Sons of IUPAC

Chapter 8: The Annual Obscenity Fest

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Chapter 8: The Annual Obscenity Fest

“Hey sweetie!” greeted Luna, as she and Rujel took off their OxySuits in the NeoColiseum Party Hall. The NC Party Hall was a spacious 2 km by 1 km by 500 metres simulated environment with a transparent glass dome, closing inwards slightly at the centre, to resemble the teat of a condom. “Yo Rujel”, said Miguel, wearing a black hoodie and greeting Rujel with a balls-up gesture. “Yo mama’s so horny, she blowed my dog last night. Couldn’t stop barking, the beast.” “You know what, Mig?” blurted out Rujel, disgustedly. “Yo mama’s so horny, she was rubbing her t***s on my dick last night, and asking me to give her a t***yfuck. I’m lucky I escaped from that whore with my life!” “Lame comeback, mate!” said another guy mockingly, this time red-haired, and passing along the way. “It makes you sound worser than Old Fag Bieber” – this was a reference to the now middle-aged Justin Bieber, who had just been divorced by Mariah Yeater (who had hitherto married him out of pity, making Tristyn Bieber his legal son), and now lived as a loner. In the strangest twist of circumstances, Selena Gomez had ended up marrying Taylor Lautner, while Taylor Swift had married a guy named Kevin Michaels – “so avoid such crappy lines.” “Yeah right, Velocifaptor”, said Rujel, rolling his eyes, and without looking at the guy who had given him such sound advice. Then he turned to look at the ‘punk’, and to his surprise, it was none other than his current employer and ‘friend’, Ronald Ducati. “Hey Ron. Sorry for the Philosoraptor reference, man. Didn’t know it was you”, said Rujel apologetically. But Ronald had already (apparently) dissolved into the milling crowd. Rujel finally found him seated at a colossal monstrosity of a stall, abutting the dance floor (where, presently, a group of lesbian dancers was giving a pole dance) below the mezzanine. The term ‘stall’ might be a misnomer: its proportions were too huge for it to be a stall. It looked like a cross between a miniature jewelry store and a liquor shop. ‘Crunk Is Reborn, Motherfuckers’ and ‘Problem, Nigga?’ chains hung on hooks on the notice-board-like wall. These ten-inch masterpieces seemed to be made up of emeralds, with a tint of gold. The words were carved such that every alphabet was seemed to be made up of a dozen or so sparkling disco balls. Something looked familiar about these chains, but Rujel wasn’t quite able to put his finger on it…. “You mined these last night, didn’tcha, mate?” asked Ronald proudly, with the air of a man whose son had won the Nobel Prize, interrupting Rujel’s train of thought. “What?” said Rujel dazed, but then he saw what Ron was pointing to. Holy fuck! he thought. It was another neckchain, but this time atleast thirty inches in length. ‘Crunk and Fuck Are In My Blood, Bitch!’ it said. “You mean to say this whopper was made from all the crystals I mined?!” exclaimed Rujel. “Nah, this is just one-third of what you mined. Cool isn’t it? The winner of this year’s Rum Assault War, hosted by us will win it. Last man standing, that is. If you win, I’ll even throw in a beer free of charge, ‘coz if it weren’t for your efforts last night, our master crafter would never have been able to create this baby, mate”, explained Ronald. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Madhav appeared. “Dafuq are you doing here man? I’ve been searchin’ all over for you! Luna’s been badgering me ever since I set foot in this building. I think she her exact words were ‘Get my boyfriend the fuck to the dance floor, or tell him he ain’t getting my p**** ever again’.” “What the fudgejaja?” ejaculated Rujel. He looked towards the dance floor, and sure enough, Luna was standing near a pole, half-naked. He waved at her. She made a ‘straw-sucking’ gesture at him. “Alright Luna, I’m coming”, sighed Rujel. And with that, he hit the dance floor, shirtless. He could never have guessed that this averted doom was a precursor to the night’s events.