A Gimp horror story for Halloween

[Adam Smith]

Originally posted by Lazarus and the Gimp
Last week Judy Garland spontaneously manifested in the library, and she's been wandering around looking confused ever since."

So let me guess...rah escapes by clicking his shoes together and saying "there's no place like home", which takes him back to the Multiplayer Forum?

Great work as always Laz

[Richard Bruns]

Great story; I thought that the introduction in the first post was truly excellent. Laz, is it an HP Lovecraft parody on purpose? Does the Mythos count as a part of the fantasy you loathe?

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

No- I'm a big Lovecraft fan. That opening sequence owed a little to Lovecraft, but probably more to Thomas Ligotti and Robert Holdstock- two writers who I think are genuinely brilliant.

In the main, I hate most horror and fantasy because they're so lacking in imagination and horribly cliched. The three writers mentioned above are exceptions- I think their writing is extraordinary. Ligotti writes horror (in a strange and eerie style that's close to Lovecraft), while Holdstock writes very dark and wild fantasy.

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

Part 8

A starkly-lit glass-fronted cell. Bookcases on the wall containing works by Proust, Baudelaire, Joyce and Basho. On another wall, a watercolour sea-scape in the style of Turner, freshly-painted. Strapped upright on some sort of ninja restraining table- the weapons-grade uber-psycho that is Ernst Stefu Blofeld, resplendant in prison overalls (but in a shade of cornflower blue that was simply "to die for") and a seriously heavy-duty "nutter muzzle"- a leather and steel mask covering his face from the eyes downwards.

Rah broke the ice first. "So. Ernst Stefu Blofeld. We meet again."

"Your capacity for starting the bleeding obvious remains truly staggering, Bulldog. Are you going to follow up that blinding insight by informing me that we appear to be in a cell together?"

Rah moved behind the muzzled nutter. "Well let's see how observant you can be now, smartarse. Go on- dazzle me."

Blofeld's eyes narrowed. Then he sniffed the air long and hard, like a Bloodhound. "You sometimes wear Old Spice aftershave, but not today. You are wearing a linen suit and Egyptian cotton shirt from Saville Row, and you have slept in these clothes for at least two days. Your shoes are hand-made Italian brogues, and you have just farted."

"OK. I'm impressed" said Bulldog. "What's with the muzzle? Been chasing cats again?"

Blofeld reached up and removed his mask. "I'm trying to stop biting my nails". He reached down and started unbuckling himself from the table. "I picked up this table from IKEA- it's from their "Pervö" range. It's much more comfortable than it looks. Would you like me to explain what's going on?"

"I can hardly wait. You know, it seems like I'm constantly having things partially explained to me lately."

"Really?" asked Blofeld.

"Yes. It's almost as if I'm trapped in some sort of story in which the author is attempting to cram too much plot into too little story, and is attempting to glue together some semblance of structure through, frankly, rather unbelievable dialogue."

"Fascinating."said Blofeld. "Well, let me continue that". He sat down in a surprisingly comfy chair and adopted a "Thoughtful narrator" pose. "It's all about action and reaction, Bulldog. When there is too much conservatism, or liberalism in the world there will be an inevitable backlash. What the Wombatters are attempting to do is increase the "see-saw" effect- they are sucking all the gayness and liberalism out of Apolytonia and concentrating it here. Then they plan to trigger the backlash against all the straight conservatism in the world outside and ride the tidal wave of gayliberalism back into power."

"So where do I come into it?"

Blofeld smiled a tight and coldly smug little grin. "In order to trigger the backlash, the Wombatters will be using the Gayliberal Codices to summon the ultimate incarnation of the Gay Grooviness. A creature of immense power, impeccable taste, and really tasty dance moves too. They will attempt to summon the Starchild. You are the sacrifice intended to appease it."

"This all sounds a bit frou-frou for a super-villain of your tastes, Blofeld. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Well spotted, Bulldog. Naturally, I intended to warp their plans so that my ARSE organisation can profit from the ensuing chaos. The Wombatters believe the thwarted my mission, but in fact it's already done". He paused to pour himself a neat little cup of espresso. "I've re-written the codices. Rather than the Starchild, the Wombatters will be summoning something rather unexpected."

He stood and paced over to the glass front of the cell, looking out. "For every action there is a backlash, Bulldog. For every paragon of joy and whimsy, there is a summation of dour finger-pointing. Remember that, because it's that you'll be hacked to bits for....."

**********************************

[chequita guevara]

[MOBIUS]

I only figured out the Lovecraft connection with 'Infernal Cathedral of Rynkg-T'syinklcx, the risen Wombat'...

Sounded like a particularly twisted session of Call of Cthulhu where the entire party goes insane...

[Provost Harrison]

[Immortal Wombat]

^^

[DaShi]

Very good Laz. Keep it up!

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

Part 9

They came for him at noon the next day. He had spent the intervening time playing mournful music on his harmonica, until Blofeld had threatened to shove it up his arse. Now a host of elite Wombatters escorted him out of his cell and through the impeccably decorated ante-chambers (furnished with hideously uncomfortable yet murderously chic Phillipe Starck creations) into the colossal Great Temple of Ygnz-R'nasgf, The Wombat Transcendant. There, in front of the immense sculptures depicting scenes from "Spartacus" involving waaaaaaay too much in the way of scantily-kilted oiled musclemen, he was tied to the great black altar.

Slowly, the masses of the Transcendental Order of the Immortal Wombat filed into the great temple, chanting softly like the wind and waves on some strange and distant shore. In their cowled robes they stood in the haze of incense and chanted; a song half as old as time itself.

That song had been chanted before. Long before the Earth had cooled, it had rung through the galaxies as the old ones hung and froze in the pale glow of a distant supernova. How they had sung! Their gutteral crowing had swelled into a massed polyphony of a million great throats, and their song had crossed the heavens bringing a deep chill of a strange and terrible knowledge. At the most infinitesimal level, the skies still rang to the dying echoes of that first great song- felt only in the bones of those staring nemesis in the cold, cold eye.

Now the song rang out again. The Wombat cultists had no idea what it would bring but they knew it's power. As the song swelled and grew, a new counter-melody was introduced as the opening stanza of the Gayliberal Codices were chanted. It's shaping force was added to the great song, in the hoope that raw and elemental power could be shaped into an incarnation of true splendour- the Universal Starchild.

What the Wombatters could never have guessed is that Ernst Stefu Blofeld had done his infernal work well. A crucial middle eight was inverted, bringing a jarring and warped counter-melody into the great song.

The summoning power of the great song was undiminished. However some things should never be summoned. Deep in the heart of the Gayliberal Codices something monstrous lurked, and it's physical form was to be found imprisoned in a huge crystal deep in the rock below the Offe-Topyc. As the great song swelled, the crystal shattered like glass and something out of the universal nightmare ripped through the Earth's crust. The floor of the Great Temple swayed and buckled, while cultists were pitched screaming into freshly-opened seething pits of lava.

An immense clawed hand punched up through the floor. A second followed. Tentacles shot out of the opening pit, mauling and violating the cultists. Two huge and muscular shoulders bunched and strained, overshadowed by the vast and tattered black wings. Finally the great scarred and horned head lifted out of the pit and howled at the crumbling ceilings above.

"Oh ****!" commented a cultist. "It's Mr. Fun!"

******************************************

Final episode to appear on Halloween.

[chequita guevara]

LOL!

[DinoDoc]

"Oh ****!" commented a cultist. "It's Mr. Fun!"

ROFLMAO

[Immortal Wombat]

[Lonestar]

Rubber room? I was once in a rubber room, but there were worms....

[DinoDoc]

To think that this was on page two and falling fast!