Posts Tagged ‘Nymph’

(Alright, KT! Aren’t you excited about writing today? – ed.)


(Okay, let’s try again. Are you ready to do this? – ed.)


(Okay, let me clarify yet again. You’ve been drunk for a week and a half. It’s a miracle you are actually still breathing. That being the case, are you at least ‘not hungover’ enough to try writing? – ed.)


(Good. Then hop to it. – ed.)

I said I can probably try to write. Movement of any kind – especially hopping – is right out. Jostling my stomach is a poor choice.

(It’s…an expression. – ed.)

YOU’RE an expression.

(…just write the fucking story. – ed.)
As the quartet traveled through the winding paths of the Jodhpur Forest, Nubbins briefed Ken on the most salient details of the history of Beautopia. The facts were somewhat different than he expected.

“Okay, let me see if I have this straight,” Ken said, “Leprechauns are real but reside entirely in the Wastelands. Elves are not real. Nymphs are real and work as prostitutes in Portland – prostitution BEING legal…”

“You can thank me for that one later,” mused Cal Jack.

“Griffins are real and serve the same purpose as school buses do in my world. Fairies are not real. Gnomes used to be real until you exterminated them in…what did you call it again?”

“The Great Gnome Pogram,” said Nubbins.

“Right. The Great Gnome Pogram. Okay. Not that I approve of that in any way, shape or form, but…why?”

“It’s quite simple, my human friend,” Efrem rumbled below them as he walked, “The gnomes were unbelievers. They let their souls become clouded with the promise of mountain berry juice, nymph sexuality and unrestrained illegal back-alley parcheesi tournaments. We could have stood by and let them be damned to the Netherland far below the surface of our world or we could cleanse them and give them back life in the Aetherland. We chose to be mercy-bearers. Do not judge us too harshly, K. Oz Terry. We do not have such developed consciences as you humans.”

“…just out of sheer morbid curiosity, how many gnomes did you ‘cleanse’?”

“Just shy of seven hundred fifty thousand, plus or minus a few hundred or so!” Nubbins cheerfully chimed in. Ken, however, looked incredibly uncomfortable and the next several minutes of travel were met with awkward, tension-filled silence, not unlike that of a morning after fornicating with a spherical lady. Without warning, however, Efrem ground to a halt. Ken – facing backwards – was nearly thrown from the creature’s back.

“Why the hell are we stopping?” he yelled, turning to face his ridemates.

“Look up, friend,” said Cal Jack.

In front of the young man were the tallest city walls he had ever seen. They stretched far into the sky and appeared to be seven layers thick of what seemed to be a cross between granite and limestone. The city gates – gilded steel – portrayed fantastic scenes of violence and love and violent love and loving violence. Finally, beside the gates was a small black button.

“We have arrived at Lozenthol. The crown jewel city of Beautopia. The capital. The Big L. Ell City,” Nubbins pontificated. Cal Jack smirked.

“I think I get it, thank you,” said Ken.

“You almost forgot, dear Nubbins,” Cal Jack said, “that this is the city that houses our most beautiful and kind patron Mistress Calliope.”

“Mistress? Is that…”

“Yes, my human friend. The title means exactly what you think it does. We are not unversed in the linguistics of human sexuality here.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, K. I have not yet consumed you and so cannot be engaging in that particular act.”

“So you ARE unversed in human cursing linguistics.”


“I said a swear.”

“I see. Please forgive our backwards ways. We do not understand. We have different ways of expressing vulgarity.”

“Wait, so if I said ‘cargo hold’ or something like that?”

“You would have grievously insulted the Birth Mother of the World by calling her a common harlot with loose genitals.”

“I see. Well…apologies then. Shall we go see the Mistress?”

“Yes, of course,” Nubbins chipped in, “Let me go ring us in.”

Nubbins hopped off the back of their living vehicle and trotted over to the black button. After jumping a few times, he gained enough height to slam his fist on the button, caused a loud electrical hum to erupt from the gates, which slowly began to open. Nubbins quickly ran back and climbed up onto the toad again.

“Onwards Efrem! To Mistress Calliope’s villa!”

Croaking a bit from exertion, Efrem hauled his load through the town. The architecture was a curious combination of avant garde and mud hut. The citizens, all curious as to the new arrival, came out to the street to watch. A more varied lot one could never find. Seven eyes, two eyes, no eyes, one eye. Repeat the same for arms and legs. Wings. Horns. Tails. Stripes. Spots. If one were to compare the citizens of Lozenthol to anything in our world, it would most likely be a schizophrenic’s nightmare while drunk and high on LSD. Ken’s mind nearly spun attempting to comprehend the sights. Soon enough, they had reached the edge of town, where the mighty villa stood.

Once they reached the front sidewalk, Cal Jack, Nubbins and Ken disembarked, standing in front of the villa. None of them were sure what to do.

“Do…do we knock?” asked Ken, the most unsure.

“I have never been so I do not know, friend,” said Cal Jack.

Suddenly, the front door swung open and a beautiful human woman, hair like spun gold, eyes as blue as the waters in Capri, stepped out, her body covered in leather and lace, sewn together elegantly and yet with an air of sexuality to it. She smiled, teeth bright white in the sun.

“Hello! I am Mistress Calliope. I know you, Cal Jack, Efrem and Mr. Nubbins. That must mean that you, handsome stranger, must be Ken, the other human. Welcome. Please come in!”

Stupefied at her beauty, Ken let himself be led by his arm into the sitting room where the two others – Efrem could not enter – sat down. Calliope, however, did not let go of his arm, squeezing it gently.

“You boys make yourselves at home. Mr. ‘Terry’ and I need to speak privately. Come, Ken.”

Dutifully, he followed her up the grand staircase and out of sight. Time passed.

About an hour later, the pair walked back downstairs, smiles on their faces, although Ken’s was larger. Ken also appeared to be doing a small dance of some sort. Cal Jack and Nubbins stood and made small bows.

“Welcome back, Mistress,” said Nubbins. “You two were gone quite a while. Were you speaking to one another?”

“Hell yes,” said Ken. “First I spoke to her, then she spoke to me, then we spoke to each other, then our bodies spoke.”

“I see,” Nubbins said. “Well, it must have been a very rewarding conversation, as we could hear the word ‘yes’ repeated over and over and at quite high volume.”

“That’s because I fu-”

Calliope nudged him and shook her head. Ken coughed.

“I mean. That’s because I…sequoiaed her…spare tire with…demarcation?”

“We do not quite understand but…”

Just then, a guard burst through the door, scared and sweating.

“Mistress! It has come! The time has come! The Dark Lord is approaching with his army!”

“The Dark Lord?” Ken laughed. “What is he? A disgrunted teddy bear?”

“Baphomet.” said Calliope.


“Baphomet. The goat’s head demon. The swallower of souls. In your culture, he is associated with Satanism and the Devil. He is in flesh in our world and seeks to destroy us,” said Cal Jack, reverentially.

“Oh God. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Not to fear, Childbringer,” said Calliope. “We have nothing to fear as long as I survive.”

“As long as…WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!”

“Childbringer. I am filled with your seed which has already begun to form our child, the savior of the world.”


“Indeed! The father of our salvation!”

Ken fainted. Calliope shook her head.

“Why is it that men always faint when they hear of this? No matter! To arms!”
(Uh, KT? Something you want to confess? – ed.)

Not really, no.

(Uh…huh. Okay. – ed.)

Can I pass out now? Oop. Too late. Night all!

Rupert the Drunk Watches Eraserhead

Posted: February 27, 2009 by pred3000 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

From the depths of the bottle came one man inspired to do the most random things while slowly becoming smashed. To add insult to injury, he decided to track his progress. This man is named Rupert. These are his adventures:

The Adventures of Rupert the Drunk
Today, Rupert the Drunk attempts to watch David Lynch’s 1977 film Eraserhead
1 min-Hey everyone.  Well, I got this random movie from Netflix. Something called Erasherhead.  Probably will be good for a laugh.  I’m also feeling mixed drinks tonight.  So, let’s see how this goes.

5 min-  Ok…what in God’s name is going on here?  So far there’s this guy with the worst haircut I’ve ever seen.  Luckily my talent for appletinis still remains strong.

12 min-Hooray, people are finally talking.  Wait, what?  This is weird.

20-Cut them up like real chickens?  Hahahahaha.  Oh boy, maybe I should take it easy.

Editor’s note:  At this point, possibly due to the insanity of the film or merely due to the exhorbitent amount of mixed drinks, Rupert became obsessed with finding a wood nymph he was convinced was living under his TV stand.

33 min-Goddammit you bastard.  I’m going to find you.  Then you will take me to Glomptor the head nymph and give me my gold.

45- You know…that is one ugly child.  Really, really, ugly child.  Jesus Christ!  Why does the child look so ugly?

1  hour-So, wife gone…woman with cheeks.  Cheeks!  Who made this movie?  They need help.

1 hour 15 minutes-I need another drink.  Can I drink everytime I see something that doesn’t make sense?

Editor’s note: At this point, thinking he was watching a different David Lynch movie, Rupert mimes a performance of the classic Roy Orbison song “In Dreams.”

1 hour 30 minutes-In Dre-he-eams, you’re mine….all something…behind…We’re together…

1 hour 45 minutes-Blaaaaarg!!!!
Editor’s Note: Here, Rupert abandoned his quest to continue his search for Glomptor the Head Nymph and hopefully gain access to the wood nymph treasury.