Disturbia
One day, I’m going to have to make the time to pull a number of strands together and see what I can do with them.
I suspect that it will prove difficult, if not impossible to get them all to tie in neatly and I may have to … however reluctantly … drop some of them — like an ugly baby.
The intention is that they should all coalesce around two core characters: a deranged geneticist and psychotic psychologist, who are business partners.
The problem is that I don’t see a story so much as a film/movie in my head and even then just key moments that give some insight into the characters — it appears to be character, rather than plot, driven … which makes working out the plot somewhat difficult.
The core characters provide services of a … let’s say somewhat dubious … nature to other characters of … let’s say the same.
So, to give you an idea …
The geneticist has created the ‘finger-ball — it’s a genetic monstrosity!’
Now this isn’t an original idea … it actually exists already and I have had one for a number of years now.
It’s a latex ball of … wait for it … lifelike human fingers ¹ … and people who know me know that I’m not afraid to use it — you haven’t lived until you’ve chased your girlfriend/wife around the home with it. You aren’t getting sex that night … but it’s too much fun not to — there’s simply nothing in this world like chasing your girlfriend/wife around with a ball of twenty-four life-like, life-size, latex fingers!
But I digress.
So, anyway … in this case, it’s flesh and blood, not latex.
Why he created it is anybody’s guess, but he’s deranged so, really, there needn’t actually be any reason that you, I, or anybody else would ever understand — it just is.
But maybe someone commissioned it and is using it for something.
In similar manner, why the psychologist has a seemingly endless supply of lifelike, crawling dolls (think of the doll in the film/movie Shallow Grave) … the heads of which are filled with sacks of fake?/real? blood … is also a bit of a mystery.
At random moments during the story/film/movie, in random locations in their business premises … which are up an alleyway, in a decidedly dodgy part of town, that stinks of impatience and is tacky with the aftermath of competitively priced love … one of them appears in shot and he pulls out a seriously excessive handcannon and blows it away.
Why?
Who knows?
He’s psychotic.
Maybe he’s exorcising some deep-seated trauma.
Maybe he’s living out a fantasy.
Maybe he’s just completely deranged and we’ll never know why — it just is.
So, what services do they supply?
You name it, they’ll do it, create it, procure it — whatever your deranged, psychotic, degenerate desire, they’ll fulfill your brief one way or another.
In one room there is an industrial sized box of wire coat-hangers … which functions as a walk-in ‘D.I.Y. Abortions While U Wait’ service.
Want paraplegic pole-dancers for your party?
You got ‘em.
Chains attached to motorised winches to draw their legs apart for the crotch-shot?
You better believe that scene’s in there!
Down-and-out meths orgy — real down-and-outs … real Methelated Spirits?
How many? When and where is the party?
Paedophile circus, where all the acts are performed by child-raping scum?
You might want to look away for a while … maybe go to the bathroom or the bar for a few moments — of course, I can’t guarantee that there’ll only be one scene or that any such will last long enough to make that a feasible plan of action that won’t result in your missing vital plot/character development in your absence, but there’ll be at least one that should result in the book/film/movie being banned until it gets cut, never fear.
To whom do they supply these services?
Naturally, the fag hag is in there.
There is a regular, bespoke pick-up, by a courier, of a bag of vomit that is then delivered to a high-powered businessman who doesn’t have time for lunch and … on the basis that ‘fast food makes you sick quick’ … simply cuts out the middle-man, orders his bag of vomit, throws it in the bin and goes straight back to business without the need to waste time on eating.
His entire life is Financial Times pink — from his clothes to his hair to his home to his cadillac.
He has gonorrhea of the colostomy-hole; yes there will be a graphic scene — several, in fact, from his boyfriend dicking the hole to his nurse treating the suppurations from it.
Anyway … I reckon that should be enough to get you thinking about a plot and/or other characters and/or other services they might provide (answers in a response below, please) whilst I investigate my notes for stuff I’ve forgotten since last I dared look at them ².
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² The inside of my head can be a pretty … disconcerting … place to be sometimes — and I keep the doors to some rooms firmly locked unless, and until, I really need to open them ³.
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