Chicken Liver Vanilla

Here is the collective story created from your elements…..read this and the last one at http://vagobond.posterous.com

Elements provided by google plussers at this thread https://plus.google.com/u/0/110404902994335579225/posts/65gQd5QdFY6

Chicken Liver Vanilla

The light gravity of the moon had strange effects on the first families to settle there. First, they unexpectedly began to live much longer than the Terran bound humans below them. That was why at the age of 44, Deborah Cartimore was treated like a teenager by those around her. After all, if everyone lives to be 180 years old, having just 44 years makes one a real spring chicken.

Actually, she would have loved to see what a real spring chicken looked like but since birds hadn’t fared as well as humans on the Lunar soil, her only chance to see any kind of chicken was by logging on to the ominous monocle, and frankly she had never been all that keen on the virtual interweb googleverse. Sure, it was pretty cool to be able to flip a lense over one eye and tune into the collective consciousness of the entire species, but she’d always preferred to be an individual. The ominous monocle tended to make everyone pistachio when she preferred to enjoy the taste of many flavors.

That conservative black philanthropist, for example – the one who’d told her that the Loonies didn’t deserve to eat unless they paid the Terrans with indentured servitude – he’d been one scoop of vanilla topped with a piece of rotting chicken liver…not appetizing, but at least not uni-flavor. But thinking of him got her thinking of chicken again.

At five foot nine and 210 pounds, Deborah spent more than a little bit of time thinking about food in general. Chicken Liver Vanila had brought a Soyuz full of meat and rice to give to Loonie orphans in an attempt to show that his 76 mega-trillion cubit fortune was well deserved – even if it had been built on child labor and Loonie exploitation.

Deborah longed to see an end to terrorism, but even the Lunar States were torn apart by divisions between malted crunch social activists and the orange sherbert militancy of the anti-jihadist proto zionists. Her grandmother, a refugee from the Congolese Genocide of 2032 was a down to earth cookie dough peacenik, but her grandfather had been a French liberal that oozed of fraise glace – his strawberry ideals combined with the cookie dough hope had made her mother the ideal woman to fall in love with her father – a banana pineapple Ho Chi Minh worshipper from the refederated states of divided Vietnam. And all of that, plus the light lunar gravity made her a big girl that loved food and loved even more the many flavors that make the worlds into one giant waffle cone.

The driving force behind terrorism was the same one that had been plaguing it since 2000. George W. Bush refused to die and along with vice presidents Rush Limbaugh, Rick Perry and Sarah Palin kept pushing social justice two steps back for each step humanity took forward. The three of them in one cone would probably be scabby pus, menstrual blood, and diarrhea though the Terrans in the U.S.E. seemed to think it was all tooti fruiti. And that brought her back to Chicken Liver Vanilla and his philanthropy.

She’d heard that he had actually brought a fresh flock of live chickens. That’s why she was sneaking into his Soyuz…she wanted to see what they really looked like, what they smelled like, and maybe even touch one. As she crept up the gangway she could feel the familiar pulsing of her facial acne…another side effect of the low gravity. Pimples on the moon were huge…and they pulsed with blood.

She heard a strange sound and looked down to see a real life chicken at the same time reaching up to squeeze a zit. The shock of seeing the chicken jarred her and she accidentally knocked the ominous monocle down into place automatically logging into the googleverse hangout….

As if in a dream she saw the chicken as she grabbed it while at the same time the entire collective consciousness became aware of the same strange occurrence, a Loonie grabbing a chicken in full view of the evermind. In that moment, the shock of the situation caused all thoughts to turn from where they had been…George W. Bush announcing the annexation of Ukraine and New Zealand into the United States of Earth…for just a moment, Deborah Cartimore and George W. Bush fused into a universal flavor. The two countries became two chickens and her hand became the hand of coercive force…

It was the moment the subjugated minds of the world needed. A collective decision to shut down roared through the cosmos as the virtual interweb googleverse shut itself down forever…Deborah looked down at the bird in her hand knowing it was worth far more than the two she had seen in the hands of George W. Bush.

Moral: A Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush especially on the moon

Protagonist:
1) Deborah Cartimore
2) height 5’9″
Weight 210
Ethnicity Congolese/ french/ Vietnamese 44 years old
3) mentally uses flavors to describe the mannerisms of the people around her.
4) Greatest desire to end terrorism in the world

Setting:
5) moon
6) 2087

Plot:
7) Acne
8) George W. Bush
9) An Ominous monocle
10) fable