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The Last Living Cowboy

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Old 05-16-2018, 08:49 PM
spshane (Offline)
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Default The Last Living Cowboy

The car—they called it a Lamborghini but only because it rhymed with linguine, even while some doubted that it was ever car at all and perhaps instead a side-by-side driven by post-agricultural cowboys—rolled slowly along the Sketti Noodle highway. So slowly it moved that any occupants would have fared better to walk, but it's been suggested that the Stetson-wearing riders intended to be seen, not so much as if they were on a parade route but more wanting to make it clear that had been seen numerous times between the hours nine o'clock and and nine-thirty in the PM. If it were truly an alibi they sought, they should have exited the vehicle, shook a few hands, maybe even started a fight. Moustaches and hats were the only things identifiables and they weren't quite as identifiable as the architects had hoped. After all, you can slap a hat and moustache on anyone, even a dummy, and the only plausible explanation was that you were intended to think of Grayson Kinney, the last living rodeo rider.

They described the vehicle as “red,” “Italian,” and “the kind of thing that bull-fighting asshole used to drive.” They made the association well enough, but they never used his name. There wasn't a soul alive who didn't know his name. Even retarded children living at the Integration Hotel in Berkely knew name; they used wouldn't say. After all, most people tended to blame him for the war that broke out between the State and Canada.

No one particularly minded that Kinney was a rodeo rider or that he was last person on the continent with a single set of genetalia. Ever since the middle of the previous century, when the Global Control Agency began experimenting with genetic modifications that caused people to be born with both sets of reproductive organs, single-sexed peoples went into decline. The Blen, humans who were simultaneously male and female, began their slow rise. The movement really took hold when Trace Kaleel ran for President of the United States under the slogan of “Go Fuck Yourself” and won. The Blen population skyrocketed as more people started fucking themselves and having more Blen children.

The day that Grayson Kinney was born global media outlets went haywire as it was confirmed that he had a penis and testicles only. He couldn't fuck himself if he tried. In his early years it was looked up on as a novelty and no one drew the next logical conclusion until Kinney neared sexual maturity; that is: if Kinney can't fuck himself, he invariably would want to fuck other people. And he did.

By this time, most people had forgotten what “consent” was. Kinney didn't know how to ask and there wasn't a Blen alive who knew how to give it. So, he just did it anyway, sticking his pole into any hole he could hold open. Early on people didn't complain much. Most folks felt like they were doing their part for Planetary relations, plus they were intrigued by the novelty of it. They were among the few Blens who had actually been fucked by someone else.

A decade later, Leaf Ho reintroduced to the concept of rape during a court case in Pensacola. Turns out that Kinney was responsible for nine percent of all the rapes on the continent, which means he must have been doing nothing but sleeping and fucking for the better part of twenty years. After the Pensacola trial, Kinney spent 13 months in a detainment facility. The Appelates finally ruled that since he was the last of his kind, it was unlawful for the courts to prevent him from pro-creation. Riots broke out immediately after the anouncement and lasted for seven days.

Things were just starting to calm down when Grayson Kinney rode into Charleston for rodeo. Of course, no one was watching the bulls; they were watching him. They wanted to see what he would have to say. After the anthem, he wrote out into the center of field on a horse, not a bull, bit a piece off the end of a pretzel and spat it on the ground. He reached down and fetched a microphone from one of the rodeo clowns. “Thank you all so much for coming,” he said. “It's such a lovely evening.” Whatever he said after that was drowned beneath the roar of the crowd. Everyone heard what he said, but more importantly, they knew what he meant. It went without saying that he was fucking the Prime Minster, which is why the Appelates ruled in his favor to begin with. What was worse, that bit with pretzel could only mean one thing. The Prime Minister was pregnant with his baby.

By the following afternoon Canada already had troops on the border.


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