The music pounds in my skull.  I feel the multicolored trickle of my senses spilling out of my ears and down my neck. You don’t come to the Smushbox to fuck around. The beats are hot and if the light show doesn’t melt your retinas, you are in the wrong place. Blowpop Reds shift into Mr. Freeze Blues, and Killer Bee Yellows screech and melt into Bruise Me Magentas.

There’s people fucking in the bathrooms, doing lines off of razor blades and the Fist Pimp Van is parked outside tonight. I’ve come for one reason only: to meet Big Ru and his boys. Big Ru holds court in his usual corner, surrounded by his bruisers. People pay big for a kiss from one of these bad boys.

I am scared but I am ready to face his whole crew. I’ve got a plan. It’s wrapped in tin foil and it’s burning a hole in the back pocket of my leather pants. I had to maim a few people to get it, but it’s totally worth it. People kill for a taste of Deadly Black Snail Pussy. Or, as it’s known on the street: Slime Puss. Even Heroin dealers won’t touch this shit with a ten foot pole.

As I work my way through the throbbing wall of sweat and bodies, my heart races and my lips get inexplicably parched. I can see their muscles glistening, their big white smiles, like sharks at midnight. Their diamond collars gleam against their chocolatey necks. I’m shaking and sweating as I near the power pack. These dogs are ALWAYS hungry. When I get close enough I know they will smell me right away.

“Hey, baby! You got something for Big Ru?”

I smile and inch closer. Big Ru laughs a booming huge laugh and his belly bounces. His teeth are gold capped and his shades reflect my pale face back at me. Nodding, I waste no time and lean in to his ear, almost nuzzling it, and whisper, “Black Snail Pussy.”

His eyes light up like a marquis and he signals a nearby waitress. “Bring this young lady a glass of Mud Rain.”

The waitress flashes me a withering stare with her one good eye. “Yes, Mr. Ru. Comin’ right up.”

“Here, sit by me” He pats the seat beside him, which is already being hastily vacated by “Angry” Bill Montoya, the Peruvian bodybuilder.

Big Ru takes out a HUGE cigar and puffs pensively for seconds that seemed like centuries. “So, do you mind if I ask how YOU managed to score Snail?”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

His eyes grow wide and the whites stretch from end to end. Then he breaks out in a roar of laughter that startles me so bad I jump imperceptibly in my seat. I smile, poker faced, as relief washes over me. This is going better than I’d hoped.

“I like this bitch! She’s got balls!” He laughs heartily and orders another round of drinks for everybody.

The Mud Rain hits me hard and by my third I am not sure if I can stand on my own. When we finally leave the club I am being walked out, like a rag doll, buoyed up by a guy on each arm. In the dimly lit and almost vacant parking lot I see the Fist Pimp Van. The blue lightning bolt glitters in the black of a moonless night like it’s radioactive. It is much larger on the inside. The floor is covered in thick pink zebra fur, the sides are lined with mirrors and there is a huge spinning disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

We all sit down in a circle, Indian style, and strange tripped out techno beats start booming from invisible speakers that seem to be everywhere. The floor vibrates to the bass line and an air of holy reverence falls over the men as I unwrap the foil and put the Snail Pussy directly on my palm. They bow their heads and lean in, gently licking the small pinkish gray blob till there is nothing but an inky stain smeared into my palm. I lick it clean and sink back into the hot pink fur, spinning down into the vortex of snail whirl. For ten minutes we might as well be dead. In fact, the heartbeat slows to a near halt as your consciousness falls deep into a velvety blackness. Then the manic beast rush kicks in. I sit up like I got an adrenaline shot in the heart. Their eyes have turned dead black. They smile and look at each other and then me. They move together towards me, a dark hive mind buzzing between them.

Jeremy “The Death Machine” reaches me first. He socks me across the face, cutting my lip with his huge diamond heavyweight championship ring. First hit. First blood. The others laugh and whoop. Their blood is up and they come at me faster from all sides.

Ronny “The Body” Horror grabs my wrist and decks me one, right in the boob. I almost cry, but I bite my cut lip and keep a stony face. Chris “The Grin” Brown sneers at me, “Had enough, baby?”

I shake my head as my vision blurs and my eyes tear up. He laughs sharply, like a psychotic jack in the box, lays his thick thumb on my chin, turns my head gently to the side and punches me dead in the left eye. I scream and instinctively try to shield my face from further blows. But they’re not anywhere near done with me. Soon, my stomach is being pounded by the best boxers in the world. I imagine my spleen exploding inside me.

I cough up a sickly green fluid and crouch forward cradling my abdomen. I’m shaking violently and pain is shooting everywhere. “Big Bull” Reggie takes the opportunity to charge me from behind. He bites into my ass with his gold capped teeth and growls as he swings his head from side to side. He tears off my pants and my chainmail thong. He slides right up to me, bites down on the back of my neck and begins to work his fist between my ass cheeks like a corkscrew. I scream so loud I go hoarse. I’m coughing and crying and begging them to stop.

“Aww, baby, we don’t wanna leave your pussy raw after you been so nice to us!” Booms out the smooth voice of Big Ru, above the din of laughter.

A white rush shoots through my body and bleaches out my thoughts.

When I open my swollen eyes, I see stars. Naked, bloody and bruised, I am lying in a muddy puddle by the highway. I manage to lift myself up with my elbows to peer at my reflection in the clouded waters.

Noting the multicolored splotches of bruises already shaping across my face, I smile. I’m a work of art, reconstructed by the hands of masters. If I can make it to a hospital in time, before the internal bleeding gets the better of me I will be the newest member of the Purpura Club. I sink back into the cold wet soil, and wait for my ride.