I was somewhere around the edge of Mastic when the child spit began to take hold. All of a sudden there were screaming bats all around the car, wearing the corpse face of the mother I had forgotten years before she died.

"What in the world is that thing?!" I screamed to my Bono impersonator.

"Hello, Hello! Hola, what are you talking about?" he asked, opening a can of spit and pouring it on himself to facilitate the getting laid process.

"Never mind," I said. He would probably see my dead mother soon enough. I sure didn't when she was alive. That's when I started giving him the blowjob of his life.

He threw his head back and put his hands on my foreskin like scalp. He climaxed and screamed: "Sundaaay!"

After barreling through a few intersections we were at my brother's house. It was the first of the month and I knew I would soon have some cash burning a hole in my pocket. My sister's car was out front, and my heart began to pound the familiar thundering drumbeat of family lust hammering the walls of my chest. I stepped inside.

My brother and sister were going at it against a cheap column in the living room while Fake Bono went to raid the refrigerator. I walked forward. "Mind if I step in, little bro?" I asked, pushing him face first over the couch. "You owe it all to me, after all."

That was when I saw the thing in the corner. Skin like leather, feet thoroughly bunioned and glistening from clear fluid, she looked like Tom Petty left in a beef jerky dehydrator for days. I got the girl. I came in my sister at that very moment.

Dehydrated, I passed out standing up like a stupid cow. My dream was terrible. In it, I was in a desert land and a crowd of people were gathered while an old woman carried a cross. She saw me, and her eyes were sad, yet spiteful. I could tell they were seeing with clarity for the first time in years.

"You didn't even visit me. I raised you, protected you from your father, and you left me to go get fucked by horses and Hispanic men in California. You truly are a terrible son," she said to me. I noticed she was missing her shoes, and finally she broke under the weight of the cross. It crushed her.

"I do not know you," I said turning my head away, for I truly did not know her.

I awoke. Fake Bono was dog fucking my shriveled raisin (not wife material) girlfriend and massaging child spit into the bald spot on the top of her head. Big A and Bobo had joined the fray. Bobo was in my sister's mouth and Big A was in her backside. He had a knife in his hand, and he was grinning and flicking his tongue while making lines in her back.

My brother kicked his computer off of the dining room table and stepped up. He picked up a bottle off of the table and threw it through his tv, silencing the episode of Seinfeld that was playing. He sashayed from side to side, hands out at shoulder height and his wrists limp. He twirled and lifted his leg above his head like a decrepit vampire ballerina.

That was when I noticed the high heels he was wearing. I licked my lips and smiled.