"Well," he said, pulling Anna up from a final ladder rung. "I guess it’s too late to change my mind. The show must go on. No better place for inspiration than this creepy old place."
"Yeah, and we’re still going skydiving after this? You know, so I can get some inspiration for my—"
"Sure, whatever, I’m a man of my word, babe. Right now, you’re here for what we’re experiencing in the present. Help me make the first choice. Left or right door?"
Her head moved left, right, left, right. This enhanced the atmosphere, he reckoned. Definitely a moment he’d put in his story. Readers loved sidekick girlfriends with goofy demeanors.
"Uh, the right one," she finally said.
"Left it is." He laughed and kissed his marginally larger-than-average bicep. "Remember the first lesson of my survival guide; disappointment is a necessary learning experience."
"That was a fucking short story," she said, "and didn’t it get ripped apart by a bunch of YouTubers or something?"
"Sweetheart, you’re not here for your ideas. Just keep providing moral support, and tell me if you see anything scary that I miss. My eyes aren’t what they once were."
"Like two years ago when you were twenty-three instead of twenty-five?"
He shouldered the left door open, then gestured for her to enter. "Yeah, pretty much. This’ll do. Someone important must’ve used this ship. Christ, look at how big that bed is. A royal couple probably slept here. How about we, uh, recreate history here?"
"How about you, uh, go fuck yourself. Have fun in the bedroom. I’m going through the other door."
Anna sashayed out slamming the door behind her before Jacob processed her insult. He shrugged, cracked his knuckles, and lay back on the bed, imagining Madonna in her prime. Jacob had no problem giving himself the old rug-a-tug, the chugga chugga choo train that stopped at self-love station. He scrolled up his music playlist just for these moments, on his phone.
"That’s what I’m talking about," he said once the song loaded. “Come And Get Your Love” blasted in the room echoing off the walls. He snaked his hand into his underwear, gripped his penis, gave it a squeeze for good measure, and replaced Madonna’s head with Anna’s. In his mind, he caressed her breasts while she cooed in his ear. Older Madonna slipped into the picture. He supposed he didn’t mind; he just needed a bag over that plastic surgery face.
His free hand dug into the sheets. In another life, he probably would have dated Madonna instead. Granted he owned a time machine. A moan slipped his lips, and then another hand joined his, pushed his aside, and started working magic he’d never experienced before.
"Holy shit," he said, eyes closed against the pulsating ecstasy. "Damn, you’ve gotten better at that. I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me. Oh, you’re definitely getting a birthday present this year."
Heat flared at the base of his penis.
"Ow, damn, bitch, watch the nails. It ain’t replaceable."
The pain intensified. Warm, thick liquid dripped onto his underwear. Blood. He sat up and screamed, greeted not by Anna, but a husk of a half-rotten face. Maggots had set up camp in her nostrils and eye sockets.
"Get off my dick, you ugly fuckin’ bitch. Anna, help!"
Anna did not arrive, however she would have found nothing but a disheveled Jacob if she were within earshot. The lady simply raised a rotten finger, mouthed the word "naughty," and exploded into dust. Scrambling off the bed, he pulled up his pants. When the demon-thing didn’t reappear he ran off after Anna.
An hour later he still hadn’t found Anna, yet her voice called out around every corner. He must’ve walked around the entire ship four or five times with a persistent itch terrorizing his genitals. He alternated between a stiff-legged shuffle and walking with both legs spread apart as far as possible. Neither solution provided relief. The latter had unstuck his sweaty balls from his thighs many a time in the past.
"Anna," he cried out while he passed a gray freezing room.
"Oh, sweetie, come, come," a voice light as the wind said.
Anna turned a corner and threw her hands up in exasperation. Her voice did not sound like the breathy one that called for him. He swallowed hard. Anna reached for his hand, then pulled him into a full embrace instead. Her usually cloying perfume raised goosebumps on his arms.
"Jeez, you’re shaking like a wet puppy, are you okay?"
"I think so, I’m ready to go home. I think I’ve gotten inspiration."
"Me too. Let’s go home, babe."
The duo walked down the hall, hand in hand.
After an hour, Jacob was convinced they hadn’t left the room. The hallway went on in an infinite loop, a closed system where the exit was the entrance and vice versa, and woe unto all who entered and sought a return to anything which wasn’t a dull fucking room where his balls ached and felt like they were freezing off.
"Jacob," Anna said on their fiftieth loop. "This is your fucking fault. Ew, can you keep your hand off your dick for five minutes?"
"It hurts, bitch, you probably gave me the clap."
"Oh, I’m the reason you’re hurting down there? Grow up."
"I’m sorry." he let out a high-pitched whine, "but, seriously, it really fucking hurts, baby."
"You better knock this shit off, and save the blue balls bit for a different day."
He stopped and screamed. "Goddamnit, This isn’t about sex. My dick feels like it’s burning. Something’s wrong."
"Whatever, I’m not your mom. Don’t expect me to change your diaper."
"What the hell has gotten into you?"
"You, far too many times.” Her jaw grew taut.
A door swung open behind them leading to the bedroom where Jacob’s genital woes began. They exchanged a glance before Anna shook her head and ran through the exit. It slammed shut behind her. It didn’t bother him, not one bit. He was a natural born survivor built for the harshest environments. He nodded in agreement with himself.
He’d be just fine. He’d probably be out of the maze while she’d still be wandering around in circles.
Wherever Anna went, she took the whole exit with her, because three hours later Jacob was nauseous from walking in circles still. He slid against a wall, poked his ginger penis, and yelped when he felt skin flake off. Might as well go all the way, he thought. One last hurrah before he lost everything over a story that would never even get written.
He shoved his hands in his pants and tugged on his penis against the head-splitting agony. Madonna made one last appearance in his mind. And then in reality. He blinked rapidly. She was still there; so was the fantasy of Anna. And despite the absurdity of the situation, he only perpetuated it by continuing to stroke his dick.
"Oh, you sweet fool," Madonna said, who wasn’t Madonna at all, but a blonde woman with a rack. "Your lady will be in good hands, and you’ll have plenty of fun here. Until I make sure this wreck is dismantled and your soul never sees another ray of light again. Until then, enjoy your new life in death."
Maggots tore through his urethra before he could utter a response. He fell over and screamed until his throat was too raw to make more noise. Not-Madonna slipped into Anna like she was a pair of shoes.
"Don’t worry, babe, the bleeding out only takes about ten minutes. Now, I’ve got a life to take over.”