Reality Slip

[realityslip]

Crystal Vision

It had been over a decade since Kyle last had a crystal vision. At the time he was living in Central Park writing poetry and selling tin-cans to the natives. Though prized as local color, he had not been able to provide for himself financially. Kyle became a businessman, employing raccoons to lift loose change from vending machines in exchange for acorns and shiny buttons. The second crystal vision came much as the first did, quickly and without notice. Kyle entered the trance as he handed a large raccoon a brass button. A giant eagle-headed man appeared before Kyle and spoke in a thick cockney accent. "Kyle! You bastard! Why haven't you replied to any of me message? I've called six times, me joiner! Answer the stinking phone!" Just as the Eagle headed-man finished insulting Kyle's promptness to answer calls, he vanished as if he had never been there at all. Kyle stood motionless as he stared into the sky where the messenger had been, still holding tightly onto the button, which the raccoon bit at. Somewhere far off, a phone rang and Kyle returned to reality. Jumping up from his cardboard box he released the button from his grasp, much to the rodent's pleasure, and dashed off towards the sound of ringing. The man with crystal visions shot like a bullet across the park, knocking over dogs and small children as he sailed toward the unanswered phone, his unanswered destiny. The sound of Kyle's destiny had been coming from a young lady's purse. The woman was beautiful and had the most gorgeous smile Kyle had ever seen. The vixen screamed and smacked Kyle as he plunged his hand deep into the purse. As the woman yelled for help, Kyle found the phone next to a pack of cigarettes. Yanking the phone free, he answered, "Hello? Hello? Are you there?? Hello?" A group of security officers armed with tasers rushed towards Kyle. A particularly fast officer made it to Kyle first, thrusting the taser into his gut, at which Kyle immediately buckled over as the phone dropped from his hands. As more officers crowded around poking Kyle with high-voltage tasers, Kyle could faintly hear the pre-recorded message from the phone which laid inches from his face. "Hello Ms. Vanderblume! We just wanted to remind you that your next appointment with Dr. Smoot is tomorrow at 4:15! Remember to brush so you can keep those pearly whites, pearly white!"

[realityslip]

Baboon Tears by Peter Charles Hurtgen

The mighty Baboon rose quietly from the ashes of the burned out apartment. The mammoth-snake still lay beneath the broken marble table as the ash slowly rained down.The table had been a wedding present from Frank Tiller earlier that year. The breathing of the baboon was steady and rhythmic as the sirens grew louder. The night was dark like the snake's eyes. The baboon knew there would be a rumble when the police arrived. He sighed and pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. "I'd better perform the fusion ritual with the snake-monger, or else I won't stand a chance when McNare gets here," Herbert the Baboon thought. The shell of the apartment was black and burned, and ash blanketed the floor. Herbert moved toward the table and swept debris from the snake's face. He held the snake in his arms and opened its mouth. Giant blade-knife fangs glimmered back at Herbert. Herbert drove the fangs into his chest. The poison flowed like lava into Herbert's blood stream. "ARGHUFHGHHHH!" Herbert screamed. The sirens grew closer: "WEEE-OOOO WEEEE-OOOO." As the squad cars screeched into the grass next to the apartment, Herbert lay writhing in pain in the doorway of 345 Whitewood heights. McNare jumped from his car with a giant blade-knife in his hand. Tears rolled from McNare's eyes as he saw Herbert lying silent and bloody in the doorway. McNare knew he had lost. Herbert had bested him once again. Within minutes Herbert would arise a grand-baboon with enough fire power and madness to blow all of Slantsville to HELL.

[realityslip]

Randolf Pentagardner

Randolf Pentagardner wanted desperately to have seven daughters simultaneously by seven women. “They must at least,” he thought, “be born in the same cut off time for fall eligibility to enter school.” He imagined the throng of beautiful daughters. All half German-English and the other half a medley of world culture. His head spun: “I’ll have a coca-cola commercial of diversity for a family!” The girls he would groom from the earliest conceivable age to be a perfect basketball team. He had thought for a while of adopting but he needed filial love to inspire the girls to professional level athleticism. Randolf turned his home into a basketball gymnasium. He had the ceilings raised appropriately. He hand painted the 3 - point line as well as a precise portrait of Zwanfano, the deity from outerspace who had inspired him with his passion in a prophetic series of nights experiencing open visions of his beautiful daughters executing a perfect triangle offense. Zwanfano had brought in his legal representative to assure that he would recieve 3% of any profits Randolf accrued from merchandising. “A small price to pay!” Randolf thought as walked the streets of New York City. He would go to bars for the next three months to carry out his mission. A glimmer of remorse entered Randolf’s heart when he thought about Zwanfano. “Will the basketball team of my daughter’s eclipse the joy I had with Zwanfano?”

[realityslip]

Goblin Quarters

The Voodoo Shaman stood wise and tall like the mighty oak. The feathers from his headdress touched the sky like little fingers which tickled the heavens. His name was Pongo-Motassum and he was the wise one. He had been raised by vampires, but did not bear the curse of the nosferatu. He wore only a headdress of golden ostrich fathers and a long flowing velvet cape. Running and crashing through the brush of the jungle floor he was indeed a mad-man, quick as light from the sun. He spoke no longer the words of man, but instead screamed unrecognizable words to beasts and plants. Every morning he challenged the wildlife, calling in his strange tongue, taunting the beasts. "MEGASSO CHA GOLMBA!" he cried to the boar and the boar did fight him and Pungo did best him. "CHUY DOL SEEMA!" he called to the bear and the bear did fight him and Pungo bested him also. "EM CHUNGA BULOSSA MONTE!" cried Pungo to the mighty beaver and the mighty beaver did fight him and Pungo did bite and gnaw his foe into submission. And once he had beaten his oppponent, Pungo's vampire elders descended from the lilac branches to feast on the dish which lay helpless on the jungle floor. Like machines, the elders drank blood as Pongo watched from a distance, for Pongo was no Vampire.

[realityslip]

The Fell Beast of Gil-Nash

The fell beast with his ancient eyes scanned across the labyrinth. The towers of metal and lack of sunlight reminded him of his youth in the seventh circle of Gil-Nash. With his powerful bat-like wings he lifted his body towards the heavens, twisting like a drunken acrobat. Screeching in his desolation, he made his presence aware to all his soon to be victims. Kyle Thompson was pushing his cart down aisle seven when his eyes first locked with the fell beast of Gil-Nash. Kyle had heard the rumors, though he had not believed a forbidden prowler daemon had indeed taken refuge in his local Shop-n-Go. Fortunately, Kyle was paranoid-delusional. It was this paranoia which drove Kyle to take his regular dosage of magnumo-pills that morning. The voices in his head had implied he might be doing battle with a sky warlock later and that he should be well prepared. The fell beast dove at Kyle, screaming and flailing in madness. At that second, the last of Kyle's stomach acid cut through the inner shell of the magnumo medication. Kyle turned to liquid and vanished. He entered the 4th dimension. The fell beast gasped. The titanic monster had never seen one of his victims in this way. The beast of Gil-Nash's heart began to beat slower and an unusual easiness came over him. There was Kyle, invisible, but not invisible to all. His skin had been replaced by gold and his eyes were music. Kyle and the abomination slowly moved towards one another, their palms quite sweaty. Inches apart, they embraced, feeling the breath of the other hot on their face. The kiss was unexpected but desired by both parties. There stood Kyle Thompson and Branore of Gil-Nash necking in the 4th dimension while Martin Boneharp compared brands of toilet paper four aisles over.  

[realityslip]

Solomon Wulf

The bullets grazed. The sheep grazed. Solomon Wulf had missed the mark and now he had to dissolve his atomic structure and dive into the ether, a hard thing to do without sleeping for 4 days. He had to pay the bills somehow. Shepherd work, gunman work, it was all the same to Solomon Wulf. But now that the custodial union’s VP for bureaucratic sanitation was bleeding, with a menacing look in his eyes and a long mop spinning agilely through his expert hands, 5 months of carefully saving every last dime was going to go right out of the door with energy costs. It wasn’t cheap to dissolve one’s atomic structure. You had to have a delta rig with all the bells and whistles if you wanted to do it right. And, hell, with something as complicated as dissolving one’s atomic structure, it really did have to be done right. Before dissolving, Solomon clenched his fist and shouted, “Not my life’s savings! Not for you!” Solomon moved. The sheep grazed. The VP closed the distance between them and powered the mop through the air, through time, through Wulf’s face. “It’s over,” said Wulf, as he dissolved his atomic structure, consciousness not following.