Part Forty-One, Chapter Nine - The Healing Power of Rape

Gotta say, I find this chapter more disturbing than the last one.

Gris is annoyed enough to consider shooting his two unconscious rape victims, then looks down at himself and notices... yeah, the blood from what he did.

I was in the peculiar situation of having to get rid of the evidence before I committed the crime.  One maidenhead murder was bad enough, but two in the row left enough evidence to convict me of the Jack the Ripper crimes.  One forensic test and I'd be found guilty!

Acetaminophen, ho!

...

Right, now I'm ready to get past the second paragraph of the chapter.

So, before he slaughters the ladies he just raped, Gris decides to shower and erase the evidence of his previous crime, even though he usually doesn't make such attempts at personal hygiene.  While he applies some... alright, gotta include the author's criticism of American body washes.  It's random, it's pointless, it's Hubbard.

There was lots of soap in the bathroom: I am no expert on the subject, but the American soaps, with their penny-a-barrel "perfume," stunk worse than I did. They use violent odors to cover up the even more violent odors of their questionable ingredients, like rancid hog fat. I finally found an "oatmeal health soap" that said it was for "that virgin look." I began my shower.

In this withering satire of modern society, the author pulls no punches - from magazines to fashion to soap products, nothing is safe from his scathing criticism!

As an aside, I bet someone could make a killing selling soap for "that not-a-virgin look" to insecure high schoolers.

While Gris bathes, he wonders where he went wrong.  Despite applying de Sade's principles of "anarchic sexual violence" that Freud would later build upon, Gris failed to get Miss Pinch to divulge the safe combination.  He considers killing the girls and disposing of their bodies, then hiring a moving company to open the safe for him after claiming he forgot the combination, but he wants to keep his trail covered.  When he's all toweled off he decides to eavesdrop on the two for some hint of what to do next.  Candy and Miss Pinch are discussing which of them should try and convince Gris to get them out of their desperate situation.

When Gris makes his entrance, gun in hand, he sees the terror in their eyes, and Miss Pinch promises to give him his money if he unchains her, then leaves the room.  Gris complies, sure that he can outsmart and murder her after he gets what he wants, but first takes care to tear out the phone lines and gather every weapon in the dungeon, not to mention any bottles of hot sauce or mustard or pepper from the kitchen.  He takes Candy hostage as he leaves the room, then returns to find Pinch kneeling in front of the shut safe.

"What treachery is this?" I demanded.

Miss Pinch took her hands from behind her back.  She was holding a thousand-dollar bill.  She said, "This is yours if you don't do it."  Fear was in her eyes.
It was time I found out what they were terrified of.  "If I don't do what?" I grated.

It was Candy that answered, all in a babble, the accents of sheer horror, "YOU MIGHT WALK OUT THAT DOOR AND LEAVE!  WE MIGHT NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!"

First time I read this part, I dropped the book and had to walk away for a while.

I blinked.  A new kind of trick.  They had a trap out there and were using the negative ploy, page two million and three of the Apparatus manual on hoodwinking

Gris has memorized part of the "Apparatus manual on hoodwinking" yet still fell victim to Utanc's scams and Ahmed's scams.

Miss Pinch was talking.  There was pleading in her voice.  "Your money is still in the safe.  By your signing a blank invoice I can even get you more.  But this is all you can have right now.  There are conditions."

"Yes?" I said uncertainly.

"You can have a thousand dollars every day if you will live here with us and promise to do that same thing every night."

"To both of us," said Candy.  "Every night."

Oh, this was very suspicious.  I said, "What about Psychiatric Birth Control?"

Miss Pinch said, "Anything that gets in the road of something that feels that wonderful can stuff it."

"To hell with Psychiatric Birth Control!" said Candy.

Miss Pinch said, "They have lied to us.  We have been biting and scratching and smearing lipstick in that back room for years.  We have followed the Psychiatric Birth Control texts exactly.  We have even had consultations with the psychiatrist in charge of it.  And no one, not once, has ever told us the sensation was supposed to come from down THERE!  Isn't that right, Candy?"

Thaaaaat's right.  Psychology is all Freudian and turns colleges into brothels and normal people into bands of rapists and wants to make the world gay as part of voluntary human extinction, but doesn't actually know anything about sex.  For all their screaming and fumbling in the other room after an exciting session of hitting Gris with a stick, Candy and Pinch have never had an

"Orgasm?" I said.

"Oh, is THAT what an organism is?" said Candy.

"O-R-G-A-S-M," I spelled out for her.  "Orgasm."

"Crikes, what a beautiful word," said Candy.  "I know why people take up Christianity now, if that is going to Heaven."

"They lied to us," said Miss Pinch bitterly.  "They simply told us that, to carry out Rockecenter's program to cut down the population of the world, we had to be lesbians.  I was supposed to be the man-one and Candy was supposed to be my wife.  We couldn't do anything else, as they've also turned all the males into gays and made it a crime to break up their marriages."

No, they haven't.  There is no indication that such an event has taken place.  Pinch's apartment is located in some strange mandatorily-gay alternate universe that has no effect on the rest of the planet.

Gris is alarmed at the girls' "treason," but Pinch spits on Rockecenter, psychiatry, and Psychiatric Birth Control and pledges her allegiance to the almighty penis.  Gris protests that they can't expect him to live in such a foreboding dungeon, but the girls assure him that they'll redecorate, and let Gris come and go as he pleases, and again they'll be paying him a thousand dollars a day, so long as he services them every night.  After making sure that no shackles or mustard will be involved, Gris agrees.  The girls are overjoyed.

"Oh, goody!" cried Candy, clapping her hands.  "Let's all get dressed and go to a restaurant and have a deflowering celebration."

If you tell the waiter, I'm sure the staff will come out and sing an appropriate song for you.  Goodness knows Hubbard has probably written one.

"No," said Miss Pinch, looking at me with a cocked head, compressed mouth and hungry eye, "Let's stay right here and do it all over again.  We've got the whole night.  But I'm first this time, Candy.  You can watch if you promise not to scream.  I'M the one who gets to scream when I have another of those GORGEOUS orgasms.  I'm getting breathless just thinking about it."

And that's how I got the safe open.  In fact, three safes.  Well, not exactly as I planned, but one must learn how to improvise.  One must know how to go deeper into things than one might have, at first, intended.

One has to know when to take things lying down.

So there you have it.  Psychology is a twisted false religion that turns people into monsters, but it can be cured by a half-decent dicking.  Likewise, all those "lesbians" running around out there?  A good rape will put them back on the right path.  And most importantly of all, rape is fine if the victim decides she enjoyed it afterward.  You're doing those girls a favor, really, even if they didn't want it at first.

Mission Earth is just full of positive messages!

Alas, if it had only kept up on a level with that night.

Oh no!  Just when we were rooting for you, Gris!


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