[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
Friedrick crept through the Hallway of Insufficient Lighting and wound his way up the Spiral Staircase of Patently Absurd Proportions -- which, being an anomaly, fit him quite well -- where he met a round, pasty creature seated behind a cluttered desk.
"Can I help you?" wheezed the pitiful creature, craning his egglike head (for he had no neck) around a stack of dusty files.
"Yeah, um, the Big Man Downstairs sent me to open the door."
Friedrick was suddenly seized by a sneeze, expelling dust through the cramped room like magic powder from so many Disney films. The egglike creature -- we shall call him Eggy, for it remains one of the great tragedies of the universe that his mother attempted to fry him sunny side-up instead of naming him, for which she continues to serve an indefinite sentence in the disreputable Underworld State Hospital, where she has eaten no less than four other children resembling breakfast items -- squeaked and pressed his classes on his nonexistent nose.
"Which door is that?"
"I think you know which door."
"Well, being the Department of Doors, there's plenty to go around down here. We've got kitchen doors, doggy doors, those fun roundabout ones you always tend to see at banks... We've got sliding doors, trapdoors, even Jim Morrison of The Doors. So," he said haughtily, adjusting his glasses again, "which door is that?"
"There is but one door of such dubious nomenclature that it's hardly worth mentioning in conversation. Show me that one."
Eggy gulped.
"Right this way."
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Verse 9
[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
Satan didn’t ask himself once who the man was. It didn’t matter, because he had shaken the self-pitying stupor that had clung to his Royal Lowness and gotten him back up on his cloven hooves.
“What AM I doing?” He shouted, knowing he was the only being within earshot.
“Jupiter’s testicles! I don’t need this council, with their highfalutin theories and distinguished backgrounds. So what if the conquered continents, committed mass murder, or convinced the poorest people of their nation that they had their best intentions and religious aspirations at heart, when in actuality all the wanted was to import foreign labor and cut domestic jobs to fill their pockets. I am Lucifer! It was I who challenged the throne so long ago, and now it’s time for me to step up to the plate, again. First things first, however, the council is to be obliterated.”
As the words formed on his lips, every council member blinked out of existence. Where once they had filled the council chamber, seated around a table like some hellish parody of King Arthur’s round table, there was nothing. The room, the individuals filling it, every chair and every piece of tile simply vanished. Not destroyed, mind you. Just not there, as if it had never been, and all because…
“I think the furnace will do nicely. If any of them were listening to me early it shouldn’t come as a surprise, either.”
And just like that, 100 dry-aged souls sizzled, cracked and then went silent in the unimaginable heat of hell’s furnace.
Lucifer felt them depart. Not just the slight jump in heat, the temperature gauge reading “noxiously searing” once again. He felt the last screams of every one he had ever depended on. The old Lucifer might have shed a tear.
“Good riddance, you awful herd of jackasses,” was the best the new and improved Lucifer could manage.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Verse 8
[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
At that moment, both Lucifer and Friedrick hit rock bottom: Lucifer mentally and emotionally, Friedrick smashed on the granite floor of The Devil’s Dog Crate. Friedrick landed there after two of Cerberus’s heads got tired of playing tug of war with him between their teeth. He would have thought twice about stepping so loudly onto a hard surface, but following the tearing and tossing he didn’t have the capacity to think.
After about one demon-hour (roughly 60 human minutes), Friedrick came to. He found himself in the back corner of Cerberus’s crate. The heads of Cerberus were resting on their paws, but the eyes were still open. He was quick enough that his first full thought was to stay perfectly still. Any sudden moves and Friedrick might again become a chew toy. He laid there, recalling every bit of information he could remember on Cerberus. Just as he was formulating a plan to run as fast as he could to Satan’s sofa (Cerberus knew he wasn’t allowed up there), he saw a man passing by the giant crate door. He was moving out of the burning pit of souls and towards the entrance to Hell, curiously, as if he intended to just get up and leave. This man wore a white robe and had a similarly clothed woman following close behind him. He carried a beautiful lyre with him, one that looked like it could tame wild animals, one that looked like it had. Most interesting of all was the fact that the two of them walked right in front of the devil dog yet it took no notice of them.
Friedrick had never actually played lyre before, though he had played Lyre Hero 4: Bronze Age on PS3. But Friedrick was sure it was no matter, with such an otherworldly instrument as the walking man was carrying he was sure it wouldn’t take much to tame the brute that now had him pinned in this warehouse of a kennel.
“Psst,” Friedrick hissed as loud as he dared.
The man paused and began to turn, then gasped and stopped himself. The woman turned to him immediately and gave him the most distressful look he had ever seen on a human face in his existence. But she said nothing.
“I can’t help you buddy, whatever it is, I can’t help you,” The man with the lyre said. “Come on Eurydice, were getting out of this hell hole.”
“PSST!” was Friedrick’s reply.
“Look. I’d love to help you right now but I’m really focused on other things, namely, only what’s in front of me.”
“Lady,” Friedrick did his best not to raise his voice but could tell it was probably too late for that. One of Cerberus’s ears twitched.
“Lady, tell him all I want is his damned lyre.”
The woman turned and gave him an impatient look that said leave us alone you imbecile, I can’t speak and he doesn’t care, were both a little busy so get lost. Friedrick was very good at reading faces.
Cerberus began stretching his front paws. In a few seconds he would begin to look around for the origin of the noise Friedrick was making. He had to hurry.
“Hey, listen, if you let me have that lyre I’ll-”
“There’s really nothing you can offer that’s going to make me turn around. I promise.”
“I’ll-” Friedrick could tell the man meant it.
Cerberus was beginning to turn his head.
“I’ll-” Friedrick focused on getting the man’s undivided attention.
“I’ll-”
Cerberus’s eyes were scanning in his direction.
“I’ll-” If the man wouldn’t give Friedrick the attention he needed, he would have to steal it.
The jaws were opening, priming for a growl.
“I’ll-”
Aha! Something strange clicked in Friedrick’s head. Something that was about to save his life, but that he would never admit to himself afterwards.
“I’ll let you touch my mangina!”
Even Cerberus stopped at that one.
Friedrick turned to see if what he had said had had its desired effect and realized he was making eye contact with the man with the lyre.
“Hey, thanks a lot asshole!” The woman said, her voice regained. She turned to the man who had been in front of her. “And thank you for nothing, Mr. Honey, I’m Here To Save You With My Music! I knew I should have married a real man, instead of some pasty skinned artist. The other girls went for muscles, I went for poetry. My mother was right, Disney does create unrealistic expectations of men.”
The woman then promptly vanished.
Friedrick turned to look again at the face of the man with the lyre. The man’s eyes pointed at Friedrick, but were focused on a point a thousand miles behind him.
“You unbelievable bastard. YOU UNbelievable BAstard. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“I got you to turn around?” Friedrick said. His voice pitching higher at the end.
“YOU GOT ME TO TURN AROUND AND RUINED MY ONE CHANCE OF GETTING MY WIFE BACK! WHY?”
“I, well I, kind of needed your lyre.”
The man looked down at his lyre, dumbfounded.
“This?” The man held it up.
“Yes,” Friedrick replied.
“This?”
“Yeah.”
“This?”
“Yuh-huh.”
"This?"
"You bet'cha."
"THIS?"
"Affirmative."
“FINE! TAKE IT!” The man hurled his lyre of in whatever direction his arm decided on.“No no no oh. Crud” Friedrick couldn’t see where it had landed but knew it would be out of his safe reach.
The man then promptly vanished.
For the next 48 demon minutes, Friedrick slowly, gently crawled up toward the front of the kenel, using a demon’s touch to not make a sound. That lyre was his one chance at taming the giant k-9 from hell and it was worth the wait. But soon as he beheld the lyre, his heartless chest cavity sank. It was broken in two, strings curled up like pig tails.
“Ahhhh crud!” Friedrick shouted then immediately popped a hand over his mouth wide eyed and frightened. He looked over at the beast about to test the limits of his netherworld body and realized it was out. Cold. With the imprint of a lyre in its center head.
“Well, I guess the lyre was useful after all.”
With that out of the way, Friedrick was now able to focus on the more dangerous aspect of this mission. The Door That Really Shouldn't Be Fiddled With Under Any Circumstances And That Means Now Too.
***
As Lucifer sat with his head on his desk crying, an ordinary man burst into his room. The man was 6 foot flat, very young looking with the exception of graying hair, he had blue-green eyes, a nose, and two lips (the best amount of lips on a face).
“Where is it?”
Lucifer was taken by surprise by the aggressive and brash behavior of a mortal in his office, in his presence. All he could do was treat the man as he expected to be treated.
“Where’s what?”
“Where is it?” The man kept looking around, right hand still on the outer door handle.
“WHERES WHAT?” It now frightened Lucifer even more that he couldn’t help this irreverent mortal, who was clearly the master of the room at this moment.
“There it is.” The man walked over to the sadfish, picked up his bowl and put it up to his face.
“You worthless piece of crap. You add nothing to this story. All you gave anyone was a case of writers block.”
He then tucked the fishbowl under his arm and made for the door.
“And you”
“Me?”
“Yes. What is this, ‘Hamlet?’ Quit your bitching and get back to doing stuff. Why are you even in this office? Its utterly pointless.”
Just before walking out, he turned to Lucifer.
"Oh, and one other thing. My pal in Rome told me to tell you, 'Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas.'"
With that he walked out to worlds unknown, taking the fish with him.
[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
At that moment, both Lucifer and Friedrick hit rock bottom: Lucifer mentally and emotionally, Friedrick smashed on the granite floor of The Devil’s Dog Crate. Friedrick landed there after two of Cerberus’s heads got tired of playing tug of war with him between their teeth. He would have thought twice about stepping so loudly onto a hard surface, but following the tearing and tossing he didn’t have the capacity to think.
After about one demon-hour (roughly 60 human minutes), Friedrick came to. He found himself in the back corner of Cerberus’s crate. The heads of Cerberus were resting on their paws, but the eyes were still open. He was quick enough that his first full thought was to stay perfectly still. Any sudden moves and Friedrick might again become a chew toy. He laid there, recalling every bit of information he could remember on Cerberus. Just as he was formulating a plan to run as fast as he could to Satan’s sofa (Cerberus knew he wasn’t allowed up there), he saw a man passing by the giant crate door. He was moving out of the burning pit of souls and towards the entrance to Hell, curiously, as if he intended to just get up and leave. This man wore a white robe and had a similarly clothed woman following close behind him. He carried a beautiful lyre with him, one that looked like it could tame wild animals, one that looked like it had. Most interesting of all was the fact that the two of them walked right in front of the devil dog yet it took no notice of them.
Friedrick had never actually played lyre before, though he had played Lyre Hero 4: Bronze Age on PS3. But Friedrick was sure it was no matter, with such an otherworldly instrument as the walking man was carrying he was sure it wouldn’t take much to tame the brute that now had him pinned in this warehouse of a kennel.
“Psst,” Friedrick hissed as loud as he dared.
The man paused and began to turn, then gasped and stopped himself. The woman turned to him immediately and gave him the most distressful look he had ever seen on a human face in his existence. But she said nothing.
“I can’t help you buddy, whatever it is, I can’t help you,” The man with the lyre said. “Come on Eurydice, were getting out of this hell hole.”
“PSST!” was Friedrick’s reply.
“Look. I’d love to help you right now but I’m really focused on other things, namely, only what’s in front of me.”
“Lady,” Friedrick did his best not to raise his voice but could tell it was probably too late for that. One of Cerberus’s ears twitched.
“Lady, tell him all I want is his damned lyre.”
The woman turned and gave him an impatient look that said leave us alone you imbecile, I can’t speak and he doesn’t care, were both a little busy so get lost. Friedrick was very good at reading faces.
Cerberus began stretching his front paws. In a few seconds he would begin to look around for the origin of the noise Friedrick was making. He had to hurry.
“Hey, listen, if you let me have that lyre I’ll-”
“There’s really nothing you can offer that’s going to make me turn around. I promise.”
“I’ll-” Friedrick could tell the man meant it.
Cerberus was beginning to turn his head.
“I’ll-” Friedrick focused on getting the man’s undivided attention.
“I’ll-”
Cerberus’s eyes were scanning in his direction.
“I’ll-” If the man wouldn’t give Friedrick the attention he needed, he would have to steal it.
The jaws were opening, priming for a growl.
“I’ll-”
Aha! Something strange clicked in Friedrick’s head. Something that was about to save his life, but that he would never admit to himself afterwards.
“I’ll let you touch my mangina!”
Even Cerberus stopped at that one.
Friedrick turned to see if what he had said had had its desired effect and realized he was making eye contact with the man with the lyre.
“Hey, thanks a lot asshole!” The woman said, her voice regained. She turned to the man who had been in front of her. “And thank you for nothing, Mr. Honey, I’m Here To Save You With My Music! I knew I should have married a real man, instead of some pasty skinned artist. The other girls went for muscles, I went for poetry. My mother was right, Disney does create unrealistic expectations of men.”
The woman then promptly vanished.
Friedrick turned to look again at the face of the man with the lyre. The man’s eyes pointed at Friedrick, but were focused on a point a thousand miles behind him.
“You unbelievable bastard. YOU UNbelievable BAstard. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“I got you to turn around?” Friedrick said. His voice pitching higher at the end.
“YOU GOT ME TO TURN AROUND AND RUINED MY ONE CHANCE OF GETTING MY WIFE BACK! WHY?”
“I, well I, kind of needed your lyre.”
The man looked down at his lyre, dumbfounded.
“This?” The man held it up.
“Yes,” Friedrick replied.
“This?”
“Yeah.”
“This?”
“Yuh-huh.”
"This?"
"You bet'cha."
"THIS?"
"Affirmative."
“FINE! TAKE IT!” The man hurled his lyre of in whatever direction his arm decided on.“No no no oh. Crud” Friedrick couldn’t see where it had landed but knew it would be out of his safe reach.
The man then promptly vanished.
For the next 48 demon minutes, Friedrick slowly, gently crawled up toward the front of the kenel, using a demon’s touch to not make a sound. That lyre was his one chance at taming the giant k-9 from hell and it was worth the wait. But soon as he beheld the lyre, his heartless chest cavity sank. It was broken in two, strings curled up like pig tails.
“Ahhhh crud!” Friedrick shouted then immediately popped a hand over his mouth wide eyed and frightened. He looked over at the beast about to test the limits of his netherworld body and realized it was out. Cold. With the imprint of a lyre in its center head.
“Well, I guess the lyre was useful after all.”
With that out of the way, Friedrick was now able to focus on the more dangerous aspect of this mission. The Door That Really Shouldn't Be Fiddled With Under Any Circumstances And That Means Now Too.
***
As Lucifer sat with his head on his desk crying, an ordinary man burst into his room. The man was 6 foot flat, very young looking with the exception of graying hair, he had blue-green eyes, a nose, and two lips (the best amount of lips on a face).
“Where is it?”
Lucifer was taken by surprise by the aggressive and brash behavior of a mortal in his office, in his presence. All he could do was treat the man as he expected to be treated.
“Where’s what?”
“Where is it?” The man kept looking around, right hand still on the outer door handle.
“WHERES WHAT?” It now frightened Lucifer even more that he couldn’t help this irreverent mortal, who was clearly the master of the room at this moment.
“There it is.” The man walked over to the sadfish, picked up his bowl and put it up to his face.
“You worthless piece of crap. You add nothing to this story. All you gave anyone was a case of writers block.”
He then tucked the fishbowl under his arm and made for the door.
“And you”
“Me?”
“Yes. What is this, ‘Hamlet?’ Quit your bitching and get back to doing stuff. Why are you even in this office? Its utterly pointless.”
Just before walking out, he turned to Lucifer.
"Oh, and one other thing. My pal in Rome told me to tell you, 'Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas.'"
With that he walked out to worlds unknown, taking the fish with him.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)