• • •
Fourth reason – oh yeah, bonus number four; not a couple reasons, not a few reasons, but some reasons, just like I planned all along – the Does just don’t need all that other technological mumbo-jumbo. I know, the first reason is that they don’t want it, but this is different because this reason isn’t a matter of want, it’s a matter of need. Cletus and Courtney Doe have one another, they have a device that fabricates food to put on their table, and they have a device that allows them to place their finger on the pulse of their town once a week just to make sure folks are still breathing out there. What else does one need? There’s no need to work for food, the upkeep around their place is easy enough, they bathe and wash their clothes in Shit’s Creek (the river that runs through the woods way back behind their house) and as for exercise, well, they get plenty enough exercise workin’ each other day in and day out, they’re both in objectively great shape.
Speaking of which, good lord do the Does work one another out. It’s all they do, it’s literally all they do! There’s hardly ever any talking, no daytime walks through the woods, no dips in Shit’s Creek unless one of them opens their legs and the smell has a visible color to it; all Cletus and Courtney do is fuck each other all hours of the Goddamn day. They fuck forwards, they fuck backwards, they fuck sideways, these backwoods hillbilly fucks fuck one another six ways from Sunday, they fuck one another every which way but loose, they… you get the idea! And they haven’t a lick of shame for it whatsoever! In fact, they get offended when Jonathan Knox doesn’t want to watch them do it! It’s not that he doesn’t want to join in on the action – that fact makes Cletus’s dick hard because the only reason Knoxxi Bitch doesn’t want a piece of Courtney’s fat ass is obviously the terror instilled into him by Cletus’s presence alone – no, it’s that he doesn’t want to see them do it, that he feels more comfortable hobbling up the stairs/out of the cabin than he does sticking around when the skin starts slinkin’ out the clothin’.
“And where the hell you goin’, Knoxxi Boi?” Cletus will ask every time Jonathan Knox begins struggling to his feet. “What, you don’t wanna see what yer missin’ here?”
“Yeah, Knoxxi Boi, the fuck’s your problem?” Courtney will always follow. “C’m’on, you’re missin’ the live show!”
Frankly, Jonathan Knox doesn’t know which part is worse, that the Does spend every last minute of daylight (and a whole lot of nightlight minutes, too!) fuckin’ one another on the single couch they own, the one they expect him to sit on when he’s not outside twiddling his thumbs or up in the deerhead room twiddling himself (which actually hasn’t happened yet, despite what Cletus and Courtney choose to assert) or the fact that after a few days of being exposed to their hypersexualized energy he’s actually starting to feel kind of bad about not sitting in and watching the Does perform their live show. Those are the worst parts; wanna know the best part about it? They think he’s the strange one!
“Sex is a natural part of life, Knoxxi Boi,” Courtney will tell him from beneath Cletus when she notices him averting his eyes.
“Yeah, Knoxxi Boi, it’s natural!” Cletus will say to Courtney’s tits from above. “What, you some sort’a subnorman’r’som’n’?”
Second of all – keeping up? – Jonathan Knox learns that the general population of Bionic Wuester is a living, breathing model of human depravity. The legal age of sexual consent is fourteen, or sixteen if you want to get money for it and/or film it and put it online. Violence and murder are a societal norm; just like The Internet Culture Company gives out a license to drive, they also give out a license to kill. Like driving without a license, killing without a license is very easy to get away with; in the same way you must be part of a club with membership dues in order to get a driver’s license, you must be part of a club with membership dues in order to get a bounty hunting license, and who do you suppose both of these clubs are managed by? You bet your sweet ass: The Internet Culture Company.
The Internet Culture Company manufactures and sells the cars and distributes the licenses to drive them, so they know exactly who’s not meant to be on the road; The Internet Culture Company manufactures and sells the weapons and distributes the licenses to use them, so they know exactly who’s not meant to be packing heat. The Internet Culture Company keeps tabs on every single individual living in Bionic Wuester, they know what every subject is doing every second of the day, but folks without a license to drive still get out on the roads, and folks without a license to kill still tag the walls. Why is that? Because The Internet Culture Company doesn’t give a rat’s ass!
Unless the offender becomes a serious problem, that is. For example, take… uh… what the fuck were their names… the uh.. the Nomen–… no… you know who I’m talking about. Mister and Missus Rumplemintz, remember? C’m’on, I know you do. We’re not that far into this miscarriage of a fuckin’ book yet, like, this is still part of the first chapter. You should remember this.
So why can’t I think of the names then, right? Well shut the fuck up, how about that?
Uhhhh… FUCK. Um. Clyd– NO! Clyve! Clyve aaand… Clyve and Merium! Yes! Boo-ya, bitch! Clyve and Merium… fuck, what was their last name?
All right, run it back. And with more italics this time.
without a license to kill still tag the walls. Why is that? Because The Internet Culture Company doesn’t give a rat’s ass!
Unless the offender becomes a serious problem, that is. For example, take the Nerandum family. Clyve and Merium. Clyve Nerandum was one whore-slaughterin’ son of a bitch, and not only did Merium know about Clyve’s sultry little habit, but she encouraged it! Never once did she judge him, and you wanna know why? Because she never rejected him! Clyve Nerandum has banged, drugged, and slaughtered countless whores – I’m talkin’ countless whores, pal – in his day, and Merium would always get the skinny on it, pun intended. Get it? Because Clyve was all sorts of skinny before he got his brain tossed all over the steps of his house like a salad? Literally? Because any salad brought into that house would be tossed all over the steps by Merium? Because she was morbidly obese? Was, because now they’re both fucking dead? You get it? Yeah, you get it.
Now, back to the matter at hand: why did Clyve become a serious problem? Well, in truth, Clyve really wasn’t a problem. He slaughtered countless whores, yeah, and most of them were underaged, yeah, but new whores are born every day, male and female and whatever the fuck else alike.
See, the only problem with Clyve was the specific underage whore he last slaughtered. I won’t say her name, as she was slaughtered by a real whore-slaughterin’ son of a bitch and her identity will be protected out of respect, but the fifteen-and-a-half-year-old whore Clyve Nerandum recently slaughtered, the one whose hands he pickled… well, he pickles all of their hands, that’s just kind of his thing, but you know the one I’m talking about. That whore, the one specifically mentioned earlier in the book, so she was the only daughter of a very powerful human being, an accountant employed by the Wuester branch of The Internet Culture Company. When he learned she was slain he was utterly devastated, so utterly devastated he had to fly off to an uncharted island and do a bunch of drugs and of-age whores for a few days to cope with the unparallelable stress. Upon his return to the woods, the accountant requested all the evidence his servants (that is their literal job title at The Internet Culture Company, Accountant’s Servant ) gathered while he was gone to be passed along to where it needed to go. By the end of the night the whore-slaughterin’ son of a bitch was ganked, justice was served, vengeance was attained, money was distrib’d, and a whole generation of new whores were being produced on an uncharted island somewhere on Bionic Earth.
So uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… yeah. As you can tell, the Wuester, NJ of Bionic Earth is pretty depraved. Pretty fucked, pretty uh, pretty deep into the dark arts. Pretty far back in the woods, one could say. That’s the second thing Jonathan Knox learns about life here on Bionic Earth where technology is everywhere and The Internet Culture Company is the generally accepted lord and savior. First was that things probably aren’t going to be fine for Jonathan Knox now that he’s in Bionic Wuester, and second was that Bionic Wuester is pretty fucked up the asshole, even outside the Does’ cabin.
Third of all… wellllll… the third thing Jonathan Knox learns about his new life in Bionic Wuester kind of ties into the first thing he learns, and it also kind of ties into the second thing he learns. I won’t state it outright, though, because it also also ties into the story at hand. Besides, this subchapter is long enough; let us pick back up in the present.
Enter Sunday, a few moments before the Does are finally going to show Jonathan Knox how the cylindrical television device thing works. Everyone is very excited, but the Does need to explain something to Jonathan Knox before they can go any further, something about themselves, something private. They need to level with him, in a way, and in order to do that, they need to share some shall we say specific information.
And so the Does share their specific information.
In return, Jonathan Knox says…
This has been the end of the eighth subchapter of the first chapter of the book Over the River: The Emancipation of Jonathan Knox. Here is everything you need to know about it:
Over the River
The Emancipation of Jonathan Knox
Over the River is the third book in a trilogy called The Fall of the Seven Earths. I’ve also released that trilogy as a single book called The Fall of the Seven Earths. Here’s everything you need to know about it:
The Fall of the Seven Earths
The Hillside Commons is an actual library of content. Click here to peruse.
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If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~