.. stuff like pornography and the oppression of women. Just tell me it's all horse-shit, guys. Come on." It's not what we wanted to do," said Crystal. "We had a gig arranged at the Detroit Fall, which is normally a folk-rock club. But when we got to Detroit, we discovered that we'd been booked to play at a club called the Purple Robe instead. We didn't know what kind of place it was and we felt duty-bound to fulfil our obligations." But fuck! Gee! You didn't have to play at a fucking strip club. What will the sisters think? It's like the opposite of everything we stand for." Do you want us to cancel our gig, Ariel?" What? No. I don't think so. It's too late for that. But Gee! I don't know. If word got round ... You're not going to start having sex on stage are you? I'm open-minded, fuck knows. But there are limits, you know. There's only so far you can go with free expression before it becomes pornography. I mean, naturism is one thing. That's communion with nature and being Green and. She turned around, looking down at her sister’s bright red hair. As she watched, Kathleen backed away from the book on the table, pressing against the wall behind her in terror. Violet’s mouth dropped open as she saw the black ink flow over the pages, over the edge of the table, and splash down onto the carpet right beside the dried markings from last night. She scurried back down the ladder and turned around to see a different symbol drawn in the carpet, still gleaming and wet. Before she could examine it further, Kathleen gasped, and she put her hands to her midsection. Kathleen locked eyes with her sister, seeing the fear in her grey-green eyes and knowing it was reflected in her own. Her hands felt her guts move underneath the smooth skin of her lower abdomen, but there was a strange lack of pain. She tore her shirt off, exposing her bra-clad breasts, and watched as the skin around her belly button rippled from movements beneath. Entranced by the alien things happening to her,.
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