The Abyss of Radical Stupidity, R.K. Galvez [phonics story books .txt] 📗

...Callum Cheevers looked out of the window [...18.18: repetition equals insanity...]; he had his eye on the weird plant-creature he had found at break time…The class was strange; the kids all seemed to be faceless then exchange the  exact same face when he tried to talk to them. He didn't like this demonic cult school...Maybe Cheevers just had vision problems…He did insist on having a psycedelic breakfast...From the corner of his eye, Cheevers noticed that his winged brain had just flown past him again...He felt an immediate seizural boner coming on...

"Maybe I've just got a couple of problems," said Cheevers.

He said this to himself as he had no friends among the faceless masses...He kept coming on...

...There must be a lot of face-lifting going on thought Cheevers. Of course, you are right: Cheevers was a total loner. All the statistics pointed toward Callum Cheevers killing himself one day…Who aspires to be just another statistic in this capitalist-democracy which remains proud of its perpetual inequality?…Gradualism failed years ago, it can't get any slower - he was a shaman coming on strong; it will not go on much longer…Check out the CLASS website  you ninny!....Don't trsut government figures, they always rig them...At least that is one thing you can depend on here in this earthen-realm - not to mention the usual hypocrisy of “civilization”…

...His mother had just recently survived a suicide attempt and Callum was moved to another school called The Cheviot Institute…It was near a research facility called the U.R.S.O.M.A.D. (Universally Recovered Studies On Multiversal Apex Dimensions. Apparently, the acronym was prone to changing...)…It seemed to be attached to the school, The Cheviot Institute, and was operated by the curiously secretive Pzionik Committee…He did not miss being a dick...Old Bogunn would be forever within him...It was the name of the demon-cock he borrowed; he shouldn't have chopped off his own cock and swapped it for ancient demon-cock but boys will be boys...

...Callum recalled a hypersleep space dream: Once upon a time, there was a girl. This girl was a battered woman called Vonda. She preferred to be called Von. She was a sex worker; big in the game, she had been doing this for decades, since she was a teenager; she was now [censored for legal reasons]...She had been used by the C.O.G. to offer her body to various entities....She was used to getting around the Old Ones. She always told people to call her Von. She got fucked. A lot. It was a bad fucking time for her. And it sucked. She sucked. A lot of sucking for Von. And licking. Blah, Blah, yuddayuddadoodah. It was not tops bloopie. Time flies. She started her periods young; she had hormonal urges too young. She was getting fucked by strange men, normally aliens, who just stuck to her. A lot of really strange men, occult-hippy types, all kinds of weirdo-freaks. Sometimes older women, those who had played the telepathic time-frame, who knew the ways of the Old Ones...The men were all different though. Von did not discriminate. They all had different kinds of cocks...They have different ways, different smells. She was like an animal, a hormonal savage from some other time...primitive gloop covered her...Her vaginal discharge glowed in the dark... She got primitive with [censored]...

...Two old corporate lawyers for the C.O.G. were the only members of the Pzionik Committee...Cheevers knew they were trying to monitor him and filter his learnt experiences through a secretive splinter company called G.O.C., a company he had heard little about, apart from vague flashbacks from his previous existences…

He just wanted a normal school life. He didn't even have one friend. There was even a South Park episode that satirized him...Maybe he just imagined it...Who really knows?...I am not his doctor, yet...I will get to that later...

...He had to wait till he got back home to find a friend...His online friends did not count as he had never met any of them...And his admission that his main aspiration to be a Private Investigator or a Pop-Pornographer had driven a wedge between his communications with them all…

…It was boring really...Electro-magnetic particles plagued him...His toaster was possessed - again! - and most of his electrical house-hold appliances were classified as pzi-zen-pzionik. This meant they were as classed as E.T.B.E’s and viewed by the Pzionik Committee as muto-cyber-demonic…

Cheevers approached his ZxToaster...There was a deep depression within it, like a vaginal-navel...His soul was currently entering a mutated private investigator...It was not really a toaster; it was a projection of his demonic cock talking him...It had taken a form that would not freak Callum out; the last host went into cardiac arrest and terminated the Tyme-Soul transference...

"Speak" said Cheevers, touching its soft, spongy, phallus-lever and adjusting the temperature knob which was very sticky...Cheevers did not mind; he had good memories of long, sticky, knobs...

"Speak to me, please," begged Cheevers.

"Sure buddy, I'll keep going till the cows come home," the ZxToaster replied. "Call me ToddiX, I'm not too demonic you know. I think I was once a person - why it must've been only a couple of years ago. But I took the wrong steps and--"

"OK, that’s fine. I don't need your life story Todd. I've never had to call a toaster Todd before. It's a bit bizarre," Cheevers grumbled.

"Not really. A sweet purple nut that reminds you of pudenda might sound a tad bizarre. Or a penis made of cheese - actually, that sounds like a really cool idea,” purred ToddiX, sounding somewhat aroused. This toaster was a filthy chatterbox.

“How do you mean?” Callum Cheevers asked.

ToddiX replied, “Nothing can be called odd, or bizarre these days. O.K., I've got a thing for purple nuts and smeggy cheese. What’s odd is that I was hoping I'd get a radio or something really Hi-Tech built into me - you know, like off some retro Sci-Fi show? I’ve convinced myself that I'm not just a demon-tech toaster but also an eternal sidekick to all superheroes. Like you buddy. All about multi-tasking, networking, schmoozing and shafting, and doing lots of selfishly careerist things without really thinking about it. Soon you'll get cookers with detachable toasters; burning flesh-pots, stick them online, they feed off data - these cookers will fuck you in a blind fury when you feel horny!"

ToddiX the Zxtoaster was a great piece of kit[a fucking demon penis, whatever will they think of next...I remember watching the classic Bad Biology...A noughties one-off...]...The next moment, Toddix was smoking a dark purple pipe...It was all a bit much for the worried demonic appliance. The foul stench of the smoke filled Cheevers' nostrils; Cheevers smiled. His fifteen years felt like a lifetime more than the demonic toasters other experiences.

Cheevers knew the poor toaster might have blown a fuse.

"Silly ZxToaster, I'm not going to get rid of you. I like being here in the Mufugodrealm."

ToddiX agreed. But he did not know where Mufugodrealm was…ToddiX wanted to get to North Wembley…

“I guess it might be better than the real earth. I'd have to put up with the real Kilburn otherwise. I don't think I could handle that,” said ToddiX.

...He had strange memories of Kilburn; weird and wild nights in the great Good Ship...He was a queer type, one might say. He had no problems; it was just that the world was not the weird fantastical one he had now made his home....He did not blame his mum's suicide attempt. These curious oddities occur from time to time...Callum Cheevers was the first human/demonic toaster hybrid; he really liked being inside ToddiX and wanted to stay there…

…Tasteful and well-toasted...“I just think I was abducted way too much; I loved the gutter more than the stars but those naughty E.T.B.E.'s were a bit pervy," bawled Cheevers...Maybe one of them was my future self from Trooluz..."You know, I don't want to be a Trance Terror forever,” lamented Cheevers...

 ...It was a strange inter-planetary show, not much had happened for a long time...It was all power tripping, the usual stream of consciousness stuff...And you're a Yank so you want a load of dull backstory don't you? Flesh it out? What are they on about! I don't know what kind of pants his grandfather had on...Of course, the eternally great, somewhat criminally under-rated, Iain M. Banks had got there already (lovers of the lit: thank goodness Hollywood finds him un-filmable and will never ruin Banks' great masterpieces -- enjoy them while they are still available...)...This world was always getting a virtual brainwash; quick dry and rinse, see what happens to a society full of forgetful plebeians...Oh do leave poor Owen Jones alone; there are not many posh Northern Grammar School Kids left these days...

...The dead were talking loudly these days; they were jamming to their own curse; the curse of life which was so hard; the petty worries that immortality brings...The life-death recognition laws were a nuisance too, there was always a morass of bureaucratic red-tape to navigate as usual...It could be all so simple...They were now truly free spirits and found out they were not actually dead...They had not really died; they had transcended to live to new worlds, new earth-like planets, just hope the dying star holds out a couple billion more years or so...But different spiritworlds conflicted as their minds melded; the cosmic mantras [mix two parts car battery acid; one part red phosphorous; wait a moment, silly me - that's for something completely different!...]; the weird manna shifted and the vital metamorphosis was mutated lifeforms, unknown to the life-realm before: the dead are living, the living are dead...The flow of my subconscious thinks exactly the same as my relation, Z.F. Galvez [1750-1820]; we are one; we think like Edward Kelley…We said that when we were all buried together, but that might probably be another vignette for another time...

...My queer relations: I am unsure if this Z.F. Galvez[1750-1820] was a great uncle or a distant cousin as some of our relatives were very duplicitous over how truly related they were; and if they had merely bought into the family name...Trust-funders, eh? They haven't changed, as long as the guarantors were mug enough, they would buy up everywhere cheap...The first thrill of land addiction; to own a piece of earth that you can call yours...It was a strange chance, that Z.F. Galvez was accused of being an occultist apologist in 1815. He was seen with Henry Hunt; he was also seen with Feargus O’Connor...It was not all about knifing and forking for him, it was also a lot of spooning...He liked all kinds and all ways; he wanted the real threat to come