Our second story is set in The Future! A full two years in the future, no less. Yes, this uncannily prescient vision of the shape of misogyny to come is courtesy of the Jules Verne of sex: John or Ryan, one of whom found time to both write and star in the erotic prophecy “Something Is Wrong Aboard The Achika.” And, while it's not made abundantly clear as to which of the two sweating apprentices composed every hurtful syllable of this manifesto, you really won't care. You'll learn to hate each of them as the self-appointed supermen of sex, poker, and sweating that they both turn out to be. Besides, you couldn't slip a cigarette paper between their individual abilities to repulse living flesh and summon lukewarm bacon grease to pour freely from their lice-encrusted scalps.

Two years in the future Tenchi has bought himself a ship and named it after his mother and that's all we need to know. The reasons for this stupid fucking decision and, indeed, what the hell is going on in general are given short shrift in favour of detailing the manifest glories of drifting ne'er-do-wells John and Ryan. We begin our story as they are in the process of having just won “ten hands in a row.” Things steadily begin going downhill from there. Anything which they can't put their dicks into is driven from the room, allowing them to get down to the important task of “quickly (making) Ayeka and Washu lose all of their money.” Yes, immediately. Not since Tom Dyron's “Free Style Fighting Challenge,” I tell you. It's heartwarming to know that the future still throbs with God's palpable hatred of women.

There follows the action poker scene by which all other action poker scenes must be judged, the upshot of which is that everyone winds up naked. Since there's nothing more arousing than a couple of waxy guys who cheat at cards, Ayeka and Washu spontaneously launch themselves across the table and start having sex like human monoliths. The writer betrays some vagueness on his part as to what to do between being jumped on and screaming “I'M HITTING MY CLIMAXXXX!!!!!.” He does know that things move, although they move in a manner befitting to glaciers and the larger of the continental land masses. Girls move towards cocks and, scant lifetimes later, cocks start moving towards girls. More things are about to happen than ever actually take place. John's balls almost get licked. Instead Ayeka begins to “force herself up and down” on John's meat maggot, at which point John starts to sweat, pints of frying medium cascading over his billowing, heaving folds. It's a brave vision of intercourse as something which should leave the average human plenty of time to react. Unfortunately I've seen planned economies which have given me bigger erections than this.

The sad thing is that no matter how many times everyone “climaxes” the author seems to have no idea how to wind the porn up. His only solution is to have Ayeka and Washu hurl themselves at our heroes afresh, giving them unending “wave after wave of pleasure” while he desperately thinks of a way to finish this. The exiled Noboyuki obliges a full six climaxes too late for
the rest of us. Additional dialoque by Tom Dyron.

The merest feather-light mention of such an American institution as Da Dragon can't help but lead to our third feature; a cultural passion play, complete with its own “6 foot 3, 255 pound 21-year-old” Jesus Christ: Jim “Jimmy” Ohki. It's “Tenchi meets an American”! Pacific Rim, understand what's about to go down! The Man of Sorrows Badass has been lifting, what do you think? And he's on a mission to bench press Japan's dwarfish ass. Now drop the bomb!

Jimmy's just about fed up. Apparently the sun soaked ragheads are playing silly buggers again, what with gasoline being up to the thoroughly unreasonable price of two cents per Emirate. This would certainly frustrate the ripped Jedi Knight Jimmy and his intentions to drive aimlessly around Denver at three-thirty in the morning if he didn't have his nu-metal and cigarettes. Meanwhile, a short bomber trip away, a much less well-muscled character is busy being middle-class and worrying about his farm. He's probably a communist, since he wants a tractor. He also raises carrots, which fail in the requirement of being a meat product; and is almost certainly guilty of never having given his ex “seventy-five in this position.” He used to be the star, but aren't you all glad Jim Ohki gave the royal smackdown to that particular idea? Jim Ohki goes for the pin! Two, three... KICKOUT! Flying chair to the face! Chokeslam off the top rope! Kneeslam! Flying elbow! Pimp slap! Visualshock! Flying mummy! Fingersnaps! Giant spiderclaw! Final blow! And Jim pressslams Tenchi out of the ring!

Anyway, Washu finally turns up the goods and succeeds in bringing Jimmy and his big penis Ford truck to Japan. I think the problem with Japan is it doesn't have enough belligerent cultural fascists, oh well. Jimmy practices dangerous driving and almost puts his car through the front of the Masaki pagoda. The chance for violence tragically averted, he redeems himself by reversing into a parked van. Damn straight! Naturally this gives him a chance to righteously threaten the assembled group with the likely prospect of his having to “open a can of whoop-ass on you.” Scores of bare-fisted punches to the face are barely averted on the grounds of Jimmy being one mean brick of meat.



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"Hentai is the Otaku's Gateway to Boundless Pleasure" ~ Ancient Proverb