Chapter 134

0918 hours, local time
Saturday, 26 July, 2014
The Mackey Residence,
Beckley, WV

“And for the record, I want biscuits and gravy. With sausage patties and scrambled eggs with cheese. Sound good?” I proposed to Wanda.

“Very well, then. All in together to please and serve the only true Prophet I’ve ever met. There might be a wait, though. Some orange juice and coffee or milk, or ice water, or tea,, perhaps, to tide you over until breakfast?” Wanda offered me.

“Orange juice sounds splendid, Mrs. Mackey,” I waxed very polite and proper all of the sudden, “and in the meantime, the planned impregnations of Desdemona and Cordelia will proceed, naturally.”

“Who goes first with Desdemona and who first with Cordelia?” Luther asked me now.

“Ryan goes first with Desdemona and Yitzhak goes first with Cordelia. Then Till with Desdemona and Barry with Cordelia. Finally, Boaz with Desdemona and you with Cordelia, of course. Also, the girls are to finger each other’s asses while you hump them, and you are to swap places several times, but only cum inside the designated lady. Are we clear?” I instructed everyone involved while unexpectedly finding my own Vera (not Farmiga) on my lap, riding me.

“Sorry, but I can’t stand to see you just watching others without having some fun of your own! It’s not fair to my beloved Prophet now, is it? You are my hero, more than anyone else, after all, as well as my guide, my teacher, my friend, my mentor, my lover, my husband, and father of my children ... some of them at least. I live to serve you, as I should. As your entire tribe and family should,” Vera told me while bouncing up and down on my pole.

Yes, my hands were soon busy fondling her bum, but wouldn’t yours be? She knew exactly how much I needed this, of course, and she was insatiable as well. My adolescent Italian minx definitely knew how to get my attention and that of others by putting on her charm and proudly displaying her adoration for her husband the Prophet. No one could accuse Vera Bianca Rossi Clarke of being too shy to express her true thoughts and emotions.

Meanwhile, we listened to the radio for what news we could gather these days, which was still spotty, but more reliable than what still functioned of the internet. News service was more like institutionalized gossip, hence my asking God and the angels for more trustworthy information. What we heard now wasn’t too encouraging, either. It was likely to be not a moment too soon whenever I arrived in Canada at this rate.

For instance, a new regime had emerged in Newfoundland, at least for now, and it had perhaps overcorrected on the excessive zeal of some progressive, postmodern feminist ideas. Captain Peter Paul O’Rourke, the Chairman of the Special Military Executive, had recently declared himself the first Guardian of the Union of Newfoundland and Labrador, with the apparent support of the armed forces and the police. Almost his first official act was to impose a midnight to dawn curfew on women and girls who weren’t escorted by husbands, fathers, brothers, or male companions.

“What is that meant to accomplish, anyway? And this law, restricting hard liquor, tobacco, and marijuana use by women to one purchase daily, and only between the hours of five and eleven pm local time, what’s the point? Why a tax on contraceptives of two Canadian dollars per bottle? Why a tampon tax of one Canadian dollar per package and a maxi pad tax of fifty cents per package?

“But a subsidy for razors and shaving lotion for women, ditto on other kinds of hair removal products? And all sex workers must now formally register with the police, live in licensed bordellos, and have madams assigned to them. Also, abortion is illegal after twelve weeks. Certain womenswear is heavily taxed, particularly bras, panties, and lingerie,” I observed, finally that rather bizarre, even as Vera was joined by Athenais on my lap.

“Also, their registration is a matter of public record, so they can never conceal anything from their past. Divorce is also much more restricted under these new ‘emergency laws.’ Grounds include desertion, infidelity, abuse, fraud, and incarceration. ‘Irreconcilable differences’ don’t make the cut and neither does no-fault divorce. The best chance to escape an unhappy marriage would thus be to leave the marital residence long enough that the other spouse files on grounds of desertion or abandonment. I understand that women especially abused the no-fault divorce system, but this seems to be overkill,” Arsinoe remarked, even as she winked at me and joined the others on my lap.

“On the other hand, they made equal joint custody automatic barring substantial evidence of spousal and child abuse, They also limited alimony to a maximum of ten percent of spousal income and made it automatically expire after one year. And they made paternity testing automatic. Not that I disapprove of cross pollination, as it were, especially given our own traditions and practices, but paternity fraud is exactly that; fraudulent financial gain. Women shouldn’t knowingly dupe a third party into paying for another man’s child,” Luther noted.