A Novel in Progress
Copyright 1999 Denny Sargent
No part of this may be replicated without the permission of the author
 

Miss. Murphy slowly leaned over her walker to pick up the Raisin Bran coupon she'd dropped. Her paisley faded mumu swept the dirty linoleum of the Safeway as she reached for the errant piece of paper. Suddenly her descent was marred by a large bulky form behind her. She bumped and wavered. On the verge of toppling, a hand reached out and steadied her. As the rough flesh touched her mottled forearm, she made to protest. This was cut short by a wave of the purest pleasure she had every experienced in her short rather petty life. Wave after wave of cascading joy ran through her body. Shaking and moaning, she swayed and tapped her rocker as a thin line of drool escaped her quivering lips. The jolts of ecstasy increased in power and frequency and another moan escaped her. Eyes squeezed shut, her yellowish grey hair quivering about her wrinkled face, she presented a picture of dementia to the thin bookish checker nearby.
So, she thought, this was the rapture. She was on her way!
The large hulking man in the worn brown overcoat was already shambling half-way down aisle 5.
As several more customers turned to watch her, Mrs. Murphy (a widow, it should be added) slowly sat on the floor. Prismatic colors were bursting in her head and wild melodic music filled her ears. The spasms of pure pleasure were coming at such frequency now that her body had stopped jerking and now simply vibrated. With one loud and intense whoop she collapsed completely on the floor, her head shaking from side to side. She instinctively grabbed her withered breasts and her vagina. Her crotch was wet but she was completely oblivious as she floated on a cloud of the purest bliss she'd ever experienced. Finally, her consciousness was enveloped in pure white light like a pool of molten fire and she felt her awareness become one with the infinite stuff of life itself.
A wiry little man in jeans and a purple sweatshirt adjusted his glasses and paused almost at the end of aisle 5. He could see the woman lying on the ground with a growing crowd of bystanders hovering over her, murmuring and gossiping. "grand mal?" whispered one? A tourist took a photo.
The wirey guy with the unruly hair again tapped his glasses nervously and tapped his large hulking friend and whispered, "Shit! I think you killed her!"
The bulky figure paused. "No" the giant rumbled, and then a low chuckle came from under his grey fedora.
His jittery companion sighed, ran his hands through his short black curly hair, then turned and walked quickly to catch his large friend as he turned the aisle corner.
"Is she dead?" whined the portly store manager, at least half hopeful.
"Cool!" said a kid in a Barny T-shirt before his frumpy mother dragged him off. Unperturbed, Miss Murphy smiled a beatific smile that, considering her face to begin with, startled the check-out boy who was closest to her. Suddenly her eyed flew open and she screamed,
"Haaaaaaaaaallelulahhhhhhhh!"
Several people fell over in their terror as the rest jumped back. This was, after all, New York City. She could do or be anything. The old woman jumped to her feet and with one graceful fling tossed her walker down aisle 6 right into Produce. As onions rained down upon the floor, she raised her hands and cried again,
"Halleluuuuuuuya! Praise Jesus! I've been saved! Saaaaaaaved! He touched me, he TOUCHED MEEEE! Jesus...rapture! A sign a sign! A miracle! I'm healed!!!!!!!Haaaaaaaaaalllllllleeeeeeelllllluuuuuyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaa!"
One enterprising young gangbanger in the store ran to the phone to call a tabloid.
The crowd gasped as the elderly, hunched wreck who emmitted some sort of bliss-aura shakily stood up. Several thought it was a stroke, a few were convinced it was a visitation and knelt in prayer. Most just figured, well, what the hell, it's New York and moved on. No one present, including Miss Murphy, knew what had happened. It was simple. Miss Murphy had had her first Cosmic Orgasm. Actually, it was also her first orgasm of any kind, but that is neither here nor there. The fact was, she was lit up like a Roman Candle.Miss Murphy, it turned out, soon ran off.
Within a month she would be hiking up Mt. Arafat in Turkey searching for the Ark of Noah and having wild sex with an elderly Kurd who sold coffee in Ankara.
By the door, the big guy and short guy were being rung up.
"Lettuce, carrots, apples, oranges, cucumbers, celery, peppers...Hey, wow, you guys vegans or what?" The clerk squinted at the two mismatched figures and scratched his freckled nose.
"Uh..Scientologists, actually.. the shorter of the two said rolling his eyes."
The larger one shifted akwardly from side to side and looked down.The floor creaked.
"Yea, well...tha'll be 66.60....no out of town checks, man."
He nervously paid.
As the clerk handed the change over, the large man grabbed both of the bags in one sweep of his massive arm and started to move.
"Hey, you forgot an orange!"
"Fumbling his change into his jeans, the short guy made a grab for the clerk,stammering,"It's OK, we don't need it...he's hard of hearing and...oh, shit."
It was too late.
They stood frozen for a moment, the tall awkward clerk, hair askew,left-hand extended with orange and the huge hulking figure, huge, brown hand open and recieving. Their fingers had touching briefly.
"Thank you." Rumbled the larger man.
"Uh,uh,uh......" The clerk began to shake. His eyes glazed over. The crowd still lurking around aisle 5 had not noticed this new tableau.
"Shit.Shit.Shit...." muttered the smaller guy as he grabbed the big guy's arm and hussled him out the door and into the summer evening. It seemed like an ant pulling a huge leaf.

"I can_t take you anywhere..." he muttered.
The big guy just chuckled, a deep sound that was almost a purr. The clerk quivered and stared into space, clenching his apron up into a ball in his left fist, a huge smile spreading across his face and a stain spreading across his crotch.
It had been like this all week as they waited for their boat.
Of course the best had been the orgasmic A-Bomb in the crowd at Jones beach. It had never occured to Al (our friend with the glasses and unruly black hair) that the water was a conduit. He should have known that it would be something outrageous that the big guy had in mind when he directed them there. Sniffing like a blood-hound, leaving hair everywhere. He had casually orgasmically mind-fucked the poor Iranian cabdriver when he'd tipped him. A tip the poor bastard will no doubt never forget. They'ed left him in his cab, parked by the beginning of the concession stands, muttering in Fasri and giggling. Damn. The Big Guy had chuckled in that Lurch-sounding baratone of his and then, when his big fur-backed brown hands had entered the water, All hell had slowly broken lose. It was like dropping a stone in a placid pink and flesh-colored sea. It was a crowded, hot day at the beach. The bathers nearest had first frozen, then collapsed into the water moaning and laughing. As the effect rippled outward, the big guy had started laughing and splashing and soon that also was a contagion that rapidly followed the sexual-shockwave through the packed shore, cabannas, tents, food-stands and waiting crowds. Fat housewives in one-peace monstrosities, cigar smoking smoothe operators, pickpockets, dealers, gangs and school girls, mafioso, choirs, white-bread families and Lubavich Jews, all had fallen under the waves of pleasure and laughter in a matter of minutes. Thousands and thousands, all ripping their clothes off and churning the sand and sea with undulating pink, tan, black and white puddles of giggling flesh. A few actually had started screwing, but it was almost an afterthought. The sex-act itself had become almost forgotten as countless minds, egos and libidos melted together in hilarity and erotic ecstasy.
As he staggered after the big guy up the body-littered beach, tripping over his own feet trying to take it all in, one very familiar sound rose above the chaos and din. Cops. When he'd reached the tarmac, he was brought up short by the big guy surrounded by cops, several with their hands on their guns.

Suddenly,from his furry chest, there was a low rumbling, slowly rising to a hideous shreik, a scream of such primal passion that he'd fallen to his knees with his fingers stuffed in his ears. Through a haze of tears he'd seen the cops fleeing, guns and cars forgotten. Several huddled sobbing next to the honeybuckets, one was holding on to a parking meter.ASll had peed in their pants.

Then he'd passed out.
Coming to, he'd noticed that he'd peed in his pants as well. Fucking A! Amidst the maddness, at ground zero, stood the familiar brick-like figure, hands in pockets, legs funny-crooked and whiskers flying every which way. Head still thrown back, the wild-giant slowly closed his mouth and held up one arm. The fur of his exposed forearm blew in the sea breeze that carried the thrush to his finger, where it perched and sang. All else was silence, with murmmers of erotic joy behind on the beach and sniffles of terror before them about the parking lot where cops slowly regained consciousness. "Time to go" whispered Al.
 

Leap forward in time.
 

Al was, having a picnic in Flushing Meadow with this huge creature, waiting for the others. What did he know about this being? What was really going on here? What the fuck was he doing here? He should be in the NYU grad library looking up Tibetan manuscripts for his abandoned PhD thesis. Instead, here he sat under a willow, admiring the huge rusting globe of the earth left over from the Worlds Fair, and chewing on a carrot. It had all seemed abstract when he first dived into this adventure. He'd envisioned himself as a techno-Indiana Jones with maybe a touch of Highlander thrown in, that was the secret ego-view. Now he felt more like Eraserhead in the Perils of Pauline. Where was it all going? It sure hadn't gone as he'd though it would.
Suddenly, in his periferal vision, he was aware of something red and brown with flashes of bronze descending from the fork of the tree. It was a paw of a hand holding something down towards him.
"Apple?" the hulk in the shadows purred. He was hanging upside down, one hoof showing.
The grin that spread across the bushy face mostly hidden ing the foliage was reflected in the eyes. Black, deep, swirling with fragments of light. Glowing.
That's right, Al remembered, It had all started with the eyes....and a dream...

....(to be continued)