The roar of a motorcycle fills the air. A man can be heard cackling to himself about his precious little slaves. He shifts seamlessly between Spanish to English every time he hears the signal. It has to be this way. He doesn’t want to go the same way as his brother, Munoz, who was negligent in his duties as the Keeper of the Gooree. He paid the price. The Talisman would not tolerate any more mishaps. That’s why he had ordered for Tamash to be shifted from the Great Outposts of the North where he was in charge of linguistic affairs and forensic development. The Talisman did not know the meaning of the word “ally”. You either obeyed him to the dot, or you din’t… and paid the price. His tyrannical rule was in many ways similar to the ancient Aztec way of living, only it was a ritual in those days to sacrifice people. Observers noted that at the rate that The Talisman was moving, he had to conquer faster than he killed his own citizens, or face mutiny.
In another part of the world, far away from The Talisman’s tyranny, lived a carpenter. Angelo was his name. For him, life had just begun. Yes. He had come to the world only a year back. Where from? He did not know yet. He however had an annoying habit. He was addicted to an annoying tune which he had probably heard on his journey to this world. And every time he hummed the tune, plants and creatures in the vicinity would die. However, the birds thrived. As did fat people. Yes, the thick skinned seemed to break into a jolly dance routine whenever they heard Angelo hum the tune. Angelo was unlike other people from the planet. He crawled, for one. Blessed with snake like deftness in more ways than one, his lack of *insert nice synonym for legs here* was never a hurdle for him. He was also interested in learning more about dandelions. When they din’t die due to the ear sore his melody was. He was pleased to see that, in the year that had gone, there were a few varieties of dandelions which adapted to survive.
Narcotics. Pilote was knee deep in the quicksand when he thought to himself. Can I get any higher? And then with a jolt he realized that he was actually going lower!. He wasn’t able to feel his legs anymore. He freaked. Suddenly, the thought of having an ice cream crossed his head. He was hungry. He wanted pizza now. With cheese. He lunged towards the slowly sinking bicycle which he felt was his, in an attempt to go to the nearest pizza store. As he tried to maneouvre himself in position to ride the bicycle, he realized that it was a very muddy day and he needed a helmet. His pants were already soaked. He couldn’t even see them. HE COULDN’T SEE THEM! Once again, he was jolted out of his blissful state. He started thrashing around wildly and tried to grab on to the nearest branch for support. And then he saw. It wasn’t a branch. It was the tentacle of a huge octopus which was staring at him curiously from atop a tree. Sudo did not understand what the little creature in the sand wanted to do. It had tried to stop the creature from going head first into the sand, but it had been mumbling all the time about some swimming pool and how it wanted to hold its breath underwater. And all Sudo was successful was in tripping the creature. Now, the creature was reaching out for her tentacle and Sudo thought to herself whether she extend the greeting and save the creature or get him out and eat him anyway.
How do these three worlds intersect? Should they? Strangely enough they do. The two dimensional world was rising and Tamash, Angelo, and Pilote (assuming he escaped from Sudo) would have to join forces to defeat the forces of The One Who I am Scared Of Naming (Towison in short).
Filed under: Vague MFaKR
