Thursday, October 9, 2014

An Interview with Creepyboy Jack (unpublished fiction from old notebook)

I sat down on a dark and dirty day and talked with renowned evildoer Creepyboy Jack to bring the world of sugar-coated dreams the following bit of underworld philosophy: 

Me:  Hi, Jack. How are you today? 

CJ:  Fuck off. 

Me:  Okay, then. Let's talk evil shop.—Would the darkness of the unknown rip out my heart and destroy my soul? 

CJ:  (laughs hellishly) The fuck creatures will spank you with lust. The baby cloud angels cannot save you. Your breath will turn to stone—but only if you waste your visions. 

Me: Are you saying that my sins will ultimately kill me? 

CJ: It’s worth it, isn’t it? Do-gooders make me sick. (vomits on the floor) 

Me: So, let them do what they— ? 

CJ: Shut up, I wasn’t done.—Your forgotten limp carcass will arise, held up by dancing rats and happyworms. They will flop you around the Desert of Never like a dead fish with plastic bones. And the god whose voice drips bile—that beast who ridicules us—we will kill that sluggish pile of vomit. He will never mouth again! Hail my voiceless words!! 

Me: Uh— 

CJ: The smell of a fresh kill is the perfume of the zombie heads. They dream of their next victims as they float above their skeleton beds. (grins, shows rotten teeth) 

Me: (feeling uncomfortable) Okay, so you've been there? You've felt evil warm you like a hot wind? Have you spoken to the devil himself? 

CJ: Yes . . . I . . . have! I have tasted the green flames of the devil's brains. I have licked the black forehead above his flaming unibrow! And I have done this many times. It's a god's sexual fantasy come untrue. It's like the wind that growls with insanity, and I think you should do it too. 

Me:  No, I could never do that. I’m not even sure I believe in him. God however— 

CJ: Fool! You’ve spoken to me, therefore I have you! Not even the Honeycomb Church of God can sew your ripped soul back together! Your heart is now a prisoner in the city of fire. If you try getting out, the black pentagon will overcome you, and your thoughts will dissipate among the void. 

And I! And I! Ha! Ha! Ha! And I am the soul of the pancake that will make you as flat as me. I will pour lava syrup on your genitals so that you may never breed. We don't want your godhugger offspring in our suspended flapjack of love! 

Me: (sweating, shaking) But I’m like a lonely scared brain in the rain, searching for that special skull. This is how I feel. 

CJ: Bullhonkey, you're like an eager bowl out on parole, searching for that special herb. That is how you feel! Am I Right? 

Me: No— 

CJ: Shut-t-t up-p-p! You are through! If you don’t follow me I will hollow you. The fraction of a second it will take to destroy you will be millions of centuries inside your soul, and your reflection will stare back at you through purple smoke as your spine cracks and your eyes choke. Then your head will be on display in a glass box, and your precious memories will be dissected and fed to purple space sharks. 

How ya feel, I say how ya be feelin' 'bout dat, aye? (throws me to the ground, thrashes me) 

Me: Noooooo! Jack, your madness has thrown my dreams into the shock of a sunless day! I cannot join you, no matter my fate! Oh, dear god! The end is near. My death has come for me! 

CJ: No, this is not the end (laughs)—it is the beginning.

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