God of the Game

Pixies fluttered behind my eyelids. They pointed firearms directly into the pupils. Miniature vixens, leather clad and assorted butterfly wings, bored holes past the cornea, ejaculating me into a state of stupendous terror. I tried warding them off, but my hands were numb, tied by magical ropes.

It was also when I tried screaming that I realized my mouth muffed by some stinky sock. The pong…I panicked and started to struggle, but the occulted cords tightened and cut into my wrists. It was painful; and Vesper, now a Gestapo interrogator, playfully smacked my shoulders with his black gloves in a gentlemanly manner.

“You are pathetic,” mocked Lolla Lollipop, coming from behind to place her palms on my restrained arms even as she licked me with her blue tongue, which tastes of maggots and lice. Plump squirmy fly larvae flopped from my cheeks to the floor while parasites crawled up my nostrils and ear.

Stamp to defuse the itch.

“Don’t over love him, Lolla,” came a voice from the rear, “we don’t want him infected.” To make matters worse, Fat Man and Little Boy stood sniggering at the edge of light, eating into the darkness and regurgitating a trivia of shadows.

“Let’s begin therapy,” the disembodied voice continued, “you didn’t get too far, did you, in Esotoria Lane? How do you expect to get to AXXion at your rate?”

“The question is,” added Vesper the narcissistic Nazi in front of a two-way mirror, “why does he want to get there in the first place?”

“Yes, tell us,” punched in Lolla as she removed a striped stocking from my orifice to allow me to speak, “Why you wanna go to AXXion?” Her tongue was long, rolled out like a party whistle. Violet and wet, funky blueberry jam, more yellow worms transposed onto my face.

“Looks like you had a makeover,” I commented on her foot-long salivating sausage, “who’s the cosmetic surgeon?”

Lolla’s irises turned a sickening silver; two technicolour lollipops bounced within like old Atari games. She suddenly kissed me. In my mouth, I could feel a thousand eggs lay. I wanted to spit, but she forced me to swallow, the oropharynx-serpent deep down my throat. She was strong. I jumped and pranced like a rattlesnake’s tail.

“That’s enough, Lolla,” the voice said again, “please don’t possess him. He’s confused enough as he is; don’t add your kaleidoscopic spirit into him.”

“Now, let him speak,” Vesper commanded; looking very much the part in his World War Two fascist regime fashion statement.

“Why do you want to go to AXXion?” He slapped me again with his pigskin glove.

I was already in tears. Didn’t know what was going on. Why did this devil unexpectedly have a change of heart? He was so nice earlier in his study. Moreover, what the hell did that candy-sucking bitch poison and impregnate me with? And who or what in the heaven of heavens was that voice?

Esotoria Lane; it was such a harmless mistake. All I did was handled the O2 sponsor’s font, and now I’m tortured like a traitor. All this is so very, very perplexing. Internally and externally, I don’t know where to begin. My mind’s muddled by the beleaguered state of affairs, as well as my own internal drowning, and the complicated programming of Sha-Rronne in ZOOL.A.ND by my unconscious being.

Sha-Rronne, well it all started with her, didn’t it? She’s the source. She’s the ‘mother’ that triggered this crazy chain of events.

“I want to know,” I said.

“Know what?”

“Why I created Sha-Rronne. Something’s lacking, but I don’t know what. She’s the answer to this lack…I think…subconsciously I made her to fill a certain emptiness, but I don’t know what. I don’t even know that I’m empty, I don’t feel empty. How can I be empty? I ask myself. I have everything. And I figured, perhaps it’s because I’m complete that I am insufficient. I need to remember my Earth life, my struggles and difficulties, the challenges I so often failed. That’s why I visited Club Utopia, to taste that salt and skin.” I was howling by now, my speech crackling, like vinyl, but minus its warm tonal quality.

I continued, “I feel that I need to experience suffering, Jahr said so too, that I should embrace all…both sides. That’s why I asked about AXXion, and…and…and Esotoria Lane. I want to know more.

“But now, I don’t understand. Why are you all hurting me? It was just some harmless t-shirt, so what if I touched it? …Just let me try again…please, let me try again,” sobbed my shattered dignity.

And as if by god’s grace, I stood under the arch of Petaling Street once more. Little Boy chatted to a denizen salesman, whilst Fat Man slurped guilinggao (black turtle jelly) by a golden, potbellied statue of Buddha.

They both gave me a ‘go ahead’ look, a dare to try again without touching anything till the end of the road.

I started; slowly, cautiously, uncertain of my steps, like a toddler’s first few wobbly strides. In my ears, I dug deep into my internal resolve; experience gathered over an expanse of eternity, which was mostly foolhardy, never gaining real knowledge, no learning from past mistakes, always erring again and again. Regardless, I prepared for the sonic assault screeching toward my eardrums from the larynx of foreign workers selling their wares, that I may not be tempted by my weaknesses, which are considerably many.

I need a woman. Plain and simple. Why the psychological analysis and theoretical doldrums? That’s why I created Sha-Rronne – the yearning to share a life. A life that was snatched from me, by Gee Ni; but way before that, by my favourite lover, my sanguine sweetheart. Why did she leave? All that happened after were merely repercussions of this one cataclysmic event, a domino effect, the same spiral drilling into hell; the face of a different woman, but all possessing the same soul, hers, paid or otherwise.

It was time to be joined. I never married on Earth, and now my spirit longs to be yoked with another forever in time. Unlike my playboy flirtations, this is not the same. Yes, I’d mentioned my cleaving to other beings, impregnations that’d birthed infant universes; but we are not talking about sex, the procreation of offspring; not even of matrimonial vows, the covenant to be a unit, a family to raise the young. I’m referring to fusion. I am lonely. All creation is lonely. I’ve felt this loneliness, this corporeal loneliness, since my somatic spell on Earth. We orbit around the Sun, our lonely planet encompassed by lifelessness, the vacuum of space. Within its atmosphere, we revolve around our own lives, touching others, but only fleeting. We are selfish, inward looking, wanting satisfaction, hoping to be filled by others, by a special other, but the restlessness of our lust cannot be satiated. That which blossomed before now decays, that which was fresh now rots. Life becomes boring and we seek new thrills. We feel guilty about it, and therefore return to the mundane, to the familiar…to contempt. We seek to be faithful, but inside, a boiling unrest resides. The lava flows, the flame is fanned; and I hoped that death would free me from this terrible disdain.

No, I am not talking about the paltry, feeble relationship we so crave to be joined at heart. I’m talking consciousness; I’m talking the two becoming one…literally. My thoughts are your thoughts, my mind is yours, our spirits are singular. So that’s why I created Sha-Rronne, she is the splinter of my cell. Since I cannot have love, I will love myself.