War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg

And snow can fall two days in a row.'

      'Ahhh, but that's the same snowfall,' I say. 'Let's say that snow begins to fall somewhere in the world every second day. Each snowfall may last several days, or just one.'

      'Wait,' Adrian says. 'Mother nature may not be from a similar culture to ours or, given that all cultures are actually quite similar in essence, she may be a fundamentalist and very unusual. She might be a rare Islamic woman who cannot cum because her vagina is stitched up.'

      'Then why have we seen snow, Adrian?' Chloe asks.

      'Um . . . maybe she got married,' Adrian says. 'Ok then: what if she's a woman from the Lesu of the South Pacific, who must press the heel of the right foot against her genitals should she wish to masturbate, and never use her hands? Given mother nature is so colossal, she may not always be able to reach her vagina with her right heel. So if we should find that it has not begun to snow anywhere in the world for several days, then we cannot conclude that mother nature does not exist.'

      'But if she's Indian, she just might be familiar with the Kama Sutra, right?' Chloe asks. 'So then we would expect it to begin to snow somewhere in the world daily, hourly even.'

      'I don't think mother nature . . . uh . . . pleasures herself,' Jerri says. 'That's silly. She's pure, you know. She's the air we breath. Perhaps performing this act would cause many plants to die, and release pollution into the air. You know, the French sometimes call an orgasm “le petite mort”, which means “the little death”.'

      'So when's she dropping by?' Jackson says. 'We'll be welcoming her into the house, right? Is she a south-sider or a north-sider?'

      'She's a northerner,' Adrian says.

      'Wait!' Shelly says. 'You guys were talking about our next guest?'

      'Shelly,' I press. 'The shrooms are so sexy. And you're so unbelievably sexy, and here's to hoping that the next babe who walks through that front door is a sexy southerner!'

      'Here's to that,' Adrian says. 'Dude, we don't got no drinks.'

      'I see a glass in your hand,' I say. 'That holy grail you're holding: it's like five times the size of you. Is that – like – a pillar or something? If you let go the roof will fall in. I swear. So you shouldn't.'

      'This is nice,' Shelly says. 'We can just dream, see? Open our minds a little.'

      'Gotta open the doors and let more girls in,' Jackson says. 'We can help so many people here. Seriously. We're like the hand of mother nature right now, and our palm is open.'

      'Pixies!' I yell. 'OMG! If I could just touch one, just one, that would be so cool.'

      'Where?' Adrian asks.

      'Whoa,' I say. 'She – like – flies in and out of consciousness, like dolphins . . .'

      'Huh?'

      'Dude, why are we inside when it's so bright outside, like?' I say.

      'War going on,' Jackson says. 'Remember?'

      'Shit! Dude, we gotta do something. But there are so many pretty people in here: it's so colorful inside, so black and white out there, wouldn't you say? Oh – I am soooooo making a giant mushroom for dinner, the size of a Christmas tree. It will be sooooo fuckin' awesome dude. I wanna draw it. Shelly, do you got paper? Adrian?'

      'Take this,' Jackson says.

      'That's a fifty!' Jerri exclaims.

      'Yeah, coz I so need that in here,' Jackson quips. 'What use is currency anymore? What matters is well-being, nothing else.'

      'Spaghetti bolognese on top of a giant mushroom,' I say. 'She'll look so fine; beige, stringy hair, this beautiful black face; or maybe she'll look like MIA, feisty and fine . . .'

      'Are you following him?' Shelly asks.

      'To where?' Jackson replies. 'Just let him wander off on his own. Adrian, how come you ain't writing? Didn't you wanna – like – record the trip, Leary style?'

      'No need,' Adrian says. 'That's the beauty of being in this house: I don't have to write anymore, I can just say whatever I wanna write and the Americans will hear it, it will be on record. I sooooo love being on display!'

      ******

      References

      1 Where Is My Mind? - Pixies

      2 Purple Pills – D12

      3 Goldenberg, J. L., Pyszczynski, T., McCoy, S. K., Greenberg, J., & Solomon, S. (1999). Death, Sex, Love, and Neuroticism: Why is Sex Such a Problem? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 77, 1173-1187.

      4 My Delirium – Ladyhawke

      JACKSON CURTIS - 4:14pm - December 17 - 2011

      'I know who it is,' I announce, walking into the dimly lit living room. Shaun is lying on the lounge, staring at the ceiling as though it's the face of a fair-skinned girl, untarnished by sunlight. Shelly's sitting cross-legged on the ground, smiling.

      'Who?' Shelly asks.

      'Our next guest,' I say.

      'What side?' Jerri asks.

      'What's her name?' Adrian asks.

      'Dude, what's she look like?' Shaun mutters.

      'So the first thing you ask is what side she's from?' I say.

      'I asked her name,' Adrian says, shrugging.

      'You know her,' I say. I look at the photograph in my hand. 'I doubt Shelly and Jerri do, could do though.' - I shrug - 'She does happen to be a south-sider. She's married.'

      'It's Lorelei, isn't it?' Adrian asks. 'My bro's wife.'

      'You're brother's married?' Shelly asks.

      'Actually, I think she broke it off just recently.'

      'She did?' I ask.

      'Can I see the pic?' - Adrian puts out a hand.

      'Divorcee,' Shaun mumbles. 'Rated X. North-sider through and through now.'

      'One way to tell,' Adrian says. He looks at the photograph. 'She's beautiful. More beautiful than I remember her. And she's pale.' - Adrian winks at me - 'She's one of us, for sure.'

      'Like a vampire?' Shelly says.

      'That's right,' Adrian says. 'She's gorgeous. More beautiful than Bella. When she was with Matt - that's my brother - they would frequent Bondi Beach. She would always have a tan. See, Matt's a south-sider. He's living here in Bondi. I was planning on riding to his place if I couldn't get into this joint. And south-siders: as typical Aussies they like to sunbathe. Pathetic really. Apparently more and more are doing it now. There's this theory actually, called terror management theory.'

      'Wait a minute!' I yell. 'Adrian, come with me into the kitchen for a sec.'

      'Um . . . ok.' - Adrian strolls towards the kitchen.

      'The dual defense model of terror management? Is that what you're on about?' I ask.

      'Yeah,' Adrian says. 'Basically, when awareness that you will one day die is in the back of your mind, you'll do things to increase your self-esteem. And south-side girls, they think that a tan is healthy and beautiful.' - Adrian shrugs - 'So Lorelei always had a tan, more like a singlet Matt forced her to wear I reckon.'

      'Look,' I say. 'I've read about that theory. And you can't let Shelly know about it, not just yet. Actually, you can't let any of the girls know about it.'

      'Why?' Adrian asks.

      'Ok, look,' I say. I spy one of the video cameras. 'And Big Brother can hear me, so I guess it's ultimately up to him whether word gets out. Look: Shaun and I were discussing this and we think it might be best if we try not to talk about mortality while in the house, if we can help it. We're in a safe house, you know. There might be a war going on out there but I'm thinking we'll be fine, you know. But ever seen the flick "Life