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Post By Dancer, via HH Tue Dec 06, 2005 at 01:06:24 pm EST |
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Heart of Darkness Epilogue #2: “It smells more of new paint than he’d imagined the charnel pit gateway to dark dimensions would do.” | |
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Heart of Darkness Epilogue #2: “It smells more of new paint than he’d imagined the charnel pit gateway to dark dimensions would do.” [The Scene: A brave and terrified young man hoists his crucifix, string of garlic, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer boxed set, and hammers on the door of the spooky old Willingham Lighthouse]George Gedney, last seen in Untold Tales #218: Okay, come on out and be staked, you vile monster! You’ve stolen your last chicken, cat, dog, or passing hitchhiker, and now it’s time for you to be put down like the rabid evil sorcerer you are! Also, please don’t kill me. [The spooky peeling lighthouse door creaks open. George takes a step back and braces himself to tussle with the Necromancer General and fight for his very soul] Asil: Hey, George. How are you doing? George: Back! Back, vile spawn, back to the pits where you came from! Asil: George? Have you been sucking library books or something? Only Lee Bookman warned us about that. There’s apparently this narcotic mould… George: You can’t fool me, Necromancer General! I know now that you’ve been secretly dwelling in this lighthouse for many years, plotting your evil necromantic schemes. I’ve done research. I checked forbidden tomes. I did a Google. All sorts. You won’t put me off by sending some wicked spirit clad in the gorgeous shape of the woman of my dreams! Asil: Really? Of your dreams? George: Back! Back! I’ve got a cigarette lighter! Um, well I had one. Wait a minute… Asil: George, I think we might be moving into one of those embarrassing misunderstanding meetings. You might want to stop trying to set fire to me and come inside for a coffee. George: Never! I will not fall for your evil blandishments and tempting carnal delights. Asil: I said coffee, George, not tempting carnal delights. I’m Asil, not Lisa. When I say coffee I’m talking about ground up beans, not ground up… well, anyhow, I use milk not Kool Whip. Except when that doody head big cow Daio is about, and then I use a shotgun. George: Um… What? Asil: Just saying. I don’t know how to evilly blandish. I could ask Pricilla if you like. I’m pretty sure she could manage it. George: You’re trying to sap my sanity, right? You’re seeking to drive me insane with meaningless references designed to work havoc on the orderly mind of a small-town museum curator. Asil: Maybe it’s best if I don’t give you more caffeine. *Hears small explosion inside lighthouse* Uh oh. Kerry must be back. I’d better get the fire extinguisher. George: I haven’t even found my lighter yet. Hey, vile evil shapeshifter, wait! [But Asil has vanished inside, so George has to venture into the lighthouse to follow her. It’s not quite how he imagined it. It smells more of new paint than he’d imagined the charnel pit gateway to dark dimensions would do.] Kerry: No, I mean it. Send me to Ireland to be lobotomised. It’d be better than this. I mean… this!! Dancer: Oh come on, is it so bad you having Visionary as a brother? I mean we already have Karl. Kerry: Sure, but you never slept with Karl, did you? I mean we’re from Bogall, Ireland, not the Ozarks. And now I’m related to a fake-o. I can feel loser working its way into my DNA right now. George: Hold still, foul wraiths in the form of arguing young women. I have a crucifix and a cigarette lighter and… Aaaaagghhhh!!! Asil, spraying fire foam on the exploded cigarette lighter: This way, George. I think Yo’s already installed the burns kits. Kerry: I already pleaded with Mumphrey to turn back time so Vizh doesn’t have to be our brother. Stupid laws of time and space! By the way, who was the smoking dweeb that Asil just took off to the kitchen? [And in the kitchen…] Al B. Harper: …fascinating multi-dimensional nexus shaped around the fabric of the lighthouse, currently causing it to appear both in Willingham and on the Lair Island, and sometimes both together, depending on the phase of the tide. There’s definitely a paper in this. Asil: Well hide the paper, Al. Kerry’s in another of her moods. I’ve already had to extinguish George here. George: You might have captured me, but I’ll still find ways to stop your evil master. Miiri, green Caphan ex-slave girl scrubbing the cooker: He’s not my master any more. He just blessed me with his seed so I waxed fertile. George: ……… NTU-150, carefully backing off from the depolarising coil in the Bautistamatic kettle: Well, I’ve installed the dimensional holding grid, so that should hold back most of the extraplanar effects on the lighthouse. Unless somebody needs to plug in the microwave. Asil: George, in case you haven’t worked it out yet, the Necromancer General is gone. He ran off when the Shoggoth looked at him hard a few weeks ago. We heard he turned up under the old Parodiopolis Variety Theatre and got punched by Nitz, if that’s any help. George: This started out as such a simple little mission to slay an evil sorcerer before he corrupted my town any more. Asil: Meanwhile, a Great Man wrestled control of this lighthouse from the forces of evil and has now made it his new house. And I picked the colours for the kitchen and hall. Do you like them? George: Very tasteful. Did you also pick that bunny motif for the downstairs bathroom? Yo: Is to be cute, is it not? And Yo is to be also picking of colours for to be cute-Visi’s bedroom except that Pricilla is to be joking that she is to be slaughtering of Yo is Yo is to be making of it pink and orange with sky blue highlights. Al B: There’s enough sanity mangling materiel left behind from the previous occupant. Liu Xi: You’re telling me. I take one little shortcut to the sauna I was installing and suddenly I’m hip deep in tentacles. But on the bright side I found Hacker Nine. Somehow he’d managed to get himself pushed through a chymeric doorway to a different world full of sinister South Park versions of the Lair Legion who wanted to crucify him. Pricilla Du Bois: I wonder how that happened? Zack, have you time to run another errand for me. Just carry these bloody raw steaks with you as you go, okay? George: So… you’re saying the Necromancer General isn’t here any more? Zach Zelnitz: Nah. We’ve kind of de-Necromancered the whole place. You should see the pile of fetishes. Lisa: I always kept a few things in the Condo, just in case I… Oh, yes. Many voodoo items and things. Brrr. Kerry: Yeah. But Vizh has managed to get new furnishings for the place at Dweebs-R-Us or somewhere. Note the state of the art 1960s three piece. *cheers up slightly* Still, somebody did donate him that lava lamp. Pricilla: He’s on a budget, what with that IRS thing still hanging over him and all kinds of disasters queuing up to plague his friends and family. Besides, we got him that job lot of household equipment from that Peter von Doom going out of archvillainy sale, didn’t we? Zach: The big white swivelling chair with the control panel is kind of cool. But installing that special swimming pool under the moving floor is going to take some plumbing. George: Visionary lives here? The guy from the Transworlds Challenge? Lisa, sighing: Yes. Miiri, adding hand-woven braids around the doors and windows: Yes. Kerry, staring speculatively at the lava lamp: Yes. Asil: Right. Visionary lives here now. We’re helping him move in. Kerry: I want to be clear right now that I am so not helping Visionary move in. I am squatting in a room that might have my stuff in but is absolutely not my bedroom, in protest until somebody undoes this travesty of justice. I’m appealing to the World Court of Human Rights. Send me toast up if I’ve not been liberated from this waking nightmare by about 3pm. George: So it is a waking nightmare? Now I’m really confused. NTU-150: Okay, I’ve hooked the etheric vents to the quasi-plasma dampening systems, and I’m coupling in the vector stabilising components. Somebody switch on the juicer. George: Correction. Now I’m really confused. Asil: It really is okay, George. The Necromancer is gone, we’re here, and although you were very brave to come here to battle evil with, um, with that cigarette lighter and a DVD of The Exorcist, there’s nothing here to be scared of. The Manga Shoggoth: Excuse me, did anyone see where I left my bandages? George: Aaaaghhhh!!! Asil: Okay, nothing to be scared up but a rugose elder creature bubbling into the kitchen. Miiri: I’ll get the vinegar and baking soda. Karl Shepherdson, wandering in carrying a rugby ball because that’s the kind of thing Karl does: Who’s the weedy screaming bloke? *suspiciously* He’s not another of Sarah’s boyfriends is he? Dancer: Does he look like a manipulative exploiting bastard? Con Johnstantine: Did somebody call? Only I was making sure no unplanned nasty hell-creatures slipped into Visionary’s bathtub when he went to bathe. As a thank you to him for looking after his new sister. Dancer: That was kind of you, Con. Nobody wants unplanned nasty hell-creatures in their bath. Shoggoth: I don’t mind. It keeps me from getting bored. Or hungry. What about the planned nasty hell-creatures then? Con: *whistles innocently* Karl: So who is this bloke? He doesn’t look like one of those superheroes. He doesn’t have underpants on for starters. Lisa: Really? Hello. We might have so much in common. George: I do. Have underwear on, I mean. Just on the inside. You know, I’m very confused. Miiri: This young man is not here to pay court to Lady Dancer or Lady Lisa. It is Mistress Asil who is the woman of his dreams. Asil, blushing furiously: Miiri! George, blushing furiously: I only said that when I thought she was a vile blandishment, trying to seduce me with her cute charming dimpled smile. Er, I mean… NTU-150, blushing furiously: Sorry. I was testing out the security grid on the front door when you called, so your comments were kind of broadcasted across most of the Eastern seaboard. You interrupted Days of Our Lives. George: A Necromancer General would have been so much less painful than this. Karl, confused, and with an odd-shaped ball: So is she your dream woman or not? Spit it out, man. George: The only way this dream could get worse is if I suddenly find I forgot to put pants on. *checks hastily* Karl: Yes, it is bad when that happens. Kerry: I’ll just go see where Fleabot and the Sorting Hat got to, shall I? Dancer, taking pity on the museum keeper: Anyway Karl, shouldn’t you be packing, you and your mother. You know, so you can both go back home? Karl: I don’t know how that visa mix-up happened. Who’d have thought we’d be mistaken for Osama Bin Laden and his mother and be deported? What are the chances? Dancer: And yet. George: Well, it was, um, interesting meeting you all. If you’ll excuse me I need to get back to the Willingham museum. I think I have some books to lick. Al B: You can’t got yet. Not while the tide is going out. Willingham isn’t out there. Lisa: Yes, this moving lighthouse thing is going to make it difficult to work out how much rent Vizh has to pay the Legion for dumping his house on our island. Asil: You are an evil doody-head. Lisa: I try. Kerry: George, do you happen to know how a semi-innocent young girl manages to apply for a family transfer? Is there some kind of court of appeal? George: If I say no will I catch fire again? Liu Xi: Has anybody noticed that Visionary isn’t in this epilogue? Just saying. Dancer: He’s off having his big personal epilogue with Hallie. He had one with Miiri earlier, right Miiri? Miiri: Yes, but I don’t want to give away spoilers. Al B: Uh oh. Enty, we’re getting metatextuality seepage again. We’d better recalibrate the narrative filters. NTU-150: On it. Just pass that clockwork orange pither would you? Asil: While you’re here George you can help with the spring cleaning. We have half a century of necromancy to clean up. Con’s done most of the zombies and stuff, and Donar has kind of sat on the ur-grims, but we might still be able to find a ghoul to do or something. George: Sounds… wonderful. Lisa: It’s a date, then. Have fun you two crazy kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Asil: Is there anything you wouldn’t do? No, don’t describe it. Really. George, quickly: This isn’t a date. A date involves dinner and talking and a nice walk along the shore and stuff. Not exploding kitchen implements and pulped undead and, and incendiary juveniles and stuff. Dancer: Sounds like a lot of my dates. Asil: It is not a date. George has not asked me out. I distinctly didn’t hear George asking me out. Miiri: Asil is right, Lord George. You have to ask her out if you wish to possess her. Dancer: Er, I think that loses something in the translation from Caphean. Con: Seems pretty much how it works to me. Kerry: There’s an easy way to settle this. Just slip this hat on your head, George. Asil: Kerry, no…! Sorting Hat: What? I think I quite suit him. Hmm. George Gedney, 21, working for his masters degree in Boring Historical Studies by correspondence with the University of Parodiopolis, part-time curator at the Willingham Museum of Oddities and Curiosities, hobbies include worrying, collecting polemic tracts from the pre-revolutionary era, and… George: Aaah! My hat is talking! Karl: Yes. They’re all the rage in America, evidently. Con: Could be worse. When your pants start blabbing, then you’re in trouble. Sorting Hat: Inside leg measurement… George: Aaagh. Kerry: Never mind that stuff, hat. If we need his inside leg measurement we can ask Lisa. Lisa, proudly: They say it’s the world’s largest database of intimate male measurements. The Librarian keeps begging for a copy, but so far we haven’t reached a satisfactory transaction price. Heh. George: What kind of hat is this? It’s talking! Fleabot: College education counts, doesn’t it? Only five minutes in the talking hat and already the kid’s deduced what’s happening. One up on Karl, anyhow. Karl, sulking: I was confused because I had a talking flea as well. Anybody would have taken their pants off. Ma Shepherdson, bustling in with another pile of necromantic bric-a-brac to post to Xander: Are you taking your pants off again, our Karl? Didn’t we talk about that when you were four? Karl: Maaaa! Con: I vote we put the blabbing cap back on the thick Irishman. Kerry: In a moment. First we need to ask it about Georgie-boy and his dream woman. Asil, rapidly snatching the hat off George and stuffing it into Karl’s hands: Here, this is for you. Keep it. Fleabot: Think of it as like a seeing eye dog only for thinking. Dancer: Hmm, it does have some possibilities on Karl’s head. It’d almost be like him having a brain of his very own. Karl: Hey! Miiri: But without the Sorting Hat how is Mistress Asil to know whether Lord George seeks to possess her? Lisa: Well, we could always go back to finding out what his pants have to tell us? Asil: You are in a specially evil mood today, you wicked doody! Lisa: Thanks. NTU-150: If you could just past me that juicer Mr Epitome sent I could probably come up with some kind of polygraph. Al B: While you’re at it see if it’s bugged. Dancer: Poor George. All you wanted to do was suicidally take on a major villain to fight for truth and justice against overwhelming evil and here you are in a typical scene in the life of Visionary. George: Typical? This is typical? Yo: Well, is to be no cute Donar just now, and other Juniors are to be coming over later, and is eight Caphans short just now, and is not be no Daio to be trying to poison Visi, or spiffy to be making go pink, or corn, and is not to have been any major fires or explosions… Kerry: Yet. Yo: But is otherwise to be fairly typical, yes. Why? George, staring at Asil: And you live like this? Asil, happily: Yes. Why? Dancer: George, there are some times when you have to ignore being ankle deep in Shoggoth surrounded by talking hats and alien love slaves and mysteriously fizzing microwaves and just take destiny by the throat. George, looking frantically around the kitchen of mad people: Right. Well actually, Asil, it so happens that I was, um, I was wondering, and no offence at all if you say no of course, but I was, er, well I wondered if maybe… Visionary, from upstairs: Aaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! Lisa: Hmm. Sounds like he’s finally worked out his relationship with Hallie then. Hallie, flickering in: He’s not with me. Visionary was headed for the bathroom. Con Johnstantine: Heh. And so on…. |
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