELS � BLINKING LIGHTS AND OTHER REVELATIONS (VAGRANT)
SOUTH SAN GABRIEL � WELCOME, CONVALESCENCE (MUNICH)
Got up, watched some �Wright Stuff�, walked into town and had a coffee in the Henglers. Had HOURS to kill before my interview so killed it by looking in lots of shops, including Avalanche, where I got these two CDs (three REALLY �cos the Eels one is a double) for �3.99 each. Walked around aimlessly and ended up in the Edward Wylie, where I ordered a soda water and lime. John M was in, sitting on a sofa by the window, with money scattered all around him. I went and sat with him and he told me how he�d fallen asleep on a bus last night and ended up meeting this woman on Victoria Road, who went back to his flat and fucked him. This morning, she tidied his place up a bit then they were going to get a bus into town. John went into a shop to get some change and the woman ended up nicking �55 from his pocket and disappearing. Oh DEAR! At 2.45pm, I was in Working Links, waiting for Gary to take me to my interview. It was in the building in Waterloo St, where I used to deliver letters from True Grit! Not only was the bearded Horseshoe regular outside, having a fag, but he also WORKS in the place I had the interview! Gary left me in reception and this guy, Tom, took me up to the 5th floor and I did a 15-minute spelling/data entry test. He went over my results and said I�d passed, so then I went and sat with this woman who was taking calls. It all looked a bit fast-paced and daunting, though she was also doing switchboard stuff, not just directory inquiries. Then I had another chat with Tom about some of my work history and stuff. He seemed really nice and said he was offering me the last position going because he thought I could do the job and also I �deserved a break�. I was even slagging off the last place I worked which I know you�re not MEANT to do but he said they had a really bad reputation and that THIS place is �nothing like that�. Um, well, we�ll SEE, I suppose. So, that was THAT. When I got outside, it was pissing down and I rang my mum to tell her the news and then Cat and Joe, as I�d put Cat�s name down as a reference and Tom said he would call her. John had rang so I went to the Moore and met him (we�d arranged to meet there). He was sitting with some English guy who was up to see a Mars Volta gig. Then some deaf-mute woman sat down, who John knows a bit, and she handed out these Sheilas� Wheels cards to us all, for some reason, and the English guy was getting all offended �cos she was �ignoring� him. We kept saying to him, �She�s DEAF!� but he didn�t seem to GET it. �She�s LITERALLY deaf!� I said, before giving up and leaving them all to it. John seemed a bit drunk and the woman had started spraying air freshener about. I wished John a happy birthday for tomorrow and said I�d see him sometime. Went to the �Shoe next and had a pint. Drunken Eyes was in. Then I went to the Society Room for a �1.29 pint then to the Brunswick for a �1.50 one THEN to the Griffin for a MUCH dearer drink. It was quiet except for this small group of regulars all huddled around the bar. Got soaked walking back so stopped off in the Halt, where I had one more drink. They were playing a Dead Kennedys CD! Got chips and was back at 9.10pm.

PAVEMENT � CROOKED RAIN, CROOKED RAIN (DOMINO)
Bought this when it originally came out in early 1994 (a year or so after seeing Pavement play at the old Cathouse in Glasgow, back when they still had their crazy, alky drummer Gary Young, who spent most of the set doing handstands and drinking vodka) but THIS is a two-disc reissue with LOADS of extra shit, so not ONLY do you get the excellence of �Range Life�, �Gold Soundz� and �Cut Your Hair� but ALSO songs with names like �Soiled Little Filly�, �The Sutcliffe Catering Song� and �Fucking Righteous� and a LOVELY booklet with lyrics, photos and all SORTS of other good stuff. �Fucking Righteous� INDEED!

NEIL YOUNG � RAI THEATRE, AMSTERDAM, 17.2.08 (BOOTLEG)
Thanks to the benevolent reader who sent this one in, for I was rather GUTTED to miss Neil�s recent Edinburgh gig, �cos I heard it was STUNNING. This ALMOST makes up for it, though. The first disc is an acoustic/piano set where we�re treated to jaw-dropping versions of �Ambulance Blues�, �A Man Needs a Maid� and nine other hotties and we ALSO get to hear Neil becoming mightily pissed off with some noisy photographers and a drunk audience member (�shut up, asshole�) and having them EJECTED! Disc two is the oomphy electric part of the show, showcasing classics like �Don�t Cry No Tears�, �Bad Fog of Loneliness� and �Winterlong�. Nice recording job too, Mr. Bootlegger.

RANDY NEWMAN � LITTLE CRIMINALS (WARNER BROS)
CAT POWER � JUKEBOX (MATADOR)
It was raining. Got a bus from Great Western Road and was in work at about 7.45am. Got Craig up in the lift and had a coffee with him and Alan in the caf� before going into the training room. We did some training (funnily enough) and some practice calls with each other. On break, I played darts with Chris and Alan, but we were all pretty crap. When we went back, we all got Easter eggs! At lunchtime, I had a baguette, looked in Missing and got this GREAT Randy Newman CD for �4. I HAD to have �Baltimore� and some of the other great songs, like �In Germany Before the War� and �Jolly Coppers on Parade�. In the afternoon, we did more practice calls and I asked Gordon who the beardy guy is (who I always see in the pub). He said his name is Andy and he�s in the Business Excellence Dept, who ensure the training materials are up-to-date. Oooh! Craig kept us amused with comments like �Gays shouldn�t wear jackets. They don�t suit them�. He was only wearing a skimpy white top and I asked him if he gets cold. He just �throws on a scarf�, he said. Great! It was Gordon�s 23rd birthday today. He said he�d probably go out to dinner with Charles, his partner, who also works there and who came into talk to us the other day. On our final break, I rang mum (for free) from the caf�. We got out around 4.20pm and went our separate ways. I went to Eddie�s and got a card for Irene�s birthday then went to the �Shoe for a quick pint. Drunken Eyes was in. Made my way to Mono, looked at the 2nd-hand CDs then got a cider and waited for Grant, who showed up around 5.30. Had a couple of drinks and he gave me my H?skers CD back and a CD-R of the new-ish Cat Power album, which has some wonderous moments on it. Then we went to the Beer Caf� for three Warsteiners in frosted glasses. Some bag-piping SHIT was going on outside, so there were guys in kilts milling around. We discussed how neither of us would ever be seen DEAD in a kilt and also about the elitist nature of music and other stuff. Then we went to some posh-ish bar which I forget the name of but it had a TINY toilet. Think we had a couple in there. Then we went to the slightly-dodgy Steps Bar, where we mostly sat in a semi-darkened lounge bit. Again, I think we had two drinks but it may only have been one. Grant left to get his train at about 9.35. Maybe I had another drink on my own, I can�t recall, but I probably DID as I was standing at the bar for a while after he�d left. Texted Gary. Waited for a bus on Hope Street for AGES and eventually got one to Maryhill Road. Got chips and was back at 11pm. Drank cider for a while. Er, I THINK!

JULIE DOIRON � HEART AND CRIME (JAGJAGUWAR) / LONELIEST IN THE MORNING (SUB POP)
Ah, Julie, you SPOIL the world with your lovely, fragile ache of a voice, softly plucked guitar, easygoing piano and freeze-dried songs of quiet desperation. BLESS you. Bless ALL you gentle fighters.

WHISKEYTOWN � STRANGERS ALMANAC (DELUXE EDITION) (GEFFEN)
Yet ANOTHER �deluxe edition� but I actually BOUGHT this one! What a fuckin� CONCEPT, eh?! This is the album that, in 1997, introduced me to the swirling, twirling world of Ryan Adams� glorious brilliance. As well as the original album, there are no less than 26 extra tracks featuring such delights as a live radio session and outtakes like �Indian Gown�, �Breathe�, �Streets of Sirens� and �Wither, I�m a Flower� that are SO very fab, they ALMOST make life worth living. ALMOST.

BOOKS
IAN BONE � BASH THE RICH (TANGENT)
�Anarchy is this year�s thing,� read the note that accompanied this book. �So read all about it!� So, I DID! Subtitled �True-life Confessions of an Anarchist in the UK�, this is the highly entertaining autobiography of the man who founded Class War mag (the debut issue of which came out on my 11th birthday!) and played in the bands Living Legends (though The Bone Idols would�ve been a BETTER name) and Page 3 (who dubbed themselves �Porno Rock� and were unsuccessfully sued by The Sun for breach of copyright). Ian and his anarcho pals have a healthy interest in alcohol, put out a mag for doleys called �Dole Express� and have riotous (literally!) fun at various demos. There are a couple of overly political segments that are a bit snoozesome, as is the chapter about football (I must have missed the day at school when they hypnotised everyone into thinking it was the greatest thing in the world �cos, to me, it�s BORING as FUCK). Also, Ian�s anti-rich stance seems a bit inconsistent when you consider that one of his mates was/is Keith Allen, who I haven�t seen down at the Job Centre lately (and I�m SURE his talentless daughter isn�t exactly short of a few bob either, with her fashion range, record deal, shitty chatshow, etc). On the whole, though, this lives up to the back cover boast of �a startlingly honest, funny scream of rage from a gutter-level anarchist prepared to fight �by any means necessary��.

MARK OLIVER EVERETT � THINGS THE GRANDCHILDREN SHOULD KNOW (LITTLE, BROWN)
Here is the guy from Eels writing chattily (and brilliantly) about his truly bizarre life: the plane that crashed right outside his childhood home (leaving wreckage and body parts strewn everywhere), his teenage delinquency/drink and drug adventures, his depression, the tragic deaths of not only both his parents (his Quantum Physicist father was regarded as a genius in his field, as detailed in the excellent BBC4 documentary �Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives�) and only sibling (who committed suicide) but also his aunt, who was an air hostess on the plane that crashed into the Pentagon on 9/11. It�s heavy shit but E - as he is sometimes known - provides plenty of dry humour, optimism and hard-won wisdom along the way, making the reader feel immense warmth for him and just generally want to give him a big hug. This a GREAT book and the song of the same name from the album �Blinking Lights and Other Revelations� (reviewed elsewhere� SORT of) is excellent too. As is the entire album, in fact. Note to self: get more Eels stuff.

LOSING CONTROL
Patrice held April�s hand over the candle flame for a few seconds longer than usual.
�Skylight!� April screamed. That was their code word.
When Patrice eventually released her girlfriend�s hand, April noticed a strange look in her eyes. Vacant. Devoid of feeling.
�What the FUCK do you think you�re playing at?� she yelled, blowing on her hand in an attempt to cool it down. �I�d better not get a fucking blister!�
Patrice smiled casually. �Sorry,� she said. �I just think it�s a bit more interesting this way.�
�INTERESTING?� April replied. �It�s not very INTERESTING for ME. What�s the point of having a code word if you�re just gonna IGNORE it?�
�Look,� Patrice said, lighting a cigarette. �You like pain, right? It�s your �thing.� But it�s not REAL pain if you can control when it stops. Not as INTENSE. I think you�d get a lot more out of it if you let ME decide when you�ve had enough� Don�t you TRUST me?�
�You KNOW I do,� April said, calming down as she applied water to her hand from a plastic bottle on the coffee table.
�Well, you should let ME decide, then. Feeling like you�ve got no control can be the biggest buzz of all, sometimes.�
�Maybe you�re right,� April conceded. �But can we go to bed now? I�ve got an early start tomorrow.�
�Okay,� Patrice said. �Make me a cup of tea first, though. I�ve got to take my pills.�

April dreamt she was walking through a dark underground tunnel. There were people lurking in the shadows and, although she couldn�t make out their features, she sensed that they were all men. Then she suddenly came to a large and very beautiful lake. It looked so inviting that she immediately stripped off her clothes and waded in. The water felt cool and soothing against her body as she swam over to a waterfall and let it cascade down upon her. That�s when she woke up to a strange sensation. At first she thought it was the water from the lake splashing against her legs but it slowly began to dawn on her that she was no longer dreaming. Above her, in the dark, she saw Patrice, her face etched deep with concentration. It was a few seconds before April noticed that she was wielding a knife.
Looking down at her naked body, she was horrified to see that Patrice had been cutting her across the legs and thighs. An intense pain began to surge through her. The feeling was familiar and not entirely unpleasant but also more extreme than anything she had experienced before. And that scared her.
�Patrice! What are you DOING? You�re hurting me! REALLY hurting me. I�m BLEEDING, for fuck�s sake! Stop it!�
Patrice looked down and, sure enough, the bed was completely soaked with blood. But all she could think about was remaining in control. That, after all, was HER �thing� and someone HAD to be in control.
�Don�t EVER tell me what to do, you SLUT!� she screamed, slapping April repeatedly across the face before continuing her task, using the knife to carve a deep ridge into her girlfriend�s left leg. It looks so pretty, she thought, as little rivulets of blood began converging directly above the knee.
April screamed and bit down hard on her bottom lip but it was several more minutes before she began to black out. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she only had enough breath to squeeze out a feeble �Skylight� before unconsciousness claimed her.
But still Patrice wouldn�t stop. On and on, she went. Slicing, gouging, using April�s limp body like it was a side of beef or a cadaver on a mortuary slab.
�We�re not USING the code word anymore, remember? You really are STUPID sometimes. I know what�s BEST for you. I�ll decide when you�ve had ENOUGH!�
But April didn�t say anything. Her eyeballs were fixed blankly on the ceiling as Patrice carried on with her work, feeling the adrenalin of power pumping through her veins, greater than any love she had ever known.
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