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

some point, I guess. Shall we say in a few minutes?”

 

Norkgrub laughed.

“Give me an hour, I’m still orbiting Saturn. See you there, time-brother!”

 

With that Professor Norkgrub, abruptly cut the pzi-connection.

 

This was Tommy’s only real phone. His Earth bound landline was never used as nobody called him on it; he had no real friends and his Life-Coach Guru business was on a strict need-to-know basis. He had a Bot from the C.O.G. to manage his mobile phone and on, not that he paid much attention to Life Coaching now. He was ahead of the game and was pretty much retired. The C.O.G. pension he had mysterious provided for all his financial needs, which were few. He led a sparse life in Frinton. Thankfully, his prescriptive chemicals were all state subsidized. He had not been called a time brother in a long time. It was one of Norky’s favourite sayings, and Tommy realized he had missed the quirky little zoophyte….

 

And it was not everyday you befriended a zoophyte…Sink into the singular void...

 

“You pizza cake”, said Bug ‘August Ham Man’ Ravola.

 

“What’s a Pizza-Cake?” I replied.

 

“A piece of cake, geddit?” August Ham Man quipped. He laughed but it was not too loud.

 

Bad jokes had not helped the weird atmosphere. The flat had been partially destroyed by a soul-projector from Thule; the incantation had failed miserably. The flawed ritual was about to claim its first soul sacrifice. The black bible looked dead; its fleshy pages had withered, as it turned to putrid detritus. Professor Doggo Dogon was chewing up one of the decomposing pages; he looked ill as he consumed it. Bug was talking to the talkative wall, it was chattier than usual today; the wall that had a mouth and always had good old natter with you.

 

...Johnny Quagga did not know why he was not living again....Had Tellman mind-cloaked him again?... Maybe something had gone wrong. He wanted to feel flesh but knew he was still a dimensional wraith. The two C.O.G agents had vanished in a puff of smoke. Doctor Vera Swaladee looked scared, rocking back and forth. She was naked, and covered in faecal matter of unknown origin; it glowed in the dark...

 

...Professor Doggo was now naked; he had removed his tattered robes to show us that his penis had turned into a snail-satsuma. It was small and delicate: the testes were covered with a snail-shell peel...The foreskin had evolved strange snail feelers. Professor Doggo Dogon was still chewing upon the fleshy pages of the sacred text. With his last gulp he spontaneously combusted. His vaporized guts covered the talkative wall and Bug...

 

“Wow, this really was pretty mind-blowing,” quipped Bug.

 

...Johnny saw him take a piece of fleshy page and throw it into his mouth without a care in the world. He swallowed it in one go. Amazing. No side effects at all. Johnny realized that it must have been Doctor Kewsy’s mis-reading, of course. He was not the wisest of seers and they would now need another one to complete the cosmic connectives...

 

...Norky handed the lazr-lyso popper-gun to Les Barloy. The sprawling star-craft was destroying the planet that looked like a pineapple: pieces of archaic star-craft were embedding into the soft surface of PeetanioXKX. It was too much for the mould people. They were perishing in the heat. They had not even evolved yet…

 

“It was so juicy, I really liked it here,” said Norky. “We've got to keep it crunchy!”

 

Norky went to speak again but was slowly lost in a euphoric reverie; maybe it reminded him of other worlds. He had seen so many…

 

Les was crying, rubbing his eyes.

 

“I wished I could have saved all those ghost-children,” sniffed Les, smearing his mascara.

 

...His turban was grubby and his loincloth was tattered. He had lost his robe and one of his silk slippers. He had the physical appearance of a pubescent male with slightly hairy armpits. Les Barloy had just four chest hairs; he did not have many pubic hairs either, and continually shaved them...But that did not aid the situation of impending planetary doom…

 

...Norky was still donning his crystalline white laboratory jacket and had noticed that Les was checking his appearance in the milky blood of the mould people. He was so vain, thought Norky, but he was the chosen seer…

 

 

Significant Shiggism...

...Johnny never stereotyped anybody when he lived a so-called biological life, with only one body, but now he had a totally open-minded way of life. So what if this person had a wealthy family, got everything they wanted; it’s what they do that counts. Johnny had read the files, but forgotten everything during his dimensional stasis. She did not look very posh, thought Johnny. Johnny noticed that she had a bag made from jute. It was a sign of high fashion these days. Johnny had not kept up to date and looked like a Victorian catamite dressed in frilly shirt and dirty breeches befitting of an urban dandy...

 

...Johnny smirked. He knew he would get mistaken for the ripper again, but he was just a Tyme-Pyre, a ripped up waster of time. He needed to find new ways to waste eternity away. It was a lot better than being born...On another world somewhere, far, far away, Johnny felt he had been reborn in another dimension hidden in some weird world...

 

...That was good, right? It meant he might experience life again. He decided to change into his ninja costume, but found that he had lost his baggage carriage....

 

The old lady smiled at Johnny. He was frozen. It must be a trap, thought Johnny.

 

The old lady approached him. She stared at him gently and said,

 

“I thought it was you, you said you might do something strange, kind sir.”

 

Johnny smirked.

 

“I think you have me confused for someone else, madame,” replied Johnny, doing his best courtier impression.

 

The old lady smiled at Johnny, and shook her head.

 

“Oh really, you do know how to get me going, don’t you?” she asked Johnny.

 

Johnny did not know how to reply.

 

The old lady continued: “I am sure you’re the son I aborted in 1974. He was called Ferdinand Tellarbmanyol...Or was it Wracked Ferd?...I’m sure it was something like that. How could I forget a name like that?...By the way, I’m Lady Goodepayne, Johnny.”

 

Johnny was sure she had just said his name, but he did not ask how she knew it...

 

“You’ve got my boy trapped in your soul matrix, Johnny,” cooed Lady Goodpayne, all twinkly eyed and looking all her one-hundred and ten years.

 

Johnny had to think of something, he had not being doing this astral body swap lark for long. He thought it was cheaper than actually purchasing any kind of dubious experience. This power remains within every human being and the limbic prowl was one of Johnny’s favourite pastimes.

 

“Come and have a cup of tea with me, Johnny. I don’t want to talk too much in this world, we might be both getting set up.”

 

“Of course, let’s get score some,” Johnny said.

 

...Johnny tried not to go, but he could not help it: he looked at the old lady again for way too long; she looked suddenly younger as she hunched further into her large shawl. It seemed as if the shawl was her actual body...

 

 ...Johnny had no idea why he followed her, but he had to. It was part of something that might be called a mission. Johnny did not know what drove him to follow her here, to this strange planet, but Johnny stuck to his task and silently followed the old lady down the silver steps of the astrolotower; he knew she was posh, but he did not like putting people in boxes...

 

 ...Her silver hair glistened in the deadening rays of the black sun....This planet suited her....Johnny started having impure thoughts…How could he get it on with an elderly lady?...The thought was so arousing, Johnny thought he might not be able to control himself...He had a thing for older people too...

 

...Johnny suddenly remmebered Tommy Tellman: he was a strange fellow with long white hair; he always donned a leather bomber jacket and finely pressed action slacks, finished off with some ridiculously well-polished Chelsea boots. You'd see your face in them! He must have spent hours rubbing them. To my mind he was a dandy of some sort, but he told me things I have thought mere fantasy. Tellman reminded me of that optimistic generation of Sixties kids, who over-achieved and were given the chance to better themselves and do whatever. They were completely opportunist chancers, but true humanists. Not Etonian messers. He told me of another side to this realm and how Earth evolved into timeless realms...

 

...What was scary was Tellman's belief that we never truly died, no matter what we died of or how we died. I was curious, and from this time realm, I knew death to be a vile old-fashioned concept. The great sleep and hibernation regenerative phase here is a rite of passage - it's up there with puberty...

 

...I pressed my brain-player, to record this discourse, to listen back over it all at a later date. This mint tea was having a strange effect on me. I tried to put it to the back of my mind; this is what Tellman told me: "My friend, you must listen to me when I say that time is draining away. It's endless but you know must have some kind of end? It's not a real end, but you know how tricky time gets!"

 

I nodded, even though I had no idea what Mr Tellman was talking about; and I thought infinity was infinity.

 

Tellman lit another strange cheroot. He paused, somewhat melodramatically, and continued his rant:

 

"Look, Quagga, I was travelling within the confines of a strange craft called Vazgelis. It was called a strato-neuro-craft. You connected it within your brain and to your sexual organs, and its mannalinx feeds off your pzionik soul; and continually arouses you with some form of life purifying life-support system."

 

I decided not to question Tellman too much; I nodded and tried to look intelligent as I sipped my mint tea. This particular brand was having a relaxing effect on me: shapes were forming in front of my eyes and Tellman turned into a huge Walrus-face with the hind legs of Tony the Tiger. This was a bit better than my usual mint tea, I must say! I decided Tellman's talk would provide a good form of escapism for me.

 

...Tellman continued ranting: "You see, I was travelling with the psychic investigator, Les Barloy; his assistant, Miss Evie Goodhead-Ballsack, and his mystical friend, Professor Norkgrub. These were strange people, but they're my friends. They saved me from oblivion."

 

"Oblivion? Isn't that a club or a ride?"

 

"It's everything, Johnny."

 

"I suppose it might be!"

 

"What else do you know, Mister Quagga?"

 

I got the idea that Tellman was questioning me.

 

"I don't know -- what should I know?" I stammered.

 

"Brilliant. You're a C.O.G agent? You've worked with that clown Hubbard? Or Downes and Parsons? Maybe Goodnow and Goodmann? Spill to me? I'm not active no more!"

 

"Active? What do you mean?"

 

"You're good. Of course, I'm active but only in other ways!"

 

"Mr Tellman, you're my life-coach but I haven't a clue what you're talking about!"

 

"I suppose I sound queer, eh?"

 

I shrugged. Tellman scoffed at me. It was as if he was able to see straight through me!...I looked at my hands;