Uncle Larry was casually shopping at Cumberland Farms for various sundries when he noticed Phyllis near the refrigerated (yet inexplicably open) food bunker that contains the eggs, yogurt and milk. Tall, tan and curvy, Phyllis' sang-froid way with her blue plastic shopping basket and her insouciant interest in the merchandise had caught Uncle Larry's eye.

"Excuse me..." Uncle Larry said as he tapped Phyllis lightly on the shoulder, "Could you please help me get that half-gallon of Moose-Tracks ice cream from the top shelf of the freezer?" Phyllis turned and smiled at Uncle Larry as she set her basket down by the selection of peanut butter she was perusing. "Of course," she said as she continued to smile brightly, "I bet its hard to reach all the way up there with that marine-grade rubber leather enclosure suit on."

"It sure is," Uncle Larry said as he pulled open the freezer door, "and you can't imagine how hard it is to get the container open with these gloves!" Phyllis laughed casually as she stood on her tip-toes to reach the top shelf of the freezer. "I'll bet!" she said and she grunted slightly as her fingertips strained for the carton of Moose Tracks above her head, "and I'll bet that the zipper in that mask of yours just won't..." But her words were abruptly cut off as Uncle Larry clamped his hand over her mouth and grabbed her tightly around the waste, quickly scanning the store to see that none of the other customers or employees had seen him grab the woman.

Phyllis struggled somewhat, but before she could scream she was quickly shoved between the shelving into the holding freezer behind the racks of displayed frozen food items. Uncle Larry crawled through directly behind her and quickly pulled out a roll of duct tape as the opaque glass door swung shut behind them with its dull airtight thud. Phyllis struggled weakly again among the cans of frozen concentrated orange juice and bags of ice as her hands and feet were securely taped together. The heavy layers of silver tape with which her wrists and ankles were now bound rendered her utterly helpless, and she could barely move on the cold metal floor.

Once she was secured, Uncle Larry stood up slowly and deliberately. He towered over her like a coruscating goatskin shadow of subjection, now seeming larger and more menacing than he had earlier in the bread aisle. As he ajusted his glistening and well-oiled leather body rig, polished chrome turnbuckles, and matching studded and zippered face-mask, Phyllis could hear the leather crackle ever so slightly, (a light crackle like the sound of paper being crumpled), due to the the freon-enhanced atmosphere of the industrial grade refrigerator.

Uncle Larry began to walk back and forth slowly and deliberately now, removing a book from a zippered leather pocket on his left thigh. Phyllis was shaking as he pointed his rubber-coated finger directly at her. "Nobody in the store saw us climb in this freezer," he said, "and the person who stocks the ice cream is on his lunch break. So don't worry my dear... we won't be disturbed."

It was then that Phyllis cringed, physically and mentally, as Uncle Larry began quoting in muffled leather tones from a book she did not yet comprehend. "There is no devil and no hell." said he. "Thy soul will be dead even sooner than thy body: fear therefore, nothing any more! Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit." He paused, and glanced at Phyllis as she writhed on the floor.

"What... what are you doing?," she begged, "please, I just came here for some Gatorade and a pack of Marlboro Ultra-Lights menthol... I have no idea what the rudimentary philosophical significance of that passage is..." Again Phyllis struggled weakly against the duct tape on her wrists.

Uncle Larry pushed aside a crate of frozen hot-dogs with his left foot and leaned down to stare into her green, doe-like eyes: "This, you erudite strumpet, is entitled 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra', or, in the original German, 'Sprach Zarathustra, Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen.' It was written by my old friend, the wonderful Nineteenth Century German philosopher Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche." He reached down for her long blond hair and pulled it back with a adamantine jerk. "I said Sprach Zarathustra, Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen... you academically emaciated tureen."

"Ohhh" she moaned suppositional beatitude. Although the book he was reading from was obviously quite antagonistic to the archetypal Judeo-Christian doctrine, and although she had no idea what a tureen was, the premonitory and lyrical style of both were starting to drive her mad with desire. Uncle Larry continued: "In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love. And even in woman's conscious love, there is still always surprise and lightning and night, along with the light. As yet woman is not capable of friendship: women are still cats, and birds. Or at best, cows. As yet woman is not capable of friendship. But tell me, ye men, who of you are capable of friendship?"

Phyllis moaned again and was ashamed to admit, even to herself, that she was getting turned on. Even in the cold of a Cumberland Farms walk-in freezer unit she was beginning to physically shake, not with the sub-zero temperatures, but with a hot carnal greed as she realized that, like Nietzsche, she was now on the very borders of established cultural conformity and routine. "You like that, don't you, my filthy, dirty little demimondaine?" Uncle Larry said. "You love your mind being filled with what I will it to be filled with. Tell me, who does your mind, your very intellect, belong to now?"

"You sir," she said as she averted her eyes in the direction of the Häagen-Dazs bars.

Uncle Larry nodded his head in procreative approbation. "Very well. Now, do you adequately understand the concepts as I have read them to you? For your sake, I hope you do."

"I... I... I think so sir." she replied sheepishly. "But frankly I don't understand all the allegory that is involved, especially concerning animals."

Uncle Larry suddenly rolled her over with one foot, pulled out his carrot-toned riding crop and brought it down across her Jordache Jeans covered buttocks with felicitous resolve. Phyllis flinched and squealed with inextricable pleasure.

"You uncultivated beeotch!" he barked, "It's a metaphor! Not an allegory! And Nietzsche's metaphors are in the spirit of pre-Socratic naturalist principles, which often invoke animals or forces of nature. In this case, it is to assist in vividly describing the foundation of spiritual maturation of Zarathustra!" He brought the riding crop down again. Her buttocks were beginning to quiver and sting in the sub-zero temperatures caused by the rhythmic vapor compression cycle in the refrigerator's cooling system. "He seeks a justification for recognized moral principles in the baser regions of our true animal nature!"

Uncle Larry turned the page and continued: "Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman- a rope over an abyss. What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an over-going and not a down-going." Uncle Larry paused again, distracted by Phyllis, who's moaning had become louder. He lifted the riding crop high above his head and delivered another stinging blow across her tremulous posterior.

"Ohhh!" she cried in sapient ecstasy, "I think I understand! Is not Nietzsche envisioning a mode of existence that is somehow psychologically stronger and more meaningful than the common human reality?"

"Bah. You over-simplify, you pedantic demirep." Uncle Larry then pinched Phyllis' supple pectoral muscles and corresponding connective tissue with relish as he leaned down to her ear: "That's enough of your back-talk," he whispered, and he attached a ball gag around her head with a solitary and reflective gesture. "Nietzsche is referring to a higher mode of being, you sagacious floozy. He outlined the importance of social arrangements and interactions in the development of human forms of awareness and activity, and moreover upon the possibility of the development of extraordinary human beings suited to an independence and creativity that would elevate them beyond the level of the general human standard. This is the 'superman' that he mentions."

He glanced at her and he could visibly see her excited state. "Nietzsche stressed the difference between this 'higher form', and the so-called 'herd-animal form', as a doctrine directed towards the greatest of humans, ones who can love life in its entirety; and from this spiritual standpoint, defeat a debilitating human perspective that prevents us from achieving this higher overall existence." Again his cerise riding crop struck home.

She moaned again with conspicuous pleasure, but she was now unable to reply in her gagged state. Uncle Larry set the riding crop gently on a nearby box of frozen mixed vegetables, turned, and then purposefully pulled out his copy of 'Beyond Good And Evil' while simultaneously reaching for a nearby package of ham and cheese Hot Pockets and a chocolate Nutty Buddy.

"Now, let's see how you like these little items..." he murmured as he approached her menacingly.
CONTINUED WITH MEMBERSHIP...