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Trudging the rain swollen streets of Lismore, dodging the dolphins surfing down Molesworth Sreet until they were fatally speared by Insatiable Veins, who was straight off the streets of Nimbin, nursing a fifteen year habit that had dragged him through a swamp of hot bloodied tears till he made a raft from the bones of his dead friends and paddled to shore. There he dissolved the last shards from the shattered dream which was his life into a spoon and shot them in the special spot he'd been saving, the only virgin spot on his calloused veins, the one behind his left ear.

Unfortunately his dealer, a man who in his youth had gleefully sold battery acid to school girls as speed then masturbated over their convulsing bodies, and he always orgasmed just as the last flickering flame of life was extinguished from their soft youthful eyes.

Well this dealer, Wads Of Cash Jr, was tired of Insatiable Veins perpetual whingeing and whining his pathetic hard luck stories, his toothless mouth flapping like a putrid ulcer while he connived and slimed for a few lines more. He'd come around and rummage through Wads Of Cash Jr's sharp safe, collecting specks of water and blood to shoot up.

Wads Of Cash Jr was finished with Insatiable Veins scene, he was rich and didn't like putting up with bullshit. Once he would have because he knew they'd come back, he sold them drugs listened to their bullshit and they ALWAYS come back.

These days he moved ounces and pounds to rock stars, super models, stock brokers and film people, the fifty, hundred, sometimes five hundred Insatiable Veins bought in didn't justify his whingeing pathetic bullshit any more. Wads Of Cash Jr knew it, this guy was a loser. Sure he could have been a great muso, a performer but the only time he ever performed was when a spoon was waved in front of him, then he'd humiliate and degrade himself to the lowest level for a freebie.

Once Wads Of Cash Jr told Insatiable Veins to smear himself in his own shit and walk down Bourke St in his underpants. Insatiable Veins dutifully did this and caused a sensation. A group of avant garde post - modernist symbolic critics were rummaging through the cultural debris of Melbourne and found the shit covered Insatiable Veins to be " The ultimate in the representation of the individual versus the socio - economic control dynamic which holds the ratted weaving of society together."

Insatiable Veins briefly became a minor cult hero, the New Yorkers took him back with them, he travelled around in a glass cage shooting up and nodding off at parties, the ultimate in art as statement. The rich Beverly Hills types loved it, the A.I.D.S. epidemic meant that the flirtation with the street ( which they loved to think was seducing them when it was really the other way around ) had ceased. Kinky sexual peccadillos were no longer in vogue, junkies, prostitutes, cross dressers, exhibitionists, bondage aficionados were the latest in party furnishings. Insatiable Veins was a party oddity until the next fad, telling your fortune by the pattern and density of blood on a tampon. Insatiable Veins was stranded in the U.S. of A till his final pay cheque came through, it never did but his mother did and he flew home to a heroes welcome. Wads Of Cash Jr, who inadvertently got the whole thing going, was peeved at what happened so felt no guilt when he slipped Insatiable Veins crystalline acid instead of smack, hoping it would be the last time he ever saw him.

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This is why Insatiable Veins thought the dolphins he saw surfing down Molesworth St became what he thought were psychic demons in disguise, sent to suck his soul and replace it with the recipe for normality.

( Take a video, the word desire, the bible, essence of front lawn obsession, smell of mortgage and five leaves from a valerium plant, simmer for fourteen years then add semen from a serial killer and you have normality.)

To escape from them Insatiable Veins hot wired five cars, set them on fire and drove them at the dolphins; which were in fact the choir for beef week. The burning cars B-B-Q' d Miss Hereford, medium rared Miss Jersey and evaporated Miss Murray Grey.

After the firestorm in Molesworth street Insatiable Veins made his escape while the cops tried to keep their dogs from munching on the tender charred thighs of Miss Hereford and the drunken yobbos took it in turns to fuck Miss Jersey. ( she was now after all a virgin as her sins had been burned out of her, a reality that caused such excitement that the yobbos all prematurely ejaculated and put the fire out but the semen trapped the cops as surely as a venus fly trap snares a fly.)

Anyway Insatiable Veins, still in a heightened hallucinatory state fled from the chaos, thinking that every person he had ever ripped off was chasing him, hoping to drag him down to hell to pay for his sins. At the lead was his mother who he thought he'd ripped off by stealing nine months in her body and fifteen years outside. This was the root of Insatiable Veins perpetual using, he felt like a thief from the day he was born when the doctor said half castes were nothing but ghosts caught between two cultures, stealing everything but owning nothing.

Insatiable Veins, running blindly, crashed into Twisted Sister Of Desire, his best friend , and Seccanol Sam, both of them going to score off Wads Of Cash Jr. Insatiable Veins didn't recognise Twisted Sister Of Desire so kept running until he collided with the black peace of pure insanity where he lay down his weary fried head and sucked on the tit of imagination, creating at last a world where he could belong, a world created by his own mind.

Twisted Sister Of Desire knew Insatiable Veins would never come back, they'd been friends for years and she could read reality in his eyes like the average person reads a news paper. In the three seconds their eyes met the deception Wads Of Cash Jr had foisted on Insatiable Veins flashed through his eyes with the brutality of a Marlene Gorris film. As Insatiable Veins ran towards his own inevitable insanity Twisted Sister Of Desire knew that revenge was the only option left, the time for tipi circles, peace and love was long gone, the intoxication of brutal retribution was the only path left.

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Twisted Sister Of Desire and Insatiable Veins had been friends since primary school where they were expelled for singing Fuck The Police to the class as an example of their favourite nursery rhyme. They gleefully fled school and went to a tattoo studio where they both got full back jobs of a Pan Kali creature smoking a hookah on a magic mushroom. A picture which came to Twisted Sister Of Desire one night in bed as her drunken hairy father was raping her, she drew it on the wall using the blood from her mutilated cunt while he grunted and squirted his gift of fatherly love into her on her twelfth birthday. They had been inseparable since the tattoo and every year came together on that day and got shit faced.

Twisted Sister Of Desire was one tough woman. When she was fifteen she nail gunned her father to the garage wall, painted him with sulphuric acid until he was a red mass of quivering jelly then let maggots feed on his putrid carcass, finally ending his misery by blow torching his eyes out. When she was eighteen the captain of the footy team decided he needed to rape her because she didn't go out with boys so needed a good fuck to set her straight . She anally raped him with the exhaust pipe of her motor bike, pumping carbon dioxide into him until his arsehole and the exhaust became one.

Twisted Sister Of Desire once told Insatiable Veins that the only phallus that would fuck her would be the needle because it didn't give you V.D. ( although A.I.D.S. and Hep C gave the esteemed needle the reputation and iconography of a middle aged mans dick trawling through cheap sex bars in Thailand ) didn't make you pregnant, didn't lie to you and above all didn't betray you. Insatiable Veins respected Twisted Sister Of Desires sexual persona and liked to dress up in drag and go with her to dyke gigs. Twisted Sister Of Desire felt comfortable around Insatiable Veins because she knew he preferred smack to sex. When asked he described himself as a terminally bored heterosexual, knowing no one could give him the same satisfaction as a good taste and that the emotional games of sex and relationships were boring, time consuming and pointless in relation to the straight forward relationship you had with smack. Twisted Sister Of Desire could sleep naked in a bed with Insatiable Veins and feel safe, a fact which meant a lot to her. Insatiable Veins was the only man who had never betrayed her and the only man who didn't reduce her existence to a sexual element.

When Twisted Sister Of Desire realised that Insatiable Veins was gone for good, that her soul mate, the person who knew her life like no other, who had helped dump her fathers body in a McDonalds hamburger mincing machine, who had sold his body for a year to get her drugs while she grieved over her girlfriend of five years who was shot by the police in a case of mistaken identity. ( Although how they mistook a five foot eight inch Chilian woman for a six foot four blond haired bearded male and why they thought an escaped serial rapist would hide out in a women's refuge caused some confusion. The judge decided that the refuge may have aided in the rapists escape so they could get revenge and a certain Melbourne tabloid editorial claimed that shooting a dyke was a lesser crime than normal because a woman who didn't like men was less of a person, and was a threat to society. ) That person, Insatiable Veins, would only ever be a vegetable, she felt the spirit of Kali fill her. The smooth tongue of Kali licked her thighs, parted the soft black curls of her pubic hair, slithered into her clit, pushed and prodded, caressed her moist insides, sucked and slurped until all Twisted Sister Of Desire felt was the warm glow of orgasm moving up her body and then Kali turned the irrationality of love and desire, the etherealism of orgasm into white hot rage, into fury and focused hatred and Twisted Sister Of Desire took that gift from Kali and went looking for Wads Of Cash Jr so she could release the orgasm of hate that surged unfulfilled in her body, knowing she couldn't roll over and go on with life until that urge was fulfilled.

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Wads Of Cash Jr was reclining on his memories, reminiscing about being born into a corporate crib where he was swaddled in baby fur seal skin, had his arse licked clean by a steady stream of illegal immigrant nannies and had a place reserved for him at the best private school from the day the sperm and ovum collided during an infomercial.

Wads Of Cash Jr's father was a corporate serial killer, made his fortune on the back of asbestos mining, sold up before the law suites started drifting in and bought a sack of sweatshops in Thailand. The eighties appeared to him like capitalist heaven, the just rewards for a lifetime of service to the dollar. He bought into the media, brewing and telecommunications, purchased government ministers from both side of the spectrum to cover his over exposed arse and proceeded to acquire capital proportional to the rate of youth suicides multiplied by ten.

Wads Of Cash Jr was a chip off the old yellow cake, an avid student of his father's homespun philosophies.

" Economics is the only pure ideology left ".

" Ethics and laws are for those that can't afford to live by their own rules, if you have money, ethics and laws should be your servants not your masters."

" Compassion has no economic benefit or value so should never be considered a worthy attribute."

Wads Of Cash Jr had written these on his bedroom wall when he was ten and they'd followed him to every house since. He now had a mosaic of black pearl and opal framed in gold of the phrases hanging from the wall of his gaudy mansion in the Nimbin hills.

His father had given him ten thousand dollars on his sixteenth birthday and told him to invest it with the incentive that he'd give him the car of his choice if he'd doubled it in a year. Wads Of Cash Jr went to the best private school in Melbourne, all his class mates received an allowance close to the average workers weekly wage. Wads Of Cash Jr knew a market when he saw one. He sold pot to his class mates, when they got bored he moved on to speed, ecstasy and smack. Within six months he had a cartel running all the drugs into every private school south of the Yarra. On his seventeenth birthday Wads Of Cash Jr presented his father with a bank balance of 1.2 million dollars and asked for a worked 308 Statesman with tinted windows, his father grinned like Gobbels and asked what he invested in.

Wads Of Cash Jr carved the bleeding rump from his birthday lamb and said " Ethics and rules are for those who can't afford to live by their own rules, if you have money, ethics and law should be your servants not your masters." His father embraced him for the first time in his life, an hour later he was driving the Statesman.

Wads Of Cash Jr never looked back, he was the white powder king of the town, he had cops fighting to get into his pockets, politicians so far up his arse they were indulging in fellatio with his intestinal worms and a minion of nihilist narco-gangsters who'd wipe out their own childhood memories for a gram of smack soaked in camel piss and mixed with ajax.

Wads Of Cash Jr, laying in his hammock wearing a crown of heads, surveyed Nimbin valley as if it was his feifdom. The dirty end of the hippie dream had taught him the truth of immortality, or was that immorality ? Immortality required two things, loads of money and power, you got money by any means necessary, you kept and maintained power by the installation of fear. Wads Of Cash Jr paid people to spread rumours about him, therefore his reputation was so big that he imagined even Roger Rogerson, Arthur ' Neddy ' Smith and Co were scared of him.

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Mutant De la Marvellous crawled out of an abortion bucket sitting under a work bench where amnestied Japanese scientists were working on biological warfare programs for the American government. He squeezed himself into an air conditioning duct where he lived for fifteen years on foetal tissue and biological warfare by products. He listened to conversations and read notes left by the scientists on their bloody workbenches.

At fifteen he crawled out of the duct for the last time and enrolled at the local school where he was recognised as a prodigy and bought by a pharmaceutical company who immediately sent him to Switzerland to be trained in the art of drug manufacture.

Mutant De la Marvellous worshipped science, for him science made humans into gods, through science humanity could cure all ills and usher heaven unto the earth. The pharmaceutical drug laboratory was a white pyramid with a three kilometre base, it focused on stealing native peoples natural remedies synthesizing and selling them to the public at exorbitant prices.

Two years there and Mutant De la Marvellous was extracting hormones from the pineal glands of teenagers to dry and sell to rich westerners as longevity drugs. Soon after he was moved to the high security golden pyramid where the top scientists invented diseases to unleash on the world so the company could sell the cure to the heighest bidder. One night after seeing cages full of diseased people swimming in their own shit and tearing at hunks of human flesh he stole every disease and cure he could and fled to Australia. He set up a laboratory on the north coast and set about refining the diseases and giving away cures in mail order catalogues and crystal workshops.

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Mutant De la Marvellous was busy working on a cure for western rationalism so he could rid the planet of the disease of parliamentary democracy among other things. Twisted Sister Of Desire stormed through the door machine gunning vitriol at Mutant De la Marvellous. Mutant De la Marvellous had a soft spot for Insatiable Veins, recognising in him a kindred spirit who wasn't comfortable with the world of humans. Twisted Sister Of Desire had brutally slaughtered the pharmaceutical company assassins sent after Mutant De la Marvellous and used their bodies to compost her dope plants, he had been in love with her ever since. He wept tears of formaldehyde as Twisted Sister Of Desire told him the story of Insatiable Veins demise then handed her the reigning heavy weight of his stable of diseases, a mutation of the Ebola virus which only stayed active outside of the body for ten minutes. She hugged him so long his tears turned to wine then she was gone, the Ebola virus slung around her neck in a thin glass vial.

Wads Of Cash Jr saw Twisted Sister Of Desire coming, he longed to come into her so began to preen himself, pulling out his best quality smack and sprinkling it over himself, hoping to convince her to lick it off him. Wads Of Cash Jr kept dealing to Twisted Sister Of Desire because he wanted her. He'd traded sex for drugs with every woman he sold to apart from her and it infuriated him. He lived in hope that one day he could do the deal then he'd never have to see her again.

Twisted Sister Of Desire strode into Wads Of Cash Jr's house just as he was sprinkling smack on the head of his cock.

" Want some baby, take a suck, have a snort on the house.", smiling like Ivan Milat he presented his smack covered cock to her like it was the ultimate ice cream of childhood delight. Twisted Sister of Desire skipped towards Wads Of Cash Jr who began to slobber like a starving hyena. She opened her mouth, grasped his cock and squeezed, the eye opened and wept tears of semen, she ripped the vial from around her throat, jammed it into the eye of the dribbling cock, slapped her hands against the smack covered head and ran.

Wads Of Cash Jr bellowed as his cock peeled open like a bleeding banana, he stumbled after her spraying smack like snow, Twisted Sister Of Desire choked the door and ran to the window.

The Ebola virus was taking effect, collapsing Wads Of Cash Jr's internal organs one at a time. He began to sweat blood, it poured off him and gathered in sticky pools at his feet, it spurted out of his ears like a geyser. He ran from the pool of blood and his eyes exploded from his head and splattered against the wall like jellied gnocchi, he ran blindly in bloody circles, looking more and more like a six foot aborted foetus every step. After fifteen minutes Twisted Sister Of Desire opened the door, Wads Of Cash Jr was crawling through a lake of blood, intestines trailing out of his arse like a glistening tail and groaning like a sick dog.

" Insatiable Veins deserved better than you gave him you piece of offal, he knew how to care and he knew about respect, you're nothing but a money man, fuck you."

Twisted Sister Of Desire slammed the door, leapt on her bike and rode off, following the golden trail the moon layed before her.

Hanz