I hate it so much. I was meant to be a poet, an artist, a writer. Anything. Not a factory worker. And I hate the fucking. And I detest the fucking men...who fuck me! They’re such beasts! Worse even than the men in Buggery. At least they enjoyed what they were doing!” Tracey wept with Buttercup, acutely distressed by her lover’s own distress. She looked at Zeta imploringly. “This working in factories isn’t doing Buttercup any good at all. It’s fucking killing her. Isn’t there anything else we can. Morna was standing across from the warehouse area by the rear entrance. She motioned for me to hurry, but I couldn’t help glancing back into the store. Her double was now standing beside of Mister Nasty helping him select some Grapefruit. I was snickering to myself as I walked out the back to catch up with Morna. What the hell was going on? At some point, a soft-sided duffle had been placed in the back of the truck. I assumed it contained Morna’s things. I noticed it, but didn’t say anything.. More

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