This new report concerns an incident which occurred on one of the forbidden planets (unnamed because in some circles just the mentioning of this revolving poo-clod of a planet is considered actionable with extreme prejudice by the intergalactic judicial system.)
Also, while this story comes from a usually reliable source, he/she/it wishes to remain anonymous; and, in order to better hide his/her/its identity has been forced to thwart the laws of the space time continuum and bury the report beneath a rock some five thousand years before the present era, under the Cheops Pyramid, to be found and reported upon today.
Dear readers, there is at last some scant news of the most untalked about piece of demented humanity in the universe, that ball of slime which taints all and sundry, that devil’s codpiece-
(Allow me to take this break here to deliver this warning: his name needs no mentioning, and anyway, while I might eventually write his name, I think it best to warn you beforehand in case you decide for your own safety and the safety of your loved ones to go no further in this story. Believe me, we will understand, having myself experience just a modicum of the person in question’s wrath.)
Now continuing with the sentence. You can stop here if you feel the need to insulate yourself.
-and it is some mildly good news (no, he’s not dead; not that good). He has at least been spotted again, and he is apparently much weaker than before, forced to depend on a body-fluid robot to maintain his existence, possibly leaving him open to another, hopefully successful, assasination attempt.
As stated, the event occurred on a planet near the top of the list of the most forbidden lands within the Wormhole System; a location awash with the vilest of creatures, a place where mayhem not only prevails, but is, in fact, an important part of the society’s canon law.
However, just because madness and mayhem may be the rule there, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of the sort of day to day business going on on this particularly unpleasant little trailer park of an orb that can be found on most planets.
As you might expect, the place is populated almost exclusively by the greasiest, wormiest, most despised forms of scoundrels, murderers, extortionists, smugglers, kidnappers, and a surprising number of political bastards who are also cannibals- basically the dregs of the universe; all, or rather almost all, on the run for their crimes, and using this stinky little hellhole as their hideaway, secure in the knowledge that even the boldest of bounty hunters prefer to stay away from this particular planet… because of one man. (You know to whom I am referring.)
The report, written in ancient Egyptian to further bury the identity of the person writing it, begins with a brief description of the society of the planet; and states that, despite its reputation, the planet is given to a robust economy of sorts; prostitution thrives, as might be expected, drug dens, and all kinds of bars, of course, are very prevalent. Interestingly, the document goes on to say, the religion business is pretty big there too; lots of people seem to be concerned either about the final fate of their soul, or maybe it could be just because of the tax benefits, the article doesn’t say exactly).
As the author describes, this little incident occurred in a dive known as Blowbug’s Beer Bar, a favorite hangout of the most infamous resident of the planet, the main character of this report; the one who’s name I have been trying to avoid repeating for my own protection.
(If you have been keeping up with the annals of space time travel, you have a good notion of just who I am referring to, and you may be feeling a cold shiver running up your spine).
The writer describes the tender of the bar, known simply as Sam, as one of the largest men you could ever imagine, coming in at eight foot tall and just under one half ton of muscle, bone, and just plain meanness; he is known for his violent temper and his hobbies of intergalactic extortion, severe maiming, cannibalism, and murder, of course- a misdemeanor on this particular planet.
According to his reputation, this Sam has crushed the heads of a number of people just for forgetting to tip him; and lord help you if you spilled a little beer on his bartop.
This document states that it mentions this particular bartender, not because he is anyone you should ever consider getting to know, but rather to give you some comparative idea about the one fellow in the universe this monster fears- not that anyone familiar with the tales of X (that’s what I decided to call him) needs any comparative examples to understand the scope of the power of the man in question, the Presiding Master of intergalactic Travel.
X, who over the past two months or so, been, in fact, his bar’s only customer; having either mutilated, murdered, or banished to some hell of his own design all the others; and who happened at the time of this incident to be seated at the bar, as he usually was at this time of the day, enjoying his favorite pint of stout.
This savage of a man, this monster, seated as he was on the bar stool across from the bartender is described as an unshaven little pixy of a man in a funny hat, smoking a pipe, with a wry grin who could be anyone’s grandfather. He is only four foot three or so, and weighs around ninety five pounds in his stocking feet, and is so weak that he is unable to live on his own without his constant companion and best bud, a heavily-used reconditioned body-fluid robot, which is seated as usual, on the bar stool beside him.
Yes, this is the most powerful individual in the entire cosmos. (Certainly, dear reader, I do not need to give his real name. By now, everyone should know who I am talking about: none other than The Master of Intergalactic Travel himself, X; and; though he had been rumored for the longest time to have finally done the proper thing and died, he was seated at the bar and ordering a beer.
As the article states, his body fluid robot, a female evidently, though he calls her Henry, is attached to her master’s body with several red, white, and urine-colored pumping tubes, and follows him everywhere on two stiff kneeless poles that somehow serve as legs, and has so seated herself on the stool beside him.
This particular body fluid machine was of an old fashioned design, resembling in many ways, an oversized microwave oven with pvc plastic arms and legs, topped off with a globe shaped head that sits like a somewhat deflated basketball on the top of its metallic square chest. Her crude bulging eyes, while stationary in their sockets, are capable of tracking things by turning her head on the crude swiveling gear mechanism which sits atop the square rusty-colored body. As her head rotates, its neck gears make the creaking sound of an unoiled screw; and is the source of great embarrassment for the robot. The ‘face’ of the robot is painted white with a red lipstick-colored hole that serves as its mouth speaker, from which the robot is able to talk in a monotonal rasping voice. It’s wild-eyed expression of surprise never changes, and it always looks like it was giving out with a long mournful ‘ooooh’, something that never fails to amuse her master, X.
The robot has a human brain within its deflated head; the brain of a very religious, very unfortunate woman who happened to cross paths with X, and decided to try and save his soul.
Some months before, just for the sake of cruel irony, and partly because he knew a strictly religious person would be less likely to attempt murder upon him, X had his body fluid robot fitted with the brain of a virgin nun he met on the streets of Las Vegas one day as he was visiting Earth, one of his favorite places for causing mayhem and destruction. This particular nun had made the mistake of helping him and his body fluid robot out of the gutter after a particularly bacchanalian night of drinking, cannibalism, and debauchery, and began trying to lecture him on the folly of his misbegotten ways in an attempt at saving his soul. X pretended to listen for a while to the gentle persuadings of this nun creature, then, with a practiced dexterity, took out his fold-up, pocket-sized bone saw and sliced her skull open, and, using the practiced skills he had developed over the eons running the Wormhole System, pulled out the brain, (brain dissecting was among his favorite hobbies); all the while employing the limitless powers of the only known Teacher’s edition of the book: Aquatic Life In The Quantum Oceans, he replaced the body fluid’s current- and very grateful to have his time as body fluid robot ended at last- brain with this new nunnish type brain.
This robot was not only X’s life line, passing and replacing his liver, his heart, and his bladder, all of which ceased functioning years ago, it was his last and best friend in the entire universe of over six hundred trillion trillion people, despite the fact that the robot, or rather, the robot’s nun brain- though she/it considered it a grievous sin- hated him.
As everybody knows, X was and is a hunted man, the most hunted man, the absolute worst humanoid like creature anywhere in the cosmos at any time of the cosmos, with a price on his head large enough to purchase any three major planetary systems anyplace in the universe, even in the so-called upscale neighborhoods in the protected sectors of Mogli Amber.
Bounty hunters by the million score have dedicated their lives (which tend to be very short) to finding him. Whole religious sects have sprung up based on his ultimate destruction. All to no avail. No one has yet been able to get close to this fugitive from all that is good, logical, and fair, because of just one book: the only such book in existence. It’s title: Aquatic Life In The Quantum Oceans: A Teacher’s Guide, and he has the only copy. There are many books of this title, but only one Teacher’s Guide, which as Presiding Master of the Wormhole System,he is entitled to keep to himself.
The thing was, is, and will always be this unfortunate fact; X, as long as he possesses this book, because of the mastery it affords him over time and space, renders him the most powerful man in the cosmos. It endows upon him the title of The Presiding Master of Intergalactic Travel, which simply means he has control of anything and anyone wishing to travel anywhere beyond the atmospheres of their home planet, even into regions of the universe that had existed in the past or would exist sometime in the future.
How he became the only owner of the guide, and just how long he would retain it is another story, and is full of contradictions, fallacies, and even impossibilities. Frankly, I have no idea how it came about myself.
Anyway; the following is an approximate rendering of one incident that recently occurred in Sam’s bar, according to an accidental witness who found himself cowering in fear in a closet cabinet in the back of the room.
The second chapter will appear next week.
EARLIER REPORTS
It was my great fortune recently to be granted a short interview with one of the most respected and well travelled of earth born Interstellar Wormhole enthusiasts: a scholar well known among the members of our small community of cosmic wanderers, and a man who has taken several well known identities over the millenia, both famous and infamous. He has been travelling the stars now for thousands of years, with only occasional visits back on earth. And he is considered one of the greatest scholars of the great masters of the arts ever, having actually been a colleague of both Leonardo Da Vinci and Michaelangelo, even apprenticing at their studios five hundred years ago. This latest Earth visit has lasted twenty five years, and he has been ‘in hiding’, posing as a professor of Art Theory and the Humanities at a small college located somewhere in New England. He naturally prefers to remain anonymous. For the purposes of this interview I will refer to him as Dr. X.
Me: Thank you for your time, Dr. X. I am most interested in hearing some of your rare insights on the cultural advancement of mankind. But, first off,I understand you are gearing up for another trip through the Wormhole. Do you know yet what your destination will be?
Mr. X: Indeed I do. Now at last we know where that cosmic rat JEI’mYmBart’jjJ (and I mean the term ‘rat’ not in a good way, but rat in the sense that he is a slimeball with slime coming out of his ears and drinking that slime while licking the butthole of….. Well, you get the idea). And I intend to fulfill my life’s work to hunt him down and make him eat that body fluid robot he hauls around with him. I’m certain he stole the thing from some poor soul who was using it at the time.
Interviewer: Well, I must say I am a little taken aback. You are one of the top scholars of cultural history, with many great treatises to your name (some even have said that you were in fact Leonardo Da Vinci himself), yet, you consider it your life’s work to seek revenge on one man? I assume the Wormhole Master has in the past done you some harm or other; as he apparently has so many others?
Dr. X: That bastard should have been put away a thousand years ago. How he has managed to escape justice this long boggles the mind. He’s only the most famous criminal in the universe with a bounty on his worthless head that exceeds the gross national product of most planets.
Interviewer: I have to say, considering your reputation as a scholar and explorer, I am somewhat surprised you would wish to use your precious time satisfying your grudge against this one man.
Dr. X: This is not a man: this is a devil. Anyone who has had the misfortune to deal with this coagulated piece of vomit is, in my opinion, automatically obligated by God Himself to do everything he can to rid all of history of every atom of his existence.
Interviewer: If I may, and if you do not object to the question, may I inquire as to the reason for your obvious hatred of this man?
Dr, X: Well, to be frank, he stole my fiance from me; which may sound petty to you, but the bastard did it on my wedding day right off the altar as we were saying our I do’s. And he has done this kind of thing to others thousands of times. He has no conscious and he uses his mastery of the wormhole to manipulate the past. and, of course, the future to do the pettiest things you can imagine; such as stealing my fiance just as she was about to marry me. I’ll never forget that day: There I was, standing before the minister, staring at my beautiful wife to be, prepared to say ‘I do’, when there was a flash of light and I suddenly found myself in the back of the room acting as an usher, watching as that scoundrel was standing in my place marrying the woman of my dreams, who was suddenly also pregnant by that roachfaced maggot.
As if that was not enough, the maggot brained monster, later sued me for Alienation of Affection for trying to steal my fiance from his grip. He didn’t even know her name, mind you!! Then, using his mastery of the Wormhole, he managed to win his case against me and had a warrant of arrest issued, before I even knew the court case existed.
The sad thing is that he may be using his knowledge of the Wormhole to be doing it right now to you and to me, making us believe we are in an interview, just so he can find out what his enemies are doing. But I have to try. For the sake of us all, I have to try to take him out.
Me: I can see how you might harbor some hard feelings toward him, just as we all do; but, thousands have tried, including several hundred ex wives, you must know it is a futile attempt.
Dr. X: Yes, I am no fool. But, I have no choice: I have to try.
Me: You must know that the planet he was last reported on is in a forbidden zone. Noone is allowed to travel there, under penalty of execution. How do you propose getting there?
Dr. X: Don’t be an idiot. Everybody knows that under JEI’mYmBart’jjJ’s leadership, the concierges in charge of Wormhole travel are totally corrupt and for the price of a bottle of cheap hooch, or a few mind altering drugs, anybody can go pretty much anywhere he wants. That’s the easiest thing in the world, if you know which entrance to take. Most of these Wormhole ‘guides’ have no idea what they are doing anyway. You’re better off giving them enough booze to drink themselves unconscious and taking the controls yourself.
I’LL HAVE MORE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MR. X NEXT WEEK.
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