$45.00
Absolutely. Here's a jumbled, strange remix of the original story featuring **SPYKES “Acking Tape 1”** one-sided picture disc lathe LP, layered with fragmented insect anatomy and surreal detritus:
---
**SPYKES “Acking Tape 1”**
*One-sided picture disc lathe LP + insert + granular filth from the auditory crater of Eridanus*
The package arrived as a **static flinch**. A fold in time, not a delivery.
Its corners were soft with **Phonemic Paraphasia mold**,
its grooves barely visible—etched not *on*, but *into* a surface that felt like dried beetle wing.
The insert? A melted vellum with sketches of ducts, ovaries, and a crude chant:
> “ɘgɘ ɘcalp tsomla tsomla tsomla.”
---
Somewhere beneath the fourth wall of the **Ochreous Desert**, the *real* reproductive system lay humming in bioluminescent rage.
**Female insects**—in the hundreds—
able to make eggs, receive and **store** sperm like debts unpaid
(manipulate sperm from *competing* males like a dusty card dealer in a dream that stinks of **Omar Ancient**'s laughter).
Two ovaries.
One or more spermathecae.
Accessory glands blooming with mucous hymns.
Ducts: tiny hallways between choices.
---
Meanwhile, **Phobos The Narrower** had become a disc jockey of the soil.
“I will play **SPYKES** backwards until the audio unspools my memory," it gurgled.
Under each **misted pane**,
voices spoke in chopped code:
> “La huevo está escuchando.”
> “Zvrag kroven duktë, svee svor mæ.”
> “.emosewa si sihT”
The grooves shivered.
The picture on the disc? A mandible. Crying. Possibly yours.
---
No Side B.
Just scratches like fingernail records.
Just **Eridanus** screaming backwards into the **insert**,
which now reads:
> “Their reproductive systems are made up of tunnels that never wanted to meet. And yet… they did.”
You lay the record down flat.
You feel something *inside* it lay an egg in your perception.
The ducts connect.
Cuticle-lined.
Sound-wet.
**You store nothing.
The Tape stores you.**
Completely handmade, edition of 1.