THE ZOOSPHERE #8

THE ZOOSPHERE #8
B.Z. Niditch

Shifting his galactic 3D glasses on his Zoosphere, Adam does not like his own compulsion to watch Sylvester Cain in pools of vodka with Olga, his new night-owl companion, who is now locked in a love nest and he is so squeezed for sex that everything around him, even the vodka, tastes like too much of a microcosm.

Yet out of anger toward Sylvester for seducing Eva, even of her free will, Adam cannot bring it upon himself to rescue Sylvester from his head locks and mind-body incapacity from the rapacity of Olga in her surrogate love making. For even in a space culture revenge with jealousy, they have their animal magnetism, angst and anima for satisfaction.

Worn out from Olga’s robots poking fun and sucking the life out of every stick-shifting hole Sylvester gets out his pocket Zoosphere and tries to call on anyone who will answer and finally reaches the renowned space shrink Dr. Lucy Putz on her emergency hot line at the Alderson disk.

“Dr. Putz, I need your help. I’m in this swimming pool on A-soyuz flight on Venus with Olga Romanov and she is giving me the full octopus treatment of which you wrote of in your famous sex manual, the one I watched on the Zoosphere, “The Abs and Labs of Climax.”

“How can I help you?”

“I can’t take all the six sex robotic legs probing me for twenty-four hours. I am weak under the knees.”

“Who are you?”

“I am ashamed to say, Sylvester Cain?”

“The genius! I have the time-travel file on your personality, sex objects, your whole history in front of me. You look like a space hunk to me and yet you have the effrontery and chutzpah to call on me for a rescue. Why not call on the space police; or cia kgb network
for a rescue? Remember, as an Octo-pussy I invented the techniques Olga is using on you.”

“Because Olga Romanov belongs to the cia kgb herself and everyone of her members is on my space membership list as well I can’t betray her.”

She is in the nympho brigade I think.”

“Yes, let me check on the Zoosphere. Yes, you are very perceptive. Perhaps you too are a secret agent.”

“I am no earth spy for the home planet, if that’s what you are hinting at. I have nine merit badges for science and outer radius degrees from Universe University to prove my space loyalty. I even took a loyalty oath on Pluto at last mega year ceremonies.”

“I see that on the Zoosphere, but we cannot be too careful.  There are those up here who would rather be down on home planet as I have taken blood samples and used hypnosis on earth-wise beings who had to be transferred to outer space planets for their disloyalty.”

“Where exactly are you on Venus?”

“In a Venus fly-trap! Please, Dr. Putz size up the situation.”

“Smarty pants, Sylvester dear, according to my life file on you, sexy man, you have no size problem.”

“I need a rescue.  I have bottomed out.”

“Please, Dr. Lucy, help get me out of this.”

“Just call me Lucy Goosey as they did at the Grok Academy.”

“Anything you ask for. I’m in the grey goo.”

‘My, my. I could do an organ transplant.”

“Leave my organ alone.”

“We have a group of music groupies, the Uranians, who need a dose of your testosterone. You can volunteer for the organ relief castration society or for the offshoot castrati society. Those guys tend to be musical with a one note variety of diminished sex, except on each other. I can introduce you to my brother in law, Goosey Brucey. He’s on Mars right now with Jason the Argonaut.”

“Isn’t he the movie star Bruce Valentino Spacey? Wasn’t he in the remake of a “Space Iliad, co starring Matta Schmatte?”

“That starlet was only an extra. I remade her physique myself. I did my brother, too, who, from his college days, admires your football player’s physique as much as I do now that I am going through the fellow travelling X-ray gams seeing you in the raw though the Zoosphere.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Mm …apparently not.”

“We would watch you though the funhouse gamma ray mirrors with your push-ups. Bruce thought you were a push-over for anybody’s affections.”

“I was over active in the dorms.”

“But this waterbed soaking is too much for you, Sylvester. I’m surprised.”

“We all have our outer limits, even up here.”

“I will shortly make a home planet visit to you up in Venus and I will take my penis enlargements with me.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m am a ok. I have all the equipment that’s necessary.”

“I do like to play doctor.”

“No, I am all played out.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ll ask Bruce and Jason to venture out to Venus as well, if they’re though with their business venture at Mars elevation retreat.”

“Please, come alone.”

“You aren’t anti-social are you? We have psychedelic medicine alchemy oo7, which will make you lose all earth-wise reactionary compunctions.”

“Thanks.”

In desperation, while Olga is in her own message unit of Matta-designed clothing for those of ambisexterous persuasion who wear their clothing suits at coming-out space-cadet parties and at cotillion heavy metal rock star celebrity events, for which Bruce is always in vogue, Sylvester takes out his pocket Zoosphere and calls on his old rival, Adam.

“Pal, this is Cain. I need help, old buddy. I’m up here on Venus with Olga…”

“I’m Zoosphere watching.”

“So you’re a voyeur, too, Adam. I  thought you were more Platonic than Plutonic.”

“On earth they are now saying there are only eight planets, Pluto being excommunicated from the solar system and saying it never existed.”

“Maybe, Sylvester, you sly fox. You may be an earth spy but for our old sake and alma mater, and at Matta’s suggestion, I’m sending you an astrogate ropey-dope helpline which, when it reaches your light cove, will hide you from Dr. Lucy Putz, who I had many run ins and outs with and who Eva claims falsified her thesis and plagiarized her books for Lucy’s head fake doctorate.”

“Thanks, Adam. I won’t forget you, pal, when you need a rescue.”

©2012 This work is the property of the author.