The dream starts out with me sitting in the car, chilling in the left turn lane while waiting for the light. My window is down. My interest in the world is low because it’s too damn hot already. See a guy coming up the median. Panhandler? It’s too hot! The stumbling man ignores the few that hold money out to him. He staggers by me and stops.
“That’s not safe, little girl. You could get carjacked!” He chuckles as if he said the funniest thing in the world as he reaches in my window and locks my door. All my internal klaxons start screaming. My hand reaches for the iron pipe in the door. Before I can raise it, he reaches across me and grabs my breast and twists.
I shriek bloody murder and clamp my hands around his. He is still chuckling as he reaches with the other hand and unzip my pants. He tries for the belt, but it is too restrictive to work single handed. He reaches for the other breast instead and pinches the nipple, twisting it.
He wanted to shame me, but seeing I am not ashamed by his actions, he goes for physical abuse. He is very strong. People hear me screaming but no one wants to get involved. They all watch from a safe distance. The car behind me leans on the horn. The driver telling me to hurry and give my attacker head already since I’m holding up the line.
The bastard only laughs more. A black SUV comes to a stop on the other side of the median. The male driver leans out the window and tells my attacker to pull me out of the car and “treat that bitch right! Fuck her! Put her in her place! Do it, man! I wanna watch!”
During this time, I’ve managed to break his grip on my flesh, but the deep tissue bruises hurt still. As I am, I can’t force him away from me. He has been laughing like a drunk lecher (Nothing like No-Face, though.) It’s clear I’m not going to get any help. That’s okay. I’m dreaming. Bitch wants a spectacle? Bitch gon’ get a spectacle.
I call up a napalm loogie and spit it in my attacker’s crotch. He stops laughing and tries to pull away. I spit another one, watching the flecks of burning mucus burn through his pants, showing bare (filthy, oderous, nasty) skin. He starts shrieking. The bystanders are not smiling anymore. I pull him forward and bounce his head off the car’s roof. Letting go, I unlock the door and shove it outward. He turns as he falls and lands face down on the concrete median.
I am immediately upon him, feet first into the small of his back. He’s whimpering. Great pain is preventing him from taking in a full breath. The smell of his genitals roasting improves his body odor, slightly. Crouched on his back, I allow my wings to show. Flapping to maintain my balance, I look to see who is bystander, and who is invested. This wasn’t a random assault. He was sent to me. Most everyone watching is shocked by the turn of events. Only the man in the black SUV is angered by it.
“You said for him to drag me out the car. For him to rape me. For him to publicly humiliate me and degrade me. Your bitch is my bitch now. You gonna redeem him? Or you gonna be the worst kind of bitch, a punked ass whiny armchair wishy bitch? Come get your boy. His dick is going to need some tender care. Maybe you can kiss it and make it better.” With every word I spoke, the man in the SUV grew more and more angry. He suddenly punched his dash. In his movement, I saw he was not alone. There was a woman in the vehicle with him. A hand with long red painted nails reached out and rubbed his arm. The bitch in charge of the assault was not him, but his companion.
Drivers were too stupid to drive around my vacated car. They did not care about what was happening on the median. They wanted to continue on. “Car. Lock up. Rise ten feet.” The car morphed into the diplomatic sedan given to me by the Envoy, rolled up its windows, activated flying mode, and ascended ten feet into the air. I thought about trucks coming by. “Altitude adjust. Twenty feet above road.” It rose to twenty feet and hovered.
I ripped the shirt off the back of my attacker, now victim. I peeled long lengths of skin to the side and scooped fat away. Staring at the couple in the black SUV, I wrenched delicate slivers of muscle from the still living (and mutely screaming) man. Eating the flesh with deliberately delicate aplomb, I watched the man pale. He looked like he was going to be ill.
I shifted my stance, dropped my jeans, and took a literally flaming shit in the wound I just made. I wiped my ass with the ripped shirt and dropped the fouled cloth onto the burning man’s back. Zipping back up I continued staring at the couple. “Cross me again, and it becomes personal. Y’all asses are already marked for others. Enjoy your new playmates. And don’t forget to kiss his boo-boo to make it all better.”
I flew up to the hovering car. The door unlocked and opened at my approach. Entering the nicely cold air-conditioned vehicle, I told it to take me home. It locked the doors, entered driverless mode, and did as instructed, exiting me from the dream.