The Adventures of Phogel Phinster

~ or ~
Life upon the North American Continent

Chapter 1 – In the Beginning

The children of the sixties were fast approaching old age and beginning to clamor for more benefits from the bloated bureaucracy of the federal government, politicians, and generally anyone who would listen, as they had once clamored for peace at any price, leading to a weakening of the military and bringing about the inevitable onslaught of the poorly educated, but highly devoted and fanatical tools, of the elite within the extreme Islamic terrorist organizations that flowered in the power vacuum left when the Soviet Union collapsed under the weight of trying to keep up with the Joneses.
Into this setting, this time, this maelstrom of insanity is placed the young man who is to be the main character of our drama: a protagonist with less to recommend him for such a role than most any that have marched across the typed pages before him. A dull and lifeless clod compared to such vivacious characters as: Huck Finn’s father, Lady MacBeth, Hamlet’s Uncle, and the bad guy with the mustache in Pete’s dragon, and yes, even Helen Reddy. A sock, a can, and a fork have more to recommend them as heroes of a story than does our hollow-headed boy Phogel.
And yet, it is a shame to waste even the lowliest of God’s creatures. Should not all, regardless of how worthless, be allowed their value and use in the world? Wasn’t it for this the flower children were fighting: a rebellion against the staid, grasping hand of mid-century American Christianity by the newly minted framework of the counter-culture, stretched taut, as an aging starlets face, with the old flesh of hedonistic paganism?Phogel was born to, two mothers and mostly abandoned by them until their deaths on July 17th, 2009: at which time he was completely abandoned by them.

Their deaths occurred as the result of the horrific explosion created by the confluence of a US military AIM-9 Sidewinder missile fired in an attempt to stop a Cessna Stationair full of high explosives, flown by Arab terrorist Ali bin Sayton Al-Fungui, from ramming flight 800, on which were US foreign diplomat Emma Lockhart, and Phyllis (Wild Phily) Phinster, her personal secretary, lover and gestation chamber for their son, Phogel.
One might ask, and be right in doing so, how might two women partner in such a way, so that one of them conceives and nine months latter bares the fruit of such a sterile union; especially when one of them, Emma, could not stand the idea of any part of a man touching her lover’s body; of course Phily was somewhat less picky about who touched her body, as anyone who had ever seen Emma would ascertain. Well . . . If you really want to know, this is how it went down.
Phily, had a childhood friend who worked at one of the ranches outside of Vegas. With said friend acting as negotiator and having been given a goodly some of money, the items were quickly gathered that were necessary to further the consensual Sapphic bliss of Emma and Phily. Ten willing ranch girls who provided ten freshly filled non-lubricated condoms, one plastic turkey baster with rubber bulb purchased at the local snack and pack, and one 5 oz. tube of Joylube, food grade, personal lubricant completed the zygotic trifecta. To paraphrase D. H. Lawrence,"they basted the bastard into being.”

After it was obvious that Phily was with child, the next step was deciding upon a name for the infelicitous creature. Emma, had assumed that she would do the naming, since she had always been the brains, as well as the dominate one of the outfit, and that generally would have been a valid assumption. However, Emma had not counted on the hormonal changes that occur when a woman becomes pregnant. Her little, quite, submissive Phily all of a sudden changed from a “yes lamb,” to a “don’t fuck with me,” tigress. And nobody, not even a tough, badass, bull dike, can get over on a miserably nauseous, hugely bloated, hormone flooded pregnant woman. So Phily picked the name for “her” child, and because they knew a number of months in advance what sex the child would be through the miracle of ultrasound, Phily knew it was going to be a boy. Phily had, had a great uncle named Phogel, and had always liked the name. This among other reasons was why Emma generally made all of the decisions. Emma was also not too thrilled that the child was male; she had planned on a girl, and Emma was used to getting whatever she planned for. Between Phily finding a backbone, albeit temporarily, the gender of the fetus being male, and the name of Phogel set in stone, Emma was not having a very good year.

Of course things could have been worse. Phily had a brother who she was fond of, and had considered using his name for her child: Phister. Instead she made him guardian in case something happened to her. So . . . along with the Lesbo Lawyer Emma had selected, Phister Phinster became Phogel's nominal parent upon the death of Phogel's mothers; which as you know, happened on July 17th, 2009, when a non-existant Cessna and a non-existant missle converged with flight 800 from New York to Paris, causing its fuel tank to rupture: the first such case of a rupturing fuel tank in the entire history of commercial air travel. Go figure!