2 Cont'd

The siren Zucchini was genuine to the point of being bawdy. The words she spoke were earnestly philanthropic in intent and consequently made those common knowledge quotations all the more spectacularly prurient.
Now remember people, that this was a dream. She really was a darling of a vegetable and in the context of the lucid reverie the scenario was not the least bit odd or peculiar. Those of you familiar with these sorts of commandeering hallucinations understand that my-fantastical-self was prisoner of biochemistry. Any attempts to control or pilot the imagination would’ve precariously compromised the pleasantries I was vividly enjoying; experience told me so. The flickering of my erudite consciousness waned smartly, acquiesced, and enabled me to become captivated in my sub-conscious confines. In this manner I became a willing inmate to my dominatrix zucchini siren.
Anyway, sorry for the tangential detour. Back to the story. Ahem. Dream. She wheeled around regally to face me, her imaginary invisible robes and pneumatics breezed my face. Again, immediately, I became intoxicated with her flavor. She gazed at me with benevolent smiling eyes, extended her fertile hand and dotingly said:
“Come!”
Leaning forward I began to rise, my shirtless perspiring back slowly liberating itself from the pleather La-Z-Boy trap. THHHHHHHHHHIP. I touched the vegetable goddess’ tender fresh palm smirkingly,
“Gladly.”
Ecstasy collided with revulsion, a techni-color embrace of night and day in the afternoon twilight. I was blissfully being stretched in all directions simultaneously enamored and disgusted with pleasure and pain. I could see nothing and feel everything. Her gentled hand still held mine in meaningful assurance.
At first the noise was faint, but gradually it climbed the rungs of the decibel ladder eventually attaining zenith. It was a symbiotic chorus of chloroplastic voices, an abhorrently heinous orchestral multitude vehemently chanting their quasi-song in Shakespearian meter:

"It is all said and done,
Loyal phalanges uncomfortably numb.
Grateful farewell cellular collective,
Rendered coursing iron ineffective.

Dull eyes for this journey,
Throw me on the cold steel gurney."

…Sketch…

"Loving scalpels and sterile pliers,
Unleash the hounds upon that liar.
Find in me that fateful slug,
In that wound attempt a plug.

Promiscuous pundit hampering my head,
These moments are inexplicably dead."

…Base odious bilge…

"From this blow I’m still reeling,
Doctors and Nurses further the healing.
They say back to the beginning time to restart,
Approach bountiful sea with guarded heart."

I convulsed in manic horror spasms, the rubbish plant orchestra continued the defecating sonic insolence. Obscenity cascaded voluminously from my lips like Niagara but left no mark. Darkness followed, the hand remained. The darkness was pervasive but I drew perseverance from her steadfast presence amidst the sonic bedlam. The words were ugly, course as sea salt. The choir became lethargic, the active contribution to the atrocity halted, reverberations from the shadow beyond me were all that remained.

The death of the iniquitous chant coincided proportionally with the growing luminosity of the area. By the time the last sound waves broke upon the grains of time, the whole space was ablaze in dairy white light that reflected exponentially off of the polished tile floor.