The following dispatch glorifies material that should be offensive to many, discretion is advised. Since last week hundreds of men have fallen prey to a mass violation in this city. The standout between authorities and terrorists has lasted for days without any sign of ending.

Sinking a blue tooth into each other’s psyche they have organized a ghastly deployment at a slapdash and stealth velocity. Obscene assaults have brought one of the most livable cities in the world to its knees; they are recorded in cell phones, security cameras, and UTubed around the globe – we couldn’t ignore it, if we wanted.

Medical and sanitation authorities have begged for the viral shedding to stop but current environmentalism does not allow for the prosecution of these sexual radicals. The reasons: technological isolation, the success of safe sex, and the waning of sexual appetite amongst new generations.

Our police chief tells us that “innocent victims” suffer Stockholm syndrome making it difficult to separate the victims from the liable, and effectively doubling the number of perpetrators each passing hour.

About a week ago, brash groups of viral terrorists started marching into hospitals, safe injection sites, massage parlors, high security prisons, gyms, and community facilities – shock and awe (shock and awe) – and began inoculating males of sexual age; their hit lists of the “clean and healthy” amongst us were hacked from health care databases.

No one noticed the city-wide assault until it was well underway because the assailants dressed in the uniforms of those who “serve and protect” us, a silent infiltration of rubberized and leather garments. They turned our trust in fashion against us.

A nurse told us that at her workplace it had all begun under the guise of compassionate visitations to assist in responsible death by Mercitron. Uncanny Lazarus effects have been reported amongst some of those readied to be Mercitronized in hospital or bathhouse cubicles but no official assessment has been conducted, they have vanished into the street mayhem.

A bathhouse manager told us he didn’t think much of the increase in compassionate visitations, it is the season, he explained, and metrosexual patrons are common nowadays. He could not tell these men and women had arrived to commit such hideous actions. By the time wardens, attendants and nurses noticed the cries of pleasure many innocent victims had suffered already a bizarre body snatch.

How can so much obscenity not draw blood and yet be bloodshed of sorts?

A spokesperson from a trusted “new faith” institution told us that these viral radicals behave like “frantic cherubs turning every decent monogamous cavity into a ‘glory hole’.” Visibly shaken, he added, “To justify their filthy execution, the offenders cite maverick research findings that due to a number of genetic and environmental mutations HIV is the new vaccine, the antidote.”

The ones resisting, the innocent victims, are drugged with rapid oral enemas– “booty bumps” – of flavor-aid, Zoloft, Viagra encapsulated in Chinese toy beads.

One violator, a female queen bee, naked but for a strap-on pump and a receptacle latched to her back, declared “war on the manhole, the one remaining arrogant enclave of repression” while conducting her lewd operation. Standing-by to allay them, a murder of gothic HIV positive gargoyles, all fiber and tendons, hunched over their ringed genitalia.

Like dervish bees, casualties lie everywhere entwined with the writhing bodies of those stung. Witnesses are calling this ransacking of souls, “a Jonestown redux”. Oddly, some are naming it a “seroconversion”, seeing the inoculated, enraptured by new freedom throw hands in the air, sing randy psalms, brandish solid erections, and rise up, rise up to take others in their wake.

On the walls of many agencies and pharmacies, graffiti now marks the targets for these evangelists of godless waters, graffiti that reads, “bring down those illness pimps”, “screw your way to salvation” and “Open the gates to The Fluid World, Dryness = Death”.

Evidently, authorities were unprepared; pharma security had been long complacent that the sexual apartheid between the infected and the pure was working effectively. Many international organizations, AIDS activists and advocates fear that this uprising could mean the end of their funding; they pledge us that this rebellion does not amount to a revolution, that “a resurgence of unbridled queer activism as we saw in the 1980s will not be allowed”, they encourage us to keep on walking yearly to fund this and other ailments.

Alarmingly, we are receiving a few dispatches of abnormal activities in other places. We will keep you posted on whether this are mere knee-jerk reactions, lonely copy cats, or verifiable offensives.

Tonight we all remain frightened at the prospect of having a loved one recruited in the name of a cure not scientifically proven.

What if there was a cure? What would we do with such brazen state of civil wellness?

We don’t have the answers today but in the hours to come, we might see the populace return to the shores of original cesspools. Epidemiologists assure us that the spread of this violent epidemic will likely be contained to our city.

They compel us to keep in our hearts that “nothing can obliterate our faith in the edifice of commerce and science that has served us well for centuries”.

Most importantly, a number of pharmaceutical archbishops reassure us that “we will not have a future without pills”.

May these words keep us dry. Amen and goodnight.

 

© 2009 Francisco Ibáñez-Carrasco

An Interview with Francisco Ibáñez-Carrasco by Patrick Califia

Francisco Ibáñez-Carrasco was born in Santiago de Chile, migrated to Vancouver, B.C. in 1985, where he acquired his HIV in 1986, his Canadian citizenship in 1991, his doctorate in Education from Simon Fraser University in 1999, and a long drawn appetite for writing. His first novel “Flesh Wounds and Purple Flowers: The Cha-Cha Years” was published by Arsenal Pulp Press in 2001 and nominated for the Regional Commonwealth Prize in 2002. His 1990s short stories were collected in “Killing Me Softly/Morir Amando” (Suspect Thoughts Press 2004) and his non-fiction appears regularly in U.S. queer literary circuit. In 2004, he co-edited “Public Acts: Disruptive Readings on Making Curriculum Public” (with Erica Meiners, RoutledgeFarmer. He is an advisor in the creative writing program at Goddard College, Vermont; in British Columbia he is the community based researcher for all AIDS service organizations.