The Trance Terrors by R.K. Galvez (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📖

a lot of pressure and sang a twee space shanty...It was quite original and Les played with his black flute…The acoustics in that toilet were truly amazing…

 …Les concluded his rather eventful toilet excursion; Les felt refreshed, almost reborn. It’s amazing how much a good bowel movement can feel like giving birth…He took some more of his alternative medication [It was not Actozine, but it all depends on the sponsors…] and hoped to find Professor Norkgrub for another deep fix…

…After twenty minutes of weird looks and clumsily knocking into strange people; Les did not mind being groped in the fray. Finally, after much frisky business in the mosh, Les located a small door near the bar that went underground...No-one was looking at Les; they realized he was destined for another trip once the entertainment had started. Les smiled. He had to open this queer little door...

 

Ba-ba-baaaaabel!

Chapter 29: Norky's Seedy Nuts…

...After emerging from the river of demon-blood, Les crawled through the door. The world outside had gone, a pus- ridden mass of foul detritus. This mutant ectoplasm was everywhere. There was nothing there at first, until a dim light glowed into full force. It was quite bright; Les had to cover his eyes. Les’ mobile phone vibrated loudly. He looked at it. It was Callum Cheevers. He didn't know what to think, but he decided to let the call go to his voicemail. Callum might ask something sexual again.

Les was not a prude but he did have a thing for Callum. Callum liked men and women -- occasionally animals and vast array of tuberous root vegetables. In fact, Callum just loved penetration and wasn't bothered if he was being penetrated, or the actual penetrator of various orifices. He even enjoyed aural penetration. He was always going on about more kinds of multi-sensory pornography. Les knew Callum, before he had become a full-time pop-pornographer; Les knew Callum had joined a mysterious occultist order of some kind. Les thought Callum was being an amateur...

 No-one else had this knowledge, but Les was about to get a shock...In the middle of the little room was a crystalline plant. The plant looked like a little person. It was an amazing piece of design. It cannot have been manufactured by the adepts of Hirst and Co.

 The crystal covered plant suddenly spoke in Les' mind:

 "Yes, I'm Professor Norkgrub -- what you do want, Les?"

  "I'm Les," said Les. He had not realized he had just heard his name. He blinked, sweat stinging his eyes.

 "I know you're Les! The demon, Occmorok, gave you my number. You slack off for a few days?" Norkgrub snapped.

 "I got delayed," Les murmured.

 Norkgrub smiled; a strange plant-person smile.

"Yep, that's what all the junkies say! I'll get some tunes filtered through, maybe some lysergic air freshener. You know us zoophytes love all that. And Les, I know you're definitely not psychic. Sorry to kill that one for you. No Mandrake and Lothar time for you, Mr Mincey-Pants. You're turning into a Tyme-Pyre, but a good one. One that doesn't eat up every piece of universal existence! You can time-trip when you feel like; it isn’t dark matter riffing. It's a rare gift. You can help us out, you know that? You know we're just trying to have a good time at the end. Life's so short, so why not make the good times last as long as possible right?"

 Les nodded and said, "That makes sense."

 "I'm pleased we sorted that wavelength issue out. Look tune in some more, kid. You like nuts, don't you? I can tell. Look at it like this: I'm trapped in this crystal prison and I'm not going anywhere fast. I need your help, Les, and you need mine. Don't mean you can't have a few seeds to take on your trip, eh? They look like nuts, and they come out near my nuts, but you can take them. Call it a gift. They'll help you."

 "How can they? I don't get it, Professor," murmured Les.

 "No, Les, nor do I. Call me Norky, Time-brother. You know Bayrolles? You really look like that guy. You will get it all, I’m sure of that, and you'll have a great time. You got to get the fork. It’s totally cosmic. You got to make things fair and right again. We can't have all these awful realms messing up on Earth. This is getting to be hyper-karma in astral action, Les!"

 "You are talking about countries?" Les asked.

 "Nope. I’m talking about other worlds, Les. You keep slipping into them. Find that Quagga ghost-brother. He's a right joker that one. Don’t let him make you a tea though, you might survive it. He’s from our chemical brethren. And then get a team together, some freelancers like me. Destroy the shit worlds, save the good ones. Make sure Earth has some fun. It should be a paradise but it's a right dump, isn’t it? If we don't sort it all out, those at the U.R.S.O.M.A.D. will have to clean it all up. And no wants ex-C.O.G. agents back from the dead to sort it all out?”

 "That's the second time I've heard about this C.O.G. Who are they?"

 "Dang tooting demon-tecs, Les! Continuity of Government, that’s what Les. You’re one of us, don’t you remember that? You always have been. Some of them can be scarier than spooks -- I'll tell you that for free, Les. They're the real power-pushers in our universe. They're a government mechanism that keeps everything bad for the masses and hope time just ticks on over. They're a real problem. I was commissioned to do some Research and Development work for them in the past. It was all boring crystallomancy, as you can tell. I guess they didn't like my theories, so I got to see out this crystal curse. It's only for a century, I can cut that deal. Anyway, who wants to live forever?"

 "Unless you just keep re-living, right?"

 "Now you're catching on, Les! We'll grow again! We all do it! Eternity infinitum, brother; after all, it’s just time!"

 That was when the Blood-Harpies burst in through the ceiling, filling the queer chamber with a blinding light. Tiny chicken-footed humans with leathery little wings filled the chamber. They screeched their death-screech, blood spraying throughout the air. What foul being made these vicious beings? Les momentarily thought. They were obviously not known to the local pest control division...

 Norkgrub laughed, shaking his head.

 "Not these dudes again! We tricked them good after seeing Bowie in Philly. You got to remember these things, Les? In '76, after that Funkadelic gig too? Nice one, brother!"

 The vicious Blood-Harpies started snapping their tiny bloody mouth-suckers at Les. Les felt faint, as he fondled Norky's giant nut-like seeds. He felt an energy field flow around him as the Blood-Harpies screeched; they were unable to break through it.

 "Nice orgone accumulation, Les; always a good party trick. Do some Time resurrection shit, quick. I can stay here and slide wherever you like; they're too dumb to follow us!"

The False Epilogue:

…Les looked up through blurred eyes; the Blood-Harpies were dissolving as they attempted to break the mystic field that protected him and Norky. Curse-cure their chicken-footed ways, thought Les. He had always been into a bit of Chickenfoot, though. Voodoo was a casual corruption any primitive might be able to fathom…

…Norky was about to tell him about his exploits in Chickamauga but Les was too weak; his face was covered in a soupy semen-sweat and he was feeling very euphoric. It was as if the sun was forming within his mind and he needed to release the pressure... 

Chapter 3: Quagga Q.T.: A Multitude of Pressurized releases…Les looked up. He had a friend called Goo[P], but could not remember much about those days. He had come to expect a dying world. He was not on Earth; he was inside some crystalline complex. He looked outside: the weird purple hills and strange red-brown sky with no sun. It was raining frosty feathers again. Quagga smiled. He was on a small dais, sitting in some kind of anti-grav egg-shaped box-chair; it was powered by a large beating ceramic heart.

 Johnny Quagga was playing a synth-harp of some unclassified alien design. It had winged tubes that piped out distorted sounds. And this device seemed to be made of flesh. He looked like Adonis spliced with Bernard Manning. You know who I mean? Anyway, he looked a bit intoxicated...

 Quagga flickered, as if he was an apparition.

"I hate being an astral spectre," said Johnny Quagga.

 "I didn't know if you felt real," mumbled Les. He wiped his brow and realized he was now dressed like an Arabian Princess from 1458…

 Suddenly, Les asked:

 "Where's Norky?"

 Quagga smiled and then shrugged.

 "The Prof's a total time waster. He probably got into Time-Sliding with that Turk Veontugg guy. You know the guy? He's Turkish, isn't he?"

 "I don't know. I just know that we got attacked by Blood-Harpies."

 "Not the same old Agency tricks again? It's all trapped in the past Earth-realm now. You can get back through Camden Town, of course. Best to stick the resurrection games, Les. We've all got time for those! You know who you got to find now, Les?"

 "No idea."

Johnny Quagga smirked, flickering some more. He set aside the strange synth-harp on a small platform that instantly flipped out from the queer chair.

 "Les, you got to get with the times. They're moving and a-grooving; there’s always going to have movers and shakers. You can move your shadow, can't you?"

 "I'm not ready for any complex rituals just yet. By the power of Ra, Johnny, I haven’t heard all the undiluted formation prototype charge things yet. I haven't even read up on the rituals of Transcendental Magick, let alone Composite Rituals. I need time, Johnny!"

 Johnny smirked again, as Les wiped tears from his eyes. Johnny loved to watch homosexuals cry; it had never failed to arouse him.

 "I know, Les, I know. You should get a white label and stick with good looking. You don't have the time, though. You'll probably get killed here. You're just a sacrifice sometimes, so you'll get used to the pain. It's nothing in the grand scheme of things. Find that Regor Nocab. He's a subversive here."

 "Where you going?"

 "Don't worry, Les, I'll be back to rescue you! I need to find some kind of astral recharge point, I don’t know. I need some chemical assistance, like a little pick me up, I don’t know about you but I need it real quick. You know how time-shifting shits you out? Well, you will. I’m you remember, aren’t I? I got some weird astral lag hurting my backside, too. You got anything fancy on you? I may need to get loaded before I end up on the cannibal holocaust mission!"

"Please don't say cannibals, I can't take any cannibals. They raped me and ate me last time I was here. I’m sure that was me, wasn’t it? Or was it you? I don't think I've ever met them. I hope they don't like too much flesh this time."

 "You have been reading too much pulp stuff; all that Howard bloke and those other weird folks. Don't go to the Christchild and Vonderpump so much; it'll suck you in you'll never want to leave there. I think they got a good set list there, too. Look it up and