The Big Electrical Building
(on Floating Street)

Electroman

Darkness. Pitch black. Like a backroom. Can't see anything. No story here. Something on the floor. Could be straw. Maybe not. Wet. And the strong smell of piss. Stale piss. Like a stable. Strong horse piss.

I don't know where I am. Or who. They call me electroman. I live here and there in the city. Walking a lot. I don't know where I eat. I just pick up scraps from the kitchens, scour the markets after hours. Rarely go out until dark. I love the dark. It's my play time.

I came into being in sickness. I have no voice. I grunt when I fuck but otherwise think of me as my tongue cut out. If I had a name it would be (). The empty space between the seconds. Useless fuck time. Intrepid adventurer. But basically a cunt.

When I say that I was born in flame, I mean it. I was burnt. I got no taste. I got no loose change. But I love electricity.

They call me electroman. At night I go to certain places where I can find interested parties. With my wand. In the pitch black, sizzling with electricity, little sharp currents, not harmful, just a little love bite. Electroman. I press my electric current on other men's genitals (so what's the harm in that?). A little sizzle here, a little sizzle there. I've got no name now but electroman. Everyone wants a bit of what I've got. I'm very special.

And in the pitch black darkness of a field, a motorway fly-over, abandoned pram nearby, I smell that lovely smell of cock, big balls, nice lovely fat ones. Smell of pissed pants and cum. Probably already cum once or twice tonight, dirty bugger. I'm the last. And I go to work.

I have 'dark' electricity and 'light'. Levels 1-10. I save the tops for the biggest cocks. They need the most. The light for the little baby ones. Just come out into the dark. Know what they want but too fearful. I've tricks for everyone. I've got little red lights and all sorts. I've got something'll burn your whole knob off, if you want.

And then I go home, back to where I belong, living off the hum of electricity and darkness. No job, no prospects. Don't want any. I've got what I want. The touch of human kindness. The love of many men. The tears in their eyes. Their laughter. The desire burning through them. Their little bright teeth laughing at me. Their hot wad shooting out into the night. Like fireworks.

I am the electroman and I know who I am.

Michael Atavar