The Drastic Whims of April O'Neil

As I made my way home I lifted my hand as if checking the time when in fact I was reading the words scrawled there in black biro ink. They read: The Drastic Whims of April O’Neil.

April O’Neil sat in repose on the maroon couch. She had cut a hole in the crotch of her idiosyncratic yellow jumpsuit to facilitate the manipulation of the lips of her vagina with deft fingers.
Egon Spengler stood at the window of the shack looking out into the garden. He seemed sad or puzzled. He was pensive, April decided as her fingers swirled amongst the moistness of her sex. She gasped.
Egon flinched at the sound. Then the telephone rang and Egon flinched at that sound too. He knew who was calling. They both knew.

They both knew it would be Professor Baxter. April and Egon were no longer on good terms with Baxter after he had infected April with AIDS. Egon lifted the receiver, his jaw clenched, and April continued to masturbate languorously.
“Professor Egon Spengler? This is Doctor ----------. I’m phoning with some rather sad news. News of your colleague, Winston Zeddemore. The news is this: he has stepped in dogshit and has gone blind as a direct result. Now I know this must be rather shocking and furthermore...”
Egon had stopped listening. He had completely zoned out. He was being gradually whisked away into a reverie, a blue reverie of swimming pool ambience, echoes and such.
All of a sudden he dropped the receiver. He looked utterly beguiled. April looked at him inquisitively, continuing to tease her clitoris. Egon abruptly unzipped his trousers and revealed a massive throbbing erection. Trousers round his ankles, he waddled over to where April sat and inserted his penis into her mouth. She coughed and spluttered indignantly.
“Egon! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Cut that out!” she screamed. Egon assumed a furtive manner. He seemed to be wracked with shame and self-loathing. He went and stood at the window again and gazed out over the garden. The dusk sat on top of it like a gigantic turd.

Presently Janine Melnitz came to the door. She had the dress and mannerisms of a shrewd lesbian. Egon let her into the shack and she stood looking around, blinking under the single fluorescent tube light. She glanced caustically at April O’Neil who gazed at her indolently. Eventually, Janine spoke.
“Something’s gone awry. We seem to have forgotten our mission.” Egon looked deeply saddened for a moment. Then he strode purposefully towards Janine and backhanded her with absolutely breathtaking force. Janine winced and April cackled maliciously. Egon pissed his trousers and grinned crudely.

Winston Zeddemore came to visit the shack later that night. He wore dark sunglasses and tapped his way in with a white stick. He wore his regulation jumpsuit and a sombre expression. From the smell of him it quickly became evident that he had defecated in his regulation jumpsuit. He appeared to be comfortable with this state of affairs. He held a book under his arm. He held it up and requested that April read to him from it. It was a book about occurrences of coastal Satanism in the city of Los Angeles. April read to him in a cooing and lulling voice and a puerile grin spread over Winston’s face and he curled up in a ball at April’s feet whilst Egon watched, severely perturbed.

Egon stepped outside to inhale the fresh evening air. He noticed Janine Melnitz loitering around. She had left the shack hours ago. Egon had presumed that she had gone home. Evidently she had been milling around the garden. Egon marched over to where she stood near the pond. He tore open her blouse and began mauling her tits with fevered animal abandon. She stood perfectly still during this molestation. She seemed violently perturbed. Then he spun her round, pressed her firmly against the garage and tugged her skirt up over her hips. He worked his stiffening penis into her from behind and began thrusting and gyrating his hips in broad pantomime movements.
“Awww yeh honey!” he moaned as she wept quietly.

Back inside the shack April O’Neil was performing an act of fellatio on young Winston Zeddemore. He grinned beatifically as her head bobbed to and fro like a metronome, enveloping his thick black hard-on between her moist lips. He murmured obscene pledges to her whilst she serviced him. He snapped his fingers and uttered a puerile cackle.

Towards the climax of the rape of Janine Melnitz by the warped scientist Egon Spengler, the actor Bill Murray stumbled into the garden clutching a flask of whisky and wearing an oversized coat. He took a long swig as he surveyed the scene. Then he concealed the flask in an inner pocket of his coat and sauntered over to the coupled bodies of Egon and Janine. He undid his trousers and let them fall to his knees. Then he proceeded to sodomise Egon Spengler who was still in the act of forced copulation with Janine Melnitz. This caused Egon to howl that, under other circumstances, could be described as comical.

April O’Neil emerged from the shack, her mascara streaked, her face contorted into a mask of mild misery.
“Who are you?! I know you! Who are you?! I know you! Who are you?!” she screamed over and over at Bill Murray.
Bill pulled his blood streaked cock from out of Egon Spengler’s ass and made a bid to placate April.
“Listen lady, calm down!” he told her. “I have my identification with me.” He removed the flask from his pocket and held it up mysteriously. “I’m working for the US government. Investigating incidents of coastal Satanism in the city of Los Angeles. I’m here to investigate and prevent any potential satanic activity.” He was swaying slightly and his eyes had trouble focussing.
At that moment Winston Zeddemore emerged from the shack and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were glowing white. The walls of the shack were coated in a film of ectoplasm. Suddenly two bolts of white hot energy zapped out of Winston’s eyes and hit Bill Murray in the neck, rendering him decapitated.
“For fuck sake, Winston,” muttered Egon and chuckled ruefully. Winston emitted a bestial cackle and began trundling slowly towards April O’Neil. All of a sudden it became very misty and all movement seemed to occurring in slow motion. Egon experienced a jolt of gruesome déjà-vu and felt hapless and terrified. Janine Melnitz was repeatedly head-butting the wall of the garage, rendering her head a bloody mess. April O’Neil had unzipped her idiosyncratic yellow jumpsuit to reveal a set of plump, pert breasts. She massaged them firmly as she watched Zeddemore’s solemn advance.