The Elder Malaclypse
29-05-2006, 15:45
Here's a little story I wrote for a friend (making the conscious decision to write it in a week). The way I write could be construed as childish in places and I fully acknowledge that. I love childrens' literature. All 'mistakes' are intentional. Enjoy!
The 'Pencil' Inside
I – Testimony
With a little difficulty, Jonnie went about tying his shoelaces. His hands, swollen from the previous nights bare-knuckle fist-fighting tournament, barely functioned. After literally twenty-nine minutes his laces were tied. Unfortunately for Jonnie his shoes were on the wrong foot (both of them).
“Gosh darn it!”
Jonnie’s exclamation was so abrupt and violent that his pet terrier (also named Jonnie – though he preferred Jonathon) went into cardiac arrest, slipped on a banana peel and landed anus-first onto one of Jonnie’s sharper pencils (yes, the point was facing upwards!). The shock alone should have killed Jonnie. But it didn’t. He lay on the floor of Jonnie’s musky bedroom in a near-epileptic fit; drool foaming up from his mouth and blood curdling around his pencil-stricken rectum.
After an exhilarating trip to the animal doctor Jonnie was right as rain again! But sadly Jonnie would never be the same. You see, in his hurry to rush poor Jonnie to the animal doctor he had been forced to leave both his shoes on the wrong foot. This had caused his foot to now stick outwards. Jonnie now walked like a penguin (not because of the shoes, you understand, but he thought he might do this to cheer Jonnie up).
Arriving home, Jonnie opened the door using one of his more colourful keys (this one was yellow), closed it again and then kicked the door down.
“Yeah that’s right. Show that sonofabitch who OWNS this house!.”
Ejaculated Jonnie.
“You door! You Bastard! You’ll pay for this! Forcing me – me – to use one of my more Colourful keys to open you! Take this! And this”
The door simpered, attempting futilely to crawl away.
“Where the fuck you goin’ bitch!”
Inquired Jonnie.
“Stay out of this you dumb fuck or I’ll slay your puny ass!”
Retorted Jonnie.
“You aint got the balls you half-witted nincompoop!”
This remark threw Jonnie over the edge. Again. He was literally falling from a metaphorical edge. This confused Jonnie, and sent him into a Hulk-like rage. Tearing his blouse and ripping apart his sexy lingerie Jonnie stood stark naked – save his shoes – in front of Jonnie, like a boiling pot of lentils. Jonnie’s mother oft remarked that her son resembled lentils - something Jonnie secretly loathed (he dare not tell her though as she would have his eyes) though was very fortunate as it prevented the previous simile from being mere nonsense, like a vast elephantine acorn gliding over gilded chinamen…
Jonnie was ready to create war. Before a battle it was customary for them-who-be-named-Jonnie to sing an ancient war song. It went thusly…
(to be sung to the tune of greensleeves)
O evil force
ye have done wrong
and now I shall sing a little song.
I will fight you
and you will fight m,
and later on I’ll go have tea…
But not with ye!
I shall stab ye in yer eye so dark
o yea it shall all be a lark!
I shall tear off your goolies with my hand
and mail them back to yer foreign land.
The song ended and Jonnie, now so full of rage that he pulsated like a swarm of wasps, threw his lute in Jonnie’s face. This was a common tactic amongst them-who-be-named-Jonnie. Luting , it was called. Apparently stunned, Jonnie was stationary, unblinking, his mind like a baby’s face after eating a plate of spaghetti: really messy. He had had a really messy mind, what do you do? Jonnie ran at Jonnie, vibrating his limbs in a queer fashion until Jonnie’s ear shattered into at least a zillion pieces.
“Oh no!”
Jonnie observed. His mind was now calmer, catching Jonnie off guard, Jonnie took the upper hand. Jonnie carefully pulled a revolver from his anus and swung it round to meet Jonnie. The barrel touching Jonnie’s knee.
“Hey baby, you come here often?”
The barrel inquired, sleazily.
“Oh! Get off me you awful thing! Oh! Oh!”
The knee flapped about like a bird of some description, frantically trying to escape the barrel’s grip.
“It’s over Jonnie”
Declared Jonnie.
“Why don’t you just hand over your knee and we’ll say no more about it huh? You go your way, I’ll go mine.”
Jonnie’s eyes bulged. His anger was unlike that of any normal boy.
“Never! I’d rather die that give you the satisfaction you died-up gerbil ****!”
Jonnie’s trigger finger tensed ever so slightly. The barrel chipped in:
“Shoot the rude fuck!”
“Shut your goddamned mouth or I’ll plug you too. Bastard.”
“You stoopid! I’m the only one you CAN’T shoot you stoopid canine ****! You fucking anal dripping fuck piss shitting bat **** vegetable bastard dog! I fuck you all, fuck you all! You hear me fuck!?”
“Shuttup shuttup!”
Jonnie pulled the pencil from his rectum and jammed it straight down the barrel’s mouth. He now pointed the gun at Jonnie’s eye and squeezed the trigger. Backfired. The barrel exploded, flying shrapnel missing Jonnie’s body by centimetres. Out of Jonnie’s eye ran blood and pus and all other kinds of liquid shining incandescent. Blues, reds, yellows, pinks; the liquid rainbow ran down perfectly until it hit the ground and Jonnie’s shoes with a phloosh.
Jonnie was down but he was darned if he was licked yet! Motionless, he stood and looked at the fragments of his melted eye on the ground.
“Father…”
The pieces of eye, struggling to hold onto what little life it had left called out to Jonnie, whimpering like a wounded feline. Jonnie turned his attention to Jonnie. Then to the eye still simpering and gasping ‘father…’. Then back to Jonnie. And back to the eye again…
After an agonising period Jonnie triumphantly rode to his feet and picked Jonnie up, high above his head. He lifted him and threw him exaltedly into the massively deep electric shaft contained in the Death Star. Wheezing, he collapsed onto the ground. The eye got a little better.
II – Further Down the Rabbit-Vole
Years passed and Jonnie largely forgot about his pet terrier. He had not replaced him, not because he felt he was irreplaceable but that he had made a decision which was to never communicate with, or even glance at another living creature again, so traumatic was that fateful eve. His eye had made a full recovery albeit a smallish hole at the centre (he didn’t mind) and now lived in Jonnie’s brain.
Jonnie now lived in a secluded forest in an unknown country. It was difficult to avoid all the beasts residing there (especially the insects). In fact this task proved to be impossible. Jonnie had learnt this from day one and so had taken the necessary precaution of RABIDLY TEARING OUT HIS EYES DIRECTLY OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS (and other places…) AND THROWING THEM INTO THE DEEPEST LOCH HE COULD FIND. This was understandably difficult now given Jonnie’s predicament.
At first this life was difficult for Jonnie, he knew not what plants to eat and where the edible ones might be. He frequently fell into muddy puddles. But Jonnie, being a strong-minded bastard had developed a system. He did not need to even move. He first ate a couple of plants and drank a couple of litres of water. Then, he sat under a large tree so to shade him from the suns nasty rays. When the time came to excrete his food he did so, but kept the excretions for later consumption. He was able to drink the urine by inserting his penis into his mouth (an easy task for him, as he had an extremely large penis). The system worked well and Jonnie had been living this for a good few days until one Tuesday morning. No excretion. Until later that day. Phew.
Though Jonnie thought he was alone and would be undisturbed in this state he was not. Many animals observed him (the insects much less, but when they found the time). In particular the squirrels would congregate a few metres away from him and make disgusting jokes about the state of Jonnie’s mothers ****. They were like that.
Jonnie’s life was one was of misery and boredom. Or at least he’d like to tell himself that. He talked loudly and brashly, holding epic conversations about the state of the world as he imagined it. In his mind the world was a technological wonderland, run by charming pixies with devilishly charming machines and the doors were kept under strict control. He loathed doors unashamedly. It was his passion he supposed, his hobby. He excelled in it and could be named the worlds most devoted hobbyist if there were any need for such a title. At least a quarter of his day (including sleep- that’s when he really laid into them) was taken up by his rants on doors.
“Doors today, doors yesterday, doors tomorrow. It doesn’t matter, they were born bad. From the first day. I don’t even know who invented such a diabolical device but he musta been a real sicko. A real man-hater. Outlaw ‘em I say. No OK OK that’s too much. I’m sorry (he would never go too far) just keep ‘em under control. Please.”
And so it went on day after day, night after night. At times he thought he may be going mad, but then realised that a boy in his position had a right to be a little mad. In fact, a boy in this state must be completely insane! So it’s OK if I’m mad. I am mad. But no! That can’t be a bad thing.
It is.
For three and a half weeks Jonnie had kept his system. It had worked well he had thought. No communication and no sight of anything. On the Thursday on the fourth week of his new life he thought about deafening himself, leaving only his inner monologue. He was often distracted from his door-rants by the rustling of bushes or the sound of a passing bumblebee. This could be the perfect solution. But, late in the evening, just as he was sharpening two sticks while quenching his thirst a familiar voice entered through his ears.
“Dear Yahweh, here he is.”
His mother. He continued sharpening the sticks.
“Pick that bastard up.”
His father. He continued sharpening the sticks.
“We’re here to take you home son.”
The words floated around in his mind and quickly dissolved. A muscular hand grabbed Jonnie’s throat. Squeezed it tight. Air trapped inside him – he wanted to expel it! Then take it back in! And expel it again! Jonnie could be rather childish (understandably) and hated it when somebody ruined one of his games.
Jonnie’s father throttled Jonnie until he passed out and subsequently died.
“I don’t understand.”
Who was the mother addressing? I should know…
“Look, that sentence about Jonnie’s dad throttling Jonnie- it was ambiguous! I can’t tell from it who’s died!”
The mother, obviously distressed calls out to her creator in a vain attempt to acquire the knowledge she so badly wanted. For days she roams the forest aimlessly.
“How did I even find Jonnie? He lived on an unknown country!”
Well, it’s still possible.
“You haven’t explained anything – your story is complete shit! It barely makes sense! Why would you give the two central characters the same name!? And you should’ve told the story of how we found Jonnie.”
III – The Story of How they Found Jonnie
Pure chance.
IV – The Power of Chance
A strange and mystical presence had entered the forest. A bat glided through the trees and touched the caterpillars. He ate some mice. The he went to sleep. It was a good day. The next day he found himself in a rather less cohesive situation. After his morning’s feed, he had accidentally flown over the river whilst looking for a new mate for the day and had caught his reflection; it being a beautiful summers day the river glistened with a strange and mystical glaze. Upon glancing down at the river he found out that he appeared not to be a bat at all, but was actually an unusually small commercial airplane. On his side read Gringus Travel, and in smaller print it read: ‘Getting you where you might want to be’. He pondered on this and, while he did so landed perfectly on an unusually small runway.
Just as thoughts like ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Can can I think?’ entered his mind a fully grown fox leapt on him and tore off his wings. The bat screamed inwardly. The fox played with the wings a little, got bored, and left. The bat was dying. He heard a tinny little voice in the chasm of his skull…
Ladies and Gentlemen I regret to inform you that this aircraft is no longer suitable for flight. Everybody at ‘Gringus Travel’ apologises wholeheartedly but hey! You might want to be here…
A little flame appeared somewhere near the planes tail.
KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPFFFRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!
The fragments of airplane-metal settled on the ground, in trees and in some poor animals’ skulls. They turned from a dirty white-grey colour to clear. It appeared they were melting. The pieces dripped from the trees and skulls. One small badger whom had a smaller fragment lodged in his Precentral Gyrus scooped up the liquid in its paws and danced around a nearby birds nest wibbling like no other. The pieces shrunk. They shrunk so infinitesimally tiny that everyone forgot about them the second that they lost sight of them (animals are like that).
And then…
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH……………………….BLLAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In an instant the world turned upside down, inside out, up down, round and round, back, forward, sideways – it imploded and inevitable exploded – every atom separating and in almost PRECISELY THE SAME TIME INSTANT it reformed exactly as it was before. Except now Jonnie and his dad were both alive, and there was a huge hole in the earth, and the sea was now a pinky-grey colour, and Jesus was still alive and was the Prime Minister or Gongowa and a country named Gongowa existed. Everything else was the same. Well, I didn’t do a really thorough check but I’m at least 90% sure that everything else is the same. Except donkeys now like tuna a little better. 80% sure.
V – A Dialogue (a Digression)
The world had never seen anything like the world exploding and reforming again and so was understandably a little shocked. So too were the scientists, some of whom lived on the earth. The big, special important ones got together in a big special important room to discuss the issue. There are three.
Scientist 1: Hello everybody, how is everybody doing today?
Scientist 2: Deespenze veeth formalities Fritz! Do you not remember zat I seenthesized your mother unt had mine vay vith her?
Scientist 3: Ja Fritz, get on vith eet – I need to go home unt clean my test-tubes Ja?
Fritz: Alright scientists. We are gathered here today…
Scientist 3: Eets not a vedding. Preeck.
Fritz: I have asked you to jo…
Scientist3: Preek
Fritz: Please, scientists.
He waits for silence.
Thank you. Now as scientists we never expected this to happen.
Scientist 3: Ve nefer predeected eet.
Scientist 2: I deed.
Fritz: In any case, it’s going to look bad for us… People will start to be suspicious of science. We’ll go the way of the alchemists and astrologists. We need damage control here people.
Fritz gets up on the big science table and does a little science jig.
Scientist 2: Vat he say?
Scientist 3: Somezing about zee cabbage he stole or zum zuch nonsense.
Scientist 2: zzzzzzzz
Fritz: Give me a hand with this, guys.
Scientist 3 gets up on the table and lifts Fritz off – they both sit on comfy science chairs.
Scientist 2: Vat ve need to do eez go out unt keel zee unbelieverz. Ve veell control zem through fear.
Scientist 3: I like vat he say
Fritz: No, please, we are men of science. Can we not think of a more rational solution?
Scientist 3: Like vat? Steal zum more cabbages huh? You are reely one to talk you are! You thief! You call yourself a scienteest?
Fritz: Let’s put it to vote. All in favour say aye.
Scientist 2: To vat? Stealing cabbages?
Scientist 3: I second zat
Scientists 2 and 3 leave for the local grocers. Fritz pushes a little pink button on the science chair. Two other scientists are ushered in by laser-gun toting robots.
Fritz: Scientists – the time is upon us! TOTAL NUCLEAR WAR AGAINST THE UNBELIEVERS!!
Scientist 4: DISSECT THEM!
Scientist 5: ANALYSE THEM!
Fritz: Scientists – break!
VI – The 'Pencil' Inside
While the scientists plot diabolically, Jonnie had inexplicably found himself in his dank, grey little room trying with great difficulty to tie his shoelaces. Something was different. He couldn’t put his little finger on it but since the world has simultaneously disintegrated and reformed he had felt… odd. Well, with an event so transcendental how could he not attribute his queer state to it somehow?
Trying the best he could to ignore these irregular feelings he concentrated on his shoelaces. He found the task considerably relatively difficult as he had never been taught how to. His father, Igor, largely ignored his duties to his son as he was preoccupied with his profession: golfing. Jonnie’s mother, Bert, ignored his for no reason whatsoever.
Jonnie was impatient, very impatient. His pet terrier reassuringly barked in his face.
“Bark! Bark!”
Mused the terrier.
Jonnie had had enough. He threw his shoes across the room and shouted profanity and difficult-to-understand words at his little doggy. Jonnie furiously stormed out of his room and made raging motions towards the stairs. A pink pencil lay in his way. He arrogantly stood on it, the pencil turned and Jonnie slipped. He fell down the spiral staircase – thwacking his cranium on every wall he encountered. His mother walked idly by, urinated in her underwear and fell to the floor in the adjacent room, wibbling. Jonnie was still conscience.
Jonnie was still conscience. He was paralysed. Not one limb could move. Or could they? Yes they could. He rose from the ground with the elegance of an ape on steroids and body-slammed the wooden front door. It swung open, coming into contact with Igor – catching him in the corner of his eye. He went down, bleeding through the concrete; blood seeped into the soil an deeper.
Jonnie ran for no reason at all. He ran simply because he could. The terrier following him always. For minutes and seconds they ran – they ran through the park, past the post office and into the bank (on the spur of the moment Jonnie had decided to hold-up a bank: he planned to use the terrier as a deadly weapon). The inside of the bank was not there, the outside was there – this had given him the impression that the inside was also there but it was not. Instead of a bank there was an indescribably (at least by me) enormous hole. With an unbelievably large pink pencil protruding from its center.
“This is unusual”
Quipped Jonnie nonchalantly. And indeed it was. After a little staring and a lot of glaring, a rancid, pinkish apparition appeared before Jonnie and the terrier. It looked a little like him.
“Jonnie….. you are Jonnie….”
Half-stated, half-asked the ghost.
“Why heck, sure I’m Jonnie”
Jonnie flanked right back.
“Jonnie… listen to me…. You must put the dog on the pencil… the dog must be on the pencil…”
“Why the shuddering plop would I do something like that you stinking transparent cretin!”
“Jonnie must have the pencil inside… or all will be lost…”
“Lost?”
“In a terrible nuclear holocaust…”
“How will this prevent it?”
“I don’t know… but it miiight….”
The apparition disappeared as Jonnie thought to himself that this could not be mere coincidence. Then he realised that he’d do it for kicks. He lifted the terrier, it struggled a bit. He shoved copious sedatives down its mouth. The dog went limp.
Onto the pencil, Jonnie placed the terrier – rectum first. A blinding light filled the room. Outside, the scientists stared agog through the two-way mirror. The light seared through Jonnie, his body flowed like liquid through the concrete floor, seeped through to the soil and deeper. Outside, an audience cheered, applauded and laughed gaily. Finally the show was over…
THE END
The 'Pencil' Inside
I – Testimony
With a little difficulty, Jonnie went about tying his shoelaces. His hands, swollen from the previous nights bare-knuckle fist-fighting tournament, barely functioned. After literally twenty-nine minutes his laces were tied. Unfortunately for Jonnie his shoes were on the wrong foot (both of them).
“Gosh darn it!”
Jonnie’s exclamation was so abrupt and violent that his pet terrier (also named Jonnie – though he preferred Jonathon) went into cardiac arrest, slipped on a banana peel and landed anus-first onto one of Jonnie’s sharper pencils (yes, the point was facing upwards!). The shock alone should have killed Jonnie. But it didn’t. He lay on the floor of Jonnie’s musky bedroom in a near-epileptic fit; drool foaming up from his mouth and blood curdling around his pencil-stricken rectum.
After an exhilarating trip to the animal doctor Jonnie was right as rain again! But sadly Jonnie would never be the same. You see, in his hurry to rush poor Jonnie to the animal doctor he had been forced to leave both his shoes on the wrong foot. This had caused his foot to now stick outwards. Jonnie now walked like a penguin (not because of the shoes, you understand, but he thought he might do this to cheer Jonnie up).
Arriving home, Jonnie opened the door using one of his more colourful keys (this one was yellow), closed it again and then kicked the door down.
“Yeah that’s right. Show that sonofabitch who OWNS this house!.”
Ejaculated Jonnie.
“You door! You Bastard! You’ll pay for this! Forcing me – me – to use one of my more Colourful keys to open you! Take this! And this”
The door simpered, attempting futilely to crawl away.
“Where the fuck you goin’ bitch!”
Inquired Jonnie.
“Stay out of this you dumb fuck or I’ll slay your puny ass!”
Retorted Jonnie.
“You aint got the balls you half-witted nincompoop!”
This remark threw Jonnie over the edge. Again. He was literally falling from a metaphorical edge. This confused Jonnie, and sent him into a Hulk-like rage. Tearing his blouse and ripping apart his sexy lingerie Jonnie stood stark naked – save his shoes – in front of Jonnie, like a boiling pot of lentils. Jonnie’s mother oft remarked that her son resembled lentils - something Jonnie secretly loathed (he dare not tell her though as she would have his eyes) though was very fortunate as it prevented the previous simile from being mere nonsense, like a vast elephantine acorn gliding over gilded chinamen…
Jonnie was ready to create war. Before a battle it was customary for them-who-be-named-Jonnie to sing an ancient war song. It went thusly…
(to be sung to the tune of greensleeves)
O evil force
ye have done wrong
and now I shall sing a little song.
I will fight you
and you will fight m,
and later on I’ll go have tea…
But not with ye!
I shall stab ye in yer eye so dark
o yea it shall all be a lark!
I shall tear off your goolies with my hand
and mail them back to yer foreign land.
The song ended and Jonnie, now so full of rage that he pulsated like a swarm of wasps, threw his lute in Jonnie’s face. This was a common tactic amongst them-who-be-named-Jonnie. Luting , it was called. Apparently stunned, Jonnie was stationary, unblinking, his mind like a baby’s face after eating a plate of spaghetti: really messy. He had had a really messy mind, what do you do? Jonnie ran at Jonnie, vibrating his limbs in a queer fashion until Jonnie’s ear shattered into at least a zillion pieces.
“Oh no!”
Jonnie observed. His mind was now calmer, catching Jonnie off guard, Jonnie took the upper hand. Jonnie carefully pulled a revolver from his anus and swung it round to meet Jonnie. The barrel touching Jonnie’s knee.
“Hey baby, you come here often?”
The barrel inquired, sleazily.
“Oh! Get off me you awful thing! Oh! Oh!”
The knee flapped about like a bird of some description, frantically trying to escape the barrel’s grip.
“It’s over Jonnie”
Declared Jonnie.
“Why don’t you just hand over your knee and we’ll say no more about it huh? You go your way, I’ll go mine.”
Jonnie’s eyes bulged. His anger was unlike that of any normal boy.
“Never! I’d rather die that give you the satisfaction you died-up gerbil ****!”
Jonnie’s trigger finger tensed ever so slightly. The barrel chipped in:
“Shoot the rude fuck!”
“Shut your goddamned mouth or I’ll plug you too. Bastard.”
“You stoopid! I’m the only one you CAN’T shoot you stoopid canine ****! You fucking anal dripping fuck piss shitting bat **** vegetable bastard dog! I fuck you all, fuck you all! You hear me fuck!?”
“Shuttup shuttup!”
Jonnie pulled the pencil from his rectum and jammed it straight down the barrel’s mouth. He now pointed the gun at Jonnie’s eye and squeezed the trigger. Backfired. The barrel exploded, flying shrapnel missing Jonnie’s body by centimetres. Out of Jonnie’s eye ran blood and pus and all other kinds of liquid shining incandescent. Blues, reds, yellows, pinks; the liquid rainbow ran down perfectly until it hit the ground and Jonnie’s shoes with a phloosh.
Jonnie was down but he was darned if he was licked yet! Motionless, he stood and looked at the fragments of his melted eye on the ground.
“Father…”
The pieces of eye, struggling to hold onto what little life it had left called out to Jonnie, whimpering like a wounded feline. Jonnie turned his attention to Jonnie. Then to the eye still simpering and gasping ‘father…’. Then back to Jonnie. And back to the eye again…
After an agonising period Jonnie triumphantly rode to his feet and picked Jonnie up, high above his head. He lifted him and threw him exaltedly into the massively deep electric shaft contained in the Death Star. Wheezing, he collapsed onto the ground. The eye got a little better.
II – Further Down the Rabbit-Vole
Years passed and Jonnie largely forgot about his pet terrier. He had not replaced him, not because he felt he was irreplaceable but that he had made a decision which was to never communicate with, or even glance at another living creature again, so traumatic was that fateful eve. His eye had made a full recovery albeit a smallish hole at the centre (he didn’t mind) and now lived in Jonnie’s brain.
Jonnie now lived in a secluded forest in an unknown country. It was difficult to avoid all the beasts residing there (especially the insects). In fact this task proved to be impossible. Jonnie had learnt this from day one and so had taken the necessary precaution of RABIDLY TEARING OUT HIS EYES DIRECTLY OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS (and other places…) AND THROWING THEM INTO THE DEEPEST LOCH HE COULD FIND. This was understandably difficult now given Jonnie’s predicament.
At first this life was difficult for Jonnie, he knew not what plants to eat and where the edible ones might be. He frequently fell into muddy puddles. But Jonnie, being a strong-minded bastard had developed a system. He did not need to even move. He first ate a couple of plants and drank a couple of litres of water. Then, he sat under a large tree so to shade him from the suns nasty rays. When the time came to excrete his food he did so, but kept the excretions for later consumption. He was able to drink the urine by inserting his penis into his mouth (an easy task for him, as he had an extremely large penis). The system worked well and Jonnie had been living this for a good few days until one Tuesday morning. No excretion. Until later that day. Phew.
Though Jonnie thought he was alone and would be undisturbed in this state he was not. Many animals observed him (the insects much less, but when they found the time). In particular the squirrels would congregate a few metres away from him and make disgusting jokes about the state of Jonnie’s mothers ****. They were like that.
Jonnie’s life was one was of misery and boredom. Or at least he’d like to tell himself that. He talked loudly and brashly, holding epic conversations about the state of the world as he imagined it. In his mind the world was a technological wonderland, run by charming pixies with devilishly charming machines and the doors were kept under strict control. He loathed doors unashamedly. It was his passion he supposed, his hobby. He excelled in it and could be named the worlds most devoted hobbyist if there were any need for such a title. At least a quarter of his day (including sleep- that’s when he really laid into them) was taken up by his rants on doors.
“Doors today, doors yesterday, doors tomorrow. It doesn’t matter, they were born bad. From the first day. I don’t even know who invented such a diabolical device but he musta been a real sicko. A real man-hater. Outlaw ‘em I say. No OK OK that’s too much. I’m sorry (he would never go too far) just keep ‘em under control. Please.”
And so it went on day after day, night after night. At times he thought he may be going mad, but then realised that a boy in his position had a right to be a little mad. In fact, a boy in this state must be completely insane! So it’s OK if I’m mad. I am mad. But no! That can’t be a bad thing.
It is.
For three and a half weeks Jonnie had kept his system. It had worked well he had thought. No communication and no sight of anything. On the Thursday on the fourth week of his new life he thought about deafening himself, leaving only his inner monologue. He was often distracted from his door-rants by the rustling of bushes or the sound of a passing bumblebee. This could be the perfect solution. But, late in the evening, just as he was sharpening two sticks while quenching his thirst a familiar voice entered through his ears.
“Dear Yahweh, here he is.”
His mother. He continued sharpening the sticks.
“Pick that bastard up.”
His father. He continued sharpening the sticks.
“We’re here to take you home son.”
The words floated around in his mind and quickly dissolved. A muscular hand grabbed Jonnie’s throat. Squeezed it tight. Air trapped inside him – he wanted to expel it! Then take it back in! And expel it again! Jonnie could be rather childish (understandably) and hated it when somebody ruined one of his games.
Jonnie’s father throttled Jonnie until he passed out and subsequently died.
“I don’t understand.”
Who was the mother addressing? I should know…
“Look, that sentence about Jonnie’s dad throttling Jonnie- it was ambiguous! I can’t tell from it who’s died!”
The mother, obviously distressed calls out to her creator in a vain attempt to acquire the knowledge she so badly wanted. For days she roams the forest aimlessly.
“How did I even find Jonnie? He lived on an unknown country!”
Well, it’s still possible.
“You haven’t explained anything – your story is complete shit! It barely makes sense! Why would you give the two central characters the same name!? And you should’ve told the story of how we found Jonnie.”
III – The Story of How they Found Jonnie
Pure chance.
IV – The Power of Chance
A strange and mystical presence had entered the forest. A bat glided through the trees and touched the caterpillars. He ate some mice. The he went to sleep. It was a good day. The next day he found himself in a rather less cohesive situation. After his morning’s feed, he had accidentally flown over the river whilst looking for a new mate for the day and had caught his reflection; it being a beautiful summers day the river glistened with a strange and mystical glaze. Upon glancing down at the river he found out that he appeared not to be a bat at all, but was actually an unusually small commercial airplane. On his side read Gringus Travel, and in smaller print it read: ‘Getting you where you might want to be’. He pondered on this and, while he did so landed perfectly on an unusually small runway.
Just as thoughts like ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Can can I think?’ entered his mind a fully grown fox leapt on him and tore off his wings. The bat screamed inwardly. The fox played with the wings a little, got bored, and left. The bat was dying. He heard a tinny little voice in the chasm of his skull…
Ladies and Gentlemen I regret to inform you that this aircraft is no longer suitable for flight. Everybody at ‘Gringus Travel’ apologises wholeheartedly but hey! You might want to be here…
A little flame appeared somewhere near the planes tail.
KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPFFFRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!
The fragments of airplane-metal settled on the ground, in trees and in some poor animals’ skulls. They turned from a dirty white-grey colour to clear. It appeared they were melting. The pieces dripped from the trees and skulls. One small badger whom had a smaller fragment lodged in his Precentral Gyrus scooped up the liquid in its paws and danced around a nearby birds nest wibbling like no other. The pieces shrunk. They shrunk so infinitesimally tiny that everyone forgot about them the second that they lost sight of them (animals are like that).
And then…
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH……………………….BLLAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In an instant the world turned upside down, inside out, up down, round and round, back, forward, sideways – it imploded and inevitable exploded – every atom separating and in almost PRECISELY THE SAME TIME INSTANT it reformed exactly as it was before. Except now Jonnie and his dad were both alive, and there was a huge hole in the earth, and the sea was now a pinky-grey colour, and Jesus was still alive and was the Prime Minister or Gongowa and a country named Gongowa existed. Everything else was the same. Well, I didn’t do a really thorough check but I’m at least 90% sure that everything else is the same. Except donkeys now like tuna a little better. 80% sure.
V – A Dialogue (a Digression)
The world had never seen anything like the world exploding and reforming again and so was understandably a little shocked. So too were the scientists, some of whom lived on the earth. The big, special important ones got together in a big special important room to discuss the issue. There are three.
Scientist 1: Hello everybody, how is everybody doing today?
Scientist 2: Deespenze veeth formalities Fritz! Do you not remember zat I seenthesized your mother unt had mine vay vith her?
Scientist 3: Ja Fritz, get on vith eet – I need to go home unt clean my test-tubes Ja?
Fritz: Alright scientists. We are gathered here today…
Scientist 3: Eets not a vedding. Preeck.
Fritz: I have asked you to jo…
Scientist3: Preek
Fritz: Please, scientists.
He waits for silence.
Thank you. Now as scientists we never expected this to happen.
Scientist 3: Ve nefer predeected eet.
Scientist 2: I deed.
Fritz: In any case, it’s going to look bad for us… People will start to be suspicious of science. We’ll go the way of the alchemists and astrologists. We need damage control here people.
Fritz gets up on the big science table and does a little science jig.
Scientist 2: Vat he say?
Scientist 3: Somezing about zee cabbage he stole or zum zuch nonsense.
Scientist 2: zzzzzzzz
Fritz: Give me a hand with this, guys.
Scientist 3 gets up on the table and lifts Fritz off – they both sit on comfy science chairs.
Scientist 2: Vat ve need to do eez go out unt keel zee unbelieverz. Ve veell control zem through fear.
Scientist 3: I like vat he say
Fritz: No, please, we are men of science. Can we not think of a more rational solution?
Scientist 3: Like vat? Steal zum more cabbages huh? You are reely one to talk you are! You thief! You call yourself a scienteest?
Fritz: Let’s put it to vote. All in favour say aye.
Scientist 2: To vat? Stealing cabbages?
Scientist 3: I second zat
Scientists 2 and 3 leave for the local grocers. Fritz pushes a little pink button on the science chair. Two other scientists are ushered in by laser-gun toting robots.
Fritz: Scientists – the time is upon us! TOTAL NUCLEAR WAR AGAINST THE UNBELIEVERS!!
Scientist 4: DISSECT THEM!
Scientist 5: ANALYSE THEM!
Fritz: Scientists – break!
VI – The 'Pencil' Inside
While the scientists plot diabolically, Jonnie had inexplicably found himself in his dank, grey little room trying with great difficulty to tie his shoelaces. Something was different. He couldn’t put his little finger on it but since the world has simultaneously disintegrated and reformed he had felt… odd. Well, with an event so transcendental how could he not attribute his queer state to it somehow?
Trying the best he could to ignore these irregular feelings he concentrated on his shoelaces. He found the task considerably relatively difficult as he had never been taught how to. His father, Igor, largely ignored his duties to his son as he was preoccupied with his profession: golfing. Jonnie’s mother, Bert, ignored his for no reason whatsoever.
Jonnie was impatient, very impatient. His pet terrier reassuringly barked in his face.
“Bark! Bark!”
Mused the terrier.
Jonnie had had enough. He threw his shoes across the room and shouted profanity and difficult-to-understand words at his little doggy. Jonnie furiously stormed out of his room and made raging motions towards the stairs. A pink pencil lay in his way. He arrogantly stood on it, the pencil turned and Jonnie slipped. He fell down the spiral staircase – thwacking his cranium on every wall he encountered. His mother walked idly by, urinated in her underwear and fell to the floor in the adjacent room, wibbling. Jonnie was still conscience.
Jonnie was still conscience. He was paralysed. Not one limb could move. Or could they? Yes they could. He rose from the ground with the elegance of an ape on steroids and body-slammed the wooden front door. It swung open, coming into contact with Igor – catching him in the corner of his eye. He went down, bleeding through the concrete; blood seeped into the soil an deeper.
Jonnie ran for no reason at all. He ran simply because he could. The terrier following him always. For minutes and seconds they ran – they ran through the park, past the post office and into the bank (on the spur of the moment Jonnie had decided to hold-up a bank: he planned to use the terrier as a deadly weapon). The inside of the bank was not there, the outside was there – this had given him the impression that the inside was also there but it was not. Instead of a bank there was an indescribably (at least by me) enormous hole. With an unbelievably large pink pencil protruding from its center.
“This is unusual”
Quipped Jonnie nonchalantly. And indeed it was. After a little staring and a lot of glaring, a rancid, pinkish apparition appeared before Jonnie and the terrier. It looked a little like him.
“Jonnie….. you are Jonnie….”
Half-stated, half-asked the ghost.
“Why heck, sure I’m Jonnie”
Jonnie flanked right back.
“Jonnie… listen to me…. You must put the dog on the pencil… the dog must be on the pencil…”
“Why the shuddering plop would I do something like that you stinking transparent cretin!”
“Jonnie must have the pencil inside… or all will be lost…”
“Lost?”
“In a terrible nuclear holocaust…”
“How will this prevent it?”
“I don’t know… but it miiight….”
The apparition disappeared as Jonnie thought to himself that this could not be mere coincidence. Then he realised that he’d do it for kicks. He lifted the terrier, it struggled a bit. He shoved copious sedatives down its mouth. The dog went limp.
Onto the pencil, Jonnie placed the terrier – rectum first. A blinding light filled the room. Outside, the scientists stared agog through the two-way mirror. The light seared through Jonnie, his body flowed like liquid through the concrete floor, seeped through to the soil and deeper. Outside, an audience cheered, applauded and laughed gaily. Finally the show was over…
THE END