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She called me from the favela late in the afternoon, right after the big lightning storm.She’d been up there all day again, dodging bullets and smoking crack in the dark little shack they all fester away in up there.Slowly grinding her spacesuit body into ashes and ruin. Turning cheap tricks with other whores and beggers and murderers..A day in the life of Narcisa. Lady of ashes.Now she was bored again and ready for a real fuck and a little tender same- species companionship.As always, I was down.I rode up the hill on the motorcycle, winding along the familiar narrow cobblestone road.As I approached the spot, I passed the big overgrown lot where they throw the bodies up there on the hill. I vaguely wondered if Narcisa’s would end up in those tall tropical weeds rotting away with the other ‘presuntos’.The meat, as those jettisoned cadavers are casually referred to in local bandido parlance up on the morro there by the drug spot…Cruising along, I could see the panoramic view of my city and the expansive blue ocean below imprinting itself on the memory stick of the hard drive called a brain I’ve been given for my long trip here to this ridiculous place called earth. 

the view from Praia do Leme 

 And here I am. Rio De Janeiro. City of God. In the Year of Our Lord, 2008. Gloria a Deus.She was standing by the empty hot dog trailer at the corner that’s only open at night, looking like a hungry adolescent wolf. Savage. Transcendent.My glowing alien white electric eel. My beautiful, etheric undernourished Lolita.Narcisa. Lady of ashes.I felt her hard, scrawny frame fuse with mine as she jumped on the motorcycle behind me. I fondled her bony earth suit kneecap with my left hand as we coasted silently back down the hill.Together. Again..”Let’s do it two time, same like other day, Cigano,” she said like an excited kid nagging her daddy for a toy.I knew she just wanted more money to smoke more and more crack now.And she’ll go to any lengths to get it now. Even becoming Pavlov’s own barking bitch in heat for me, digging a deep pit down into the bottomless realms of my own insatiable lust.Progressive illnesses. Addiction is what they call the shit we both caught here on Earth…Compulsion, obsession, lust. Addiction.Back in the shady bunker of my little room next door to the shabby old Hotel Gloria, I turned on the overhead fan in anticipation of the sweaty hours to come.Two times.I went to my little fridge and poured her a glass of passionfruit juice, discreetly dropping in the knockout drops. I’d fuck her six times more after she went out for her little spin back home to Alpha Centauri.Narcisa’s a liar, like me. A cheat and a thief. A pirate, just like me.But I’m much worse than her. Been here on earth a while longer. Picked up all their fucking tricks.That’s why she hates me.That’s why she likes me.I think she knows I dope up her juice.And even though she complains about the headaches the stuff gives her, I don’t think she really minds too much.After all, it’s really the only time she gets to sleep anymore and visit home for support and orientation. She says she hates to go to sleep, but I know she needs it anyway.She knows I take care of her Earthly needs and that’s why she likes me.That’s why she hates me too.It’s mostly all the earth-bound trauma-memory perils of the outer atmosphere part of her little visits home that piss her off the most.That and my rock-hard dick tucked up inside her that keeps her grounded to earth, without which she’d probably just ditch that long tall perfect supermodel’s space suit body she was given here, just like a little girl shedding her knickers as she shimmies up a tall tree.Then she’d shoot right back home without even a backward glance.Leaving me all alone on this snot ball planet.No way. Not yet.I’m the one that keeps insisting she stick around and fulfill her mission here, whatever the fuck that is.She doesn’t know either and I can’t tell her. But I insist she stay anyway.That’s why she really hates me.That’s why she really likes me too, I think.”Two times for 50, okay, Cigano?” She growls like a horney alleycat.”Ok with me, baby,” I said, throwing on a rubber.As I worked my dick into its good and proper place, we made small talk. As usual, she did most of the talking, telling me her bizarre adventures of the last few hours. Narcisa doesn’t like to listen. But she sure likes to talk.And that’s always alright with me. Her mouth and mine mingling together like one… tongue, teeth, gums, breath, one voice, one ratty warped earth-bound insatiable alien being.One.Then, suddenly the sinister thought came to me.This is how babies are made here on earth. This is how poor suckers like us wind up here.Shit, “What if the condom breaks and you give birth to Satan’s spawn, here, baby?” I said joking.What if?”Fuck that, Cigano. Don’ you know it I got no uterus?”An alien. From Alpha centauri. No uterus. Maybe…”Who told you that shit?” I laughed.”Is the TRUE, Cigano. Can’ to you FEEL it that I no got it the uterus?”"Not really, baby,” I said distractedly, gently working it home to Alpha Centauri. Home Sweet Home. “All I can feel is pussy. Supersonic pussy, baby, and I like it enough to plant my little alien spores up in there…”"Forget it, Cigano,” she breathed into my mouth. “If that shit ever happening, I gonna get it the ‘bortion!”I was deep inside her now, tasting the smell of outer space with the tip of my dick. One body. One spacesuit. On our way together back to Alpha Centauri at supersonic speed.”Then, after I make it the ‘bortion, I gonna EAT it the fetus!” She added.That’s my Narcisa. Thinks she’s been framed. Always trying to beat the rap, shortcut the karma…”You gonna eat it roasted like a chicken? Or a la milanesa?” I asked, not really giving a fuck. Just making conversation to keep her talking. When she’s talking, she doesn’t complain as much about my dick being way up in her spacesuit. And I like to watch her mouth move while I fuck her.”Barbeque, Cigano! On the hot coal, country e’style, man,” she said. I stroked away, picking up speed, countdown to blastoff. “No, Cigano! I got it the better idea” She said suddenly.”I gonna E’SMOKE that shit!”That’s Narcisa. So narcisistic and vain she would rather smoke something, even her own fetus, than eat a scrap of food for fear of gaining a kilo that might weigh her down to earth..And Narcisa hates fat people so much, I really think that’s the main reason she’s so unwilling to quit smoking crack - her insane trauma-based fear of getting fat.Seriously.It really is a great diet plan though, and I highly recommend it for all you fat chicks.But like all good things, unfortunately It has its own little drawbacks.Several pitfalls come with prolonged crack addiction. Stuff like jails, mental institutions, hospitals. And untimely, a premature death.Narcisa doesn’t mind any of that shit. Especially the death part. She says its just a free ride back home to Alpha Centauri.I wonder. 

The other day I asked her why she thought she came here in the first place. She thought a minute, then she said, with uncharacteristic honesty, “Probably cause I complaining too much ’bout the life on there, so they make me come on these shit place for see what’s good… ”Sounded plausible to me. Maybe she’s learned her lesson now. Maybe she’s ready to go home.Ready to die.That’s what they say about smoking crack. They say it’s like taking the diamond lane to the boneyard.Jails, institutions and death. Game over.But If you can live with that simple little program, then crack cocaine is probably just the right drug for your fat asses to slim down fast with too.Just ask Narcisa. Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008. All Rights Reserved.NOTIFIÇAO: Os eventos neste site são contos de ficção - registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor, Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são interamente ficticios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa vivo ou morta se trata de pura coincidência.As vários fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.