Often I am asked, "Reverend Mutha, How did you come to find "Bob?" I

tell them that I didn't find "Bob," HE found me (even though I moved

three times and left NO forwarding address). But that was long AFTER I

had been touched by the power of "Connie."

 

It is true, as they say in "Revelation X" that the CON fears the

Uberfemme so much, that they inundate us with pinkness and try to

convince us of our weakness from the days of our birth. I got a Barbie

the first year they came out. I had the house, and the car too. I had

stuffed toys. They make good masturbatory tools. See...no matter WHAT

the CON throws at us, Uberfemmes cannot be supressed. You can put a

tiger in a cage. You can even declaw it and defang it...but if you

aren't very very careful..it will kill you without a thought. Then it

will eat you.

 

I wanted to be a nun when I was a little girl. They were always nice

to me, and they were smart. They never took shit from anyone, not even

the priests. They were like a pack of wolves, they worked as a team

and took no prisoners. They ate what they killed.

 

Puberty hit...hard. My body exploded overnight, suddenly celebacy

seemed like a rather stiff price to pay for being a free woman. And

then again, I started seeing that the nuns weren't quite as free as I

had once believed them to be. They DID seem to take shit from the guys

in the big hats even if the local sandle-wearers watched their step.

 

I was so PINK in high school I almost glowed. At least that's the way

*I* see it. Other people probably thought I was a free spirit of some

sort. I was a pompon girl for crissakes<choke>...I joined a sorority

in college <weeping>...I WAS AN ART MAJOR!!<total sobbing breakdown>

 

There was this guy see ...in the sculpture class before mine. He was

gorgeous. I wanted him desperately. But I was a girl...we don't ask

first. I gnashed my teeth. I used my teddy bear...all to no avail.

One night, as I lay sweating in my waterbed, staring up at the Indian

print bedspread, pinned to the ceiling; I noticed a strange smell.

 

It wasn't unpleasant, just STRONG...and getting stronger by the

second. I sat up, thinking that my cat must have brought in a ferret

from the fields. The smell was overpowering, but strangely arousing.

"Fuck the cat!" I thought, and reached for my teddy bear.

 

Then I noticed that the bedspread was glowing, throbbing,

undulating...dripping. I touched the droplet where it landed on the

bed and suddely a shock ran through my entire body. My legs grew

slick, parts started throbbing.

 

Then SHE appeared...and bitch-slapped the living shit out of

me..literally. She laughed and wiped it all over herself. It turned

into silver coins which fell to the ground making a sound like

grinding teeth in metal braces. "That's all CON shit is,

Honey...money! You give them money, and they give you shit. I'm just

returning the favor."

She was beautiful. She wore this silvery nightie and carried a little

silver opera bag. It was tasteless yet alluring.

My mouth was hanging open. I could still feel the sting of her slap.

"Who..who are you?" I stammered. She slapped me again, hard. "I'm the

begining and the end, you stupid cunt! I'm the Oooo in 'Cooter," I'm

the One who made both Mohammed AND the mountain come. I'm "Connie"

Dobbs, and I'm your wake up call." Then she kicked me off the bed.

She made me shave her legs. She said she had a hot date, and that I

could shave while she talked.

 

For the next twelve hours I was run through the personal service

wringer. I gave her a facial. I waxed her eyebrows. I gave her a

massage, a pedicure, a manicure, AND aromatherapy. She had a mud bath,

a little electrolysis on a neck mole, and a perm. She just kept

pulling more and more shit out of that bag. AND TALK? The bitch never

STOPPED talking. For twelve hours she yammered into my ear. She gave

me shit about swallowing the CON. She told me truths I never wanted to

face. She said I was different and there was no goddamned way to avoid

it, that everyone knew it anyway, so I might as well just loosen up

and enjoy it. She talked about sex...well not directly all the time,

but just about everything she discussed came back 'round to sex. She

said, "Tarla, you're wasting a perfectly good body in a decade that

will never come again. Get it before the CON invents Herpes." She told

me the secrets of the Squirtin' Universe.

 

Then she got on the phone. It took me six years to pay off that phone

bill, but it was worth it. The next thing I know I've got this crazy

black bitch named "Ethyl" knocking at my door, holding a big bottle of

Gallo Sangria and asking for her soulsista "Connie." With great

trepidation, I opened the door.

***

Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.

She STRODE into the room wearing chartreuse pedal pushers and

candy-apple red four-inch spiked heels. She wore a t-shirt which

depicted Mickey slipping Minnie the salami from behind. Her "natural"

sprung out in a halo about two feet from her scalp. "Connie! Girl,

where are you?" she bellowed. "Connie" came out of the bedroom and

hugged her. They both did a little hip humping thing, and both started

cackling. I was getting scared. Honest, up to this point, I thought it

was pretty weird but I figured it COULD just be a stress dream,

combined with some strong hash oil. When Ethyl arrived, I couldn't

deny the reality any longer. Even in my subconscious, I would have

never combined chartreuse and red! "So, where's Juicy?"" Connie"

asked. "Scoring 'Frop," replied Juicy as a pipe suddenly appeared in

her hand.

 

"Connie" smiled a somewhat feral grin and motioned for me to join

them. They each took a deep hit off the pipe then passed the charred

remains to me. Not good manners, but what the hell, I was tapped. I

torched the remains and drew in the meager smoke. Suddenly there was

quivvering in my loins, my head spun. That strange scent that I had

noticed before was even stronger...and it was coming from BETWEEN MY

LEGS!! "How have you denied your true nature so long?" asked "Connie."

"Your second clitoris is already growing with just that pathetic hit!"

 

Ethyl began rummaging around in my liquor cabinet, and started mixing

"Pink Ladies." The doorbell rang. "Connie" answered it, and in walked

Juicy. Actually walked isn't quite correct. She rolled in...on skates.

I looked into her face and I could see myself in 20 years. She had red

hair, and a body that wouldn't quit. Her skates were totally bitchen.

I coveted them. She smiled at me, and waggled a little bag at

"Connie." Ethyl brought the cocktails out of the kitchen and we

settled down on some pillows on the floor. Ethyl passed around the

drinks while Juicy loaded the pipe. "Connie" got naked.

 

I started to take a sip from my drink but Ethyl's hand shot out like a

snake and stopped me from reaching it. "Wait," she cautioned. She ran

over to the stereo and ran through my collection. Sighing with relief,

she pulled a Louis Prima album from its sleeve and placed it on the

turntable. Juicy was following "Connie's" lead, and Ethyl stripped

down as she came back from the stereo. All three of them looked at me

rather significantly.

 

I stripped down and stared back, rather defiantly. "Connie" began by

saying, "We are the Mystic Roller Maidens from Outer Space..." Juicy

and Ethyl repeated the line. Then they all took a sip from their Pink

Ladies. "Connie" started speaking in a strange language that I

couldn't understand, but which raised the hair on the backs of my

arms. "It's Yeti...Yeti language." Juicy whispered to me. I grew

drowsy listening her rythmic drone.

 

Suddenly all three of them were standing over me. I was face to bush

with the unholy triad. They started pissing on me. It smelled like

air-wick. It turned into pennies as it fell to the floor. "Smoke!"

commanded "Connie" and she thrust the pipe into my mouth.

 

I drew in the smoke. I have never been the same. With the growth of my

second clitoris, I was able to see the entire scope of time laid out

before me. I suddenly knew my place in the world. "I am a Mystic

Roller Maiden from Outer Space," I affirmed. "I will follow the ways

of sensuality all my days." They made sure that I started out with a

bang.

 

Two days later, when I was recovered enough to return to school, I was

a changed woman. I skated to my sculpture class early. I waited until

the gorgeous man was alone, then I walked up to him and said simply,

"Would you like to run away to Mexico with me?" He said, "My

apartment's closer." I taught him what Uberfemmes are all about. He

died with a smile on his face...and then I ate him.

***

Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.

It was years later after doing missionary work in California, then

moving to Oklahoma, that I discovered a need. There were so many young

Yeti females who had no place to turn to when the CON got to be too

much. There was no safe place to vent and run naked under the moon.

The was no place to bury the remains.

 

Out of this need arose the CONvent of the Little Sisters of the

Perpetually Juicy. Five years ago, the Little Sisters found a home, a

sanctuary from the mindlessness of the CON. A place away from prying

eyes, and closer to prying fingers. A slackful oasis in the desert of

most souls. Here, in practice and excredmeditation we forcibly tip the

luck plane in our direction. With the mighty power of Uberfeminism we

hump the Universe into giving up Slack. Ahhhmayne!

***

Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.