THE SALSA DIARIES #9
We Built A Keanu Reeves Stimulator In My Mom’s Basement
We had fully embraced taking the red pill
It was meant to be a joke. A stoned-high that led to a preposterous proposition. The unthinkable was about to become a reality and all we needed was a test subject. We had invented the first-ever ‘Keanu Reeves Stimulating Stimulator’™ (KRSS).
Once built, we knew we were onto something. Our first test subject couldn’t wait to be stimulated. It was a full-body suit with buggery attachments and vibro options that glowed red when fully charged. The headset plugged directly into the ‘Keanu Neuro Landscrapper’™ that allowed the abused to be forced fed Keanu’s greatest movements in toileting history. The cut scenes of Ted taking a massive dump on-screen could be relived over and over again. Or the rarely seen and never quoted cinematic exposure of Keanu’s left nut in an Interview With A Vampire could also be reviled over and over again.
Eric was to be our one and only test case.
After witnessing the effects of the Keanu stimulator, we decided to shift the operation to the Chateau’s secret lab hidden in the lower levels. Deeper than the dungeon, the lab was only accessible via a series of elaborate handshakes, retina scans, and uncomfortable fingering. It contained a fully-enclosed living space and holding facilities that would make Fort Knox seem like a walk in the park. Every six months we would receive a coded message at a senior level to attend a presentation on the future of marketing. Some of the concepts were just too wild to even contemplate how the market would receive them.
Eric was jacked. His body twitched in a weird fashion. At random intervals he would scream “WE NEED GUNS! LOTS OF GUNS!” and then the drool would take over. A strange smile was perma-etched on Eric’s face. A cross between a grin and a grimace. We tried removing the headset but were alarmed when the display showed him flat-lining. It was never our intention to kill Eric even though he was acceptable collateral damage. No one liked that fucker.
The body-suit had melded to Eric’s skin. The wires fused in a steaming knot. What Eric had witnessed was too much for any person. The rabbiting stimulator continued to hammer his anus which made a loud squelch with every plunge. The smell alone was making me physically sick.
“Can we at least turn off the buggery device?” I asked, horrified that our cleaning bill would go through the roof.
Once the stimulator (and Eric) was secreted into the lab, we all vowed never to speak of this monstrosity again. I honestly had forgotten all about the KRSS machine that lay (hopefully) dormant somewhere in the Chateau. It wasn’t until Keanu invited me out for lunch that reminded me of our earlier experiment to stimulate the great Keanu’s more dreary life moments.
Apparently, Eric is still alive and living the Keanu dream.
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