In the year of our Lord 2007 the Golden Goddess rose from the glittering metropolis of Los Angeles, spread her legs and the hordes of humanity lapped at the nectar of her golden celebrity. To go inside her was to receive the ultimate blessing, to know her intimately as she whispered in your ear, "I love you, darling!"
This was the new American dream, and you either chased it or tried to tear it down, but you did not escape it.
Her rise began innocently enough when a street urchin of nine, spotting an easy target, swiped an iPhone from a nurse waiting for the Metro Express bus. The nurse, a first-generation American, thoroughly overwhelmed by the purchase of her new iPhone, had not put securities in place, nor had she bought insurance for the thing should it get lost. She only anticipated the impression the purchase would have on her grandson and fantasize all day on how much fun they would have together as he helped 'set her up,' to use this technical marvel she knew she would never fully understand.
The nurse didn't even notice the small hand slip in and out of her oversized purse until she was walking into the nurses' station, eager to show the other nurses. That was the beginning of a very bad day for the nurse. Losing something of such value was unforgivable.
The street urchin, on the other hand, was enjoying the thrill of his early morning success and tramped straight into Rodeo Drive. The street urchin spotted the goddess standing in the half shadow of Rolex. The long black hair, the exotic eyes hidden behind Celine shades, the voluptuous body with the heart-shaped chest and bottom arrested the urchin.
"What a goddess," the child mumbled and snap a picture from the iPhone.
The universe above and below, seeing its little creation giving reverence to another stronger being, took notice. Charmed by the admiration of a child the beautiful woman stopped, smiled and posed; and like a little rain in a parched desert, the woman grew more beautiful still and more vibrant; and the Calabasas sun took notice and shined a little brighter and cast a gentle dusting of gold on her skin.
Well, that's what we tell the people, but of course, the machinery of mankind played its part, a big part. Pretty soon a charm of cameras followed her, and the flashing bulbs were to the mini goddess like kisses and more beautiful still she grew.
When the Eye of the Great Machine focused its gaze and the whole world learned of her existence and thus the great Golden Goddess was born.
Today the Goddess is the size of an amusement park, reclining on her haunches, sighing and moaning, legs aways in the birthing position. She dominates the intersection of Hollywood Blvd and Highland Ave. The veins and arteries of L.A. have been rerouted because gas powered vehicles are not allowed near her. People must walk. Others bike. The rich take small portable hover-crafts strapped to their feet. And they come in droves.
Not everyone is a fan of the Golden Goddess. Folks displeased came from all over the world, and some shout, "Whore!" and carry signs and even throw rocks. But her fans always outnumber her haters. They create a human shield to protect her.
On Saturdays, our holiest of days, the general scene at the forefront of the Goddess is one of perpetual festivities. Street vendors sell extra long and extra succulent hot dogs, nachos, and pizza with a lot of meat to hungry families eager to gorge themselves on the famous L.A. street fare. Goddess inspired merchandise of tight designer jeans, revealing crop tops, handbags, sunglasses, and jewelry are sold to the incoming young girls dreaming of their own emergent goddess. So many in the local industry of Goddess look-alikes, spending their days working greater Los Angeles, attending parties, working the nightlife, and generally making money any way they know how.
For the more romantic visitors, white greek style gowns similar to the goddess workers can be bought, complete with gold leaf crowns, strappy sandals, and fake gold jewelry.
At the base of her sun-kissed thighs, families mill about to enjoy every aspect of her divine body. A day pass will gain you entrance to all her golden wonders. A favorite is the tube ride which tours all the major organ, circling once around her womb before gently depositing the riders into the main nectar pool between her legs. Children race up to her top, perched in her throat, they take little boats in singles and in pairs down her Mouth Slide, screaming with glee all the way to the bottom, or they take the "Fun Shoot" out Breast A or B in a splash of warm milk to land in the wading pool on her tummy.
The bubble pool in her stomach is a favorite for the sick and elderly. They wade around, hunched over, absorbing the powers of the gastric juices. Old men experience erections, their first in decades, and grope their wives under the surface.
Lovers climb the labial stairs, on either side, to take pictures "kissing at the clit" and they rub it for good luck. I've once seen five couples squeeze in for a very ambitious picture, all rubbing excitedly the golden pleasure button. The great head of the Goddess slowly dipped back, her long black hair covering the highway, and a thunderous moan split the air. We were lucky that day. She doesn't often move, but occasionally she does.
She also draws the depressed folks, the artists, and the mystics. Desperately obsessed men latch on to her golden flesh, hugging her and crying, remembering some lost feeling of maternal love. They like to lurk along the eolian harps constructed between the web of calf and thigh. When the wind comes blowing down the mountains, lovely music is heard all through the Goddess.
In the shade of her long dark hair, some folks even come go to die, for the end always seems to be coming near.
The heart of Hollywood had to be redesigned because of Golden Goddess. The redirecting of the highways caused many prominent businesses to leave. The top employers like the hospitals and the major motion picture companies had to move to make way for Golden Goddess related business.
Just a few miles away from her Golden Divinity creeps the inhabitants of Skid Row. Her rise was the new drug and her cult swept the street giving new hope to those living in poverty. But then the hope largely died down. But for some, just seeing her golden glow against the dark of night is a comfort. Wherever you go in Skid Row, there she is, the benevolent mother shining down. She lives in perfect bliss and some get a feeling of bliss just looking at her. Others turn away in disgust, alone in their despair, they curse her name, waiting for her fall.
