SF Mem 6

They were the chosen people. They would be clones if not for their bellybuttons, even the most feral ones that ate their mothers along with their own afterbirth. a UNIVERSE in a scrotal sac. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a righteous sound system erect. The chosen people had matching torsos and interchangable limbs, matching fist tags, they all writhed to the same fascist 2/2 beat and their beaded sweat glistened in the same frenzied lights. Half past midnight, the mothership broke through the ceiling and spun it's rotary probe toward the floor and the chosen people all bowed to her laser beam teets, sucking the milklight like a ravenous litter.