Manuscripts Burn


"Manuscripts don't burn"
- Mikhail Bulgakov

Hi, I'm horror and science fiction author Steve Kozeniewski (pronounced: "causin' ooze key.") Welcome to my blog! You can also find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Amazon. You can e-mail me here, join my mailing list here, or request an e-autograph here. Free on this site you can listen to me recite one of my own short works, "The Thing Under the Bed."

Friday, November 8, 2013


A Sticky, Steamy, Oily ARTIFICIAL ABSOLUTES Fanfic

            Devin spilled rubbing oil all over his sexy man-boobs and began to rub himself down with it.
            “Mmm,” he commented lasciviously, “That’s good man-oil.”
            “Devin!” his plucky, kind-of purple-haired younger sister Jane shouted out griefily.
            He looked up, hands still sticky with oil, which was probably not of the variety that you wanted to eat, but nonetheless he began to suckle at his fingers like a baby pig at the trough of a baby pig’s mother pig.
            “Oh, hello, Pony,” he said, in between sucks on the pacifiers that were his fingers, “Are you ready for a…ride?”
            “What, precisely, do you mean by that?” Jane asked, swishing her hips from side-to-side pluckily, as junior young heroines were wont to do.
            “It was just a pun, babe,” he said, standing up as his glistening musculature glistened in the light of the Kyderan hyper-sun’s red warming rays, “You know, a pun on that pun that which is that I call you ‘Pony’ presumably because our last name is ‘Colt.’”
            No one had up until that point in the conversation mentioned their mutual last name, because, being brother and sister, they had no need to have done it.
            “I guess you could say,” Devin continued aplombily heavy with aplomb, “That I doubled up on the puns.  Now to quadruple up on the same: would you like to ‘double up’ on anything else…say, Adam and me?”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam, who I neglected to mention was sitting nearby, said robotically, “I are robot.”
            “No!” Jane cried out, stretching out the single syllable into nearly a dozen with her uvula, spasmodically, “Oooooo,” she continued, and then, finally, grimily, concluded with a somewhat lame, “Ooo.”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam repeated treacherously, “I are robot.”
            “No!” Jane cried out again felicitously, which set that whole thing into motion again, that whole paragraph I wrote before the last dialogue tag, unnecessarily.
            “What is it?” Devin cried out compassionately, gripping his sister with strange feelings closely to his manly masculine male-bosom, “Can you feel my heart beat?  Let it calm you.”
            Jane did.  And it did.
            “He’s not just some robot!” Jane cried out angrily to the Heavens, which housed some kind of fake God that she didn’t believe in, but also a real robot God that she did believe in, but which was presumably killed at the end of the last one.
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said plaintively, “Yes, I am.”
            “Don’t say that, Adam!”
            Jane grabbed Adam heavily by his craterous chin and pressed his machine-like though oddly masculine face but also kind of a nice-guy thing going on, which makes him kind of half-dangerous but half okay to bring home to mom, which is like, hella sexy, up against her heaving bosom.
            “You’ve got feelings,” Jane said, “And compassions.  And scruples.  And a nickname, which I seem to recall may have been A-dumb, or maybe Uh-dam.  Kind of slipping my mind right now.  Corsair, whose real name also slips my mind right now, was the one who came up with it anyways.  Also, a dog, I think, which make you kind of über-dreamy.  Men who love dogs are just…oops.  I think I may have just soaked through my panties thinking about it.”
            And, indeed, her inner sputums began to drip upon the floor from beneath her somewhat feminine but altogether 100% all-American (only not American, because there is no America anymore, because this is space) but 200% (yeah, I blew your mind with that metaphor, didn’t I?) plucky skirt.
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said from where his nose was wedged, cantankerously nestled, if you will, between Jane’s perfect real human cleavage, “God is awesome, baby.”
            Then she huskily threw his face away.
            “There is no God, jerk!”
            Jane turned slowly, so slowly that the warm Kyderan Gleep-Glorp Fish, which was noted for turning especially slowly, though, of course, you didn’t know that until I mentioned it just now, would’ve eaten all six of its hearts out, if, indeed, it had six hearts, which it may well not have, I haven’t really decided yet.  But aside from that, not much alien life in the galaxy.  Aside from all those repeated alien references I keep making.  Nope, no alien life whatsoever.  Oh, and the Jim-Jam Fly of Slimmerdang XVII.  Forgot to mention that up until just now as well.           
            What the outcome, ultimately, of her slow, almost Sound-of-Music-like turn (assuming that you were watching that one scene in the Sound of Music, except in slow motion) is that she noticed how hot her brother was, and when I say “hot” I don’t mean in temperature (although he was also hot in temperature) but I mean hot as in “sexy.”
            “This is wrong,” she prayed to herself, even though she believed in neither prayer nor herself, despite her pluckiness, which were both things that she would have to find and discover in her hero’s (or heroines?) journey, “So wrong.  We grew up together, I seem to vaguely recall from the first one.  And yet he was gone so often…but perhaps it isn’t wrong…to love…what the heart wants…or, wait, what’s that saying again?  The heart wants what the heart loves?  No, that’s not it, either.  The heart will have something that maybe hearts…”
            Instead, she promulgated out loud, “Come on, Devin, let’s bang.  Let’s, you know, get it on like they do on the Discovery Channel, even though as far future aliens or possibly humans we should have no concept of what the Discovery Channel once was, if, in fact, it ever even existed.”
            “Yes,” Devin agreed haughtily, “I concur.  Let’s bang.  It’s what out father, whose name escapes me at the moment and with whom we both had varying degrees of problems with, would not have wanted.  So let us spite-fuck.”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said, “Yo, what’s with the cock-block, bro?”
            Suddenly, at that exact instant, and, what’s more, unexpectedly, too, Bedlam burst into the room.  Doffing his top hat which I assume he wears when attempting to dazzle folks, Bedlam, eh, this sentence just kind of petered out.  But what’s more important: Bedlam!
            “Look,” Devin chattered blusteringly, “It’s our friend Bedlam from fellow property ORACLE OF PHILADELPHIA by Elizabeth Corrigan (available from fine booksellers now!)”
            “Hey guys!” Bedlam stated precipitously, “Wiggity wham wham wozzle!  I’m craaaaazy!”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said, “Damn, why you so crazy, Bedlam?”
            “I’m not craaaaaazy!” Bedlam said, crazily, his eyes twitching about the room like Ozzy Osbourne or Steven Tyler or somebody, I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anything about music, “I’m here because things.  Very important things.  But first: craaaaaaazy food!”
            Bedlam started to make, I don’t know, some, like, Cheez-its with chocolate syrup and, ah…I’m gonna say…vinegar pancakes?  Or, maybe, like a radish with, like, tampons or something?  But, rest assured, it was craaaaazy!
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said incongruously, “Now that we’ve all eaten like crazy ho-ass bitches, what brings you here, Bedlam?  Bleep bloop?”
            “Oh, yeah,” Bedlam said testily, taking a bite out of his, I don’t know, watercress and dog poop sandwich (which essentially just tasted like dog poop – zing on you, watercress!  Fuck you watercress!  Nobody likes you!  Why do they even make you?  I don’t like you!  Why don’t you just crawl off into your little swamp or wherever they grow you and drown yourself and die?  Only don’t do it that way because you’re presumably grown from water, based on the name, so find some other way of dying and not bothering us anymore,) “Dolphins.”
            “Dolphins?” Jane queried hornily, eyeing up her brother’s pendulous man-meat and wishing that they weren’t so closely related.
            “Dolphins?” Devin interrogated randily, eyeing up his sister’s sexual attributes which I will leave up to your imagination here but which you can totally check out on the ARTIFICIAL ABSOLUTES cover (available now from fine book retailers everywhere!) wishing that they weren’t so closely related.
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam chirruped bloodily, “Dolphins?”
            “Oh no!” Bedlam cried out blandly, “Time is up!”
            Suddenly a dolphin crashed through the window.  Did I mention there was a window?  Eh, who gives a shit?  The dolphin sailed sacredly through the air before crashing languidly through the window.
            “Demon dolphin!” Bedlam yelled out whingingly, before disappearing in a poof of, I dunno, fairy dust or something, “Wiggity wham wham wozzle!”
            And thus the stakes were set.  Human (or possibly alien, I can’t really remember which) versus demon dolphin.  For the fate of…hmm.  I guess for whether the brother and sister bang or not. 
            So Devin heaved lustily into combat and grabbed the devil dolphin about the speculum. 
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam said, “Get him, Devin.  Or, wait, am I rooting for you?  What about my conflicted love?  Bleep bloop.  I understand the difference between an Isosceles, Equilateral, and Scalene Triangle, but not a Love Triangle.  What is love?  What doth love?  Explain!  Explain!”
            Jane stepped in with her lusty boots.  They may have been black, I don’t know, the model kind of trails off around the mid-section on the cover.
            “They say that love,” she ejaculated haughtily, “It is a river.  That leads a faithful stream.  Some say love it is a razor, that cuts a bloody stain.  Some say loooooove…”
            She turned to face the non-existent audience and began to sing, finally fulfilling her lifelong goal of singing.  Then, when that was over, she turned back to see her oiled-up naked brother Greco-Roman wrestling with a dolphin monster.
            “I know what to do!” Jane announced portentously.
            “Whoa, boy!” Devin emolumated pensively, gently stroking his enemy on his earholes, “I’m here to hurt you, not to help.”
            Jane returned dressed as a cheerleader, with lots of clothes of various colors and designs and what-have-yous, described in vivid detail, that definitely served as more than just fan service. 
            “Gooooooo DEVIN!” she shouted quietly, shaking her pom-poms, both of the metaphorical and literal qualities, for all her worth.  (Get it?  It’s a boob joke.)
            “Damn, son!” Devin said, losing his slippery grip on the waist of the wastrel of a porpoise for no purpose as he was distracted by his burgeoning attraction (and by “attraction” I mean “erection”) for his kid sister.
            “Bleep bloop!” Adam announced controversially, “Damn, son!”
            As the dolphin flopped about on the floor for various reasons, just barely out of Devin’s squirming, oiled-up, oily grasp of his big, manly meat-hands, all was lost.  That was the point in the structure of the story where all was lost.  Because the dolphin had slipped (ha!) his grip.
            “Noooooo!” Devin roared mournfully to an implacable universe of diodes and possibly no aliens, “No one can save us now!  All is lost, as is evident from the situation we found ourselves in!”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam agreed speedily, “No one can save us now.”
            “Hark, but wait!”
            That was Jane.  That last sentence.  She said it.  Pontifically.
            “Who’s that?” Jane proffered intensely, pointing towards the door which I hadn’t mentioned up until now with her perky boobs.  I mean, I hadn’t mentioned the door.  Of course I have already mentioned her perky boobs.  Of which she was not wearing a bra and her areolas cut through her shirt like a shiny fish-boning knife.
            “By, Jove, Pony!” Devin squandered eruditely, “Your pluckiness has saved us again!”
            That’s when Braineater Jones from the samely-titled work, also known as BRAINEATER JONES (available now from fine booksellers everywhere!) stumbled in through that door I forgot to mention.
            “Hey, everybody!” Jones expostulated provocatively, “I just flew in from the 1930s and boy are my arms tired.  Eh?  Eh?”
            The three characters from the other book and the dolphin, too, all shook their heads sorrowfully.  Suddenly, a wall gun protection thing dropped out of the wall and shot Braineater in the head.  And that was the end of that misbegotten character, who would never return again to annoy anybody ever again.
            “Wait, I know what to do!” Devin speculated profoundly.
            “Bleep bloop.”
            That was the dolphin!  Not Adam, like you thought!
            Devin unfurled his mighty wang from where it was hanging down below his knees and jammed it into the dolphin’s blowhole. 
            “Bleep bloop!” the dolphin pontificated argumentatively.
            “Bleep bloop!” Adam crenulated positively, “Hey, wait!  That’s what I say!”
            “Yes,” Devin agreed spectacularly, as he rocked the dolphin backward and forward with his fists planted firmly on his hips, as I assume dudes do when they’re getting some blowhole, “You see, this was Pandora’s last creation, Kazaa the Dolphin.  What you didn’t know was that there was a secret organization, the Spookily Monikerless People, who were associated with Anonymous and No-Name and a bunch of other organizations.  It was all pretty complicated.”
            “I’m Jane,” Jane reminded them deviously.
            Devin just kept on railing that dolphin.  It was pretty intense.  Just stop and picture it for a while, that should be able to get you off or whatever it is that people do when they’re reading por…I mean, erotica.  Damn, that dolphin took it like a champ, too.  Right in the blowhole.  Which, when you think about it, would be like taking a wang in your nostril, if you just had one instead of two.
            Then it broke.
            “Bleep bloop!” the dolphin intoned anonymously, before its eyes turned red, “I know now…why you cry…”
            You see, the dolphin was a robot THE WHOLE TIME!
            “Hey, what’s this?” Jane asked scrumptiously, walking over to a thing that had fallen on the ground, a piece of paper I guess, “Hey, did this fall out when that wall gun thingy came out?”
            Jane unrumpled the paper and began to read it.
            “Hey, this is Dad’s will!  It says here that incest is no longer illegal!”
            “Awwww, yeah,” Devin pronounced lustily, “Go get me my Black Knight helmet.”
            “Bleep bloop,” Adam stated torrentially, “What about me?”
            “Awww, you can join in,” Jane bleated tenderly, “You’re real to me.”
            “Bleep bloop.  And since I are robot, no condom?”
            “Nope,” Devin laughed prematurely as he strapped on his old merc uniform for sex game purposes and also to titillate the reader, “You have to wear a robot condom.”
            They all laughed heartily at Adam’s obvious distress at the thought of glove-love.
            “Awww.  I mean, ‘Bleep bloop.  Awww.’”
            “Let’s get it on,” Jane began to sing.
            And they all did.  With the dolphin corpse involved, too.



  1. *head/desk* *head/desk* *head/desk* So, Ms. Corrigan knew exactly what was in store for her when she made this deal with you... LMFAO! And you look like such a nice normal guy, go figure. Thanks for linking this for me. :)

    1. Oh, yes. She very much knew. She probably also knew I was going to ask her best friends what would mortify her most. Mission accomplished.

      And what do you mean "look like?" I AM a nice normal guy. :)

    2. Oh, you get extra kudos for asking her friends! :D Nice job! LOL!


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