William James Austin
carrie

the kid had powers.  a telekinetic fireball.  one fool jock found out the
hard way, in the back seat of a pinto, the kind that went up in flames if the
gas tank got nudged.  seems he had some difficulty getting it up so she gave
him a boost, drove all the blood she could muscle with her mind’s fist into
his penis.  it rose, real sensitive ecstatic blooming.  then it popped.  then
it blew open.  then the tank exploded

who isn’t the star of his own movie?  a flaming gas pipe in frigid space—now
that’s gravity.  it’s like we’re all hollywood wannabes, it’s like we all
want to direct.  the kid wastes herself for the climax, just sorta burns out
after incinerating most of the town.  what’s left of her circle of friends?
well, like any breakup they scatter, get by on residuals.  the lucky ones
spin off, or shoot a sequel into this universe of reruns

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