I’m a good looker. When I see an attractive young woman in some sort of New York fashion top adorned with a thrift store bought scarf and tight, dark blue, jeans around the hips; I take a good look. I get a look at the face and the legs, the over-all disposition of her body and her attitude, and then I get a good long look at the shape of her ass as she walks by. Size isn’t the issue; shape is where the aesthetic should be judged. But I digress.

I am a good looker. I walk it, I talk it, and I carry the flavor. I judge it and am judged by it. Never by how I look or by what I wear, but by how I perceive and what I observe. Such great talents of mine should be extolled and shared; thereby I am judged by my ability to express my acute perceptions to an ally in such deeds. In order for this communiqué to be successful I would have had to ascertain my ally’s flavor correctly. For it is only then that they can appreciate my candid eye. For if I have diagnosed their flavor incorrectly, even once, then they may never trust my good look ever again.

Too many times an attractive young lady misses the flattering speculation of the good looker giving them the good look. Too many times their eyes are buried in their text machines, their minds existing in the world of; “Ah jeez mom, I don’t want to see Aunt Carla this Saturday night, my favorite band is playing.” or; “No Dan, the box of chocolate does not make up for the drunken head you allowed to happen from my best friend.” If only they could live in the now, and take in the random activity occurring around them. Then they would see the eyes of the good looker looking them over, appreciating all the trouble they go through to look good. Then they could smile, and maybe laugh, and have a better day.



The yellow hot, orange glow of the sun rules the day. Its heat ignites the molecules in the air and its fervent light illuminates clarity, yet blinds with its intensity. The pavement smokes with its heat, searing through the protective green leaves of the trees, causing them to sag and droop in defeat. Mechanized metal parts churn in seething rotation on rubber wheels that melt upon the pavement and fill the air with the smell of cord fabrics, bead wire, carbon black and process oils burning. There are sounds of aluminum and iron grinding. They roar and growl and roar again with the occasional high-pitched whine of self-pity as they compete for positioning upon the black-top.

Along the street sides, lean steel, aluminum alloy, titanium, and carbon fiber skeletons glide upon thin rubber tires. They are bullied by the bigger, more powerful mechanized steel murder boxes. They keep to the side, careful not to draw the ire of the larger machines, fearful that in one fell swoop they will be struck forcefully, sending their flesh and bone operators careening onto the side of the rode, severely damaging their fragile skeletons. There are those of their kind, however, that are not easily intimidated. Some battle back with speed, fiercely attempting to match the acceleration of their intimidators and boldly taking their position in the road lane, blocking the mechanized monsters forward momentum. They are forced to slow down, but never slow enough to perturb them beyond slight discomfort. There are those that battle with strategic aggression. They brazenly take position away from the monsters, unconcerned with pace, or whether they anger the flesh hungry machines or not. Battling back with insults and hand gestures, fully willing to take on the brain washed flesh operator mono y mono. U-bolt lock always at the ready.

And then there is the Devil Bike!

The bright blood red paint of its coat shines in the intense light of the day sun as it speeds along the blistering pavement. Each rotation of its tires is a thunderous roar at contact, the smoke from the burning rubber rises and rushes with the wind along with the smell of fire and melting. The tint of its silver horn-like bar ends gleam as the machine is churned on by its beast master (drooling and growling with pain and determination). Its presence is so great that the monsters are aware of its approach a block before they intersect, even though they might not know exactly what comes. They only sense its dark presence, powerful and unforgiving in might and aggression and are fearful to approach or converge with such incidental catastrophe. They are right to be apprehensive; the Devil Bike is an instrument of great exasperation, born of eternal oppression. It is vengeful and vindictive if crossed, never willing to bend or to break under the force of the physically dominant motorized murder boxes.

Despite all this, there are some flesh operators of the murder boxes that test its resolve, push its ability to tolerate. Some dare to race pass and scream insults at the beast for merely being in the road. With such provocation the Devil Bike responds, its beast master churning it faster until it is upon the infringer. The bike eases up along the side, and with terrific violence the beast master pummels the windows until the glass breaks, shards of which embed into the driver, whom cries out in horror. The bike is gone; its beast master has inflicted the necessary punishment and is off, on its way. Murder box monsters that dare to cut off the Devil Bike are in far greater danger. They are instantly pursued and once they are overtaken, the beast master is a seething mass of fury. He pulls up the front of the Devil Bike, and it rises above the street to land upon the back end of the murder box, crushing it in with its might. Another hop and it is upon the street once again, and then it is off, leaving behind crumpled steel and carbon fiber speckled with broken glass. Fates forbid that a monster driver makes the mistake of turning their vehicle into this vindictive entity, for with one fell hop it will again take to the air. With supreme agility and dreadful competency it comes down upon the monster’s hood, smashing it into the engine's block, causing pistons to grind and halt in smoke and fire. It is in the air again and then upon the ground and off, retribution paid in full.

Reality bends and folds to the presence of the Devil Bike, forever upon the path of righteous defiance, against the dominant laws and rights made for the motorized vehicle. Created by the injustice of the gas hog, the excessive ozone reducer, the speeder, the impatient commuter: the steel murder box.



Throughout the annuls of time there have been those that seek to aggregate the human being into an enlightened, pristine, flawless creation, an almost perfect living specimen of life. I’ve noticed that these scholars and analysts seem to almost entirely dismiss the naturally destructive side of the human animal. And I want to stress that last descriptive word; animal. Now I’m not even including killing and war in what I have observed as the naturally destructive aspects of human kind. Just in simple living habits, needs and wants, do we operate destructively. Little things, like building shelters that kill areas of plant, wild life and resources under and around them in their creation. We kill bugs to grow food, or animals to eat meat. This becomes all the more destructive the longer it goes on and the more humans that exist in mass upon the Earth. Now I know there are those that will argue that organic veganism solves that, or eco-friendly sustainable housing solves the other. I would put forth, without going into detail, that those methods of coexistence are only a slowed down, more sustainable form of destruction that propagates the selfish desire to live with a lesser amount of guilt.

Reality is that very, very, little of our mass population actually practices those less damaging forms of living in part, and certainly even less practice it in whole. Since this seems to be the case as the world expands, and even though more and more work towards a less harmful way of living progresses as we journey into the Tomorrow World, more and more are born into just the plain need to survive and stay alive at any cost. How can we be this wonderful creation (or evolutionary achievement) of life when we are so completely toxic to the natural world that sustains us? Our waste, our actions and reactions are almost totally self-serving in the general since, even to the disregard of our own destruction. I will not begin to discuss the ramifications of our mental degradation; the deep ugliness that exists inside each and every human mind is a book on its own.

So where is this utopia that is coming? Where is it seen and in what form? When did it ever exist? Why is it even considered as possible? Or dreamed up as existing in form or conscious?

The Intellectual and Spiritual community does humanity a great disservice by propagating such perfection within a perfectly flawed reality. As Science advances, we hear constantly that humans can live longer, healthier lives, that we can be safer, that we can even avoid death. Why is death looked upon with such fear and disdain? Death is a necessary function of the beauty that is a finite life. If no one dies, then eventually no one can be born; and if humans live longer lives then certainly fewer can be born.

If we cure all diseases, if we make everything out of rubber so that we bounce around inside a cocoon that keeps us free of harm, does that solve our fear? Death is a doorway, an evolutionary necessity, a need to be obtained for all living things.

To teach children that death is terrible, that we are constantly exquisite and wonderful, is to severely misguide them. To pamper and spoil them, to act as if they should never have to work, never have to fight, is to blind your children to the realities of their environment that you want them to excel in. There is a side to living that is considered dark and painful, and we fear it. There is beauty in the honesty of accepting it as a part of the whole truth.

Teach your children to work; just as well as you teach them to have fun. Teach your children to fight; just as well as you teach them to love. Otherwise you blind them to the reality of a truly honest and beautiful living existence.



Interested in some deep space jam music, orchestrated through the crunch of heavy metal thudding? The band Mastodon has mastered this sound along with lyrics that bestow cosmic significance and anomalies. This video from their most recent album; Crack The Skye is complete with rock band flailing in space/time motion, prehistoric tribal sacrifice and earthly monstrosity. The song is called Divinations and its video is highly entertaining, but mostly I am using it to introduce their music to you. Mastodon’s best songs are too long for video and are original composed pieces that are conducted by musicians that have mastered their craft. The intensity that they exude can be considered mind-blowing. They are heavy and dark but not depressing and gloomy, or even satanic. They merely suggest that there is a vast and complicated multi-verse built of age and wonder that tugs at the human soul and imagination. They easily express these notions with their great writing talent.

Divinations is very entertaining with its comic book expression and portrayal of rock guitar power. As with all the “Music In Motion” posts; smoke it if you got it (or can) and watch it in ‘full screen’ splendor. Click the link and enjoy:



The Instance Is Relevant (The Transmogrification Continuous) Part VII

“How can Humanity abruptly metamorphose from ingrained ignorance to battling a foe the likes of those bizarre creatures? They are formidable on extreme mental and physical levels.”

“You underestimate the great strength of the human will and its ability to adapt, to grow and learn quickly. We will…”

The lights in the room go out as a fog horn like siren begins to wail. Flashing white lights blink rapidly and the many screens go dark and then red in unison.

“Warning! A breach in Mehalus Nucleus. Restriction has been trespassed,” repeated throughout the hall by a monotone female voice.

Ottymer moves closely to the side of the Ladies as they form a standing meditative posture and shut their eyes. There is an intense energy and a soft glow that emanates from them. Lendal and Tanner can feel it deep inside them; it is euphoric and fluttery, warm and soothing. As Lendal generates appreciation for this strange experience, something else stirs inside him. A slight but sharp pain and then a growing nausea that starts to intercede with the euphoria. His stomach muscles tighten up and cause him to lurch forward at the waist. He places his hand on his stomach as another sharp pain flashes in his head right above his eyes. The euphoria generated from the ladies powerful meditative state is all but dissipated as a heavier feeling of desolation and gloom takes over his being. His back aches and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tighten; he has become dizzy with nausea and has trouble keeping his balance. An intense surge of pain wracks his body and Lendal lurches forth once more, vomit spewing from his mouth onto the floor before the Ladies. Ottymer quickly steps to shield them from the disturbance. However, it appears to pass unnoticed by their congregation, failing to interrupt their immersion.

“Take hold of your friend, blond one,” Ottymer bellows. “He must not interrupt the Ladies communication!”

Tanner hurries to his friend’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist, and pulls him back a bit from Ottymer. Sweat is now pouring from Lendal as this powerful feeling overtakes him and vomit once again spews violently from his mouth.

“Are you alright, buddy?” Tanner asks, deep concern marking his brow.

Lendal cannot answer; he can feel his consciousness being devoured by desolation and gloom. Something sentient is stirring within this feeling. Something wresting control of his body filling him with an extraordinary sensation of power and strength. The nausea and dizziness are gone, and Lendal stands erect pulling himself violently from his friend’s embrace. His eyes become black and he focuses in on Ottymer bringing his hands together, prayer like, before him. An intense surge of power wells up within him and pushes forth through his arms into his hands. The inertia of this force moves him forward, arms out. The air about him waivers and rolls as he moves quickly to stand before Ottymer. Instantly he pushes his hands and arms into a stunned Ottymer’s chest, with remarkable smoothness and incredible metamorphosis he is buried up to the forearms without ever breaking the skin. Ottymer cries out in pain and horror as Lendal pushes his arms outward, pulling them apart. The skin of Ottymer’s chest stretches and bleeds and then rips apart and cracks open. The sound of bone breaking sickens the surrounding people as they watch in shock and terror. Ottymer cries out in agony, grasping his attacker’s arms in a vain attempt to dislodge them. The Ladies eyes snap open in horror, in time to witness Lendal pull Ottymer’s chest apart with a last sudden triumphant shout, blood and bone splattering upon his face and clothes.

Tanner is stunned and backs away from his roommate and the gory mess that is Ottymer upon the floor. Lendal is breathing heavy and fast, drool frothing at his lips as grunts and growls escape his mouth. His arms are rigidly out to his sides slanted at an angle, the hands chiseled into claw-like forms. His black eyes fix gravely upon the Ladies and he hunches down before them.

“What thing is this that now stands before us?” ask the Ladies, moving their arms before them and placing the palms of their hands together. The crystals around their necks increase in luminosity and they focus in on Lendal’s aggressive stance. “You are no longer the young man whom was helping us earlier, what are you?”

“Warning! Defenses for Mehalus Nucleus have been overpowered. Destruction of Mehalus Nucleus eminent!” The warning blares from the speakers around the hall. The Ladies concentration breaks; visible concern illustrates their body language, and Lendal leaps to attack. He is flying in the air, above the Ladies with inhuman agility, and coming down upon them. The Ladies crystals grow blindingly bright and then release a force of multifarious energy flashing with colors that envelops him, slowing his decent for a few seconds. However, it is not strong enough to stop him and he is upon them. His left hand grasps the top of the skull of the Lady on the left and his other clawed hand swipes through the face of the Lady on the right, sending her reeling back from the blow. He pulls down the Lady within his grasp by her head to her knees, with strength he should not possess. He then moves his grasp to clench her hair and violently yanks her off her knees and to her belly. She screams in pain and grips his wrist with her hands, vainly attempting to remove his iron grip. The other Lady is upon her feet, large bloody holes in her cheek from where his fingers entered her. She places her palms together again, drawing various forms of energy from her crystal into a solid potential force of shifting colored light encompassing her hands.

“Release her!” she speaks alone, her voice harsh and course, weaker. Lendal is a snarling animal of ferocious nature, most likely having lost his intellectual ability to comprehend speech. He sinks his right clawed hand into his captives face. “No!” The standing Lady releases a cannonade of might and momentum that bombards into him throwing him back off his feet and onto his back, a large clump of black hair in his left hand and skin and blood upon his right. Blood pours from the Lady’s face as she manages to rise up upon her knees. A matt of blood and hair sits upon her head and the skin has been removed from the left side of her face along with some flesh, exposing the muscle and the sclera of the eyeball. She is dazed and half conscious, moaning softly in pain. Lendal bounces off his back to his feet instantly, and leaps into the air toward the Lady that attacked him. She is drawing energy from the crystal as quickly as she can, but he is on top of her before she can complete the transference. He sinks the fingers of his hands into the sides of her face and his black eyes lock into hers.

She is not as strong without her sister and the power of this fiend overtakes her and her mind is now under its control. The profound but beastly face of the creature that had accosted Lendal, consumes her mind’s eye. Its leathery lips move to form the strange words of its language, moving eloquently over its fangs in a deep resonating mellifluous voice. Its white hot eyes hypnotize her being with their depth, she is witness to mass in dimension and time, twisting and turning through form and consequence. She can understand its speech in some way.

“As you have discovered, our world has come under grave danger and it is time to transport once again. You have brought us here. When you activated the Mehalus Nucleus, as you call it, of this world and it reverberated throughout the entity. The instance is relevant. This world can be what we desire for existence. It is pure and can be subjugated, formed and fashioned to become as we need, much as your race has already begun. We will manipulate and construct at a faster rate for we are one in goal and direction and we have done as much many times before. Your race will aid in its construction and reformation, although most will be eliminated. Once our world is completed we will decide whether to begin the extinction of the Human race or allow your existence to continue on another hospitable world. We knew from the beginning how the spaces would move and where the beings would transverse. We now control the Mehalus Nucleus, your power is ours. You will now be deconstructed to energy form and sent to rejoin the essence of the entity to be reformed elsewhere. We know that you understand, whereas much of your race will not.”

The creature releases her from its mental clutch. Tears come to her eyes and stream down her face. Lendal has his fingers still deep within her flesh, his black eyes blank and hollow. “We have failed. With our finest hour at the precipice, we have failed.” It is hard for her to form the words with the boy’s fingertips rubbing against her jawbones, but the desire to vocalize her despair overwhelms her. The Lady cries out as Lendal pulls his fingers from her, and blood flows from the open wounds. She gasps for air and collapses to her hands and bends her head down, breathing heavily and sobbing. He then places his thumb upon her temples and fingertips along the sides of her cranium and slowly pushes his fingers into her skull until he can feel the squishy gelatinous matter of her brain. As she sobs in sorrow and pain, he pushes his fingers in through her brain until his fingers meet and then with a fierce triumphant cry, Lendal’s possessed person pulls her head apart as blood, flesh, bone and brain matter splatter upon his face and chest. Her empty husk falls to the floor.

He immediately turns and walks with direct purpose to the half conscious and dazed form of her sister, whom is losing copious amounts of blood at a velocious rate. He pulls her head back to expose her neck, sinks the fingers of his other hand into the skin and grips her trachea and esophagus, easily yanking them out. As her body heaves and convulses in vain attempts to draw oxygen, Lendal is quickly returned to repossess his body. Horrified at what he sees, and somehow knowing that he is responsible in some way, he falls to the floor and begins to sob. He stares at the fresh blood on his hands.

"What have I done?"


Machete Kills Again!!

Hello readers of the world. Part VII (and the final part) of my currently running story is written and will be posted next week, so don't you all worry. This is just an opinion piece that I needed to express. It is time sensitive to current life experience and could not be delayed.

This is being
written for blogging when normally I would just log into Facebook and "Share" my enjoyable experience with family and friends. I just didn't feel comfortable doing that with this film. There are strong political opinions in this film. I have seen, and am a fan of, many films of this nature. This film, however, heavily involves a major issue that our country is currently debating. An issue with serious elements existing in an intense environment with powerful feelings and drastic measures on all sides. Immigration. It is a formidable issue with all industrialized countries all over the world. Mexican Illegal Immigration and our loose southern border with the poorer more unlawful country of Mexico is what immigration issue is more pertinent to us. I not only know how vehement my family and friends feel about this issue, all opinions on both sides are present, but I know how vehement I feel about the issue. It is so 'hot button' that I am not going to strongly advertise the post on my personal Facebook page. (I will advertise it on my Aroumba Toumba Facebook page, however). This is for those that just happen to come across it (or the few that have subscribed to the blog.) Most will have to scroll down to read it, and in that way I fell freer to express a complicated feeling about an intense political subject. All of which is present in a film that I thoroughly enjoyed in all its extreme melodrama by an American Filmmaker that I am a big, big fan of.

Machete, a Robert Rodriguez Film, is a fucking kick ass movie. It's extremely graphically violent in a comedic, comic book, and George A. Romero way that is thoroughly enjoyable to me. Campy beyond camp, to a ridiculous level. If that kind of crazy shit is to your liking then go fucking see it. But pause a second here, because it is equally mixed with Robert Rodriguez's viewpoints on Illegal Immigration in the USA and you might not agree with them. I didn't agree with all of them. Guess what? They are pro Mexican, and "oh my god", pro Illegal Immigration. Right now hard-core, law abiding, Real Americans' heads are exploding.

That's the part I don't agree with, that Illegal Immigration is to be made "OK", or that we, as Americans, should accept it as an imperfect part of our country's Capitalistic, law driven, functioning motor, like our fatuous incarceration per capita rate. Illegal Immigration exploits people, families. It breaks down the important protective laws of our country by giving power to drug lords and gangs that can rule whole neighborhoods in cities and towns without fear of being exposed by families fearful of deportation. It puts financial strain on government programs for our poor CITIZENS when it funds those that don't pay taxes and are not CITIZENS. It overpopulates sections of this industrialized nation that has begun to control its own population through education, science, over all progress and growing financial requirements. Mexico is still an 'old world' country in many, many aspects, but one glaring aspect to me is that 'old world' idea that one must have many children to assure that one will be taken care of in old age. I won't even discuss the implications that the Catholic Church brings to all this.

So I don't agree with Robert Rodriguez, but he is an American and I believe in freedom of speech and opinion and I love his movies. To be fair, Robert does offer a solution within the storyline. Creating stricter, more fascist laws is not the solution (I agree with this absolutely, although I don't understand why the current Immigration laws can't be implemented and enforced). Instead he suggests a lawful system that exists outside of the law, implemented, enforced, and orchestrated by those involved; Illegal Immigrants and their Legal friends. I do love these kinds of ideas. Where so much of this country's problems exist because our laws trip over each other and inhibit progress, an underground or outlaw system is needed to solve the problem. That is a method practiced and carried out time and time again throughout the history of our country. An integral and active solution woven into the American fabric.

By the way, I can't wait to see this film again!


The Instance Is Relevant (The Transmogrification Continuous) Part VI


“Officer Alan,” they speak in a unified, high-toned, vocal melody. “You are no longer required. Have the boys sit to either side of us and then depart until called upon.”

“Yes, my Ladies.” He motions for the boys to do as instructed, and they each sit at differing ends of the booth. The table is covered in a red silk cloth and is barren except for a crystal wine vase and twin jeweled goblets filled with a robust Tempranillo wine. The Ladies sip from these and patiently await Alan’s departure. Once he has gone, they each quickly turn their attention upon a separate boy, but continue to speak in unison.

“Which of you witnessed these strange creatures?”

Lendal nods his head, too terrified to speak just yet. This must be a dream; surely none of this could be real.

“Did you communicate with them in any way?” The question is pointed and assured that he had. Lendal understands now that there is no covering this up in any way.

He sighs heavily. “I looked into one of the creature’s eyes and it hypnotized me and took me on some sort of journey.”

“Fascinating. What did it show you?”

“A barren planet, far away, in which its inhabitants live beneath its surface on differing layers with sustainable ecosystems. However, its core is expanding, causing earthquakes upon the surface; eventually it will expand to destroy the planet completely.”

The Ladies look upon each other, nod to some unheard agreement, and say, “You two will now rise.” The boys do so immediately. They also rise and motion for them to exit the surroundings of the table. “You will now follow us.”

They lead the boys through the darkness of the room to a large door, much like the front door. It opens to reveal an immense and elaborate staircase that flows downward, softly lit by large candles set at strategic positions. As they follow the Ladies down the stairs, they are both suddenly aware of a presence following behind them. They peer back to find the hulking, intimidating form of Ottymer a few steps up. They had not even bothered to conceive of escaping, and now were ultimately aware that they can not.

They travel down the stairs for what can only be stories until they arrive at another door, which opens before the Ladies and they are led through a couple archways into a vast concrete hall filled with laboratory instruments, computers, and whirring machines where men and women labor at various experiments. Cages with animals and creatures can be viewed at different locations within the hall. Most never before seen or heard of by the boys, some humanoid in appearance. The boys are lead to a corner of the hall where a couple gray haired gentlemen wearing black, thick framed glasses are punching information into computers. Strange molecular structures and alien landscapes are visible upon the many large screens that surround them. Upon seeing the Two Ladies approach, they stop what they are doing and bow before them.

“You heard the boy’s explanation?”

“We did. We examined all known data logged in our memory banks and we think we know where this planet is located. We are convinced that it does not lie in the outer space surrounding the Earth, but within the inner space of the multi-dimensional aspect of our world,” answers one of the men. They are fairly similar in appearance and age, except one has gray stubble upon his face, where as the other is cleanly shaved. It is the stubble faced man that is doing the talking. “Lendal, right?” He looks right at him with tense examining eyes.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Come here, I want you to look at something.” Lendal is escorted before a large screen, the Two Ladies follow. The lab tech punches in a few codes and the screen flashes through wispy structures of colored energy forms and then through formations of solid matter resembling nebulae, stars and galaxies, except in irregular odd shape and form. Eventually it zeros in on a barren planetary-like structure like the one the creature had shown him. It is not spherical, but made up of many jagged angles, jutting out and in upon themselves to assemble the desolate mass.

“Is that it?”

“It is very similar, although it never showed me the whole outer mass. It just quickly took me through what I thought was deep space right to the surface.”

“Yes, outer space and inner dimensions can look very similar to the untrained eye, but they have very different physical laws. This form does have inner layered ecosystems teeming with strange life-forms, and a very unstable core ready to expand to catastrophic dimensions. This will not only destroy the mass itself but take out a large portion of its surrounding system. In fact we believe that the creatures that visited you earlier this evening are not from this particular mass form, but from this one.”

He punches in some codes and the viewpoint expands to show a nearby spherical, rotating mass that appears to have been intelligently designed out of some foreign building substances, with obvious functioning form and polish. Travel ways, lights, engines, reactors, buildings, spires, and yes, very obviously so, weapons. The tech punches in some more codes and the hideous creatures are once again staring at Lendal through the screen with those unearthly eyes. He and Tanner jump back, startled.

“Is that them Lendal?” asks Tanner. Lendal nods. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you held it together with those things outside our door.”

The tech resumes his explanation. “We are not sure what they think we have here that will help them, or more importantly why they don’t move their designed planet safely away from the unstable mass. It could be they wish to move it into our solar system. If that is true we want to know how they could find that possible. Regardless, Two Ladies, this is a disturbing contact. We can only hope that they are not hostile.”

“What about what woke me up, the moving earth?” wonders Tanner aloud.

“We believe they are searching for something. We found a number of other similar holes around the township area. We believe we know what it is they are searching for, but that is classified information at the moment. They did head in the direction of Meldoone Manor upon leaving the boys’ home.”

“This is most alarming,” say the Ladies. “The energy is fluctuating negatively toward our existence. It cannot be denied. This occurrence is something to be feared. We must do all in our power to attempt peaceful communication, urgently.”

“Yes, my Ladies. We will open all forms of communication immediately.” The tech turns to his partner. “Harlow, please inform all techs of this priority.”

“Excuse me,” Lendal finally found the nerve to speak up. “What the hell is going on in the town tonight? I would think that unchecked rioting would be more of an immediate threat then the possibility of what these creatures may or may not be up to.”

The Ladies turn toward Lendal, and he feels the full weight of their attention upon him “This is the beginning of the transference. All the Earth’s global power and governmental control is being transferred to us, here. It is being done through managed mental manipulation from sections of populace to sections of populace; chaotic uprising is being used to mask the power shift. This inhibits local, national, and international forces of authority from reacting to the source in time to stop it. It is being witnessed the way you witnessed it, as a form of violent mass insanity affecting all humanity, slowly and deliberately. It is time for full knowledge of our existence and the true nature of Earth’s reality to be shared with all that survive.”

Lendal appeared flabbergasted, “How is that possible?”

“It is merely time. Humanity has existed in the darkness of ignorance and confusion for the necessary duration. This is truly your New Age, and we are here to see it through. It was concluded that if left on your own to evolve to this crescendo of the living experience, the Human race would have become stuck in an unending cycle of growth and destruction, unable to ever rise above your deep fear of the unknown and untested. To deconstruct your lifestyles of comfort and ease without violently destructive reactions is merely too much to ask your kind.”

“But people are being hurt and are dying out there.”

“Experience is sometimes painful; death is a doorway to the next experience. You will soon know this, and still cherish life as you do now from fearing and misunderstanding it, even more so. Not all of humanity will accept this alteration in lifestyle and they will fight and try to hinder its revolution at every step. This New Age is not for them right now, and they must move on to next thing. We will keep no prisoners and we subjugate no people in order to proceed, all those against us must die. With the way that life is viewed, currently, by your society this may seem cruel and unjust, but you will come to understand that it is neither.”

Tanner is wide eyed, his scientific brain churning with question and theory, “Are you human?”

“Humans are our children, but we are an ancient race of few number, but immense in knowledge and power. We have always been here, at one time in greater number, but time and experience have decreased our size. Over the eons we have contacted and guided you through desolation and prosperity alike. Now it is time for you to know us and to know the extent of reality that we have always been aware of. Moreover, as you have learned tonight, the growing danger that awaits you in this New Age.”

“This is quite the coincidence, these possibly world conquering beings visiting us on the night of the transformation.”

“As you suspect, Lendal, it is no coincidence, they know what is to transpire on Earth and they are here to take full advantage of it. They will attempt to take ascendancy in these anarchic times, profiting off the dwindling of human numbers to wrest control of the planet from us. It was not unbeknownst to us that some powerful race would attempt this; we believe that we are well prepared."



The Instance Is Relevant (The Transmogrification Continuous) Part V

The car makes a sudden left, and then another quick left into an ally that ends half-way through the block in an alcove surrounded by the backsides of three to four story old brick buildings. The smoky fog is very thick here, but the lights from street lamps, doors and windows, and the glow in the sky (from what can only be various fires burning within the town), light up the area fairly well. There is a gathering of older men, drinking from bottles, at the back of a particularly dark, drab building. They are dressed in thick long sleeve shirts, heavy duty work pants, and work boots. Most are gathered around a steel barrel containing a low burning fire, while a couple recline on some stairs and a small loading dock behind that. On the black tar roof of said loading dock sits an erudite old man of seventy or so, legs crossed. His eyes are deeply set under a pronounced brow, with white hair and a beard that flows long about his shoulders, chest and back. He is observing in a state of deep repose, sipping from a smoky green bottle.

In the distant can be heard the steady rumble of shouting and yelling with an occasional scream piercing the night air. Loud crashes and the low roar of explosions shake the ground every few moments. Officer Alan exits the vehicle, as his door opens Tanner’s sense of smell is assaulted with the odor of burning wood and chemicals; it seems to him to have gotten stronger. Alan does not seem to notice any of these peculiar irregularities, and slowly walks to stand amongst the gathered group of men and peers up at the white bearded man upon the roof.

“Officer Alan,” he speaks with a smooth raspy voice that is easily heard above all the commotion, even to Tanner and Lendal sitting in the police cruiser. He is not shouting, but his voice carries easily in the air. “What brings you before me tonight?”

“I request an audience with the Two Ladies. There has been a disturbance that cannot be explained, with possible dire consequences. I must bring it to their direct attention and receive their most high advice.”

The man with the long white beard sets down his dusty green bottle, rests his forearms upon his knees, and coolly gazes into the eyes of Officer Alan. “What of the strangers you have brought amongst us?”

“They are witnesses to the occurrence, and one is in illegal possession of two powerful firearms. The Two Ladies will want to interrogate them.”

Interrogate?” Lendal said out loud so only Tanner could hear. Tanner returns his friend’s look of encroaching horror at the predicament they have suddenly found themselves in.

“Very well.” The old man forms the fingers of each hand into two very different signs and rolls his eyes up into his head. A sudden and harsh wind rises up, seemingly from the ground, blowing the fire out and violently rustling the clothes of the men standing about, all ostensibly frozen in place. The old man’s long locks of hair rise about him, ghost-like and whispery, and bright sharp white light flashes within the clouds behind him. For a few moments the intensity of this moment continues, and then dissolves away. The old man’s hair returns to his side and his eyes roll down into place, his wrists go limp and his fingers relax.

“It is done. The Two Ladies will see you. They have already arrived and are awaiting your appearance.”

“Thank you Master Herald, I am indebted.” With that the officer put his hands together and bowed, then turned and headed back to the patrol car. As they drove from chaos infused block to chaos infused block, Lendal gathered the courage to ask some questions.

“What the hell is going on?”

Both officers ignore him.

“How can you two stand by and let your town riot? How can you arrest me if you are not going to arrest these obvious law breakers!?!”

Still nothing but silence from the two men. Disgusted, Lendal huffs and sits back violently in the seat. “Damn it!”

Shortly thereafter they pull into the parking lot of a large early nineteenth century (but recently renovated) tavern, complete with a slanted thatched and tiled roof, and large multi-paned windows. There is also a large yard surrounding the tavern and extending out to the ends of the block, it appears to be of the original woodland of the area, unmolested. The Officers exit the vehicle and each open a backseat door and beckon a young man to exit to him. The boys are not handcuffed, but each has a strong hand placed upon their shoulder and are strongly maneuvered toward the tavern’s front door. Lendal notices that the night’s ruckus is occurring a block or so away in all directions, but seems to keep its distance from the block of the tavern.

The large front door of the tavern was constructed of some thick, strong aged wood, smoothed and polished. A small window containing ornamental iron bars had been placed high up, just above the men’s heads, and a large iron ring knocker is bolted into the middle. Officer Alan grasps the ring with both hands and sends a resounding boom throughout the establishment. Shortly, the squeak and scrape of iron hinges turning in the distance can be heard, and then light shines through the door window.

“Officer Alan?” a resonant, scuffing voice questions rigidly.

“Yes, Ottymer, it is I.”

The heavy door opens slowly with a sustained squeal from the hinges, and standing at its length, peering gravely down upon them, is the most enormous man Lendal and Tanner have ever seen. He is somewhere above seven feet tall, and must be four feet wide from shoulder to shoulder, large tight muscles surely speckled every part of his body underneath his turtleneck sweater and slacks. Ottymer motions them through an engraved archway, into the barroom. Candled chandeliers hang about its ceiling, lighting it with soft white light. Men and women sit at various tables and curtained wall booths, sipping from mugs and glasses, conversing in hushed tones. They pause to observe as the Officers escort the college boys past their tables on the way to the back room. The bar runs along the entire side of the large room, carved and built from the same ancient wood that the front door had been constructed. Leather padding cushions its edges and reaching vines, blooming flowers, demon and fairy faces peer out from the engraved wood. Upon the wall behind the bar is a humongous mirror that stretches from end to end, ceiling to floor. When Lendal and Tanner look into it they see faint reflections within a cloudy vastness with colored mist in the distance, frightened they quickly look away.

At the end of the room is another, larger, engraved archway confined from the barroom with heavy red curtains. Here they pause, and Officer Alan exits through the curtains and is absent for a short while. The boys can feel the eyes of every patron upon them and faintly hear parts of their conversations, which have momentarily grown exaggerated. Alan reappears and motions for them through the curtain. Officer Tom stays behind.

The next room is dark, faintly lit by a sole chandelier with just a few of its candles burning. It is positioned over a large table set in a lush upholstered half-circle booth, at the back of which sits two identical looking feminine figures, both with long straight black hair, and pale, thin features. They are wearing black custom tailored jackets, with white poet collared and French cuffed shirts underneath. Each has a silver necklace about their neck with a clear white jewel set in a silver bezel, it appears to both reflect and consume the light around it.



The Instance Is Relevant (The Transmogrification Continuous) Part IV

Tanner and Lendal sit on the couch in tense, uneasy silence. Lendal runs the images that the creature showed him through his mind, marveling that things like that can even exist. He convinces himself that he needs to tell the whole truth to the authorities, to warn them of what could be impending doom for the planet Earth. The world must be warned. There is a loud knock on the door, and they jump from their seats nervously. Lendal quickly opens the door and is greeted by Officer Alan shining a pen light into his eyes. He shuts them and tries to shield them with his hand.

“Open your eyes and remove your hand please,” orders Alan.

Lendal obeys, “What’s this about?”

“Just following procedure.” After a few moments of scrutiny, “Please step away. Tanner.”


“Please come here.” Tanner stands before the officer, and the process is repeated.

“You don’t believe me,” says Lendal.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not. I have to investigate all possibilities when such a claim is made.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I think we are all in danger.”

“That may or may not be. Can we come in and look around?”

“What for?” asks Tanner, backing away from the officer.


“Sure, what the hell. We have nothing to hide,” quips Lendal, immediately regretting his upstart nature.

“Thank you. Tom, you stay down here with Lendal. Tanner, would you escort me upstairs?”

“Yes sir,” a nervous Tanner slowly leads the officer up the stairs. Once they are upon the second floor, Alan begins questioning the young student. “You witnessed these dog-like beasts your roommate spoke of?”

“Ah, I heard them digging. It’s what woke me up.”


“Well, sort of. Earth being moved, rumbling.”

“Can you validate any of the visual claims that your roommate stated?”

“I cannot, but I know something large and strong slammed into the front door. And I know Lendal was terrified by something other then a couple guys.”

“What makes you sure of that?”

“He had me get…I could just tell.’

“What did he have you get?”

“A baseball bat.”

“That sounds like something you would get to protect you from a ‘couple guys’. Have you two been drinking tonight? Smoking anything?”

“No, no, I have a huge test later today. There’s no way I would party before a big test.”

“Why were you up here when we first arrived?”

“I was putting the bat away.”

“Whose room is this?”


“Can you open the door?”


“Is the bat in here?”

“Ah…I think so…”

“Don’t you know where you put it?”

“I’ve just been so startled by all this, I’m kinda nervous.”

“OK. Well, I’m going to look around this room a bit. OK?”

“Alright,” says Tanner sheepishly.

Alan opens the door and turns the light on. He takes one quick scan around the room, and then kneels down to peer under the bed with his flashlight. After a contemplative moment, he gets back to his feet. “Tanner, would you please pull out everything that is under this bed for me?”

Tanner knows that his friend is busted, but he decides that there is nothing he can do but comply with the officer’s wishes. He gets down upon all fours and pulls out a couple boxes and then the shotgun and assault rifle which he had covered with a towel.

“Lift that towel for me, please.”
Tanner exposes the weapons.

“Are these Lendal’s?”

“Follow me into the hall.”
Once out in the hall, Alan calls his partner upstairs, making sure Lendal stays in the living room.

“What’s up?” asks Tom upon his arrival.

“I have a couple weapons. Confiscate them while I escort Tanner downstairs.” Alan and Tanner head down the stairs where Lendal is waiting nervously on the couch.

“Do you know what I found Lendal?”


“Obviously the assault rifle is illegal in this state, do you have a license for the shotgun?”


“I am going to have to place you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”

Tanner had been downtown a couple times since he had been living here. That had been during the day while searching for tech items he needed for school. Mostly he traveled from home to school and to a shopping center close by Balentine for food and things. When you decided on Balentine University, you were choosing a serious science college, for serious study. The town was very low key, sleepy even. Tonight, however, there is something in the air, a strange energy that he first picked up as the squad car entered the outskirts.

There is a smoky, gaseous fog floating in the air, just at the town’s entrance, with flashing, glowing lights waving within the brick bearing masonry buildings. The car slows as they enter the town. There are the faint sounds of shouting in the distance and the air carries the smell of chemicals and burning wood. Tanner and Lendal exchange concerned looks. Besides slowing the vehicle, the officers do not seem to notice that anything is amiss. Their radio has been virtually silent, with occasional unrelated bulletins.

The blue and white squad car, with “Aniston County Police” graphically arranged within an enlarged five pointed badge upon its door, carefully maneuvers through the town streets. As they approach the town center, more and more people appear on the sidewalks, although there did not seem to be any cars in the streets. In fact Tanner has not seen one car driving anywhere. Granted it is very late, or early, but then why all the people about, walking, running, some are even dancing. There are those gathered in groups, conversing loudly and gesturing wildly, bordering on bedlam in some areas. Something is up, something is going on, yet the police do not seem to be concerned, or even to notice.

Then Tanner notices something else very odd. Some people are carrying open containers of beer, wine, and whiskey and drinking in plain sight of the police, without fear. Tanner leans over to Lendal and whispers, “What do you think? Spill out from a party or something?”

“I guess, but this is really weird. When have you ever seen cops not want to bust some illegal drinkers?”


They are approaching a flashing, glowing light that is getting brighter as they turn a corner. Then they behold the source, a small department store is on fire, with a mob of people spilled out onto the street in front of it. Men are in the process of throwing a garbage can through one of its large front windows. The squad car drives around the mob and continues on its way.

“Did you guys see that?!” Lendal hollers, not willing to go along with the increasing insanity of the moment.

“Shut up!” shouts Tom, turning to face them, a stone serious look upon his face.

“Alright, alright.” Lendal retreats, not wanting to tangle with the burly little man in the least.