by Jack Plues
us work we pair of odd socks that will never match, but both realize the importance of walking through and recording the geography of my wandering and the description of my countless adventures. To embrace my tales with open heart and mind is all I can ask and I will not goad or cajole you to conform with my directive but know that if I ever have cause to meet you personally you must be ready to deliver the decision on which side you stand, for it could mean the matter of life or termination at my judgmental hands.
There was a time when the expunging of life aroused great enjoyment but as ageing pushed me towards a moral precipice I became aware that the enchantment of the last succulent breath was not something to be savored. Please, do not be mistaken! I will kill with the ease of breaking wind and just as foully.
I am sensing the timid amongst you will wince at my vulgarity but my unsavory view of life reflects like a slice of my mind, deformed and traumatized until the buckle that keeps it whole snaps quite catastrophically and I resort to the most horrific barbarity.
There is not one sin I have not committed and some I surely invented but I have made my peace with God and strive to become a better man and serve justice to those who defile his law. On reflection I feel most unworthy of my rebirth considering the history of my deceitful conception in the Garden of Eden, for I am assuredly designed to insult the almighty and yet I somehow evolved to become his lifeline of rejuvenation. I have no knowledge whether this was a prediction already written, as was the crucial role Judas played in his betrayal of Jesus, but I shall not shy from its challenge and embrace it wholeheartedly, swearing oath to censor my father Lucifer’s actions and curtail his spiteful minions.
There was a time when all was nearly undone, passing unnoticed, veiled by those who came from flame to tease the common man with thoughts flavored with grandeur. The higher they raised men’s egos the bigger the fall and beasts salivated as they waited in anticipation for your descent into their dominion. Ironically it was a soldier of this darkness who unleashed me from the captivity of men to track and find a melancholy God who was almost at the end of his reign.
His blessing to cast my line into the ocean of enemy, using myself as bait, continues to attract not only attack but kindred souls who join in the war against the evil that resides in some part of us all. The closest and most valuable of these could once be considered of the darkness themselves but the lord in all his wisdom has offered them pardon for past crimes and a bounty in heaven when the work is finally complete.
The battle to save mankind continues to simmer, erupting occasionally from under the lid of normality and everyday actions, silently fought outside perimeters of homes where you and your loved ones slumber, content in your nightmares of warring monsters whilst numerous locks and bolts secure your belief that you are safe.
I recommend you pay homage to the many courageous souls who have fallen to protect you, you who will only know of this bravery through the recounting of my tales. If only one should find within you strength to fly the pennant of goodness it will not flutter unnoticed and in times of danger we will rally to your aid to prove our worth.
This forthright address between you and I, has on my part, felt invigorating as it has exhausting. If you allow your emotions for the merest of an instant to experience the weight of my heavy curse, you may find the fledgling flame of compassion flicker to life within your nonchalant heart to comprehend the creature I am. If not, and you are hard of heart and iced emotion, one day if God permits, we will meet my friend and your haunting screams of pain will echo far and wide until I destroy your mortal body and feed it to hungry vagrants who litter the daunting streets.
Enough! I find myself advancing on you as though we are players in one of my tales.
An excuse does not exist to condone my discourteous behavior on our first introduction and I apologize for my lack of etiquette. Sometimes the imprisonment I most recently spent within the thick walled jungle of a State Penitentiary railroads my train of thought to raise a gnarly and dangerous attitude, returning my mind to once again reside in the danger of the communal yard, assessing who I would kill first when the hostility undoubtedly began. My legend in such a place continues to run rife amongst the undesirables of society, whispered respectfully lest one day I return and end their incarceration by stealing their wasted life thus condemning their troubled spirit to be indefinitely intertwined with the stone and mortar of the odious house of detention. The affairs within the confines of the granite walls illustrate the true face of civilization and the righteous of you who sprint to condemn should only do so if you yourselves have not erred. I would wager there are virtually none who could raise their hand aloft, unless you are lying to yourselves which would surely be the greatest deceit of all.
My reflections should, if you decide to ignore the implications, at least prove entertaining. The secrets, stacked and ready to publish, can only be brought forth by your will and it is my solemn wish that you don the suit of daredevil and enter the unnatural world of Eduardo Gissente, King of the Maniacs!
When I first met my friend Jack and laid my wares before him he was nimble and quick enough to grasp the magnitude of my calling and displayed no hesitation to jump into the foray undeterred and dirty his writing hand with the telling of my audacious stories. He stands proud and brave enough to call me friend and has fought by my victorious side in this unnoticed time of dark attack upon the fragile flaws of indifferent men.
There are many, ignorant of our fold, derelict of companionship who soak alone in Dinosaur accusations, noticing change in the very density of the air and the erratic behavior of suburban animals whilst they despair in the crippling emotion of helplessness and succumb to living miserable lives as the missing piece of a jigsaw that can never again be completed. To those I say, stand and be counted. Better to die for a reason than shrivel like a frightened fool who lives in constant hibernation from known truth.
To rise will be like the wearing of a bikini in the Siberian winter moonlight, idiotic enough to kill you yet something exhilarating that simply must be done! This battle must be embraced with a courageous heart and the ferocity of a hungry lion on the prowl lest the hunter becomes the hunted and our ranks diminish to become just a passing squall to the power of darkness.
Complacency is one of their greatest weapons, leading you so cleverly to bury your head with the rest of the flock who suppress the natural gift of instinct to enable undisturbed lives of ease and pleasure.
I once knew a roman merchant who possessed the most beautiful of all the wives in a small, but significant port called Londinium. A pleasant but puny man who seemed burdened with a natural kindness that hindered dealings with the more ruthless traders who bullied him to pay higher prices than normal for their wares. Each day after the fatigue of business he returned to his pride and joy who dutifully met his hand with a goblet of fine wine, then led him to lie in heated, fragrant water to cleanse his weary body and mind from the siege and strife of the day. One spiritually overcast morning when he felt engulfed by a particularly gloomy cloud; he shut shop and headed home to rest in the warmth of his loves embrace.
It was not solace he returned to find but the sight of my pale buttocks, clenching in thrust between the spread thighs of his prim wife who clung to my person like a Tarantula grappling with prey, gasping and screaming in the throes of unleashed desire and clawing welts into my broad back that stung when invaded by the trickle of perspiration. Even when his presence became apparent, our entwined passion continued to mount until the fruition of our labor ransacked our minds and bodies with the throes of ecstasy.
I have destroyed many men in my time but he was the first I had ruined without the slightest touch. I shall never forget his pain as he stood spectator of his own betrayal, witnessing the power of my entry into a cherished wife that crashed quite catastrophically from her mountainous pedestal, falling from grace and worship with the almighty convulsions of a tumultuous orgasm.
Evil had snagged this demure man in its net a
nd used my own weakness as its tool to destroy his good name and nature, defiling his happiness to render him infertile of neither good deed or thought. This simple act, still administered in this present time, bred its feral offspring that festered like a tumor within his shaken mind until chance arrived to employ the damning act of retribution.
Boudica’s army loomed menacingly towards the busy port, swollen in number and the confidence of slaughter and conquest, rabid with thirst for roman blood that filled Londinium to its overflowing brim.
The merchant applied skilful cunning and the mask of one who forgave and cared once again to make his escape and leave her to the painted animals of the Iceni.
After being used by more than a hundred Celtic warriors for pleasure and games, her live body was tossed atop a huge bonfire to fuel their lust for pain and valuable warmth.
In a brothel, a thousand kilometers from Londinium’s smoldering fortification I caught the slightest glimpse of a familiar fuddled face, sucking for air beneath the enormous seat of a gargantuan whore who seemed intent on riding his greying features into the surety of the afterlife. When I knocked the semen stained beast from her