Luci walked slowly up to the bar as the sticky-sweet saccharin strains of "Margaritaville" cavorted barefooted around the room. There were very few rules Luci had to follow, but refraining from blowing up Jimmy Buffet in Florida was one of them.

V.D., amazed that she had heard more than eight bars of her song, took off her shoes and cavorted around the room with the melody.

Luci turned to Clifford, "I can't believe Daffy over there was the one who finally figured it out."

"One of the hazards of the job," Clifford smiled. "Doesn't help your side much, though, does it?"

"You can be a real bastard sometimes," Luci replied.

"Now, now, that's a little harsh. My parents couldn't have gotten married."

Luci hopped up on the bar, sitting with her legs spread wide, blowing sloppy tonsil-tickling French kisses to Clifford, who casually dropped a biting remark about serpents and left to take a couple Desert Dry Martinis to Professors Klaus and Jerund who, in their senility, had mistaken V.D. for Lola, "The Bahama Mama", who could twirl tassels in three different directions simultaneously.

"Shake it, baby," they cheered, causing V.D. to suddenly become self-conscious and sit down in the nearest booth, which just so happened to be where Daphne Bloodwash-Stilletto was finishing off her sixth Long Island Iced Tea.

"Excuse me. Do you have a light?" a demure voice asked softly.

Daphne looked at the image in the middle and slurred, "I don't think so, but I'm not sure. My husband's in jail for trying to assassinate a defenseless woman while Jesus served everyone drinks and my life has been one great big lie."

V.D. shrugged, smiled sweetly, and moved over to Daphne's side of the booth. "It sounds like you could use a friend right now," she purred.

Daphne gripped the table for support and said, "I don't deserve any friends."

"I'll be your friend, Daphne."

Daphne broke down and cried on V.D.'s shoulder.

"Let's go outside where we can talk privately," V.D. whispered softly in Daphne's ear.

They went out to Daphne's Oldsmobile and sat inside talking while Daphne regained her composure. "I've never been drunk before," Daphne giggled.

"That's OK. Let's just sit for awhile and listen to some music," V.D. said, turning the knob.

The radio was tuned to WDIV, where Reverend Jeremiah shouted to his dozen or so listeners, "... and the good Lord said, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself. Come unto me! Come unto me!' "

Daphne was powerless to resist the strong attraction she had towards V.D. at that moment. They began kissing passionately, eager tongues thrusting into each other's mouths. Panting and shaking, they crawled into the backseat and began pulling at each other's clothes. The windows soon fogged as they explored each other's naked bodies with feather dusters, unaware that they were being videotaped by Phlegm Smear, whose new hobby was recording himself performing lewd and lascivious sexual acts in the name of Lucifer.

Back in the bar, Luci, unaware of her newest disciple's imaginary mission, jumped up onstage, made sure her G-string was slightly sharp, and screamed into the microphone"Love between two women is a beautiful thing! Love between two men is a disgusting, homosexual act! This one's for all of Moonvibe's fucking moron disciples! It's called 'Be Ultra Violent!'"

Smash a skull, break some bones
Kick your mother in the teeth
Hit pedestrians with your car
Blow up sacred things

Be Ultra Violent
Be Ultra Violent
Be Ultra Violent
Fuck you!

Burn down a grocery store
Stab a stranger with your kinfe
Run and rape the girl next store
Kill to seize the streets

Be Ultra Violent
Be Ultra Violent
Be Ultra Violent
Fuck you!

Phlegm stomped into the bar, clutching a videotape. He marched over to the television, turned off the obligatory airing of the soccer match between England and the Faulklands, and rammed the videotape into the VCR. A grainy picture of "Today in the Life of Phlegm" appeared on the screen, spray painted on the side of what appeared to be a church steeple.

The first scene showed Phlegm prancing around nude at Lake Eola, sneaking up behind old people sitting on park benches and masturbating without them knowing it. This segment ended when he ejaculated onto an undercover policewoman with no appreciation for performance art.

The camera cut to Phlegm at Sea World in the Penguin Encounter, dressed only in a raincoat and combat boots. He had propitiously placed a dead herring on his erect member and was offering it to the greedy penguins by lying on his back in the water and backstroking feverishly while a group of confused Japanese tourists nonetheless clicked their cameras for all they were worth.

The third scene merely showed Phlegm pouncing naked from a tree into a group of Girl Scouts who screamed as he began to tear off their clothes. At that point, the screen only showed the irate troop leader punching the cameraman.

The fourth scene showed Daphne Bloodwash-Stilletto and V.D. Clapton locked into what appeared to be a near perfect 69 posisition in the parking lot of The Dirty Dwarf. Professors Klaus and Jerund stormed the backdoor, hoping to get outside before the show was over.

Luci, totally uninterested in sex that didn't involve her, chose this moment to taunt Angela. "Hi, Angela. How's your love life?"

"Wonderful. I love everybody," Angela replied sweetly. "How's yours?"

Luci frowned. Obviously, the subtle P. Charles Charming references were getting her nowhere. She opted for a more direct approach by asking, "That was some storm we had the other night. Kind of bums you out to think about it, doesn't it?"

Angela beamed at Luci. "I know Charles is in a better place than this."

Luci got in Angela's face. "He's dead. He fried. He was struck by lightning three times and died the most gruesome death a man can die--only minutes after he proposed to you! How does that make you feel, bitch?"

Angela looked down a little sadly. "Here's how I feel." When she looked up tears were streaming down her face. "How could you torment me like that, Luci? You were my friend!" she cried, loud enough for the entire bar to hear.

Moments later, Luci found herself being pummeled with bar furniture, beer bottles, and whatever else the gallant defenders of Angela's honor could get their hands on. It took a few minutes to kick, claw, and spit flames to escape from the hoard, but when they were calmed down, Luci faked a sniffle and walked up to Clifford with equally phony tears in her eyes.

"Doesn't she remind you of me when I was younger?"

Clifford thought for a moment. "You know, come to think of it, she really does."

"I hate her for it," Luci said as she turned around, headed towards Angela, and with one swift motion, punched her in the face and threw her to the floor. Angela propped herself up, touched her bloody lip, and said, "You're taking this contest between us a little personally, aren't you?"

"Fuck you," Luci replied characteristically.

Angela just turned and smiled to the patrons of The Dirty Dwarf. "You know?" she said, "I really love you guys."

And with that the room became a bastion of warm-fuzziness filled with a pristine joy that would have made a blessing from the Pope himself seem like a 9 a.m. blowjob from a skanky crack whore.

Luci was livid. Phlegm, who was busy arranging straws into a large pentagram, was completely taken by surprise when Luci grabbed him by the hair, lifted him out of his seat, and began bouncing him in the air like a large Earthball. The crowd soon got caught up in the spirit of things and began counting for her. Only on the 37th repetition, when Luci hit him close enough to a rafter he could grab, did the little temper tanrum subside. "Don't worry," Luci called up to Phlegm, "it was nothing personal."

Clifford helped Angela back into her chair and walked over to Luci. "Now you're really beginning to piss me off."

Luci didn't back down an inch. "Then why don't you do something about it, Cliffy? Why don't you fucking do something?"

It was a classical Botswainian stand-off, not seen in Florida since 1989 when the Manatee Preservation Society stormed then-governor Bob Martinez' mansion, dressed only in kelp products and demanded statehood for the waterways to be governed by dialectical principles of, by, and for the manatees themselves. Governor Martinez, sensing a risky political undercurrent, agreed, but only on the condition that there was an absolute method to distinguish between the manatees and the myriad of German tourists who insisted on wearing T-backed bathing suits. The society attempted for months, but finally had to concede defeat just as Martinez' chances for re-election plunged into the abyss and "Walkin" Lawton Chiles, the Prozac politico, sleazed his carcass into office.

The standoff between Luci and Clifford ended when a gaggle of Moonvibe Lawrence Windowpane groupies poured into The Dirty Dwarf, candles lit, clothes nearly off, and chanting for their God. Things maintained some semblance of order until someone clandestinely played "Born to be Wild" on the jukebox. When Moonvibes appeared moments later and raised his hands for silence, the combination of Steppenwolf and the sight of their new-found God caused them to swarm upon Moonvibes in an idolatrous feeding frenzy.

...Moonvibes felt himself floating in darkness.... his cells floating one by one away from his body... Only this time it really, fucking hurt... he could only scream as he was torn limb-from-limb, piece-by-piece, by souvenir-crazed followers. His message of love was soon to be sold for $6 per square inch of flesh, $12 if actual bone fragments were contained.

Needless to say, when the crowd realized what they had done, they observed a moment of silence, and then departed to the nearest Bennigan's for a blues-busting happy hour.

Clifford just stared at the spot where Moonvibes had stood. He was gone. The table he had stood on was gone. The chair he had stepped up with was gone. The floor under the table was gone. The urinal he had made use of just minutes before was gone. And, as for Moonvibes, there was not a solitary trace... Not one piece of hair, not one shred of clothing, not even a drop of blood remained.

Sensing that the evening had taken a turn for the worse, Clifford rang the bell that announced last call then, casually, announced to Luci that the point for Moonvibe's soul had been awarded to Angela. Luci was predictably pissed, but realized the futility of arguing with the Messiah when his favorite angel was in one of her pouty moods and went to go abuse Phlegm Smear instead.

Marilyn Janice Snow sat stirring her drink. A green scaly hand reached out of the glass, grabbed her face, and pulled her into the drink where she found herself in a swamp filled with nasty flying creatures from the Mesozoic era, and, more specifically, appeared to be from the Jurassic period. But that didn't matter, because she was running for her life from a big, icky, green thing with a large penis and a look of lust in its eyes. She began climbing an extraordinarily cylindrical tree which bore a remarkable resemblance to a stirring straw of a future age. Unfortunately, there was no way she could climb in her spike heels without totally ruining her nails. Hoping to sooth the savage breast, she broke into a heartfelt rendition of Mamie Palonga's "Love Smudge" which so enraged the creature that it grabbed her by the hair and lofted her skywards. She desperately clung to the rim of the glass, somewhere near the big lipstick spear, and landed safely on a soggy cocktail napkin, still dripping with liquor, but no worse for the wear.

And she ran screaming from the bar... .