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  • A STIRRING PORTRAYAL OF ONE JANE'S ADDICTION
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A STIRRING PORTRAYAL OF ONE JANE'S ADDICTION; Rated R for Retarded
Tweet Topic Started: Sep 25 2010, 07:04 AM (290 Views)
Munchkinator Sep 25 2010, 07:04 AM Post #1
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Pax Bionicus
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A STIRRING PORTRAYAL OF ONE JANE'S ADDICTION. Also, this is Touhou related, so you'll miss half the lulz if you don't know what it is. But it's still freakin' awesome regardless. Also YAY filter saving me from breaking swearing rules. This is from.. I'm not actually honestly sure where the story came from, I saved it like two years ago. Whatever. ONWARDS TO GLORY.

* * *

"Mornin', Reimu," Marisa said, rooting through Reimu's refrigerator. "What's up, you horrible motherlovelyer?"

Reimu slumped out of her bedroom covered in blood. "Fff. What the balls did I do last night?"

"It was awesome," Marisa said, checking a bottle of milk. It had long ago expired. She tossed it onto the floor. "Everything in here is rotten, Reimu. Do you ever do any shopping? Or eating, for that matter? I haven't seen you eat in years."

"Hakurei orb, something something," Reimu said, plopping on top of the tokatsu. "lovely, it's freezing in here."

"Feels okay to me," Marisa said, trying to find a jug of sake that hadn't been repurposed as jugs of mixed narcotics.

"No way. It's cold and bugs. Cold and bugs."

"Cold and bugs."

"Yeah, all the bugs are slithering under my skin, it's just... wow, it's just horrible. What is this? What the hell is this?"

"Most people call that 'coming down from heroin,' Reimu." Marisa found what was left of Rumia shoved into a pantry. She cut a hunk of meat onto a plate and carried it to the tokusatsu.

"Gods be damned, why would anybody take heroin if this is what it's like not-heroin?" Reimu shivered, trying to scratch away the bugs in her skin.

"What have you been doing the past however-many-years?"

"Taking heroin?"

"And why's that?"

"Because it lets me forget how horrible this stupid lovelying fantastical fairyland is?"

"Oh yes."

"Well, the whole 'ant' thing isn't as bad as Gensokyo." Reimu held up little hair-like fibers pinched in her bloody fingernails. "Are these Morgellons worms? I think they're Morgellons worms."

"Those are your nerve endings, Reimu."

"Oh. And I still feel them! That's the crazy thing."

"So, why are you finally feeling the itch?"

"The Yin-Yang Orb. Without it I'm like the rest of you stupid mortals. Like I was saying, what the hell did I do last night? So I can figure out who stole the Yin-Yang Orb, torture them by skinning them alive and nailing them to a wall still alive, and then take it back."

Marisa contemplated around a mouthful of Rumia. "Well, first you made Rumia cut herself open, pull out her intestine, and force-feed herself to herself. That was awesome. She was crying and whimpering and just eating loops of her own intestine like a Japanese man at a hot-dog eating contest. And then you took some heroin, yelled 'Is that so!' at her until she finally died, then laughed yourself to sleep. As I recall."

Reimu chuckled. "Ah, good times." She tore out more of her nerve endings, only stopping when her body seized up in shivers. "Dammit, this sucks. I'm a goddamn Hakurei! Consequences are for other people!" She vomited all over Marisa, a combination of stomach acid and nothing. "And what the hell is this! It's like my stomach's trying to tell me to put something in it!"

"That's hunger." Marisa pinched her nose at the rancid stench.

"Seriously? This is hunger? Tell you the truth, I haven't felt anything below my head since the PC-98 was around, and I can say without a doubt I ain't been missing this 'hunger' shit."

"Maybe you should step outside a moment and think about what you've done with your life." Marisa shoved Reimu off the kotatsu.

"You know what? I will!" Reimu fumbled up her sleeves and drew an exceptionally cheap and potentially-deadly-to-its-wielder Saturday Night Special. "I'll be right back. I'm either going to kill myself or kill somebody else."

"Good luck with that." Marisa peeled off her vomit-drenched vest.

Reimu tried to storm out the front door, stumbled, lay curled in a weeping, fetal ball for a few minutes, then stumbled out the front gate of the Hakurei Shrine, where the back of her head immediately made friends with a shovel. Darkness fell.

Reimu awoke strapped into a chair under a glaring light. She had no idea how much time had passed; she didn't feel any less not-on-heroin, at least.

She felt something warm, blobby, and head-sized bounce up her stomach. "Reimu Hakurei," a calm voice said. "You're safe, but you're being held down for your own good."

"Who are you?" Reimu said, shutting her eyes tight against the light.

"My name is Fine Young Cannibal. That's my friend Talking Head manning the light."

"Hey," a voice said from around the light.

"You're in Port Joe Smith in the heart of Yukkuri territory. We're here to talk with you about your addiction to every narcotic save the ones that might actually provide some spiritual insight into who you are and what you do."

"Oh..." Reimu pondered. "I get it. This is an intervention." She howled and screamed and spat and yowled like a rabid cat, trying to break free of the table and the straps. "WHEN I GET FREE I'LL RIP YOU TO PIECES AND PISS ON THE PIECES AND BURN THE PIECES BY LIGHTING MY FLAMMABLE PISS ON PISS-FIRE!"

"That's impossible several times over, Reimu," Fine Young Cannibal said. Its squishy warm body slid up onto Reimu's chest. "If you could look at me for a moment, please."

Reimu opened her eyes and glared at the Yukkuri. It was a Yukkuri that looked like her, if her head was bigger and rounder and cute instead of hollow and dead-eyed and hostile.

"Do you see me, Reimu?"

"What the hell am I seeing besides a stupid Yukkuri?"

"Well, you're seeing yourself, in a way. You know why we look like this, Reimu?"

"'Cause I'm cool?"

"We don't know. Technically I'm several times older than your universe. If we want to be perfectly accurate, it's you that somehow managed to look like me. I find that kind of spooky. Mainly your body is spooky."

"Was it you with the shovel?"

"That would be Rin, that fine young lady with the cat ears. She was coming for Rumia's body, but decided on a whim to try and undo some of the damage you've done to this fine land of ours."

"What the lovely are you yammering about."

"I've prepared a film..."

Reimu groaned and tried to will her body to die.

* * *

Rin waited outside the intervention room, tapping a rhythm with her shovel. Butterflies stormed her stomach in a torrential pour. She'd never imagined doing something so bold as whacking Reimu on the back of the head; she'd seen too many people try something like that and wish they'd never tried. Carried off a lot of bodies; sometimes twice, if they were dumb enough to try again after Shikieiki sent them back.

A little Patchouli Yukkuri sloshed up to her chair. The Patchouli was nearly liquid, but she kept a little tray of butter cookies and an cup of tea half splashed out balanced on her hat. "Mukyuuu?" it burbled.

"Thank you," she said, and took the tray.

"Mukyuuu!" It sloshed back off. Rin dunked the butter cookie in the tea and took a big bite. She let the sweet tastes mingle in her mouth. That calmed down the storm some. She wondered if she could trick herself into swallowing; she wasn't sure her stomach was quite ready for that.

Big steps. She could've gone home and slept and still put in the equivalent of a week's worth from the shovel-smack alone, but she had bodies to cart and dues to pay.

She'd stolen the Yin-Yang Orb the last night, after all, after Reimu had shot some poor peasant in the brain for interrupting the savage beating she and Marisa gave Rumia to ask for a blessing on her daughter, who was going into labor. Reimu had left the artifact lying in the mud, so eager was she to return to the beating. It was trivially easy to take.

Still, it was this that had her on edge, not the thievery. Oh, the thievery would've earned her a premature death, but the gall of bringing in Reimu to be fixed would earn her pain.

She swallowed the cookie, by then chewed into a paste. It settled on her stomach and didn't immediately fly out. She ate the rest of the cookie faster.

* * *

"...Chen, as a small kitten, playing with blocks..." narrated Fine Young Cannibal. They'd reached the "precious home videos" section of the Beautiful Things About Gensokyo presentation.

"I get it, I get it, Gensokyo doesn't suck. LEMME GO!"

"Hm." Fine Young Cannibal tapped the remote control against Reimu's struggling body, an impressive feat using only its cheek. "It's clear that you willingly avoid the natural wonders of Gensokyo out of some stubborn insistence that there's nothing redeeming about it."

"Have you seen a third of the shit I've seen? The cannibal holocaust! The fairy holocaust! The vampire holocaust! We have more holocausts than we know what to do with!"

"I'd like to mention you started all three of those holocausts, Reimu.'

"So? It's not like they weren't historically inevitable!"

"Reimu, if you adopt a defeatist attitude towards recovery, I'm afraid I'm going to have to introduce a consequence for failure."

"Failure at what?"

"Fulfilling your familial legacy of bringing order to the 'Soak. Behold." Fine Young Cannibal signaled to Talking Head, who quickly switched reels. The footage changed to that of some dark-eyed, slack-mouthed Yukkuri scuttling along on long, arachnid legs.

"These are the Skree," Fine Young Cannibal said. "It is within their nature to restore balance. Perhaps you've heard of 'Yukkuri Misters' who try to kill or torture Yukkuris?"

"Yeah, I have."

"They are, of course, the fevered masturbation fantasies of sick-minded children. Besides being immune to damage, prolonged hostile intent against Yukkuri brings forth the Skree." The video changed to a man dressed in camo emptying a rifle magazine into a Koyukkuri. The massive bullets sent the Koyukkuri flying, but harmed it in no way. When his magazine ran dry, the man picked up the rifle like a club and tried to flatten the Koyukkuri.

A Skree descended from the treetops and, in a few lightning-fast bites, ate his face off. More Skree descended and the man was, in moments, skeletonized, and soon his skeleton bitten to pieces and munched by the Skree. When they were finished eating, they returned to the treetops, leaving the Koyukkuri behind to take it easy.

"...So, are they immortal, too?" Reimu asked.

"Not only that," the Yukkuri said, "but should you continue resisting intervention--well, I'm afraid they're going to see it as you being hostile, and your fate will be in their eternally-ravenous maws."

"No effing way. You're making that up."

A spider-legged Yukkuri descended from the ceiling of the small room, landing with its spider-like underside resting on Reimu's face. "SKREEEEEE!" it screeched.

"...okay," Reimu said. "What's this about intervention again?"

Rin followed a Rankkuri through Fort Joe Smith. The Yukkuri capital of Gensokyo was abuzz with easy activity. Little blobby head monsters scooted, bounced, and flew around on their daily grind, an almost painfully-idyllic scene. That it was utterly sincere made it seem unreal, like stepping into a child's dream of a world that fits perfectly in place and unwinds with a happy lullaby chime.

"So, where's Reimu?"

"Oh, she's on the Track of Tragedy, working things out."

The Track of Tragedy was the Yukkuri equivalent of psychotherapy. As Rin saw, it involved outrunning a pack of ravenous spider-legged Yukkuri while being lashed by a Dosumarissa yelling that one's mother didn't love one. Reimu ran the Track stark naked and blubbering like a man with several wires crossed improperly discovering that the Easter Bunny was actually the Communist Computer Gangster God on the Moon.

"Does she have to be naked?" Rin asked. Naked Reimu was gruesome indeed.

"No, she made that part up on her own," the Dosumarisa said. "Pardon me. YOUR MOMMY ONLY WANTED THE BEST FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HER?!" Whip-cracka~

"How does this work, exactly?" Rin asked.

"Well," the Rankkuri said, "it's supposed to compress years of suffering and withdrawal and pain and such into an hour or so of trying to outrun your metaphorical monsters as manifested in extraordinarily literal ones. While being shouted at."

"How long does she have to go?"

"The usual Track of Tragedy run lasts about fifteen minutes, so..."

The Dosumarissa said, "Well, we're into our second hour, and we guess she's got about five to go. Real sick puppy. YOU ARE MADE OF FAILURE PIG! FAILURE WAS INTRODUCED INTO YOUR DIET AS A CHILD AND HAS SINCE BECOME YOUR SOLE SOURCE OF NUTRITION!"

"Oh." The Rankkuri shuffled its underside. "Wanna catch a movie?"

* * *

By the time Reimu's run ended, only the quality of Yukkuri health care was keeping her alive. She was rushed to the finest Yukkuri hospital and taken care of by the finest Eirikkuri.

For one arduous year Reimu lay out of commission, her drug-ravaged body undergoing intravenous care and careful physical reconditioning. It was a fascinating and gradual process that shall not be recounted here, nor the fantastic, gory tales of what happened in the 'Soak in the Year Without a Hakurei.

On the last day of Reimu's hospitalization, a thunder sounded in the skies of Gensokyo. It was no mere mortal thunder; it was the mighty, sky-shaking drum solo of Shikieiki Yamaxanadu, Judge of the Dead, banging on them bongos like a chimpanzee of divine inspiration and skill. Such was the stunning weight of destiny that evening.

On that glorious day, Reimu set one foot outside the threshold of Captain Trips Memorial Hospital, then another. It was an honest step, fueled by neither hatred nor an inexplicable boost of energy from a bottomless well of uppers. It was a free step. A strange one.

"Huh." Reimu breathed, and the air of Gensokyo was... sweet. Sweet with seeds carried on the spring breeze, sweet with the happy chatter of Yukkuri, sweet with recent rain, sweet with promise and a delicate aura of magic. She had never in her life seen Gensokyo as anything less than an abattoir full of retarded monsters. At least it was now an abattoir full of retarded monsters and a truly stunning bouquet of smells.

Marisa pulled up on an enormous motorcycle tricked out with machine guns and missile launchers. Alice Margatroid was seated behind her. "'Sup?" Marisa said.

"Na'much. Why are you associating with Alice?"

"Funny story, this is actually a life-sized mannequin. Check this shit out, her head's full of napalm." Marisa pulled off the Alice mannequin's head and threw it wherever. It showered a garden with napalm.

"My turnip patch!" squealed a Yukakkuri.

"That's cool," Reimu said. "I've been eating food lately."

"What's that like?" Marisa said.

"It's... filling."

"Cool, cool. You want a ride home or you gonna fly?"

"I've got some business to take care of." Reimu cradled the Yin-Yang Orb under one arm. "I'm going alone. You understand, right?"

"Yeah, I getcha. Keep on rockin'!" Marisa peeled out and roared out of Port Joe Smith. Reimu cracked her leg joints and soared into the sky.

* * *

In the border between life and death, Shikieiki drew her drum solo to a close. "SUCH WONDER!" she declared. "A prodigal foulness has washed away a loathly lifetime of chemical edicts and come to this, the place of her first step into destiny!"

"Hey," Reimu said, "I've done some good before. Right?"

"What rights you have done were with a length of lead pipe and the vigorous application of such to the skulls of your enemies, Hakurei child. In no sane world would they be seen as good."

"Fine. I'll give you that."

"And of course you are here to see your mother."

"I've got a lot to apologize for."

"Of course. THE DOOR!"

Komachi hit a button. A golden door opened in the still air. Reimu stepped through.

Her mother was waiting, sitting on a small chair. Reimu sat across from her.

In a not-especially-long life, Reimu had performed more abominations than one man should ever be able of committing. She struck worst, and first, at her mother, so many years ago. Her mother's eyes were old, generations old, and spoke of generations of self-appointed, never-reciprocated burden.

What could she say?

"I'm sorry, mom," Reimu said.

"You're black," Reimu's mom said.

"Is there anything I can--"

"No, Shaneequa," her mother said, impatient. "I've been trying to tell you all these years and somehow not a single chew of salvia has crossed your lips. Honestly, haven't you been taking your ritual hallucinogenics like I taught, or have you kept up your usual debauchery of whatever will destroy your brain one tablet at a time?"

"I... that, yeah."

"Well, that's in the past now."

"So am I still black?"

"I don't mean black as in 'stained with sin.' I mean that the Hakureis traveled to Japan in a boat centuries ago and used certain glamours to fit in seamlessly."

"...so, we're like drow?"

"Damn your stupid, stupid eyes, Shaneequa," Reimu's mother said. She snapped her fingers.

Reimu became black. As in African-Gensokyan black. Black like Barack Obama's dad.

"Now get your fool ass out there and start Hakureiing like you mean it, Shaneequa."

"Fine," Reimu sighed. "Might as well get this shit started."

"That's a girl."

* * *

Cirno banged a frozen rock on the shell of Bal'shurgoth the Bal'shurgothic, the colossal otherworldly sea anemone threatening Gensokyo. "Eye'm the rockingest!" Cirno said. Bal'shurgoth flexed a titanic muscle and flicked Cirno aside like an ice chip, then resumed his grappling with Macro-Size Suika. The oni managed to keep the god wrassled to a stand-still, but she was rapidly losing her grip despite all Nitori's cheerleading from her shoulder.

"Well, we're all going to die," Marisa said, ripping a knife across her left wrist. "See you all in hell!"

"Wait!" Hong Meiling said, pointing her severed arm with her good one. "Is the blood loss making me see things or is that Reimu? Reimu with a really dark tan?"

"Oh. Hey, it is!" Marisa looked at her blood-spewing wrist. "Crap. Somebody got a band-aid or somethin'?'

Bal'shurgoth threw aside Suika and continued his approach into Gensokyo. Reimu jet before him, hovering before his vast, unblinking eye. The god chuffed. "WHO DARES INTERPOSE HERSELF BETWEEN BAL'SHURGOTH AND HIS IMMINENT VICTORY OVER CANCER?"

"I--wait, what's this guy's story?" Reimu said.

"He's going to go to Eirin's clinic and get a treatment for his prostate cancer!" Reisen yelled before finally succumbing to the dozen thirty-meter needles embedded in her body.

"Okay, gotcha." Reimu reached into her sleeves and pulled out the only right and true weapon of heroes: a length of iron pipe. "Say your goodbyes, Bal'shurgoth," Reimu said, "because you're the dog on the cover of this Newberry-Award-winning children's book."

"PLEASE!" Bal'shurgoth thundered, "I HAVE THREE CHILDREN AND A DISABLED WIFE! IF I DIE THEY'LL HAVE NO WAY TO SUPPORT THEMSELVES!"

"Too bad," Reimu said, and raised her iron against him.
 
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