Anyway, on to Soltan Gris' Sex Life. The lights are out (at Utanc's insistence), and she comes in and lays down next to Gris, fully clothed as usual. Gris takes her hand, and...
"Feel this," I whispered, a little choked with passion. "Look what I've got for you."
I made her fingers connect with me.
"What the HELL?"
Oh, I knew she would be surprised!
Her fingers recoiled. Then they reached again, encircling my member.
"Hey!" she said. "What kind of trick is this? A falsie? A dildo? Well, we'll see about THAT!"
I don't want to read this book anymore.
Her fingers began to pluck all around the edges, then at the surrounded area. The fingernails were pretty sharp. She was trying to find if there was any strap to hold it on.
"No, no!" I said hastily. "It's real!"
"We'll see about that!" she said grimly.
She wrapped her fingers around it, held on hard and gave it a mighty yank!
"OUCH!" I shrieked.
"By Allah the Merciful, it IS real!"
So would you say this section is the "fantastic adventure" The Book World promised us, or the "romance" Orson Scott Card was referring to?
Having discovered the truth about Gris' unnatural male enhancement, Utanc is not only displeased, but furious enough to sock Gris in the jaw. "First you're so God (bleeped) small nobody can even find it! Smaller even than the little boys! Now you're so God (bleeped) big nobody could get it into anything!" And she lies there next to him with a glow-in-the-dark wristwatch, counting down the minutes until she can leave with her credit cards intact.
Gris begs her to reconsider, that maybe an attitude adjustment is all she needs to appreciate his oversized appendage, but the five minutes elapses, Utanc shoves the watch in Gris' face so he knows it, and she leaves in a huff.
"Listen, you (bleepard). I am tired of your tricks! One minute you couldn't even please a flea and the next minute you would wreck a camel! I am going to my room now and don't you bother me again until you decide to be more NORMAL!"
In case any men out there are wondering if bigger is indeed better, remember that you can fit a cigar in more places than you can a baseball bat.
So Gris lies there, seething with unfulfilled lust, until he remembers that he bugged Utanc's room. Hoping to catch her sobbing with remorse, he instead listens to her wake up her "little dears," put on some music, and dance and sing for her underage audience.
You may be small,But oh, you're good.I would eat you,If I could.
There's more, but you get the idea. Well done, Hubbard, you've penned the Pedophile's Anthem.
So as "small shouts of surprise" and "squeals of delight" accompany the sounds of rustling sheets, Gris flips off the receiver and lies back in his bed, aching with "unsatisfied desire! All centralized in a very sensitive place!" And though I appreciate the fact that Hubbard isn't addressing the ways that Gris could sate that desire himself, I can't help but boggle at why the author would shy away from that issue in a story containing torture, statutory rape, attempted rape, implied bestiality, sex trafficking, horrifying medical experiments, drugged-up prostitution, psychology, and more death and carnage than most James Bond flicks.
All while (bleeping) out the foul language!
Back to Chapter Two
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