Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin

Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin
Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin

What Is The Silver Swan?

Welcome back, honeys!

Chalk Chesterton here with another scalding-hot exclusive from the underground. You may remember me from from that ill-begotten backyard wrestling event exclusive to registered sex offenders. Some may yet still know me from the old, bad days of those gothic-industrial Girl Scout parades I hosted in the 80's. But enough about me!

Today I'm happy to share with you my long-awaited, exclusive interview with everyone's favorite metallic pimp, the Silver Swan! In what may be the messiest tete-a-tete of my long, hard career, I will attempt to answer to you, my anticipatory viewers, the question invading the internet: "what is the Silver Swan?"

CC: Thanks for appearing, my good... swan. I do so appreciate you taking the time out of your busy pimping schedule to sit down with me, you dapper chap, you!

SS: Well, y'all done say my name three time, so Ima appear. I done brought summa my hoes. 

CC: Indeed, you did! And we all thank you for that. Now, Mr. Swan, would you be ever so kind as to answer some of my fans' questions?

SS: Sho nuff, baby. Flood-pants-wearin-ass-mothafuckas need my hoes grindin' up on they RSS feeds and shit, coz.

CC: Okay, then! Well, where to begin? Oh, I know! Would you happen to be a shapeshifting Sumerian demon that takes the shape of a swan to appear less threatening to a species whose gene pool is slowly falling victim to your eternal control?

SS: Yo, Chalk! Peep dis, baby. See this ho right here, wigga? The one wit the gas mask? Her name Toxy. She got a biohazard tramp stamp and stank bombs fulla amyl nitrate. Sixty dollars.

CC: Why, I happen to have sixty dollars right here! 

(an indefinite period of time passes)

CC: Well, bloody hell, my good man. That woman should be locked up!

SS: You can lock her ass up for sixty dollars.

CC: What is it with you and sixty dollars?

SS: My man, consistency is king in the pimp game, coz. All them lumbersexuals be creepin' out the fro-yo house talkin' like they think they be havin' a quick blowjob for twenty bucks. Cracka, please, a pimp can't even see a movie for that these days. Also, when a horny ape done gonna offer up alms to the demon, he done gonna do that shit in units of 60, like it done got writ in the Dread Book of the Outer Sky Worm, burned before the days of Gilgamesh and shit, coz. Everybody know that shit, baby!

CC: Okay, I haven't said this in well nigh thirty years, but you're starting to freak me out!

SS: Sorry, baby, but you know me, freaky's how I freak, playah.

CC: Indeed! Speaking of freaks, what's your relationship to Vlad Abacus? I hear you did a drive-by shooting on him when he moved into town.

SS: Well, yeah, but shoot, that was just a "welcome to the neighborhood" kinda thing, you know? I done did the same damn shit to you and that Gynoid skank. It just how I roll. 

CC: Speaking of of Gynoind Fibonacci... would you consider her competition?

SS: Jury still out, my man. This pimp right here got a divided mind on that shit, coz. I could turn that bitch out, make her walk the streets, make her my main bitch. Then again, it done got writ in the Chroncles of the Mad Pilgim Abam Su-Fet that the enda days gonna be marked by a machine distractin' man from fuckin.' Now, that shit either about Gynoid or smart-phones, jury still out, baby. 

CC: What about Ryan O'Laughlin? My early reports had him pegged as a possible alter ego; how did my intelligence community get it so wrong?

SS: Shit, coz, that goofy honky got problems, yo. He nasty. He look like a bag of pork rinds got squished into a CPR dummy. He look like Roy Orbison gettin' eat from the inside out by greasy-ass centipedes. He look like Freddy Krueger wearin' a Buffalo Bill-style skin-suit made outta Wynonna Judd. He look like the Eraserhead baby hidin' behind Larry Flynt. He look like some sickass cracka put a kabuki mask on a pile of uncased, rancid chorizo. That wigga got a skeleton made outta gummy worms, coz, I seen it. He nasty.

CC: True, I felt awkward confronting him about it in our initial interview...

SS: He nasty. I don't let my hoes around him, 'cept for the occasional Dungeons & Dragons games, but only because that shit's Satanic as fuck. Still, he make a mean tax-mule.

CC: Come again? Are you saying you use his identity to hide your money from the government?

SS: Peep this ho, Chalk. Yeah, she nekkid. Her name Chesty. The Molesty. She an expert with firearms and BDSM-themed reality cooking shows. She done smack her own momma on a Jerry Springer show back when she was a toddler. Sixty dollars. 

CC: Well, would you look at that? I have exactly sixty dollars right here in my hand! Do you feel that, Silver, in your loins? It's the plot... thickening!

SS: Just gimme dat munny, boy-boy, and take my bejeweled wings from offa yo junk, cracka!

Well, there you have it, internet! The Silver Swan is force from the outer void come to bring you a stimulating sexual economy during the end times of civilization! I'm Chalk Chesterton, and I'm out of spare cash!