Here goes my first post of 312 East Main Street. As a warning, I'm not going to write this chronologically, which will make the next 30 days a living hell. Enjoy...

Wednesday September 29, 1976 12:05 a.m.

As if by clockwork, the midnight show was late by five minutes. Lester had taken his usual seat in the fourth seat of fifth row from the back at exactly midnight as if for some magical reason, this night would be different. Maybe this time, the projectionist would have his shit together enough to get the movie started on time. Of course, there was to be no surprise for Lester that night.

Taking his seat, Lester cringed in disgust. Of all places, why would a movie theater cover its floors in shag carpeting? He thought it was tacky in other people’s homes, but then again, it wasn’t like he was invited to other people’s homes much anymore. As he sat down, Lester made the mistake of looking at his shoes. A mottled mix of orange and yellow fibers clung to the soles of his work boots. Sometimes when he was working at the factory, he would look at the shoes of his coworkers to see if they had the same fibers, to see if they had shared the same experience in the dark. They never did.

This never surprised him. What normal person would spend their free evenings when they’re not cleaning their lonely houses and apartments in a place like this? This wasn’t exactly the sort of place one would buy a tub of popcorn and take the kids to, or the sort of place where someone’s sweetheart would rest her head on his shoulder. A long time ago, at least according to his father, the theater used to be great. Beneath the peeling paint and burned out neon lights, the former beauty of The Phoenix’s glory days stood with the dignity of faded beauty, like that of an aging starlet who tried to cover her years with an extra coat of makeup.

Lester couldn’t help but wonder if the accumulating mess beneath his feet was entirely his doing. He cringed at the thought of someone else using his spot. Then again, there weren’t many showings during the day. He was there almost every other night. Not once had he ever seen an usher come by to sweep up any mess. Of course, that too would have been pointless, seeing as how the messes the patrons of this “theater’ left were hardly the sort of human detritus that could be simply swept away into a dustpan. Even if patrons of this place now were the sort of human detritus that society would have wanted to sweep away into a dustpan.

Somewhere inside himself, Lester reveled in the idea that he was the sort of man reviled by society. If he couldn’t find any feelings of importance by being a “great man” like his father, or his father’s father by finishing school, he would gladly play the part of the villain. Yet at the same time, he really knew that he wasn’t even that good at that. The opinions page of the local paper usually had at least one letter a week denouncing the “decadent eyesore” that was The Phoenix and the “vile degenerates” who frequented it.

The lights went down, a barely noticeable event considering how dim the lights were anyway. Maybe it was to protect some sort of anonymity among the patrons. Lester knew that he usually didn’t look up to see who else was there in the near darkness with him. They were all just nondescript men such as himself. Maybe some of them were perverts and sex fiends, but he was pretty certain he wasn’t one of them.

The movie was one he had seen before that Monday night, “Undead Sluts from Space” or something blatantly garish like that. The plot, if one could call it that, revolved around a scientist who listens to airwaves in space and contacts a race of male aliens who kill and re-animate females for the purpose of turning them into sex slaves. Naturally, he wants to learn their secret, but to do so, Dr. Horn has to engage in humiliating acts of sex with the male aliens. Homosexual sex, straight sex, bondage, zombies – there was something for everyone here.

Lester was certain he was not a homosexual, but nonetheless he got started with his ritual of unbuttoning the fly of his dusty jeans and pulling out his cock. He figured he may as well get a headstart before the second “climax” of the movie. It was still early, considering the green-skinned male aliens were forcing the good doctor on his hands and knees and preparing their “probes” for entry. Lester had already seen this, but he still couldn’t help but wonder how the “actors” kept the green paint on their skin as they stroked themselves. It didn’t even seem to flake or peel that much during the actual sex acts. Maybe it was more of a dye than a paint. Lester wondered if these men had to deal with being green off camera, if they had to go to other jobs or home to their families marked by their “transgressive” act. Then again, from the look of it, Lester doubted that any of those men had other jobs or much of a home. He didn’t either, but it gave him an odd sense of satisfaction knowing that his life was not so bad that he had to do things like that for a living. Granted, he wasn’t a doctor like his parents could have wanted, but at least he wasn’t playing one in a b-movie sci-fi porno.

His left hand idly ran up and down his shaft, maintaining his erection in time for the entry of the “heroine” of the piece, a busty blonde nurse who worked at the same hospital as the good doctor. She discovers the secret of the doctor at the first climax only to be the first victim of the doctor’s experimental collaboration with the aliens. As the camera cut away from the closeup of the nurse’s widened eyes, Lester could hear the groans of a couple of men in the audience. They were the homosexuals, as far as he could tell, considering the first “climax” of the piece happens right after the nurse’s shocking discovery. One of the green male aliens keeps driving his cock into the doctor’s ass while the other pulls his cock out of the doctor’s mouth and cums all over his face. Lester couldn’t help but wonder how they managed to cum at the same time. Granted, most of it was probably acting. He couldn’t imagine that it would be fun for the actor playing the doctor to be the receiving end at both ends. Then again, cumming was hard to fake that close up. Lester had seen enough money shots to know when it was actually sperm and when it was some sort of mixture of anything from glue to sour cream. Glue was usually more convincing, but sometimes he couldn’t help but be amused at the director’s creativity.

The green men were holding Nurse Nancy’s arms and legs apart as they strapped her to a metal table with leather buckles. They tore her clothes off to reveal that she was not a natural blonde. Sometimes Lester had seen porn where the women were shaved bare. Something about that didn’t sit right with him. He liked his women natural – maybe not wild forest, hair all over the place to the point where it completely obscured the cunt –but enough to know she was a woman and not someone impersonating a little girl or a plastic doll. He hated to think that maybe the news was right and that girls were being kidnapped and forced into this sort of work. If it was his daughter—

No. He couldn’t think about that. He closed his eyes and opened them to see the green men “injecting” Nurse Nancy with their “zombie” fluid. Lester wasn’t quite sure how it would turn her into a mindless sex slave and not the good doctor, considering how the green alien’s “methods” were similar in both cases. Maybe it only worked on the females. Then again, that was hardly anything to be considering in a situation like this.

With the practically virginal white nurse’s uniform torn to shreds, it made the green men’s work easier. A closeup of the doctor’s eyes almost mirrored that of the nurse’s from earlier, but his seemed more in rapt, voyeuristic glee. The table was below waist level, so it was not hard for one of the green aliens to knee, straddling the terrified blonde’s face and gagging her with his “probe.” One of the other green men straddled her chest and stuck his cock between her tits and started thrusting into them as he pressed them together. Lester wasn’t sure about the point of that, considering there would be no “injecting” of the “zombie fluid” into any of the woman’s orifices, so he just assumed this was merely for the alien’s pleasure and the woman’s humiliation. Oddly enough, there was no money shot for this scene, just a final shot of the former nurse-turned-sex-zombie’s eyes widening.

Lester almost came, but the quick jump to the next scene threw him off since it was mostly dialogue among the male characters. Soon enough, the newly-transformed Nurse Nancy came out, not bound as before, but entirely lacking any sort of free will that would require such restraint. Their “experiment” was a success. The “alien zombie fluid” worked on human females as well as alien females.

Since Nancy was little more than an animated corpse, perhaps after being “fucked to death,” she wore whited-out contact lenses and had a ghastly pallor. Instead of passively accepting her fate or feebly struggling against her captors, she aggressively and mechanically took them into her undead arms. First, she tore the labcoat and the rest of his clothes off of the good doctor. After scratching him several times, she pushed him on the ground and sucked on his cock until it became erect. She started riding him with a vague look of disinterest on her face despite the speed she was impaling herself. He looked up at her with a look of complete satisfaction at getting what he wanted out of the experiment. Lester noted it was the same as the look on Dr. Frankenstein’s face during the “It’s alive!” scene of “Frankenstein,” which he had seen as a child at the same movie theater as a kid or on the television on Halloween when he was older.

The green men surrounded the human coupling on the floor to complete the scene. A closeup of her showed her taking each of the alien’s “probes” in her mouth or hands and switching from one to the next with the deftness of a machine. Each of the aliens took turns “defiling” their new pet with their “zombie fluid.” Lester wondered if it would have been more appropriate if the aliens’ cum was green like the rest of them, especially since the white fluid blended in too well with the ashy flesh of the undead Nancy. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure how that would be possible short of the men drinking nothing but green food coloring for a month, and even that would be highly implausible.

Lester’s climax was approaching as that-which-used-to-be-Nurse-Nancy reached her own fevered orgasm, tearing out the throat of the good Dr. Horn and clawing at his torso while twisting and arching her back. Her flailing movements, limbs and hair out of control brought Lester over the edge despite the grotesque scene he witnessed. Lester came all over his left hand, which he wiped on the back of the seat in front of him after discovering that he had no tissues in his pockets. What remained of the good doctor twitched and flailed in a combination of death throes and orgasm. Zombie Nurse rose from him, dripping in blood and cum all over her chest and down her legs, only to be pushed on her knees by the green aliens. One at a time, they would press her face into their crotches as she licked them clean.

Sickened by the mess he made, as well as the fact that this scene reminded him of how he had to train his dog Max by rubbing his nose into the carpet whenever he pissed on it, Lester zipped his fly and left through the back. The movie was about finished anyway. It was one part of two, and he wasn’t that crazy about the second part. That was when the aliens deployed their full invasion of earth after using the now-dead doctor, who was now a zombie under their control as well, despite having a few organs missing. More rape, a bit of lesbian sex orgy here and there, but oddly, nothing that interested Lester.

As he walked to the bus stop, he heard the clicking of heels behind him. He slowly turned his head and looked at the ground. His eyes met with a pair of scratched black stiletto heels wobbling toward him. The woman was wearing a long, ratty old brown fur coat which nearly reached the ground. Before he even saw her face, he knew she was Christine, or “Crazy Christine,” as he called her. He had seen her before standing outside The Phoenix, but had never seen her go in. Then again, despite what was occurring on the screen, Lester had a feeling that female presence was not really welcomed at The Phoenix. She just seemed to be a border dweller between the “normal” world and the hellish fantasy world of the X-rated sex theater. At any rate, she sure as hell didn’t fit in either of them.

He was unsure if she was a prostitute or just crazy, considering her attire. Even underneath the dim light of the bus stop streetlamp, Lester could see Christine’s bright blue eye shadow and fake eyelashes, the smeared red lipstick on her face. For all he knew, she was homeless and just stole makeup or found it in the garbage and put it on without a mirror to guide her. As much as he felt overcome with a strange sense of pity, he was overwhelmed by an even greater disgust at this hollowed woman, with her face angular and mask-like in the shadows.

“I seen you before,” she slurred, leaning closer to him close enough for him to smell the musty rot of the fur and overpowering bitterness of something which tried to pass itself off as perfume. “Wanna have some fun tonight?”

“I can assure you, I’ve had enough enjoyment for one evening.” The words tasted dry in his mouth.

She drew back momentarily and leered at him. “Are you one of them queers?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean that I’m interested in you.” He looked around in the darkness surrounding the bus stop’s island of light. This didn’t seem to be one of those situations where if he just sat there quietly and ignored her, she would just go away.

A low groan came from around the corner, not from a mass of zombie sluts from space, but the graveyard shift Blue line bus. Lester closed his eyes and stood up, feeling the cold autumn air brush his cheeks before the warm diesel of the bus washed over him. He hurriedly clambered up the bus steps and got his bus pass punched. He did not turn back for fear “Crazy Christine” would follow him from his escape from this purgatory. This, he thought as he collapsed onto the hard plastic seat, truly was a deus ex machina.