Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Be for Boredom

"No human man, woman, or child may know that. It is our rule."

"The superstitious shit I have to put up with for what I want to d--OW!"

"I'm so sorry. But I think you want this. You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so you will have to live it. There is no going back. But I think you always wanted this."


"Immortality. With a... little inconvenience. You're going to need it. It will, however, be boring."


"Of course immortality is boring! Be for boredom, or be for death. Be for boredom for a billion years."

"What are you talking about?"

"They're all going to die. It will be boring for a while after that."


"They. People."

"Well of course we're all going to die."

"They're all going to die. You're not. Not anymore. Apologies again for not asking your permission, but you're a driven man. You would say yes anyway. Just as I would have, had I been asked."

"You don't talk like you sing, Glenn."

"I sing like I wish I could talk."

"Right. Anyway, of course they're all going to die."

"Yes, but this time they're all going to die at once."

"Nuclear war?"

"Our masters' boredom... but it's all right. Be for boredom."

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

The Quantum Changelings

"Dear Jens,      1/12/54
 . . In regards to our previous conversation, you mustn't misunderstand. The others, Alfred and Maxwell included, are against your plan. It's far too risky. And the implications, my God.  Please do not proceed without meeting with us. Remember what happened to Kirchoff when he got that hairbrained idea.  The size of the medium matters.  You can't bend the spokes, old friend.  Quantum travel might work in theory, but it isn't the same as light waves, Jens.  You must see this.  Please call or at least send me a telegram to let me know your current location. I pray I reach you in time. 

Your friend,

Joe Eawest crumpled up the letter and looked at Danzig.

 . . "Where is he?"

Glenn stared at his boot.

 . . "Where's Jens, Glenn?"

Monday, December 22, 2014

Hobby Musicians

Lemmy was drunk.

Lemmy sat on a sleazy barstool, the kind with red vinyl that had ripped open many moons ago and been duct taped together.  He was too intoxicated to remember where he was, but could see the tour manager Mickie across the room playing pool, so was mostly unconcerned.  In the distance he could hear video games.  Dee Snider sat next to him at the bar, occasionally checking in on him with a sideways glance, and then turning back to the conversation with the fellow to the right of Dee at the bar,  Ozzy Osbourne.  

     "We're not gonna take it," Dee continued, "I wanna rock."

To this Ozzy shrugged, frowning, and made a short reverse-snort noise while trying to hold in the huge pull he'd just taken off the joint that was going round the bar.  After blowing out an enormous amount of smoke for almost a whole minute, Osbourne coughed for ten seconds and spoke.

     "Oh no, please God help me.  Where can you run to?  No more tomorrow.  When I first met you, I didn't realize.  I say, goodbye to romance.  No more tears.  Can you talk to the dead?  But that's how it goes." 

Dee smiled.  Out of nowhere, Lemmy and Dave Brock (sitting to the left of Lemmy) began singing very drunkenly:

"Dream about the things that could have come before.  The way things are going the end is about to fall!  We took a wrong step years ago! We took a wrong step years ago!"

Dee leaned in to Ozzy, and cupping his hands around his mouth to shout over the Hawkwindish nonsense, yelled 
"Nothing escapes his gaze.  A flick of steel, a flash of light.  You know you're not going home tonight."
Ozzy flinched. "What, no, Dee, man.  I'm not drunk!  I can toootally drive, man.  But seriously, I just saw the old man from Monopoly, you know, the guy with the MONOCLE!  He just walked out of here carrying a case of Ramen." he slurred.
The bartender finally tired of the loudness and kicked out of the bar Akira Takasaki and Munetaka Higuchi.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the rockers at the bar, nearby in the adjacent store was a duel of sorts.  

Jose was still on the floor with his eyes closed, weeping.  

Pennywise the Clown sat next to Joe.  They both sat up against a painted cinder block wall;  sad, listless, hands on their knees, posture poor.  Both were looking at a panel on the wall with sharp, laserlike focus, waiting, waiting...   An old upright arcade game sat blinking in the corner.  It made a random noise and Pennywise jumped, looked around, and got up off the floor. 

"That's it then.  Lemtata was right." the clown muttered.

"Coitus Citronella, Randomicus Verbotus." Joe declared.

Pennywise suddenly screeched "RAAAAAAWRRR!!" and lunged at the panel, bashing it with his fists, which were morphing into metal crab claws and tearing into the panel.