Foster City, America

by Robin Wyatt Dunn

We've got an exciting new array of products for you to choose from in Foster City, Incorporated, including:

Real Vegetables

Women

New Products Made From Xenon-Age Materials

Skateboards

Literature

Handguns

We're proud to accept most regional currencies! Barter is discouraged. Remember: no shirt, no shoes, no service!

-The Management

Real Vegetables

OMG! It's Veggie! Can you dig that? You can dig it? Not this kind of veggie! It does not grow in the ground! But it has colors!

I know what you're thinking. Has it been approved by the Regional Health Council? Fuck them! You want some bureaucrat to be telling you what to eat, or do you want to decide for yourself, like a free resident of Foster City, America?

Exactly. Let me tell you about the Real Vegetables we've got for you, just for you. It's exciting.

They come in two main varieties: those with expiration dates, and those without expiration dates! Have you and your family dug into the bunker for the long haul? Then go ahead and walk away with our latest No-Dry Eggplant or a couple of our No-Death Asparagus bundles. Real colors, real tasty! Reasonably priced!

Or, maybe you've decided to commit to a real-organism diet! Our Real-Organism line is guaranteed to be derived from actual DNA in 99.9% of cases. Or your money back! Tastes like veggie, smells like veggie, eats like veggie! Do not cook in water.

Women

As strong, red-blooded Foster City Incorporated District residents, we love the conservative tradition of two human genders. We don't discriminate against new genders, but, truth be told, we still have a soft spot for humans with only one cock or one vagina! Call us crazy.

To that end, we provide real human women, 100% actual human DNA, consensually contracted to periods of service between 12 hours and 12 years! Looking for a committed indentured servant? Maybe a sexy afternoon? All our women are guaranteed healthy, mobile, and friendly. Take us much time as you need making a decision--get to know them!

Let's hear from some of our long-term women contract employees. Jane, come on over here, honey!

"Hey Jane, tell the nice customers what you think of Foster City Incorporated District!"

"Well, umm, it's a real nice town. I've go to be honest. It's a real nice town. Good people, good products, honest dealings. You know, some low-down cowboys, cowgirls, ass-wranglers and international shippers around these parts have made the suggestion that me and my sisters are some kinds of 'ladies of the evening', meaning hookers! Listen assholes, rape is still a felony, and good eating is still hard to come by! You do the math."

"Absolutely. Jane, why don't you help our potential customers out and describe the rental process for us."

"Sure, well it depends on what you and the woman are looking for. Some women here really want a long-term male (or other-gendered) provider. It makes them feel feminine. On the other hand, some women are just looking for a few extra bucks, and some friendly Foster City companionship! If you're new in town, and want someone to show you around, who better than a well-trained and sociable Human Female brought to you direct from Foster City Incorporated?"

Thanks, Jane. Hey, looks like we've got time for a little free entertainment from our resident troubadour, Billy Shake The Spear! Let's hear it for Billy, folks!

Billy Shake the Spear

I sing, I sing, I sing the body to your soul,

I merchandise your terror hole,

With special gadgets, loving hearts,

And the children who love light,

From your directories,

Your holy directories of saints;

(Let's not get all religious now, Billy!)

I sing, I sing the plaid surprise,

Like you surmised,

A cravat crepuscular,

A wardrobe for our thousand mercenaries,

Who want to look their best in our dim light.

I sing, I sing of freedom,

And its thousand estuaries,

And its thousand dietary supplements.

I sing, I sing of freedom,

And its patient dromedaries,

Trying to find their watering hole.

Foster City, subprime delight!

Working class or warrior,

Extrajudicial killer,

Loving North American dreamer,

What better Lat/Long than here?

Our coordinates are public,

And we've banned all satellite launches.

I sing, I sing of the love terrestrial,

And the bunker eternal,

And the pussy tighter than it's ever been,

Virginal or Milfy of the Finest White and Ebony,

We Delight to know our forefathers were true,

And our international lenders are even truer.

Thank you. No tips necessary, I'm on contract.

New Products Made From Xenon-Age Materials

Do you believe in the transformative power of Product? Do you believe that manufacturing is not only your salvation, your birthright and your residential duty, but that it's actually part of God It/Her/Himself? We do too. That's why here at Foster City Incorporated Materials Design and Distribution we have endeavored to coordinate with the finest minds in the fields of nano-manufacturing, quantum dimension modeling, and spiritual mapping to bring you Xenon-Age materials guaranteed to amaze, transform your living arrangements, and fit within your budget. They could even save your soul!

Yes, we have for you (for a limited time only, depending on our relativistic calculations) genuine Xenon-Age Materials, available for purchase today (or yesterday, depending on your temporal immigration status).

A Conversation Overheard on Greenwich Lane, Foster City, America

Conversants: Jane, aged 19; Bob, aged 37

Length of conversation: 7 minutes (abridged)

Language of conversation: New Modern English

Recording format: Medium quanta stabilized in a nickel medium

Jane:

The water looks funny today, honey.

Bob:

It reminds me of death.

Jane:

Don't be morbid.

Bob:

I feel sick.

Jane:

Don't get sick.

Bob:

I feel sick.

Jane:

I said don't get sick!

[sounds of vomiting]

Jane:

Goddamn it honey, right on my new shoes!

Bob:

Uhhhh.

Jane:

I've had it!

Bob:

I think I'm dying . . .

Jane:

Goddamn it. I need a new male!

Skateboards

Hey baby, thanks for tuning in, it's rock roll baby smooth on the old military graveyard boulevards, maybe we saw it comin' and maybe we didn't but either way it's smooth cruising to our final bruisin' now, death in any package, but can you groove on the Buddhist-American grokking new?

But you say you wanna buy, you actually want in on the lifestyle? It's not a casual purchase.

Tell us about yourself.

Do you believe in the afterlife? Do you believe you have meaning? Do you believe your body is your own? Who do you belong to?

We belong to the streetlights. Each light we pass, those are our overlords, the arcs of sodium orange glow, it sounds ridiculous, sure, but that's how religion is, it sounds ridiculous until it transforms your life.

When I'm cruising, passing under the orange glare from one pool of light to another, I like waiting for those moments in between, in between glows, when I'm nothing and nobody for a minute or two. When I'm nothing at all.

You want to buy? It'll take three pints of clean blood. And sing the national anthem, just for kicks. We're on a recording kick this month.

Literature

So you've got an eye for the printed page, eh? Never fear, we've got the latest bestsellers on biodegradable vegetable broadsheets. The latest and greatest?

Bitches, Vampires and Drama, by Pony the Johnson

He Love You Long Time, by Mrs. Smelly

Surviving Multiple Cancers, by Arthur Miller

And, my personal favorite,

20 Easy Ways to Slay Your Enemies and Survive by Zunny Soo.

Ah, you're a high-class customer, are you? A discriminating eye, I like that. Dangerous stuff, literature. You don't read just to escape? You want to learn something? Goodness.

What do you want to learn? What's your axe? You want the best? Why? Tell me. Why would you want that kind of pain? You think you deserve it? Who the fuck are you? I don't care if you're a government man or not. You think you deserve the best? We write our own epics here, did you know that? We write them in blood.

Handguns

Guns are named after women; most weapons are, from Navy bomber planes on down to simple revolvers. The word gun itself originates in the woman's name Gunnhildr, a name which means "war, battle."

Yes, men are slaves in this respect, no different from the poor bucks sweating their way to death in the rut, summoned by women to war for women. And they wonder why we beat them.

In any event, was it a Saturday night special you were looking for? Something more dramatic? I can't sell you any surface-to-air missiles unless you're carrying a boatload of cash, or unless you were interested in some kind of indentured servant arrangement. But you don't seem that type to me.

Just knives, eh? I like your style. But to tell you the truth, we prefer men to be armed with gunpowder weapons around these parts, it's better for business.

Oh, you have a reason for your coming? My, my. Well, whichever way the wind blows, that's my motto. No different from the Glorious Revolution, switching one top dog for another. You don't look ruthless enough to me, you want my honest opinion. You're going to need help. I've been looking for a little excitement, though, it's been a slow season. You have good timing.

You take the shotgun. I've got my Desert Eagle. Jackson lives in the hut down by the poison lake. He's ruled for 24 months now. I like him well enough; so he'll die quick, understand?

I'll be reciting my mantra while we approach, it's my custom. Join me if you wish, but it's your own affair; we respect freedom of religion here.

Hail Gary, full of face, how does your wire storm? By air by fire by holy pyre, we beat the devil bold. In thy innocence, in thy glory, under these Work-Ruled shores, for Amerigo, for Amerigo, we bleed . . .

Robin Wyatt Dunn

is an author and professor based in California. He has written several novels and novellas, and his poetry, fiction, essays, and excerpts from his novels have been published in many places across the net. Upcoming publications include a novella, Julia, Sky Daughter, and a collection of short plays titledLast Freedom (Weasel Press).