MYTHOLOGY: Wonder Woman

by Steve Katz

 

Wonder Woman was a dike, but she was nice. If she hadn't been a dike she might have been nice, but she wouldn't have been Wonder Woman, and vice-versa. Of all the interesting stories about Wonder Woman, the most delightful is the tale of how she ended the war in Vietnam. When she started to end it it wasn't over but when she was through it was finished. Except nobody believed a dike could end the war. They went on killing like the bunch of rowdies they believed in. Finally everybody was crowded into the bloodshed till there was no one left on earth except Wonder Woman and one slow-moving little squirt with asthma. She met him on the road, where you meet everyone these days in case of emergency. He was trying to push his car uphill at a total stalemate when Wonder Woman surprised him.

 "What's the big idea, buster," she intoned.

 The car slid backwards into a warehouse of surplus feathers. "I'm not very anxious," he said.

 "You're the last man here on earth so you should be bawling your ass off."

 "You too should be weeping, for you are the last woman on earth as far as is imaginable." He leaned on the shoulder of the freeway.

 "If you want to have the straight goop, I'm Wonder Woman, the dike." She blew on her wristlets. "But why do you insist on pushing around that old jalopy, when here for the asking are all these Cadillacs and Chaparrals?"

 "My analyst is dead," he roared.

 "Just hop in and drive one of them away, and don't bother me."

 "There's no place I want to go. It's death, death, everywhere death. All the people are dead as doornails. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

 "At least the traffic is light. Haw Haw." Wonder Woman fixed her comb and prepared to leave.

 "I guess I could drive East through Canada. I always wanted to drive East through Canada, and why not? It's a beautiful country and a friendly place. Thank you for the wonderful idea, Wonder Woman." He reached a long arm out and dragged himself over to a solid blue Mercedes 300 and tipped out the ex-driver. The motor gurgled when he hit the switch.

Wonder Woman split for elsewhere. She visited the hangouts of her old consorts: Cynthia the Sphincter was dead, as were Julie and Fatty and Leslie the Mars Bar. She went to Pittsburgh. She headed for Santa Cruz. She got to Albany. She hit Moose Jaw. She stopped in Philly. She took in New York City. She crossed to Budapest. Copenhagen was empty. Damascus was empty. Kuala Lumpur was through. The little wheezer had been right. She journeyed to New Delhi. She hit Kyoto in the spring. She left for Singapore. She hustled to Djakarta. They all were dead. Everyone was dead. She decided to take in a movie. Best of all was a revival of the old blue whisker comedies, which she took in with a cup of buttered pop corn that tasted disturbingly fresh. Without her cohorts she fell into a fit of depression. Then she saw an airplane overhead and shot it down in her excitement. Luckily there was nobody aboard except for one newspaper. The flyer read TALK BUYS MUD FLACK and the headlines, REVERSE PUMP MURTY. The mention of Pump Murty kept Wonder Woman's chin up. "So," she thought. "Even at the end the old guy could wrap a rice patch."* Then she fell into a fit of depression. All around her heavy machinery was hanging out as if it had a contract to work. "For naught. For naught. For naught," she sighed and then hopped onto a Caterpillar D8 and started pushing everything aside until she uncovered the remains of a familiar solid blue Mercedes. She rolled it over and over down a side street. Poor little guy. "Fuck ambition," she screamed, standing up and waving her arms around. Suddenly the bulldozer veered out of control into a huge man-made wall which toppled on top of her knocking her for a loop, and squooshing her down in a pit or depression. When she came to she wasn't herself but was being cared for by a slowpoke with asthma. "There now," he said. "You had quite a seizure."

 "Where am I?" Wonder Woman queried. And what kind of special clothing is this?"

 "You are Wonder Woman, the last dike on earth," said the slow one. "Admired and esteemed by the whole world, which is me."

 "Chubby chance of that, you handsome stud, you fistful of nuts," and she threw her weakened arms around his neck. He mopped her lecherous brow with droplets from a nearby rivulet. She began to sigh and swivel. He worked on her clothes with a hacksaw till they fell apart like a shutter. He was staring at the last cunt on earth. He untied from his leg the last cock on earth and when she saw it she sizzled. "Do something filthy dirty right away."

 "But you're Wonder Woman, the dike," he slobbered, holding his cock at arm's length. Just then she passed a sonorous and intoxicating flatus that drugged them into an ecstatic embrace, pumping and sucking like it was the end of the world. He wondered if she was still Wonder Woman if she wasn't a dike, but was so nice. She cooked his dinner and mended his sock and then they started to have babies, and the babies they had were made of gold.

 *special dike talk or professional dyke jargon.