Read Bill 4 - on the Planet of Tasteless Pleasure for Free Online Page A

life.
    “Bill!” cried Irma despairingly. “Bill, don't leave me!”
    Bill kept on running. He glanced backward as he ran to see if the Rocker was following. Fortunately for him, it wasn't. Instead it was descending upon the hapless Irma, wings furling down and flapping up a horrendous wind that struck Bill in the face like a slap. He watched as the creature hovered above Irma and curved its talons around her.
    The gauzy robe ripped and fluttered as the creature seized her. With a squawk and the audial sneer of Elvis, the Rocker took flight again, soaring high and flapping toward the distant mountains, gusting up a great cloud of dust.
    Bill stood and gaped, coughing in the dust.
    The fear gradually seeped away and deep regret took its place.
    A solitary lonely tear dripped down his cheek, across his lip and onto his fang — where it mixed with saliva and slopped down onto his cloven hoof.
    What a terrible loss!
    Thoughts of incipient sex sprouted wings and flapped away in the trail of the Rocker.
    “Hey!” called a voice behind him.
    Bill spun around. Standing there with a thoughtful look was the formerly female satyr.
    “By the way, the name is Bruce,” said the satyr, extending a hand. Still stunned, Bill shook the hand.
    “What.... What was that?”
    “Hey, we mythological creatures have got our problems! It ain't all nectar and ambrosia and hot juicy lust here, ya know? All kinds of loathsome monsters would just as soon eat you as look at you. Why, just last week the Labor Union finally got ahold of poor old Hercules and made him cough up dues.” The satyr named Bruce quavered in fear and emitted a pungent goat-smell. “Anyway, that there's Zeus' Rocker. Old Zeus is the king of the Gods, and he's been hankering after a taste of Irma's flank steaks. Jumped her once as a swan, but Irma got him by the neck and near throttled him. Looks like you guys just walked too far out into the open.”
    “Where did he take her?” Bill asked, realizing with a sinking heart that no other woman would be able to satisfy his unrequited desires like Irma could.
    “Oh! Up yonder, onto the top of Mt. Olympus. That's where the Palace of the Gods is!” Bruce noticed the lump in Bill's jumpsuit. “Hey, pal. Is that your lute, or are you just happy to see me?”
    “Huh? Oh, it's a dove I found a little while ago. Kept it in case I needed a little snack.”
    Bill took the dove out and was not pleased to see that it had suffocated during its incarceration. He looked unhappily at its limp, dead corpse, feathers fluttering down to the ground.
    Bruce gasped and staggered back. “Gurgle!” he gurgled. “You didn't....”
    “Didn't what...?”
    “You are really in the merda now, bub!” His little eyes bugged out like Greek olives amidst his wilting saladlike hair. “That there's one of the Doves Above! You kill one of those and...”
    A trembling whir of wind. A harsh rattle of thunder.
    “And here they come! Not only that — I just happened to remember that they still want me for putting the blocks to their changeling!”
    “Who?” asked Bill.
    “The Furries, man. The Furry Eumensuckadees!”
    With no further adieu, the beast man started to run gallop toward the olive groves. But he'd gotten no further than ten yards away when a dazzling sizzle of lightning split the air like the crack of Doom. A bright bolt seared down, striking the satyr directly in the keester, frying him on the spot. When the smoke cleared, all that was left was a rotary spit of roasted gyro meat.
    Stunned, Bill turned around to see who had hurled this incredible bolt of fire, and was immediately confronted by the third most astonishing thing he had ever seen. (What numbers two and one are will be revealed later on.)
    Riding an island of moiling, electricity-shot clouds, were three stern-looking lasses in Bill Blass business suits, carrying briefcases in one hand, and copies of INTERSTELLAR MS. and GALACTIC SAVVY in the other.
    “You!” bellowed one,