Fiction: Venus on Roller Skates

By Stephen Myer

My foot slams the throttle, slinging me across lime-lit meadows and grassy lanes. I stop a micro sec from her svelte Venusian body. She digs the silence of fast transports headed her way, perhaps a galactic fetish that excites this woman to strap on roller skates and shed her clothes, then glide across green fields of gravity. How does one skate on grass, and is this usual? Then forgetting what usual is, I open the bay chute. She rolls in and explains. There is only one usual for us and that is the reason for calling it the usual to which I reply, agreed, no time to waste.
My hands cradle her delicate nape and pull her toward me. The tongue of Venus rotates in reverse like the orbit of her planet—bereft of a loving moon, tideless and wild. We dock and tumble furiously along the craft. Her spinning wheels melt into a royal corona.
At the cusp of ecstasy, a black limo the size of a space whale slides between us. She panics. Panic causes her tongue to retract into a face already forgotten as I stare into the electric leviathan, Father Dearest scrawled across its flank. What the hell are you doing? he shouts from behind a cloud of cigar smoke. She works for a short-order universe; think, Son, of how many madmen she services each day, to which I reply, inconsequential.
I stand and demand the galaxy listen. Behold! I am the King in Yellow, a docile villain and refined degenerate who dares pluck the sacred strings of celestial love. I refuse to abdicate my nubile throne.
Satisfied with my intellectual Onanism, Father plans a grand departure. He doesn’t approve of the crazy slick tarmac of the new generation. He’s happy to travel the road already buckled beneath his sultry lies. While I hip the Old Man to the nature of bittersweet youth—a genteel army, seeking its hallowed quarters in the vast plains of nothingness—Venus on Roller Skates slips away, awaiting further pleasure.





Stephen Myer is a writer and musician in the gloomy moors of Southern California. His stories and poetry have been published in Tales from the Moonlit Path, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Roi Faineant Press, Grand Little Things, JayHenge Publishing Back Forty Anthology, Figwort Journal, The Avenue Journal, The Quiet Reader, Close To The Bone, Outcast Press/Anxiety Press Anthology, Blood Fiction vol. 2, among others.

Comments

  1. Stephen Meyer's word choices are creatively extracted and well thought out as he leads us readers into his unique scenes and imagery. His stories are full of texture, color and movement as he builds the characters and the plot into a complex and moving tale using all our senses. Compelling

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