STORIES : The Anti-Sneeze Serum:


Bondi stepped out of the Blockbuster Video, the movie Hannibal in hand, and walked to his car across the parking lot on this cool night in the middle of May. A gust of wind whipped past him, and he could smell the aroma of dust and pollen in the air, and acrid stench to his own nose and sensitive allergies. The tickle lingered and prickled within his sinuses, a sharp point burning into his nose. His eyes swiveled to the left, to the right, and then back again. The parking dark parking lot was empty except for a bunch of cars parked randomly in their various spaces; the place was devoid of life except for himself, the other customers inside. Bondi was alone. He doubled over with three intense sneezes:


He sniffled, and then went on, muttering under his breath: "Damn allergies." Bondi felt a bit uneasy over what he had just done; yet he had been alone. No one had seen him, and so it was okay. Besides, had he detected another presence, he never would have been able to let them out.

The tickle lingered within his nose just a little bit longer, and he sneezed yet again:


Bondi sniffled again, and then he opened up the driver's side door and crawled into his car, placing the movie he'd rented at Blockbuster on the passenger seat before pulling the car door shut with a slam and turning the key in the ignition and hearing the engine hum to life.

He pulled the car out of the parking lot and was then coasting at 40 miles per hour down Post Road, about fifty feet behind the car in front of him, a '97 Pontiac with the GOD BLESS AMERICA bumpter sticker. It was then that he felt the tickle in his nose once again, and alone or not, he never liked sneezing while driving. Yet the tickle was too intense, burning within his sinuses and he knew that he just HAD to sneeze. "Huh-ha-ESCHOOO! ESCHOO! HACHOO!" The force of the sneezes thrust his head forward and he sprayed the steering wheel.

Momentarily, Bondi lost control of his car, speeding up and perhaps getting a bit too close to the rear of the Pontiac in front of him. He applied some pressure to the break, slowing the vehicle down, perspiration breaking over his brow, and he thought. "Holy shit, man, that was a bit too close for comfort." He hadn't really been in much danger of rear-ending the Pontiac, but it still shook him up, and he hoped now that he would have his nose under control.

On the radio, the commercial break had ended, and the nighttime DJ, Doug Parmelli, had come back on the air. "Okay, now I was surfing the Internet the other night," he began, "and believe it or not, I actually came to these sites about people with a SNEEZING fetish."

"Yeah, I believe it," Bondi muttered to himself, chuckling.

"Now, nothing wrong with being sexually aroused by sneezing--hell, the horny bastard that I am, I almost wish that I had this fetish--but its still kind of weird never the less. Just when you think you've seen it all on the net--hang on, folks, we have a caller...hello, Stephrenia, you're on the line."

"Hi, Doug, I--huh-ha-chhh! Oh, excuse me."

"Bless you, Steph."

"Thanks, Dog, whew! Damn allergies, I don't know....huh-huh-HA-CCCHH! <sniff>"

"Careful, Steph--there are people that actually get turned on by that sort of thing," Doug laughed.

"Yeah," though Bondi, dreamily, "like me."

"I know--ha-kchh!" Stephrenia sneezed a third time, and then a forth: "Ha-CHOO! HA-CHH!"

Bondi slipped his right hand into his pants and his fingers closed around his hardening cock and he felt as though he were in heaven as Stephrenia continued to sneeze again and again while struggling to speak on the radio, each exquisite sneeze sounding better than the last. A sniffle was heard from time to time, and she stopped to blow her nose, and then sneeze three more times before the DJ blessed her again.

"You okay, Stephrenia?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, "its just allergies."

"I'm sure you've made a lot of fetishists listening to our show very happy," commented Parmelli.

"Yeah, <sniffle> actually that's why I'm calling--huh-haCCSSSHH!"

Reluctantly, Bondi turned off the radio. It was hard for him to do, and he had to force his hand over the dial, but somehow, through tremendous will-power, he was able to manage. He would reward himself with plenty of wonderful wavs that his female fetish friends were kind enough to make for him. But for now, while he was driving, he was apt to end up in an accident if he listened a second longer.

The dashlights gleamed in his face and he noticed that the gas gauge was almost pointin on empty, and veered slowly to the left at the Mobil gas station, bringing his car to a halt beside one of the gas pumps on the self-service island, and then killed the engine and stepped outside, very much tempted to turn on the radio to hear if Stephrenia was still on air. Now would be safe, since he was no longer driving. But at the last second he decided against it on the grounds that it would be very embarrassing indeed to be caught inside your car parked next to a gas pump at Mobil, rigorously masturbating to a woman on the radio in the midst of a sneezing fit. There would be other times, better times. For now, he thought it best to get the gas and go home.

He walked inside, and immediately his eyes darted to the left, by the rack containing various tabloids such as Star, Weekly World News, and National Enquiror, where a young woman in her mid twenties stood, her hands slowly covering her face, her eyes squeezing tightly shut, and Bondi knew what would happen next. The woman thrust her head forward, her blond hair whipping across her face, and sneezed forcefully one time: "huh-CHOO!" A single sneeze was usually not enough to turn Bondi on, but still enough to draw his attention, and the sneezing he'd heard on the car radio minutes ago still had him in a trance of blissful reverie. The woman's hands remained over her nose and mouth, and Bondi knew that she would sneeze again. She stifled the next sneeze, and tried stifling the next, making a "ha-kmph!" sound. "Wow! Excuse me!" she exclaimed, blushing deeply.

"Bless you," said Bondi, unsure if she had heard him or not, but not wanting to say it any loudy lest he attract any undue attention upon himself, which he certainly did not want.

"Hey, buddy!" someone called from behind, and Bondi jumped, startled and barely able to bite back a scream. He turned back and saw that it was the clerk, a scrawney old guy in his fifties, with thick glasses, staring at him with a peculiar gaze over his face. "You gonna buy somethin' or stare at that lady all night."

"Oh...right, sorry," Bondi said, his nerves frazzled. His own face now blushed hotly, and he could feel his heart thrashing against his ribcage. "Yeah, I'd like to fill...fill up the tank on pump number six, please." He fished through his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the clerk, his arm trembling.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Bondi replied timidly, hoping that the clerk wouldn't notice the sudden bulge in his pants right about now. He had broken out in a sweat and hurried outside to pump his gas, deciding that even if he didn't use up the entire twenty bucks, there was no way in hell he would go back inside tonight.

Pushing through the glass door and feeling the brisk, cool breeze sweeping over his face, Bondi had never felt happier or more relieved to have finally gotten outside. By now his guts were churning, and he couldn't believe what had happened in there and somehow knew that the clerk had noticed his sudden arrousal when he saw the woman sneeze.

He felt cold metal clash against the back of his head and was taken off his feet. He toppled over, and lay on the cement ground, staring up at his assailent, a gray figure holding what looked to be a lead pipe. Bondi remained conscious long enough to feel the warm blood soaking over his forehead and dripping down his cheek and into his eyes, and that's when he slipped away...

* * *

Bondi's head throbbed painfully as he came to and found himself lying on a cot within a prison cell, wearing the same green jacket, red teeshirt, and blue jeans he wore the night before. "Ugh...where am I?" he asked himself, hissing in pain, his headache worsening as he arose to his feet. His knees buckled sharply, and he collasped back onto his cot.

He heard footsteps echoing outside his cell, coming closer. With each footstep, his headache worsened, the agony growing more and more excruciating, until the man reached his cell, standing behind the bars (or was it Bondi who'd been behind the bars? He didn't know and didn't care either).

"Who the hell are you?" Bondi asked, groaning. "What's goin' on here?"

"They call me Antisneeze," the man replied. "And I believe you are known among the sneezing community as 'Bondi.'"

"Yeah, I guess that's me," he said. "How would you know?"

"I know everything about you guys," he replied. "I've lurked in the darkness, and now I have you."

"What do you want?"

"What I want is to put an end to sneezing once and for all. If there is one thing I can't stand, its hearing or seeing somebody, anybody, sneeze. Multiple sneezers are the worst of the lot, but ANYONE who sneezes should be taken out and shot."

"Can't say I agree with that one," Bondi said matter-of-factly.

"No, of course not," scoffed Antisneeze. "No YOU. Not one of the sneeze fetishists." He cringed. "God, you people make me sick, you know that?"

"Why? Its not like we're hurting anyone. What's the big deal anyway?"

"How ANYONE can POSSIBLY be turned on by someone else sneezing, I will never know," Antisneeze went on. "It boggles my mind. Never has there been anything more disgusting, more VILE, than that of the human sneeze."

"I don't think there's ANYTHING vile or disgusting about it unless its an old person or one of my blood relatives," Bondi stated. "But of course, that's just me, and maybe I'm crazy."

"You ARE crazy," insisted Antisneeze. "ANYONE turned on by sneezing has got to be completely insane, a deranged lunatic who should be locked away for the rest of their life."

"Guess that's why I'm here, isn't it?" Bondi mused bitterly.

"That's right," confirmed Antisneeze. "Plus it'll drive a stake into your entire community of perverts. I can't wait to flaunt it in their faces. Once I figure out a way to put an end to sneezing once and for all, that'll be the ultimate nail in your coffin, but for now, this is good enough."

"You son of a bitch..."

"Call me what you will. But that doesn't change the bottom line. And the bottom line, Bondi, is that you're a dead man!"

With that said, Antisneeze walked off, his footfalls echoing once again, soon tapering off, and Bondi lay back on his cot, staring up at the concrete ceiling that swirled before his blurred field of vision. And eventually, he passed out once again.



Sharp darts of sunlight broke through the prison window and shone over Bondi's face, forcing his eyelids open. He wasn't in any way a photic sneezer, and thus, no sneezes resulted from this. Instead, the sun merely scorched his eyes, frying them inside his skull. It was as though his eyeballs were on fire, and even as he squinted, the burning light still managed to seep through the cracks between his eyelids, and the pain was immeasurable, and the intensity of his headache instantaneously skyrocketed.

Bondi lifted his head, forcing his eyes to look away from the light and instead at the bars which barricaded him inside this filthy prison cell, and he cried out in agony before noticing a figure watching him. The man's features were blurred at first, and all Bondi could see was the silver gray hair and the blazing eyes. Then his vision regained focus, and with that came recognition.

"Y-you're the attendant Mobil..."

"That's me," he confirmed. "Gus is the name. And I'm the one who brought you here."

"Makes sense," Bondi remarked.

"Of course," agreed Gus. "Who else would have whacked you over the head like that?"

"That was some blow you gave me. I'm still a little dizzy and my head hurts like hell." Bondi groaned, his head sinking a little until he was low enough for the sun to burn his eyes again, and the pain was so great that it forced him to sit bolt upright once more, looking directly at his captor. "Are you the man calling himself 'Antisneeze'?"

"Do I like like Antisneeze?"

"I don't know. I was a bit out of it when I spoke with him last night and couldn't get a good look at him," Bondi confessed.

"Well, I'm NOT Antisneeze. But I WORK for him. And thanks to the brilliant man's serume, I haven't sneezed in over twenty years."

Perhaps had Bondi not been so completely messed up even now, he might've been shocked at Gus's revelation. The man hadn't sneezed in over twenty years. Then again, the last thing Bondi ever wanted to see--especially now, lest he add nausea and vomiting (Bondi hated vomiting) to his list of ailments--was an old man like Gus in the throes of a sneezing fit. It was still an astounding claim--if true. However, very detrimental to his own sexuality and that of many of his friends.

It was as he reflected on that claim that his own nose began to tickle, having taken all it could take of that acrid, musty prison air and chilling climate of his current setting. His upper torso doubled over with three powerful but not-so-loud sneezes: "Huh-HASHOO! HA-EEEESCHOOO! Hur-SCHEW!" Under normal circumstances, Bondi couldn't sneeze in front of people. But somehow, the tickle had been so strong this time that the sneeze became insurmountable, and for one reason or another, he couldn't help himself. He sniffled wetly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Well," he said at last, nasally and congested, "I take it that I haven't been injected with the serum."

"No--we didn't want to risk it with you."

"What do you mean."

"The serum isn't always stable," explained Gus. "It works about ninety-eight percent of the time. For two percent, however, it has no effect at all."

"Maybe I'm among the two percent."

"Perhaps," Gus went on. "However, it gets worse than that. You see, for ninety percent of users, the serum is poison. Twenty percent die within minutes. For the other seventy percent, it becomes toxic within three years. I was of the lucky eight percent--not only did it not kill me, but it worked for me as well. My nose has never been clearer than it has been these past twenty years. But obviously, it wouldn't be practical for us to release the serum into the general populace in its 'unstable' state."

"I don't know--maybe it might solve the overpopulation problem," Bondi said in jest. Although in truth--for a variety of reasons--having such a serum unleashed upon the world was the last thing he ever wanted.

"We are working nonstop to alter the composition of the serum, to make it more stable and safer to ingest. Nothing seems to work But we are getting there; rest assured."

"Why not give it up? You've had twenty years to fix it and you can't. Face it, pal: it'll never happen."

"But it MUST happen. Sneezing is a hazard. It is unsanitary, and it must be done away with. It has to be abolished."

"I'd rather it not get abolished, actually."

"No, of course not. You're a sneeze fetish, after all. I noticed you getting aroused when the girl had that sneezing fit last night. You pretended not to, but I could see right through you and that confirmed my suspicions that I had the right guy. Hey, don't worry about it; I understand. I have a leather fetish myself, so I don't judge.

"But you must be aware that the world as a whole would be better off if sneezing never existed at all. And soon, with the help of myself and Antisneeze, it will be taken out of the picture."

"Well, we don't care what you think," Gus scoffed. "We know you'd send your buddies to stop us, so we captured you and are holding you here. We don't want you dead or suffering, just out of our way."

"Can you get some shades for me so the sun doesn't burn my eyes?" requested Bondi.

"I'll see what I can do," Gus replied. "For now I must be going now."

And with that said, Gus walked away.



Tarotgal sniffled wetly, holding back a sneeze welling up in the back of her nose due to a dreadful cold she'd been fighting off for the past four days, and then began:

"Well, my friends, I have some good news and some bad news," she said to the room at large, an auditorium filled with her fellow sneeze fetishists, all just as worried about what had become of Bondi as she and the professor had been. "The good news is that we have located Bondi and have strong reason to believe that he is alive and least for the time being."

A moment of silence within the room, as each of the sneeze fetishists breathed a sigh of relief at this news. Everyone had been worried when Bondi hadn't returned home from Blockbuster a couple nights ago. At first no one thought anything of it, of course. Maybe he decided to make another trip elsewhere. And why not? Bondi had every right to do so. No one had even noticed his absence, in fact. But when he hadn't returned the next morning, everyone grew concerned that something might have happened to him.


Yesterday evening, Tarotgal had sent out Kirsten and Stella Mavis to see if they could find out what had become of Bondi, which is how they had found out he was at Blockbuster--someone matching his description had left the night before, so it was enough for at least a speculation, if nothing else. After further investigation, they found out that a man matching Bondi's description had been seen by a young woman by the name of Liz on the night of Bondi's disappearance.

"He saw me in the midst of a sneezing fit," Liz told the two girls and sniffled. "Allergies get me every spring. He seemed pretty engaged. I don't know. I was pretty embarrassed."

"I know the feeling," Kirsten said. "I have really bad allergies, myself." And as if on cue, Kirsten's head bent forward with the force of two sneezes: "Ha-CHH! huh-haCHH!" She sniffed, blushing deeply. "Excuse me."

"So what happened next?" asked Stella.

"Well, eventually I stopped sneezing," Liz said. "Then the attendant--Gus, I think his name was--looked at the guy funny. The guy was pretty flustered himself, it seemed. He just paid for the gas and hurried outside. That's when--huh-HACHOO! HA-KMPH! Excuse me." Liz's face turned as red as Kirsten's did just now.

Then it was Kirsten's turn to sneeze yet again; she stifled the first one, and the second one blasted out uncontrollably: "Ha-chmf HEE-CHH!"

"Bless the both of you," Stella said, laughing softly.

"Thanks," Kirsten and Liz said in unison.

"Anyway," Liz went on, "the guy left in hurry, and that's when Gus drew a lead pipe and whacked him over the head with it. The guy went down and Gus carried him off to the trunk of his car and then drove off, abandoning his 'post' so to speak. That's all I know. huh-ASSSHOOO!"

"Thanks for the info," Kirsten said, and then she and Stella turned and left.

Upon leaving, Stella Mavis suddenly doubled over with one intense, powerful sneezes: "Ha-CHOO! Excuse me," she said, her face flushed, and the two of them walked out through the exit.


"The bad news," Tarotgal said, breaking the silence and whatever relief floated about among the various members of the community, "is that Bondi is being held captive by a new nemesis known only as Antisneeze."

Murmurs of bewilderment broke through the crowd. It was then that Tarotgal felt yet another tickle in her nose. She fought it off as long as possible, hoping it would subside, but it didn't go away, and this time, it ended with her in the throes of a sneezing fit in front of this room full of fetishists. "Huh-HACHOO! HAISCHOO! Ugh! huh-uh-huh-ha-ESCCCHH! Excuse me, I--ha-ischoo! SCHOO! ISCHOO! <sniffle> ha-ksshhh!"

A series of "bless you"s from the crowd, and Tarotgals face is now beat red. She utters a timid: "Thank you," before sniffling wetly yet again. "I hope this cold goes away soon," she thought miserably. "I've been sick enough as it is this year."

Tarotgal stepped down from the potium and let Professor S take over.

"At 8:00pm tonight, we received this video," Professor said. "No return address. No name on the envelope. It just mysteriously appeared on our front door."

The Professor inserted the video into the VCR, and then appearing on the TV screen was a placid face, perfectly calm and devoid of any anxiety, anger, or sorror. Not too excitable, just dull, emotionless.

"Greetings, sneeze fetish community," the man on the TV said. "Every time I say that phrase--'sneeze fetish'--it sickens me. There is nothing in the world that I find more repulsive than that of a human sneeze. It disgusts me so badly that I have spent the last twenty-five years of my life devising a serum that will make it so whoever ingests it will never sneeze again. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work, and will kill whoever takes it within two days to three years about ninety percent of the time. Not very productive. Still, once we have it perfected, we will inject the serume into water supplies throughout the world, for everyone to ingest. And with that done, no one will ever sneeze again!"

Antisneeze burst out laughing, and his insane laughter echoed from the speakers throughout the room. Then he calmed himself and once again regained composure.

"Right...where was I?

"Oh yes; in case you haven't figured it out, my team has captured Bondi. He is alive and is being detained in a prison cell at our facilities. We are not looking for any kind of ransom. Uncle Sam funds our institution quite nicely, you see, and we are not in need of any money. So why take Bondi captive? The reason is simple: we wish to drive a stake within your community, and this seems to be the logical step to take. It won't destroy the community, of course, but it will weaken it, at least for a short time, and that is good enough for us. Don't worry--he is alive. He's got a concussion, but otherwise is in no harm, and a doctor is looking at him as we speak. We don't intend to kill Bondi, but we might slap him around and torture him a bit. I've got a few men in my division who are quite sadistic and are into that sort of thing.

"It is our fervent hope that by the time you people get back on your feet, that our serum will be perfected, and we will have released it upon the world. Face it, your purpose is dead and your lives as sneeze fetishists are over!"

With that said, the TV screen went blue. Professor S hit the eject button and held the video in his hand once again as he stepped toward the podium. "Obviously, we need to get Bondi home safely at all costs. However, the serum presents a grave threat to us all as well, should it be perfected," the Professor stated.

"Those bastards!" exclaimed Kessie. She sat toward the center of the room. "What right do they have to do this to us? And to Bondi? If they hurt him, I swear--"

"Yeah," Heather (Sgal777us) agreed. "We gotta get Bondi back ASAP!" Her face was haggard; she simply couldn't believe that any of this was happening.

NO ONE in the room could believe that this could be happening.

"We WILL rescue Bondi...or at least we'll TRY," said the Professor. "But we have to put a stop to the production of this serum. For even if we DO save Bondi, should this serum get out, our lives are ruined."

"I know," Heather said softly. "This whole situation is really lousy."

"What are we going to do?" Kessie said somberly, her head bent in sorrow.

"All we have is a set of coordinates," Professor told them. "Kelly ran a trace on the coordinates and they lead to a governmental installation about a hundred miles from our own base of operations."

"So the government is involved in all this?" inquired Troyboy.

"We don't know," Professor answered. "Its not on any map I know of. Tarotgal sent out Sneezefreak and Frank to survey the area and they came back and reported that it looked to be a government installation. Abandoned or still active, we don't know for sure, but it looks to be our best bet. We believe that that may be where Bondi is being held and where the experiments are being conducted for the serum.

"I propose that we send two teams to infiltrate the complex:

"Team Beta--consisting of Sir Sneezealot, Demon327, Kitty, and Kelly--will hunt for and destroy all the labs and records of experiments related to the serum. Don't leave anything unturned. Destroy everything; make it extremely difficult--next to impossible--for those scumbags to rebuild. This is very important, Team Beta; don't leave them the slightest scrap of data. Destroy all computer mainframes as well. Annihilate anything to do with those experiments. This will be the only hope our fetish has of survival.

"Team Serotica will consist of Cath UK and Watchmen. Your task is simple: rescue Bondi. Don't try to play hero and go after Antisneeze. Leave that for Team Beta, if there's time. All I want you to do is get in, and get Bondi out of there and home safely. Only engage in combat if absolutely necessary; but if it is necessary, don't hesitate to kill the son of a bitch. Just be as quick about it as possible. Time is of the essence.

"Those are your orders, people, now lets do it!"

Professor S stepped down. Tarotgal then stepped up to the podium once again, sneezed noisily, and wished everyone good luck with their objectives.

* * *

Laying on the cot once more, staring up at the ceiling, while the full moon glowed through his prison window, Bondi wondered if there was any one out, any way at all, without means of suicide. All resouces exhausted--he doubted that even he was a scrawny enough bastard to squeeze through the prison bars. He was powerless and helpless, whatever hope of a rescue now depleted. He stroked his hand across the rugged stubble that grew over his face and sighed.

At least the headache had gotten better; it was now little more than a dull throb.

Footsteps echoing from outside the cell. Getting closer.

Bondi sat bolt up, a sudden rush of excitement jolting within him. Hope renewed. For the briefest second, he believed that the calvery had finally arrived. Had the community finally located him and sent a rescue squad? Impossible. Yet Bondi yearned to believe it was so, and in believing, his hopes arose that he might get out of this filthy shithole after all. He wanted to shout "I'M OVER HERE, GUYS! HELP ME! I'M OVER HERE!" but bit it back at the last minute, not wanting to give away their position.

The footsteps grew closer, and Bondi could finally make out the features of the man that had entered the prison block, and it was then, after the briefest period of disbelief, that his heart finally sank into a deepened state of depression. Indeed it had been one of the fetishists from the community. Yet this one had gone mad and betrayed them several months ago, and had now apparently joined the dark side, from the looks of it. The side of Antisneeze and the cause to do away with sneezing forever. The face Bondi saw outside his cell was the one that belonged to none other than James69.

"So you've joined Antisneeze as well, huh?"

"You got that right, Bondi," James69 confirmed. "You should've believed me."

"Why is that?" argued Bondi. "You regressed to the state of a raving lunatic and therefore had no more credibility than that of a drunken bum on the street preaching the end of the world. No one's gonna take someone like THAT seriously."

"YOU'RE ALL LOSERS NOT TO BELIEVE ME!" James69 screamed insanely, venomous spittle flying from his lips as beads of sweat began to break over his brow. "YOU FUCKIN' LOSERS DIDN'T LISTEN WHEN I SAID STACY WAS A SKANTY SLUT! WELL NOW YOU'RE GONNA PAY!"

"Haven't changed a bit, have you?" Bondi laughed humorlessly.


"I think you're full of shit."

James69's hands fastened around the bars and his entire body began to shake convulsively, as though he were having a seisure. Thick globos of froth bubbled from his lips as the tears streamed from his eyes. "I'M NOT FULL OF SHIT, YOU UNDERSTAND! I'M TELLIN' THE TRUTH ABOUT SKANKY SLUT STACY AND I'M NOT FULL OF SHIT!" James69 began to bash his head and and again hard against the prison bars, repeating the same thing over and over again. "I'M NOT LYING, YOU LOSER, I'M NOT LYIN'! YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU SON OF A BITCH?! I'M NOT FUCKIN' LYIN' ABOUT SKANKY STACY THE SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTT!" Bondi flinched back, startled and now very much afraid of what the psychopath outside might do next. For a second, Bondi expected the prison bars to come loose, but then James69 stopped shaking them and ceased bashing his head against the bars as well. He then looked at Bondi, the flesh over his brow split open and blood pouring down his cheek. "See what you made me do? All because you didn't believe me. WHY DIDN'T YOU BELIEVE ME?"

" that why you joined Antisneeze's crusade?" Bondi asked, his voice stammering, his entire body trembling fearfully. "Is that why you took his serum, took the chance of your possible--and very likely--death. Over what happened with Stacy?"

"I am so committed to revealing her as the skanky, lying slut that she is, that I'm willing to take that risk. Don't you get it, Bondi? Can't you see I'm willing to DIE for my cause!"

"You're definitely willing to bleed for it," Bondi muttered, looking at the blood spilling down James69's cheeks, past his eye. He thought: "You can spew your vitriol and vex her all you want, James69, but it doesn't make you right." Bondi wanted to say the thought aloud, but was too afraid to perform such a feat. So instead, he chose to change the subject, and asked: "So who funds an operation such as this?"

"What are you talking about? Are you being a non sequitor, changing the subject?"

"Just thought I'd ask, that's all." Bondi shivered, and pressed his back closer against the wall, as though that might get him a little farther away from the psychopath outside. "I'm talking about this building, the serum, the whole thing. Who funds such an operation?"

"The government, of course," James69 responded.

"Grants from the government?"

James69 nodded.

"But why?"

"Why not?" interjected a voice from beyond the room. A figure approached James69 and stood before the prison cell, in front of Bondi's field of vision. It was Antisneeze. "What greater threat to the existence of mankind is there than that of sneezing?" Unlike James69, he was perfectly, eerily calm, with not an ounce of anger. He was almost too friendly, but Bondi wasn't buying the friendly, amiable Antisneeze for a second, not after all he had been through these past three days. Antisneeze turned to James69 and said: "Why don't you go collect yourself, James69? I can take it from here."

"Yes, boss," said James69 and walked away.

Antisneeze turned to Bondi once again. "I'm sure that even a fetishist such as yourself can understand why we must do away with sneezing and the threat that each sneeze holds over humanity. The government does. And that's why they're funding this place and why they have funded it for over two and half decades."

"I'm truly devastated that my tax dollars are paying for this," Bondi said sullenly.

"Its a better cause than them paying $75 a screw and $3000 for a toilet."

"Perhaps," Bondi agreed reluctantly. "But why not go after the REAL threats to humanity? What about finding a cure for cancer or AIDS? How about fighting off the threat of terrorism? With all the REAL stuff in the world, why waste millions of dollars trying to get rid of SNEEZING?"

"I can't do anything about that other stuff, and its getting taken care of by others. My task is to find a way to get rid of sneezing. That's what I'm doing and that's what my team is doing. And we're going to succeed, just you wait."

"Is sneezing THAT much of a big deal?" Bondi asked earnestly.

"You're damn right it is!" exclaimed Antisneeze. "It defiles the air with pestilence and disease. It has brought the world nothing but misery."

"It has brought a great deal of pleasure to myself and my friends," Bondi attested.

"That's because you're INSANE! YOU'RE ALL COMPLETELY OFF YOUR ROCKER! But that doesn't matter. I am rational. I and most SANE people can see sneezing for the hazard it is. I think that most people--RATIONAL people--would rejoice at what I am doing for them. Most people, if given a choice, would no doubt choose to never sneeze again, if there were a way to safely prevent it. Its annoying. Its embarrassing."

"And to some, its erotic." A grin creased across Bondi's face.

"Only if you're insane. In fact, I am not only convinced that you are insane, but that you are all evil as well. Only someone evil could ever get off on something as repugnant as sneezing, off that putrid, toxic mist released from each sneeze. Do you know how many girlfriends I've dumped simply because they sneezed?

"Once, when I was younger, I fell in love; we were engaged and about to be married, in fact. Her name was Julie. I was very much in love with her and she loved me just as deeply. Two days before the wedding, though, she made the one fatal mistake. I could have forgiven anything else. Even if I caught her in the arms of another lover, I might have eventually forgiven her for that as well. I am very tolerant and very forgiving--I never hold a grudge against anyone for anything. But when she had that sneezing fit, I knew right away that she wasn't the woman for me. I would have rather she pulled a Larana Bobbitt and cut off my penis in my sleep and throw it in the lawn than to have witnessed such a disgusting act.

"I was sickened by it. She covered her mouth, sure, but it was still disgusting to watch, to listen to, and to be any part of, even if it is merely the spectator. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited profusely upon having witnessed such an unbearable sight. She came in after me, once the sneezes had tapered off and asked if I was feeling okay. She was very concerned, but I didn't give a damn. I was sick, and more so, I was angry.

"I called off the whole wedding. I screamed and hollered right in her face: 'HOW DARE YOU SNEEZE IN MY PRESENCE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SNEEZE AT ALL! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE FOR GOOD, YOU WORTHLESS BITCH!'

"She ran out crying and I never saw her again. But I'm glad, because I doubt I could ever look at her the same way again after the travesty I just saw. No one should sneeze, Bondi. ESPECIALLY not any lover of mine.

"Bottom line: NOTHING is grosser than sneezing and I will do EVERYTHING in my power to see to it that sneezing becomes a thing of the past."




Teams Beta and Serotica sat quietly in the back of the black van as it coasted through the dusty Nevada desert, quickly approaching its destination; the headquarters of Antisneeze and his army of scientists and whatever military personel might be present.

The van stopped about a mile away from the installation and the men and women inside rose from their seats, unholstered and reholstered their weapons, and prepared themselves for whatever might lie ahead.

"We'll have to walk from here," declared Watchman from the driver's seat. "This is as close as we can get to their base without giving away our position."


"You know the objectives people," Professor's voice droned from the speakers. "God speed to you all. Is everyone ready?"

"I'm cocked, locked, and ready to rock!" roared Sir Sneezealot as he pumped another round into his rifle. "Let's do it!"

To be continued.