Read Moral Zero for Free Online

I dunno. A girl could have the personality all-over of a guy and it wouldn’t phase me. Could I even fuckin tell the difference? It’s all about the body when it’s where it matters.
    Including guys now girls?
    Course. It’s done pretty good these days.
    What if t hat one good guy part remained?
    Red shrugged. Sure. Plenty of places to stick it. For me to stick it. In him. Her. Fuck’s sake, he laughed. And I know what you’d say – ditch the rest, is that one guy part enough? It ain’t pretty the rest of it, so that one part really gotta live up. Gotta be some real distance between the impressiveness of that part and the girl-ness of the rest. Prob’ly. I guess I ain’t thought it through too much, Red lied. But hell, I’m sober right now! Who knows what rum will bring me one day.
    Red finished rustling his hair into a carefully messy position suitable to his tastes and looked at himself in the mi rror, admiring his reflection. Damn, he said. Right, to the bar?
    Again?
    Red smiled.
     
    STREET
     
    In the end Red went to the bar on his own. Mr White had declared that he felt too ill and tired, just not up for it at all, and after a bout of persuasion to go anyway, involving such convincing lines as “but you’ll miss out on all the tits man”, Red had finally given up and gone by himself. Mr White had apologised numerous times but Red had rolled his eyes and swatted them away and told him that it was cool, no worries. He might be back tonight, he might not.
    Mr White would find that sitting in a scummy hotel room by himself without anything to do might be in fact worse than a repeat visit to the bar and another adventure in feeling sick. But he was full of exhaustion and his stomach gurgled unhappily and so he stop ped himself going out after Red and sat on the bed thinking and ordering room service. After that all that remained to do was while away the hours through endless masturbation.
    Night fell on the world and Red was outside to bathe in the blackness. He had been kicked out of the bar for falling over and accidentally knocking and smashing other patrons’ drinks, and for hassling women, including reaching over the bar to squeeze the chest of the bartender, declaring his tip was for her to take her top off. These slights might have been forgivable if he been able to operate his wallet, or if its contents had advertised themselves promisingly. Without money, nothing was allowed. The world and its inhabitants were only freely used and abused to the rich.
    I like ruinin their sanctity, Red said, slurring slightly. He was just outside the bar, next to a homeless drunk wrapped up in coats and cardboard. The man had remained confused and mute to Red’s ramblings, not that it had stopped him from continuing, expostulating on his sexual proclivities to the man-shaped sounding board. Listening and not understanding.
    I like rippin them off that fuckin pedestal, said Red. With all their thoughts and intelligence and – and pride and confusion and principles and shit, and reducin them to this gibberin mess, y’know, this stupid mewlin, thrashin animal.
    Red coughed and waved his hands as if weaving patterns in the air. Stupid and senseless. Covered in shit and cum and piss and cryin for more. You know man, if you make someone horny enough, if you take them right to the fuckin edge and over it, you can make them do anythin. Fuckin anythin.
    The drunk stared at him. He stared down at his own sick on his ragged shirt and then with unfocused eyes he looked back at Red.
    I’ve made girls eat their own shit, Red continued. He staggered a little and then righted himself. Like, respectable girls. Give me long enough alone with em and I could make most do it, I can make em do things that’d make em puke if they thought of it sober. That’s sober from sexual delirium, see. They don’t need to be drunk . . . though that can sure speed things along a bit.
    The homeless man shivered and shook his head, shook his head to