Unicorns Are Assholes: Another Story from the Maya

I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road

Gonna ride it till I can’t no more

Junelle sang with her entourage in tow. She rode a shimmering white and silver unicorn with a glorious golden mane and a swirly purple horn jutting out of its forehead. The unicorn’s name was Julio. He sauntered along majestically, hooves in the sand. Junelle rode him bareback.

The ensemble trekked across the tropical beaches. Everyone was naked. It was a great day for nudity. Dongs flopped and nipples hardened in the ocean’s breath.

Junelle’s hair was fuzzed out in a frizzy mane of her own today, and she wore her hipster glasses. Everyone said she looked extra cute in them.

“Then tip me,” she replied.

Her Mod, Dave, walked behind the unicorn. Her favorite Exclusive, Sir Sweet the Sweetest, walked beside Dave. Her Orbiter Suitors followed behind Sir Sweet. They made a strange procession as they walked the shining white stone path, all that bare skin against the changing elements.

They sang together.

Gonna take my horse to the old town road

Gonna ride it til I can’t no more

There were about thirty Orbiter Suitors total, Junelle the center of their adulation. Veneration on their faces, they traipsed quietly, bare foot on the shining white stones, sipping drinks and singing along. It was a mobile Theatrium public show today.

“… and that was the last time that I got high,” Junelle finished saying when they came to a stop. She’d just finished a story about the last time she smoked weed in heavyspace, telling it between verses. Waves crashed.

A fireball ignited over her head.

“Thank you, Mouthbreather!”

“Did you ever figure out what Sir Jeremy’s problem was?” asked a short-statured, long-haired Middle Eastern Suitor with earrings and a goatee. His name was DipDip.

“Yes, what happened with Sir Jeremy?” another Suitor wanted to know, this one a hippie-ish Asian dude with a narrow nose and a narrow face. His name was Ploppy.

Junelle rolled her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, that motherfucker… we went to see the Great Wall of China getting built, we’re on Alliance, and he straight up asks me how long he thinks it would be before he gets Allegiance with me. I’m like, I don’t know, I just fucking met you.”

“Shameful,” said Ploppy. “Shameful…”

“He was like, ‘It worked for my other two Allegiants’,” said Junelle, rolling her eyes a second time. “I’m like, yeah, sure it did.”

“For shame,” said the one called Mouthbreather, a large example of toned African physique with perfect shoulders, long ropey dreads and a fuzz of mustache. “He should be banned for such presumption!”

“I’d just gone to SuperBowl XLII with someone else, it’s like, I’m fucking exhausted, I don’t even like American football, I’m doing like five simultaneous privates, including with two other Alliances. It takes a lot out of you.”

Like so many other women, especially Latinas, her mood switched from cold-harsh to warm-soft — for no apparent reason — in a split second.

“He just picked the wrong moment, wrong time. It’s not entirely his fault. I was PMSing. He’s a lot of fun. If stops his faggotry I’ll probably give it to him eventually.”

All the Suitors sipped their drinks a little harder, wondering why THEY couldn’t get a decent shot at Allegiance with such a fine bronze specimen like Junelle.

“To think he could presume to win your Allegiance after such a short time,” repeated Mouthbreather.

“Shameful,” said Ploppy again.

“You are not an object,” said DipDip. “You are a treasure. I would never treat you such.”

“Nor I,” said several Suitors at once.

“Excelsior,” said Junelle.

Two tips ignited. Several Suitors worried Junelle’s air would catch fire. The unicorn appeared agitated, steadied by Mod Dave’s four-fingered sharkskin hand.

“Thank you, Ploppy, and thank you Mouthbreather,” said Junelle.

We’re your playthings,” said Ploppy.

“Excelsior,” said several Suitors.

“In fact,” said Junelle. “This all kind of reminds me of a song.”

“Excelsior,” said most of the Suitors, perking up out of their daze of admiration and petty jealousy.

Junelle sang a bit, a capella.

Boys seem to like the girls who laugh at anything

The ones who get undressed before the second date

“A-LAH, a-LAH,” cried the Suitors. “Excelsior!”

“Men are trash,” declared Ploppy.

Boys seem to like the girls who don’t appreciate

All the money and the time that it takes

“Highest truth!” yelled Mouthbreather, trying to outdo Ploppy. “Males are the worst gender, to be sure!”

“Excelsior!” yelled everyone.

To be fly-eye-eye-eye as a mother

The Suitors felt the swoon of Hallelujah with the run on the word “fly” and several of them got erections, which they immediately began stroking.

Got my both eyes out for mister right

“Mister Right,” yelled Sir Sweet, who started beatboxing under Junelle.

Yeah and I just don’t know where to find him

But I hope they all come out tonight

Junelle jumped up onto Julio’s back and danced like a flame. The Suitors all stood up and danced with her, hands on their dicks. Even Julio and Dave bobbed their heads.

Where do the good boys go to hide away?

I’m a good, good girl who needs a lil company

Looking high and low, someone let me know

Where do the good boys go to hide away?

They spoke the song into their hands — “Hideaway by Daya, may her voice live on.”

The song ended after one verse and chorus. Everyone settled back into themselves. The Suitors were were jerking it either finished or let their dicks hang, red and engorged.

“Unicorns are assholes,” said Junelle, trying to calm Julio, who seemed overly excited or agitated by the song. Dave nickered to him, trying to get him to steady.

“Most aggressive animal in the park,” said Sir Sweet, speaking up from where he lounged on the sand. “This one will only let Junelle ride it.”

“My princess,” whined Mouthbreather. “Must your Exclusive be with us? You could prism off and give him attention that way.”

“Mouthbreather should get ahold of his insecurity,” said Sir Sweet.

“Who asked you, Raunch?” Mouthbreather snapped, insecure about Sir Sweet’s presence and daring to use Sir Sweet’s former Orbiter name.

Sir Sweet frowned at Mouthbreather.

“What was that, Orbiter?”

Mouthbreather immediately looked down, submitting, but Sir Sweet had been challenged. Everyone tensed up, watching what would happen.

Sir Sweet walked over.

“I think you’ve had enough time with the princess today,” he said.

“Oh, Sweet, leave him be,” said Junelle. “He’s tipping.”

The situation appeared to be diffused, but then Julio broke away from Dave and charged Mouthbreather.

The unicorn speared Mouthbreather through the sternum and the Suitor respawned out of the Theatrium.

Everyone stared. Julio pawed the sand, snorting. Dave came over and stroked his muzzle.

“I think I want a tribute,” said Junelle after a second. If none of these people were going to tip the least they could do was entertain her.

“Of course,” said the array of Orbiters, gathering round. They picked a song and started without even waiting. Sir Sweet, Ploppy and DipDip sang lead.

Sir Sweet sang first.

We go together
Better than birds of a feather, you and me
We change the weather, yeah
I’m feeling heat in December when you’re ‘round me

Ploppy sang second.

I’ve been dancing on top of cars and stumbling out of bars
I follow you through the dark, can’t get enough
You’re the medicine and the pain, the tattoo inside my brain
And, baby, you know it’s obvious

DipDip joined in and all thirty of the Suitors all sang together, doing an elaborate dance routine on the beach, dicks swinging. Junelle watched with Dave and a chilled out Julio.

I’m a sucker for you
You say the word and I’ll go anywhere blindly
I’m a sucker for you, yeah
Any road you take, you know that you’ll find me
I’m a sucker for all the subliminal things
No one knows about you (about you) about you (about you)
And you’re making the typical me break my typical rules
It’s true, I’m a sucker for you, yeah

After a chorus, Junelle still looked bored and she cut them off.

“Sucker, by the Jonas Brothers, may their voices live on…” everyone intoned unhappily into their hands.

Without warning, Julio went ballistic and speared three more Suitors through the fucking hearts with his swirly purple horn. Then he stomped and snorted and tore off down the beach. For no reason at all.

“Wow,” said Dave, watching him go. “Unicorns are assholes.”

Everything is a work in progress.