Bippie, teenage heroin.

Teenage Jennie Jimson is a thief.  She is also a druggie.  The girl is even a w***e.  Put them together, thief and drug w***e, and you have your typical Bippie.  A Bippie that steals, adept at inter and intra-sexual communications and is not the type you want to take home to Mama.  This particular Bippie gets into that smelly stuff way, way over her head -- even communing with Gods….

***

Oh ... oh!  Yeeeeeaaah." Doggie shoved it in and shook like his namesake, fluid shooting into his Bippie. "Oh, man, 'at was good, b***h."  He collapsed, crushing teenage breasts against hairy barely-human epidermis.

"Yeah?  Okay.  Gimme my fix." Jennie Jimson, better known as Bippie, grunted.  

Doggie rolled off, removing a lice-infected hairy torso from her chest.

Scratching deflated genitals as though mollifying parasites, he reached into a drawer with his free hand, pulling out a fistful of tiny plastic envelopes.

"Here ya go, nuff fer five - six fixes."  He tossed them to a table as Bippie pulled up her shorts.  Neither had bothered to remove their shoes.

Silently, Doggie flopped back to the bed, asleep within seconds.

Also silently, the girl waited before quietly sliding the drawer back open. One eye on the pusher, she hurriedly filled both front pockets of reddish-colored shorts with what she thought was heroin.

Unknown to Bippie, it was partially the real stuff but mixed with a drug Doggie has stolen from his doctor's office while waiting for the physician to treat his crabs.  What the hell, he'd thought, it was free and looked like the baking powder he normally used to cut his product.

***

Feeling the shivering shakes coming on, Bippie couldn't even wait until leaving the building in the "Pretty Projects" to get her fix.  Using fire stairs, she stumbled down two levels before huddling behind and under the treads. Taking a kit from a back pocket, the teenager cooked and shot up.

The high she felt was particularly effective.  Colors, half of them unnameable, swirled in and around her cranium, lifting the teenager from the dirty concrete floor, through nearly-crumbling concrete walls and into smoggy clouds above busy streets outside.  

"Wheeeeeee!" she cried in ecstasy, feeling like a beautiful butterfly -- but still only a Bippie.

Although able to control herself laterally, she couldn't help her spirit rising at a steadily accelerating rate.  As the Earth receded into the distance, fading out of view, the fun seemed to go out of swishing around at random.  After all, she'd lost all frame of reference.

Time ceased to exist for Bippie.  The drugged journey to and through the stars seemed to go on forever.  She had no feeling of movement, her very existence in doubt.    

Then ... far above, she saw a flash of white -- like a cloud but in outer space.  ‘Strangerter and ‘strangester, she thought, seeming to waken as her astral body merged with whiteness.  Reaching out to shove it aside, the fluffy surface eased through questing fingers to block her vision.

Without warning or transition, Bippie emerged into a clear space, floating toward what appeared to be a solid surface -- solid because it held buildings.

Again excited, she swirled around for a while, exploring.  The surface held gold-colored streets between golden buildings.  Bippie was surprised to see herself being pulled toward one, the largest at several stories.  She landed gently next to a simple open doorway.

"Damn but this is strange s**t," she whispered to herself while trying to calm fluttering butterflies in her tummy.  Awed by the sights, she felt auspicious for the first time in years, since before beginning her career as a drug w***e.

Looking around, Bippie saw the only things around her were a golden street fading into white in one direction, and the doorway in another.  Shrugging but curious, she straightened her back and entered.

*

As though emerging from an invisible curtain, the inside consisted of a large white room filled with people.  She faced a businesslike counter, behind which were a half-dozen typical office workers.  Typical, that is, except for many of them wearing wings and halos.

My God!  I must be in heaven, Bippie thought.  That stuff IS good s**t.  Nobody else I know has floated more than a few feet off the ground.

"Name and year of death?"

"What?"  She looked back at the desk.  A handsome man stood facing her.

"I need your name, miss, and the year you died?"  A badge on his breast read, "St. Peter."

"Uh, Bippie ... I mean Jennie Jimson and I'm not dead.  I don't think so, anyway.  See, what it was is this fantastical heroi--"

"Line ten, Miss Jimson."  He pointed to a nearby desk, occupied by a human-sized rat.  A sign floating above it read, "Oddities and Unusual Admissions."

Not really having a choice, Bippie swallowed her revulsion and went over.  After all, this is only a dream, she thought and I’ve seen stranger creatures when under the influence.

"Have a seat, dear," the rat told her in a gentle female voice, pointing to a stool emerging from the floor.

Bippie was asked to give her real name again, waiting while the rodent consulted its computer files.

"You're expected by my boss, Miss Jimson." The rat twirled a whisker and gave her a warm smile.  "Please follow the green line."  Indeed, a pulsating green line appeared, leading from her seat to a door in the distance. "He's expecting you, so don't bother to knock.  You can't keep a god waiting, you know?"

God! Bippie thought. I'm actually going to see and talk to God Himself.  She couldn't believe it. Her legs were shaking so much as she followed the line that the girl almost fell to the floor.  Another chair emerged from that very floor as she tottered with sudden weakness, catching and carrying her in silence to the closed door.

Rising, Bippie had to pause for a moment, steadying herself as she stood before the nondescript entrance.  She took a deep breath, turned the handle and entered.

Inside, the girl saw another desk, one with a very large male rat sitting behind it.  That rodent glowed with a greenish light.

"Ah, my first oddity of the week.  Please come in, Miss Jimson ... please," the rat said.  A sign on his desk read, "The Supreme Rat."

"I -- I, well ... I expected to see God."

"I am God.  Well," he said, shrugging as he looked up at the ceiling, "one of the gods.  There are many of us, you know, although the elder human one is Supreme Supreme Supreme ad infinitum.  I'm one of the lesser, only one 'Supreme' gods."  He grinned.  "Don't laugh.  It's better than washing dishes in the cafeteria.  

“As a lesser god, I can still have fun with my powers.  Supreme Supreme Supreme gods need to be serious all the time.  I've been here since before Earth was formed and have yet to hear the human god laugh."

"We humans can laugh, though I seem to have lost the ability, myself," Bippie replied with a sigh, remembering her childhood in a nice family.  Before she discovered drugs.

"The High God doesn't run Earth.  He leaves that to his son, Jesus.  Jesus and I are great friends.  And, as for you, you don't have any sense of humor left.  It's been burned out by all those drugs and the stealing and fornicating you use to get them” He, in turn, sat back and sighed. "I can cure that.  It's what I do for a living."  He waved one hand at Bippie, a violet beam emerging to hit her in the left eye.  "There. From now on, illegal drugs will have no effect on you."

"I don't know, God, but--"

"You can call me S.R..  I can read your mind and you think life will be boring without drugging yourself and living that carefree lifestyle.  You don't want to settle down and marry some loser that beats you and your dozen kids.  I can understand.  Tell you what, young Jenn ... Bippie.  How would you like to be a superhero?"

"You mean like Superman?  Cool."

"The position of Superman has been taken by a guy named Kent.  Besides, I don't have the authority to change your sex.  That takes at least a Supreme Supreme rating.

He paused, rubbing his whiskers as he thought.

"Actually, most of the good superheros have been taken already.  Even spiders and blobs."  The Supreme rat turned to an old-fashioned filing cabinet to sort through manila folders.  He finally opened a couple, perusing them.  "What I can do is let you try some of the less popular super powers.  That should be a hoot for you and very entertaining for me as I watch and record."

"What does that mean, uh ... S.R.?"

"Let's see.... I watch Earth television programs like "Laugh-In."  That's where I recognize your name.  Tell you what.  Whenever you say 'Bet your sweet bippie,' you'll temporarily gain a unique superpower, at random.  

"It will last for two hours or until you repeat the phrase."  He grinned, showing rows of sharp golden teeth.  "Oh, and destroy all but one or two packets of that drug that brought you here.  That way, you can make a couple more visits to me if need be.  Don’t sell them or I’ll be flooded with stupid human addicts trying to mug me.  

“I'm busy enough as it is. I do have to settle disputes among  3,385,874 planets run by rodents, you know?  This is only a secondary job to help out my pal, Jesus.  And, you realize, there’s only one planet run by humans for Him to manage."

Grinning, the Supreme Rat casually waved a hand, sending Bippie back to her shelter under the fire stairs at Pretty Projects building #12.

***

Bippie blinked and rolled her eyes, trying to dredge a bit of sense into a surrealistic reality. She soon noticed the sound of footsteps coming down the stairwell from above.  As she struggled to gather her wits, the girl could see bare feet in front of her, a furry back emerging as Doggie thundered past and turned to storm down the next flight.

Oops! Bippie thought. He's noticed the drugs are missing.  She'd figured on having enough to last her for weeks and now she only had seconds to live.  "Too frickin' bad," she mumbled, again shaking like a leaf, "I can't really get out of this by saying bet my sweet bippie."

Hearing or sensing her, Doggie turned to glare between the treads.  Trying to stop on a dime, he slid, slamming into a wall hard enough to give himself a bruise the size of a quarter.  "Hey!" “Blam.” "Owwwww."  Raising both hands over his head, he charged back, growling like the rabid dog he was said to be.

Bippie, hearing his snarling begin, also heard it interrupted by her own "Boom" as she felt herself slam back into a corner, changing....

Water Woman emerged, flowing swiftly as she sought escape at the lowest level.  The fabulous fluid female slammed into Doggie like a tidal wave, washing him both figuratively and literally down eight flights of stairs with her in her escape.  

Screaming and thumping, his head hitting every third tread, Doggie slammed down the stairwell.  The noise woke several bums sleeping off a drunk on the third-floor landing, adding them and a dozen stolen wine bottles to the mix.

Settling into a large dirty puddle at the bottom, Water Woman managed to gurgle out, "Bet your sweet bippie," reforming back into a human.  Straightening her clothing, she found herself covered by stinking crud from Doggie and the drunks, while their skins shown pinkish from the forced bath.  Still confused, though grateful, the girl left through a fire door into the parking lot.  

Before leaving the Projects, Bippie dumped most of the stolen drugs into a trash can, then lit the metal container.  Strangely, she felt no emotion over losing a week's supply of pseudo happiness.

Far up in heaven, a trio of gods looked down and chuckled.  Who ever said gods can't enjoy themselves and laugh occasionally at our antics?

***

Bippie became a transformed young lady, her drugging years behind her.  It wasn't voluntary, though.  Sometimes she would find herself looking up old friends and pushers, trying to return to that first year when chemicals were new to her system and would push and pull her to ever more dizzying heights.  But, she found to her eternal consternation, nothing seemed to work anymore.  Even the most mouth-watering substances did nothing except make her throw up.

She still pulled a few tricks, enough to get money to pay her rent and buy enough nice clothing to apply for and acquire an honest job as a fast-food waitress.  In her changed state, she found herself drifting away from old friends.  Sober, the recently converted young lady recognized them as what they were, self-centered thieves that thought only of themselves and their next fixes; nothing at all of the future.

The transition wasn't all that abrupt. Tiring of slinging hamburgers to customers -- not to mention cleaning restrooms -- Bippie fell back on her new powers for both entertainment and riches.

A bright idea came from passing a dark alley after work.  Hearing a noise as she strode across the entrance, still in her McDilly uniform, she saw an old man being mugged by two young punks.  Ordinarily, Bippie would have kept going, it being none of her business.  What the hell, she thought, before muttering "Bet your sweet bippie."

With a sharp "Blam" and whoosh of expanding air, Brutal Barbie appeared.  Twenty-feet tall and built like a concrete crapper in the shape of a child's toy, the fantastical female apparition strode down the alley, drunken rats dropping tiny wine bottles to scurry out of her way.

Barbie glared down at the two punks, who appeared to her as bug-eyed dastardly piles of crap.  The huge female picked one up in each massive fist, ignoring a switch-blade knife.  

"For half your money, I'll dump this trash," she thundered down at the victim, a well-dressed gentleman.

"I -- I don't know, ma'am," he replied, looking upward.  "Why don't you just hold them a few minutes while I get away?  What's the difference if they rob me or you do it?"

"Rob you?  I'm trying to save your butt.  Why should I do it for nothing?"

"I'll give you $50 to leave us alone?" one of the muggers offered.

"Better than nothing," Barbie said, squatting to put the two down.

"Wait.  Wait a minute.  Please.  I'll double ... triple the offer,"  the gentleman replied.

"Two-hundred," the punk yelled.  "This fool owns that bar down the street.  He's loaded."

"Five hundred?  It's all I can afford, really it is,"  the businessman said, sobbing.  "I have to pay my waitresses."

Being a waitress herself, Bippie  thought it over.  "All right.  And you don't consider this a robbery ... DO YOU?"

"Oh, no,  No. No.  It's a business deal, tit for tat, you know?"

"It's a deal," Barbie said.  "Where do you want the trash?"

"I, uh," he said, looking around.  "I wonder if you can hit that dumpster at the other end of the alley?"  He considered possibly broken bones. “Maybe bounce the b******s off a wall first?”

"I can only try," Barbie said, chucking both screaming punks at the container. Only one went halfway in, the other missed, splattering on a wall instead.

Taking her $500, Barbie strode away for three blocks, almost stepping on an auto containing three lovers -- causing the lone goat inside to mess her panties -- before switching back to a Bippie.

***

Although sometimes thinking of returning to criminality,  Bippie tried to stay honest, living off fast-food wages and patrolling the town at night, looking for superhero jobs.  Since, in most part, she was saving other hourly workers and housewives, she didn't make much profit.  The girl was, however, gaining a large reputation in the news media -- the entire country wondering about her secret identity.

Her new career came to a head one night when two characters tried to rob the fast-food outlet while she was on duty.

Bippie happened to be working the front counter, standing next to a register when two rough-looking men came in. The dining area was almost empty except for a channel 12 mini-cam crew and Lotta Loverly, a news reporter.  The four were eating burgers and fries in a corner, almost out of sight, a remote camera lying on the table between them.

Walking up to the counter, the criminal types stopped in front of Bippie.

"Four double-burgers to go and all the money in your register," one said, showing the handle of a revolver sticking over his belt.

"You can bet your sweet bippie," she mumbled, waiting to change.  But she didn't.  Looking up at a mirror, the girl saw she appeared normal.  The only thing she could think to do was to give him the money.

Taking it from a cash register, she extended her arm out toward the robber.

Unknown to Bippie, she had changed, though not outwardly.  Also, the camera-woman, always ready for a good story, had sensed something was wrong -- maybe a change in the ambiance of the restaurant -- and turned on her camera.

All of the participants were surprised as Bippie, now Slick Sally, shot slippery slime from all ten fingertips, spraying the stuff in all directions, including down the front of the robber's trousers, causing the gun to fall through and down his leg.  

Slamming onto the floor, it fired, hitting his companion in the thigh.  In reflex, the other thief’s open switchblade jerked forward, slamming into the gunman's butt.  Both tried to run, half-sliding across the floor, one into a doorway, the other into the reporter's table -- giving her an action shot of his face approaching as it banged nose-first into the camera lens.

The restaurant manager had called the police, who chose that moment to come in.  They, too, slipped and slid around the floor, bouncing off criminals, tables and the reporter.  

The entire scene, beginning to end, had been broadcast live to the studio, which hurriedly edited it for an upcoming news show.  That film clip became the sensation of the year, a classic making old Mack Sennett’s Keystone Kops seem as serious as Miami Vice.

It also made Bippie a star.  Eventually, she was to get her own Channel 12 action show where watchers never knew what power she’d come up with for each show.

Heaven also has a copy.  Sometimes, especially when the Supreme Rat, Jesus, and Buddha get together for a few drinks, S.R. will pull it out for another hilarious showing.  You can bet your sweet Bippie about that.

The End.
By Oscar Rat, the only rat writer on the Internet.
(With very little help from my buddy, hvysmker.)