Maniacs in The Fourth Dimension (2 page)

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Authors: YT Whitemansson

Tags: #dinosaurs, #kurt vonnegut, #santa claus, #comics and culture, #mythology and fairy tale

BOOK: Maniacs in The Fourth Dimension
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But, she's
not present on social networks.

 

I wonder,
who's doin' her now. Probably some metrosexual DJ. He's probably
not even an American. He probably speaks English in some retarded
accent. They're probably fucking right now in his pool, in his
mansion, while he's whispering love poetry to her ear in
French!

 

I have to go jerk off.

 

No, I can't. I did it like,
fifteen minutes ago. I can't do this anymore. I'm tired.

 

I hear she's
not a redhead anymore. Luckily, I have a bunch of photos of her on
my phone, from the time when we were together, when her hair was
red. She posed for me so graciously then.

 

I'll show you. Where's my
phone?

 

Shit, it's dead. Battery's
out.

 

Somebody's knocking on my
door.

 

''Ding-ding,
motherfucker!!''

 

Lempo.

 

''What?!''

 

''Pack your dick in your pants
and open the door!!''

 

''It's
unlocked!''

 

What does he want now?

 

''Where have
you been, man? We're all waiting for you at the Convention-con,
Abraxas is going to appear at eleven, and there's no trace of you.
We've been calling you, what's wrong with your phone?''

 

Aw, shit.

''Battery's
dead, I forgot to charge the phone. I completely forgot that
Convention-con is today.''

 

''But you didn't forget to wank,
did you?''

 

''Shut your mouth.''

 

Cuntface.

 

''Well get the fuck up, Cleit
and Jove are waiting for us.''

 

''I can't find my pants…''

 

''That you've been actually
using pants during these last months, you'd know where they are,
wouldn't you?''

 

''I can't find my sneakers,
either.''

 

Ha! Pants! These will do.

 

''Here, take
these, I found 'em next to the doors.''

 

''Sandals?!''

 

''It's the
only thing I found, man!''

 

''Ti moi
prekrasniy malchik, ja sosat tvoi palchik…''

 

''What the fuck, man, did you
just speak russian?''

''It's what
Nadia says to me.''

 

''You completely burned out,
man. C'mon, we have to go.''

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter three

 

Praying
mantis pornography

My turn? My
turn, okay. You've heard Lempo already? You did. That cunt probably
told you how I was jerking off to a praying mantis. I know he did.
I told him to keep his mouth shut, but he just had to go and tell
it to everyone. Shit.

 

Look, this is
what really happened. I heard some chicks giggling in the street,
and my dick got hard, so I went to living room to shoot off. To
assist myself, I've put some VHS from the porn stash in the VCR. By
the time it started rolling, I was already spraying cheese. To my
surprise, some mantises started fucking and eating each other on
the screen. That's what Lempo saw. And he brought his own retarded
conclusions. It's not like I get off to some… mantis pornography.
Such thing doesn't even exist. Praying mantis
pornography.

 

But, just in
case, definition of 'Praying Mantis Pornography', by esteemed
profesor and pornography consumer, Jove Mansell:

 

'Act of sex
between two mates, ending in one devouring the other'

 

Bwahahahahaha…

 

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahaha…

 

''What's up with you, why are
you grinning like a psycho?!''

 

''Oh, Cleit,
I didn't see you coming… I just remembered something
funny.''

 

''Did you
call Lempo? It's ten thirty, Abraxas is going to be here at eleven,
we don't even know where Isaac is…''

 

''I'm
calling, I'm calling…''

Chapter four

 

Rosencrantz
&
Guildenstern

''Look over
there, it's the Bright Moon.''

 

''Where?''

 

''There he is. He saw us, he's
waving to us.''

 

He's coming
this way.

 

''Aw,
shit…''

 

Bright Moon
is a guy from our college. A tedious person. He's as amusing as a
gut parasite. He's always all euphoric and happy, he acts like a
little girl. But, when you get to know him little better, like
Hubert and myself did, you realize that he's quite a sneaky person.
Behind his blathering, naive act, is a cunning
personality.

His parents
are of really humble incomes, but he still manages to live high
life. He buys all his clothes at 'Urban Shop', exclusively. That
store is so expensive, there's nothing for under a hundred bucks
there. And they're selling Confederate flags there, and using
Confederate flag as a motif on some of their clothing lines. They
think it's freaky fashion.

 

He drains his
parents pockets pretty quickly of course, and then he lives mostly
of his numerous friends, and girlfriends.

Guy never
pays for a coffee. He tagged along, with Hubert and myself to cafes
several times, he never paid anything.

Last year,
when Hubert was traveling Greece and the Balkans, Bright Moon
texted him, and 'pretty pleased' Hubert to bring him back some
aromatic tobacco that you can find only in some Balkan countries.
Hubert brought him dozen of boxes, and Bright Moon sold'em for some
nice cash to his friends. He used, maybe, one box himself. He never
paid Hubert for tobacco, of course, but that is pretty much
Hubert's fault, because he told him that 'it's OK', when Bright
Moon was whining that he will pay him back, always, 'next
week'.

 

Anyway, I
started calling him Bright Moon when his hair started falling off,
so he began shaving his head. He used to have a long curly hair.
Hubert calls him also: The Bald Moon.

 

He's
here.

 

''Hey guys,
what's up?! Ed, Hube…''

 

He insists on
hugging, although we just want to shake hands.

 

''What's up,
J.''

 

''Hey, man.
You look like you haven't slept all night.''

 

''Oh, I had
such an amazing time last night. We smoked salvia at Eve's place,
it was out of this world. You two should have been
there.''

 

''Salvia, the
flower?''

 

''Yep, it was
heavenly.''

 

''Um… Nice.
Just don't get poisoned or somethin'.''

 

So, they're
smoking flowers now. I'm imagining a guy bringing a bouquet of
flowers to his girlfriend, she takes them, hugs him, kiss him, and
then they smoke the flowers together.

 

''I didn't
know you're into Convention-cons, jam master J.''

 

We don't call
him Bright Moon in his presence, of course.

 

''I'm not.
Some of my friends are, and they dragged me along.''

 

Undoubtedly,
they cashed out for your ticket, haven't they, jam master
J?

 

''What about
you two?''

 

''We come,
every year, just to snoop around.''

 

''So, is
there any promotion, degustation stands, free beer and
snacks?''

 

''I haven't
ever noticed any.''

 

''Neither did
I.''

 

''Sucks. Is
there anything interesting going on here?''

 

''Um… Stephen
King's going to be here tonight. He'll be signing his new
book.''

 

''Oh,
really?! Stephen King, the writer?''

 

''The
one.''

 

''I don't
like his books. They're so long and boring. If I was his editor, I
would cut them down to hundred pages of actual action.''

 

Hubert
started laughing.

 

''He he, says
the guy that reads Stephanie Meyer.''

 

''Ha ha, very
funny. Just so you know, I read Samantha Schuster's books, not
Stephanie Meyer's, and she writes self improvement books. I've
learned from them how to build bird houses, among other
stuff.''

 

Hubert
cracked one, it's my turn.

 

''And smoke
ornamental plants.''

 

Hubert and
myself are cracking up.

 

''Laugh all
you want. You can learn alot from her books.''

 

Oops, we
annoyed Bright Moon.

 

''It's
impossible to have a normal conversation with you two, Laurel and
Hardy.''

 

''We
resemble, don't we? It's the eyebrow thing.''

 

I do Stan
Laurel face, when he lifts his eyebrows. Bright Moon
smiles.

 

''You wanna
go get coffee and pie somewhere, I really don't have what to do
until my friends finish their stupid sword making
class.''

 

We both just
stared confused at him.

 

''Relax, I'm
payin'.''

 

Salvia messed
up his brains.

 

Hubert went:
''Awww, although we're both most intrigued by that coffee offer,
we're actually waiting for something. Someone. At
eleven.''

''Waiting for
who?''

 

''Author of
some underground comic. We don't know who he is. He just signs as
Abraxas. He's meeting his fans at eleven.''

 

''Underground
comic? How can a comic be underground?''

 

''Well, it
just appears sometimes without any particular time span in certain
stores, in small print numbers, and disappears the same day. Edwin
and I mostly obtain it from e-bay.''

 

''Why do you
care about that comic so much? What's so special about
it?''

 

''Story's in
the form of an illustrated diary of some druid that, while in
exile, finds himself on some other level of reality. Romans want to
capture him and trial him, so they follow him, and he keeps running
away, always on some higher level, or 'heaven' as it is called in
the comic. '365 heavens' is the name of the story.''

I had to cut
in: ''Story's not that important. What caught our attention is the
mytho-religious imagery inside the comic. Whoever created it knows
alot about old Gnosticism.''

 

Hubert
continued: ''And we want to know who that person is. We even think
it's someone from our college. Some profesor, maybe.''

 

Seemed like
Bright Moon got interested for a second.

 

''Come with
us and find out.''

 

''Nah. I'll
pass. I came to relax, not to be on college away from college. See
you guys.''

 

He
left.

 

''Why did you
invite him? He would of talk us to death.''

 

''I don't
know. It seemed like a right thing to do. Maybe we should of gone
on that coffee with him, Abraxas is probably no one
interesting.''

 

''Yeah,
probably. Unless if he is actually Bright Moon
himself.''

 

We laughed to
that.

Chapter five

 

Ugliness

Man. I saw
vampires. And werewolves. And goblins. Jedis with lightsabers. Big
little wizards. They passed right by me. I'm not in some other
dimension. I'm at Convention-con.

 

Bunch of
freaks. Flaunting their ugliness. The first time old jeans and a
pair of all-stars made me stand out.

 

I a saw a
couple of elves. I could have sworn that they're not human. Their
ears are big and pointed. Their eyes are of some unnatural variant
of blue. Their hair is long and black. Their outfit is something
futuristic, leather, iron, and zippers. Only thing that gave them
away, gave away their thisworldliness, is their archery equipment,
their bows and arrows are professional sport stuff. Carbon made.
They did everything they could to turn themselves into a pair of
action figures.

 

They seem to
detest their humanity. They want to be something else. But, they
don't have a choice.

Or, is it
mimicry? Like in nature, are they imitating what they desire to
be?

 

Or totemism?
Do they believe that the spirit of their God will descend upon
them, if they make of themselves his totem?

 

I sometimes
wonder how would an ancient Greek react in certain situations in
this modern world, and what would he think. Would he see demons
everywhere? There's a reason why I picked an ancient Greek. Because
of an ancient Greek word that is used all around the globe, with
the same meaning. Demon.

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