i was dead. i was somewhere outside death valley california in a whorehouse

kurt cobain was downstairs watching a cockfight. i had just played a pinball machine that helped me tie up loose ends via some esp bullshit that allowed angels to read my mind and do whatever dirty deeds i hadn’t been able to complete before my untimely demise blah blah blah.

upon completion i got a high five from kurt, which i believe might just had been his very first high five ever, and i was escorted upstairs by

twin japanese catholic school runaways

with tattoos and wicked smiles on their faces.

the room we entered was perfumed and pink and soft and in the center was a round bed that rotated ever so slowly. mirrors everywhere, disco ball, disco music, fog machine, bubble machine, porn on twenty thirteen-inch tvs and shag carpet on the walls on the floors on the ceilings.

only rugs in the place, if you know what i mean.

the twins spoke simultaneously. one stroked my fro the other rubbed my feet. i reclined on the bed as they disrobed me and complimented my dull dough.

we like little bellies.

ooooo we like hairy chests.

ooooooooooh we really like scars. that’s right you were in the xbi.

they were visually excited. cheeks flushed, nipples poking out from sheer nasty brasseries. they had garters with bows, chokers with leashes, thigh high boots, glitter, lip gloss, lust.

i was floating inches above the bed as were they so they strapped me down. and told me this.

this is the bonus round. welcome to the bonus round. here is the question, a question that you should know the answer to, and for each correct response, from out of that door will enter a woman, one more beautiful than the next, one more sultry and intelligent and wild and soothing. trust us when we tell you that you will love every moment with every woman and you will be able to have each of them all at the same time.

all we need to know from you is for you to name each of the ten commandments. for each one you get right, a woman will join us.

ah heaven, i said.

the one above fed me grapes. on earth i never liked grapes. in this room i loved them, the juices dripped down my cheek.

thou shalt not steal, i said.

a redhead with long legs, red all over, black stockings, high heels entered.

thall shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.

blonde, blonde, white stockings, pink trim, white shoes, perky boobs, baby doll tshirt that said busblog preshrunk so as to allow her bellybutton to peek under.

was that a diamond in her belly pierce? of course it was.

honor your mother and father, keep the sabbath holy.

two punk rock girls crawled in like cats. one had dyed pink hair, the other dyed red. they made out with each other. their stockings were torn, their leather miniskirts shined in the flashing lights. they rolled around. they bit. they drew blood. they licked the blood and looked at me. i said hi. they growled.

don’t lust after your neighbor.

the twins looked at each other. a bell rang. the judges had accepted the answer.

a woman who looked just like lindsey lohan but not really walked through the door. she had on a long white fur. full length. diamond choker. she opened her coat. nearly blinded us all. whitest woman around. looked like a statue. gorgeous.

thou shalt not kill.

skaterchick with ripped jeans and a tight baseball shirt ollied over the writhing punkers and told me she read my blog every damn day.

have no other gods than the Lord

a lightskinned black woman who looked like a young mariah carey entered in a pink bikini. she sang like an angel. she told me that she would lick my entire body. i thanked her for the offer and said,

thou shalt not commit adultery.

and a woman who looked like a black Princess Diana appeared. sounded like her too. quite.

i counted nine girls. what could the tenth be?

the asian princesses told me that if i got this one right that i could spend the entire day with all of the women and unlike on earth there would be no “down time” and gazed down at little tone which had never looked so majestic and wonderful.

the women who had lined up for me couldn’t stand still. they all wanted me so badly. they whispered some of the poems i had written and touched themselves. some touched each other.

for the life of me i couldn’t remember the last one.

and then, i said,

do not bear false witness upon your neighbor.

and they came charging at me, and trailing the pack, was a woman who looked just like an old marilyn monroe, who, when she entered floated slowly past the others and landed next to me and kissed me right on the forehead.

and unlatched my restraints.

instapundit + tim blair + ken layne