"You see what man has forgotten is that there is no distinction from man and any other animal. We all come from Mother Earth and by using biohacking technology we BioShamanic prophets have broken the bonds of man's cursed exile and came back to our true selves."
What a load of horseshit.
King Leo, the frontman and head bullshitter for popular bioshaman metalcore band Lion's Mouth, is splayed across a beaten leather couch, half feline groupies tentatively grooming him. The King in his den, he smiles a predator's smile.
We're backstage in the Trees green room just after the King and his pride put on an amazing show. The King may be a lot of things and the least of them is he's a hell of a showman.
The rest of the band is loitering around drinking, smoking pot or getting head from groupies only so happy to have a celebrity blow his load in their face.
The King purrs out an enhanced lungful of weed smoke still smiling that wicked smile. You can tell he's been practicing.
"So King, what about people who say that you biohippies are just trying to use barely legal technology to circumvent well established laws such as laws prohibiting polygamy and under age marriage?"
"See, right there. All you media types are all too ready to label us with such derogatory terms like biohippy and CMF, custom-made freaks. Because you're afraid of the BioShaman revolution. You're nothing more than corporate lackeys each and every one of you!"
OK, don't blow the interview. Don't call the him on his hypocritical bullshit. You can't fuck this up. Play nice Adam, play nice.
"Fuck you!"
The room goes quiet. The King lets out a low growl, body suddenly tense, ready to attack. I continue with my tirade.
"Fuck you and all your bullshit. You wanna call me a corporate lackey, that's fine with me. I've never claimed to be anything other than a literary whore. But, I won't take this shit from a pampered celebritard who thinks he's the voice of a revolution when in fact all he's doing is a pathetic excuse of an impression of Bob Marley selling out."
I can feel my own fangs and claws extending. Every bone in my mutated super freaky body is ready to attack. The King just laughs.
"I like you. You've got balls."
The prick laughs and passes me the blunt he's been smoking. Blue Frankenstein, a mutated blend from out of Amsterdam; damn good weed, sativa with opiate additives.
I blow out a large cloud of blue smoke and start to relax and enjoy myself, watching the half feline girls with renewed interest.
Stop!
My brain screams.
Fight it.
Remember your rage.
Remember your hate.
I shake it off.
"Good stuff. Thank you."
The King lets out a robust laugh.
"Man, that's even better than what I got."
I pull out a blunt from the inside pocket of my coat and light it. A few puffs and the green smoke starts to blend with the already abundant blue.
The King takes it with wide eyed appreciation.
"What is it?" The King asks cautiously, sniffing at it like the animal he pretends to be.
I smile.
"It's called FED 47. A totally synthetic strain."
He hands it back.
"Sorry, I only smoke natural herb. The way Jah intended."
Ignoring the hypocrisy of the earlier blunt, I blow out a heavenly cloud of green smoke. The scent of cannibus, jasmine, and honeysuckle perfume the room.
"So you're willing to alter your body in wholly unnatural ways. Bend barely legal scientific advances to reach your own twisted beliefs. But, you won't smoke synthetic pot."
Let it never be said I didn't enjoy a calling people on their own bullshit.
All eyes in the room are no longer on the King and I. Every singe person in the room is now entranced in the aroma coming from the little tobacco wrapped joint in my hand
I pass it to the closest groupie, a tall amazonian she-beast in a fur wrapped bikini, currently eyeballing me with those "I want to fuck you, then eat you for dinner eyes."
I let out an uninitialized purr. This is not the result of some ani-graft, but something I've always done when content with myself. The King does not see it that way. He stares at me with real hate, the first non rehearsed emotion he's shown all night.
"You see King, the way I see it, the reason for the whole lion get up is you so desperately want to be someone important that you've literally rebuilt yourself into some sort of prophet totally catering to all the lost souls incapable of being their own individual selves. That's why you insist everyone around you look exactly like you, from your band to your multiple wives and girlfriends."
In a flash of tan fur, King Leo is towering over me, foaming at the mouth, a walking nightmare with outstretched arms, claws extended in my direction.
"You fucking hipster! You dare challenge me in my own den!"
With all of the considerable strength in my enhanced body, I jump up and slam my fist into his jaw in a punishing uppercut sending the King and all his intimidating mass flying back into the wall above the sofa he was just lounging majestically on.
In total battle mode, I start stomping on his face with my steel toe boots then turn around with a supernatural speed owed entirely to drunken bar fights to meet the three security guards strategically positioned across the room.
I rip open the first poor sap's chest with my claws, then punt the second one in the balls. The third one manages to tackle me and wraps his arm around my neck and starts slamming his fist into my stomach. We start grappling, rolling around, pounding and clawing each other with the viciousness of two assholes that live for this shit.
Eventually backup arrives and five or twenty security guards put the boot to me, working me over for a good five minutes untill all the fight in me has been beat out with extreme prejudice.
They drag my limp broken body out to the parking lot and leave me lying there laughing. I roll over on to my back and fumble for my cigarettes in my coat pocket. I pull out the pack and see that all of them are broken and I start to laugh harder.
"If you keep that up people'll start to think your crazy"
The sultry voice belongs to the tall lioness I passed the joint too.
"And they'll be right, sexy mama. Say you wouldn't by chance have a cigarette on you?"
"Depends, you got anymore of that weed?"
"Ya, sweety. On my bedroom counter next my condoms."
"Ya, you don't look like you'll be able to use either tonight."
I spring up like a toddler after naptime.
"Never underestimate the willpower of an orgasm addict."
As we walk off toward my loft a few blocks away I say,
"By the way, I'm Adam Strange."
"I know. I'm Fiona, Leonard's first wife."
I start laughing hysterically again.
"See, fucking nutso."
I laugh all the way home. Me and Fiona fucked all night. Then I sat down at my computer and wrote this article.
Ha! Leonard.
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