Issue #7 of Polluto magazine arrives in a blood-smeared ballgown and seaweed tiara, kicks down the door, yelling "Fuckrrrrrs!" as it sprays the room with cartridges of No. 6 magnesium buckshot. Debutantes cough blood onto their dance-cards; malignant-looking shrimp-like creatures emerge from the sherry-trifle and scuttle across the buffet-table, nipping at random body-parts.
"Let that be a lesson to you," sneers Polluto, slamming fresh cartridges into the breech of its puntgun.
Its favourite lipstick is Iced Moocha by CharlieGirl tm.
As foretold on page 476 of the Zann-Matt MoHokey, Ish7 contains my short-story "The Making of True Confessional #7".
Soon as I get a comp. copy I'll post the cover in its full ultralurid glory.
Apparently, this issue contains: "...bone-crushing lovers; a cross-dressing hitman; the night-soil man of the gods and sex conditioning on squids; the dangerous desires of the diabolically large and the seductively small; body-swapping, gender-swapping, exploration, transcendence and re-incarnation; machines that are gods and machines that are cats..."
Come on, alt.lit.lover, you know you wanna...