by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“I feel light headed.”
“You’ve been shipwrecked, mate. Crash landing.”
“Why am I hanging upside down caught in these sticky threads?”
“Oh, that. Space Monkeys. It’s a long story.”
Philo Vance sucked in oxygen from his spacesuit, checked his blinking power light and knew he was running out of time. “Give me the short version.”
His own ship’s emergency pod bobbed softly as if nodding its head in agreement. The female face peering at him through its porthole waved, face adorned with a pleased smile. “I was preparing to feed you to them. That stock of Betelgeuse hundred proof liquid Black Magic you brought in, is about empty.”
“And? So I’m broke, no means of travel. I do hope you thought I was dead?”
“Your spaceship crashed a hive of them while they were breeding. Saved my sorry life. They’d attacked my reserve of Lower Galactic Cloud Space Dust, the celebration got out of hand. Space Monkey’s destroyed my bar called ‘Spaced Out’ just as you arrived. Name’s Marty Evans. What else was I supposed to do?” The woman withdrew from sight.
Philo Vance and his space suit were lifted by the pod’s external work arm and thrust through a ragged dark hole. Star light exploded around him along with a mass of swarming Space Monkey’s.
“Sweet rings of Saturn. She turned my suit into a time bomb.” The power light began blinking an angry red.
The first swarm of alien invaders coupling with each other got caught in the suit’s silken threads. The mass swarmed, writhed in a shock of mating frenzy. Philo Vance watched his power light turn from angry red to purple overload. “I’m cooked. Made an orderve for a drunken Space Monkey wedding party.”
An orifice plastered its wet sucking feeler against Philo’s face plate. He felt another tingle and vibrate at his left arm. An explosion of white hot pain shattered his fear.
“Where am I? What happened?”
“It worked. Sort of. I used the combined energy of the Space Monkey’s moment of rapture and your spacesuit coming apart to create a small break in the space-time continuum.” The woman’s face came up close, kissed Milo’s ear. A soft hand patted his head.
“I’m alive?” Philo Vance moved into her embrace. He was no longer inside the shell of his space suit. The woman, no longer in the emergency pod, seemed intent on replicating the mating actions of the entire horde of Space Monkey’s.
“Very much alive.” Marty Evans did her best to avoid an elbow prying itself under her chin. “What’s wrong with you? We survived. I saved your life.”
Marty used another elbow to wedge himself apart from this wiggling mass of female protoplasm intent on seducing him. “Hey. Stop it. We hardly know each other. We’ve barely met.” They seemed to be inside some kind of force field bubble riding ribbons of fire.
“Spoilsport. We’re snug inside a wormhole pre-programmed to take me back home. Come back here and show me some gratitude. I’m drunk on being alive.``
There is only one thing worse than sex starved Space Monkey’s intent on making your paralized entombed body encased in a cocoon, a repository for their eggs. “You’re not human.”
Finding himself trapped in the embrace of a Sarcovian hallucinating traveling mind dream was the next step up. From undulating pure ecstasy it would turn into unbearable nightmare any second after his psychic energy became drained of any desire.
Philo forced himself to couple, explore and probe the thing’s most intimate demands. There. IN the last moment of his sanity, he created a feedback loop and disengaged. “Enjoy, babe. Climax yourself into star struck infinity. Have a blast.”
The force field shivered. The bubble popped. Marty wrapped herself up in pulsating waves of undulating rainbow ribbons, screaming her agonized release upon release. Philo swam free, riding a blue streak of comet tail flying through the wormhole. His life and his many past lives passed before his eyes. Was this to be his final end?
“Cosmic Hallelujah.” Philo found himself deposited at the famed pearly gates of a mist clouded door to Heaven. Winged angels blew trumpets, played harps and polished their halos.
A glowing white gowned figure beckoned, stroking at a long stringy fading rainbow colored beard. A hand turned a page, pen poised above a list of names. “Next. Oh. It is you, is it? Grab a harp. Here’s your tarnished halo. Start polishing and try to stay in tune.”
Philo struggled against the blare of heavenly music assaulting his ears. “I thought Hell was where unspeakable horrors happened.”
“Our best kept secret. Otherwise everyone would want to end up there. If you’re lucky, in an eternity or two, if you work hard you might earn a vacation. If you don’t blow your mind circuits before then, maybe we’ll meet again. There’s my ride. I’m at the end of my shift.”
Philo watched in jaw dropping consternation as Marty Evans, followed by a host of devilish looking Space Monkey’s warped into the current tick tocking moment of space and time. “Tell my replacement I couldn’t wait and he’s late. Fill in for him while you’re waiting, if you can.”
Gabriel’s name tag dangled, flashing rainbow colors where it lay pinned to his chest. “Takes time learning to control pleasure in all its eternal and vast varieties. Valhalla has some nice surprises, See you later. I’m sure you understand.”
Philo Vance’s mind went numb. “I feel spaced out.”
“Eww.” The two angels holding him couldn’t let go fast fast enough. “Stick him in the nearest black hole.”
Darkness. Depressing unbelievable weight prevailed. Philo Vance was beside himself, caste into all of his many guises. A whole population of a race yet to be born, spit out the end of a giant black hole into a new and empty universe.
He felt himself explode into an instant of the next big bang of birth matter spreading, racing itself into ever expanding nothingness. Clouds of shifting rainbow colored gases belched into suns, solar systems, galaxies. Philo Vance had become an unwilling God of all creation unleashed in this reach of the multi-universe he had become.
The birth pangs would last until the last light of the last sun burned out and space time returned to its dark womb. Philo Vance dreamed up a new breed of drunken Space Monkey’s to entertain one portion of the void.
There was the image of himself arriving. Would the God who was himself answer an unspoken prayer of deliverance or would Philo Vance sacrifice his son?