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The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.Chapter 1
Their dark carnivorous features softened by wind and sand and salt water, the statues stood watch around the ancient structure by the sea. It was a brilliant day on the Black Sea coast, like a hundred million other sunny days that had baked the weathered sentinels. Weird crests and broken spines jutted from the gargoyles; the carved stones depicted creatures whose like had not walked the face of the earth for eons. Some of the black guardians had subsided several feet until all that remained visible were toothy heads poking up from the sand like fire hydrants. Even those still standing were no more than six feet high; perhaps the ancient sculptors had been wary of making the statues overly imposing.The structure they guarded was a temple carved of black onyx, but the race of beings which had once worshipped there had long since departed. Perhaps their numbers had slowly dwindled as the earth changed around them, or perhaps they had fled into the encroaching sea to escape the hairy hominids migrating from the south. The architecture they created had once dominated the Asian continent, the black stone running red with terrible ceremonies and evil rituals. Now the lone survivor of this lost era was the small weathered temple brooding on the sand.
The builders of the temple had been of a race different from humans; the main entrance arch, shaped like a big sideways capital J, had not been designed with a plastic storm door in mind, at least not without a lot of bathtub caulk to ease the fit. The builders had not used woven reed doormats, as was evident from the depression they had worn in the single stone step leading to the sideways J. A woven reed doormat was now carefully in place, insuring that the stone beneath was worn no further, and also that less sand would get tracked inside. There were windows between the statues along the sides of the temple. These were rather incongruous in a temple where screaming live sacrifices had once been offered to horrible beings, but perhaps the logic was that since the temple was too small for a good sized crowd, spectators could stand at the windows and cheer from there. The windows were also arches in the shape of smoothly curved sideways Js, and they were now fitted with tasteful magenta and yellow curtains of a more recent design. The stone guardians of the temple had not seen much action in the past several thousand years. Now their faces were smoothed and some of their limbs were missing, but they still could muster up fierce glares for the man who performed a bizarre rite on the green brick circle between temple and beach.
He was wiry and not too tall, with short-cropped sunbleached hair and eyebrows that connected above his nose. His well tanned body was almost naked, and it glistened greasily in the heat. The man was, in fact, in the process of greasing his body with an aerosol can of shortening, and was carefully spraying his calves as the gargoyles watched. After greasing himself down to the feet, he gave himself a cursory rubbing to evenly distribute the oil. A drop of greasy sweat ran to the end of his patrician nose and fell, leaving a dark blotch on a green brick.
The man straightened and wiped his hands on his taupe Speedo suit. He set the nearly empty can of Pam on the edge of the green brick circle and walked to the center, where a large iron chain was coiled. It had become hot lying in the sun, but the greasy little man gritted his teeth and picked it up anyway. The Black Sea sun beat unmercifully on his body, but he had planned well; not only would the grease decrease air resistance, it would also keep his skin from drying out and facilitate the tanning process.
Something large slowly moved through the gloom within the ancient temple.
The man with the chain paused a moment, looking nervously at the shadows around the low entryway. He had kept his preparations in front of the temple as quiet as possible, hoping to avoid discovery by the shambling beast which dwelled within. Now, though, the time had come to throw caution to the winds. Bungston pressed the play button on a cute lavender bubble blaster near him, and then began to spin the length of chain around his head, gradually releasing more and more chain from the pile at his feet. The opening organ chords drowned out the whine of the chain cutting through the air. Something inside the temple moved again, but Bungston was preoccupied with keeping the ever-lengthening chain aloft and did not notice.
The hymn began, but apparently the bubble blaster had a fair bit of sand somewhere in the tape playing mechanism.
"Ye watha and ye harrrr wan..."Finally roused by the noise, a great maroon figure shambled menacingly from within the temple, hesitating a moment in the shadows as if blinded by the bright sunlight. It was, in fact, blinded by the bright sunlight, and it rubbed at its eyes with the backs of its forepaws. The shaggy humanoid leaned against a statue and watched the vague circle of spinning chain, gradually growing to near the size of the green brick circle Bungston was standing on.
"Horrorshow chain you got there, me droogie," it commented in a voice like a blender working on pea gravel.Bungston did not respond, allowing the choir to scratch along uninterrupted from its little box. Panting slightly, he sang along with the chorus, matching their sand garbled tones perfectly.
"Bry cheruhhhk, sarapan thrownummum. kufvzzzt."The shaggy beast was displeased with this incomprehensible reply, but kept quiet. It was getting more and more difficult for the thin tan man to keep the chain in motion; a considerable length was now airborne. Dripping with sweat and grease, Bungston continued to perform his ceremony."Raisin glad chain. Hallelujah."The monstrous hairy figure watched as the chain began to assume the shape of a spiral around Bungston. It furrowed its thick brows. That wasn't supposed to happen. Chains and snakes and things like that always stretched out straight when you spun them.Bungston was now aware of the spiral and began to put his body into the effort, struggling to straighten the chain out as the trailing end lagged farther behind. He yelled a strange series of words at the chain wending its way around him.
"LINTY SOCK SLAP FLOG AND FLY DON'T GET ME WORMY PILING DRIVER SQUIRMY MANATEE AND BILIOUS EYE!"A sombrero decorated with wax fruit appeared obediently at his feet. He kicked it out of the way with a breathless snort of disgust. "Come on, come on..."The bubble blaster continued the hymn, and Bungston continued to sing along, although his words were now punctuated by grunts of exertion.
"Cryo dominum, hungh! prinom, parrharrr...hungh!"The furry mutant had gone back into the ancient temple, and now it emerged bearing a sponge rubber football carefully studded with cloves in geometrical patterns. It watched bemused at the improbable spiral wending its way around the frantically gyrating man who was still doing his best to sing. "Virdooo archangll angl core! Come on!" A spiral indeed. Such things should be prohibited by the laws of physics, and Napoleon was just the lawman to prohibit them. Casually, the mutant tossed his clovy football into the air. "Hallelujah, hallelujah..." The spongy projectile caught the sun at the top of its parabola, hesitating as if to contemplate the whirling links below it. "Hallelujah, hallelujah..." The football reached its inevitable decision as its mutant origin ducked back into the temple/cabana. "Hallelu--uuu---jah!" At the climax of the hymn, the football dove into the fast-moving spiral of metal. Napoleon, now inside, could only listen to Bungston's shrieks and wails as the chain thrashed catastrophically about him.
A short while later the wizard entered the temple, his body decorated with several vivid red stripes. Napoleon was sprawled across a sandy beige couch, and he looked up from a back issue of Tiger Beat to nod at the wizard's entrance.
"Fine looking welts there Bung," he rasped. "I don't know about this tape player stuff. You do better on your own,"Bungston let the pulverized remains of the little lavender tape player fall at Napoleon's feet; it seemed the bubble blaster had taken the brunt of the chain's kinetic energy. The welted wizard stomped around the cabana yelling his frustration. "I raise you from a pup, feed you, worm you, and what thanks do I get? This!" He shook a largish piece of the shredded foam rubber football in the mutant St.Bernard's face, liberating several cloves to fall and lodge in the thick fur there.
Napoleon shook his huge head slowly.
"Bung, you saw how it was making a spiral. That's not right. Centrifugal force and all."The wizard waved his hands in anguish. "That's an imaginary force Nap!
Imaginary! You mutants never..."Napoleon had risen from the couch and now confronted Bungston. "How come you were fooling with the chain in the first place, hmmm?"
Bungston fell silent. In truth, he had thought that despite the fact that his chain was in no way like a helicopter rotor, somehow by spinning it fast enough and throwing in a little magic he could leave the ground and fly. It might have happened; he had pulled off much stranger things. But if Bungston were to tell his shaggy mutant what his intentions had been, the big dog might possibly snicker at the wild scheme (unbearable in itself), then realize that Bungston had intended to go to some populated area without him and cram himself with food. No doubt the mutant would put sand in Bungston's makeup kit or do something equally distasteful in revenge. The greased wizard mumbled a reply while rummaging through his frontal lobes for a convincing lie. "Whaaaat?", rasped Napoleon, leaning closer.
"I was trying to summon up... a cake! A cake for us to eat!"
The mutant St. Bernard gaped in shock. There had been no food except nutmeg in the temple cabana for some time, and while nutmeg was tasty and beloved by man and dog alike, it had precious little nutritive value. "A cake..."
Bungston saw a good guilt wound in the making and went for it with vigor. "Yep, a cake, a huge one! For you and me to share! It was going to be mammoth! Taller than you are! Frosting! And you spoiled it! You wrecked it! You!"
Napoleon moaned, his shaggy head packed with visions of a seven foot cake. "What flavor?" he rasped weakly.
Bungston thought fast. "Chocolate... and hash! A giant chocolate hash cake!"
The mutant wailed forlornly, casting himself on the gritty flagstones at Bungston's feet. "Oh pleeease pleeease you gotta try it again! I'm so sorry I'll help anything try again!" Bungston spurned the harshly rasping pleas, raising his impressive nose in disdain as he thought furiously. The idea of a giant chocolate hash cake appealed to him. Maybe there was some way...
The wizard seized a torn wad of foam football between his bare toes and pushed it into the mutant dog's slobbery mouth. "Ok, go get whatever is in the refrigerator." Napoleon hastened to obey.
Bungston walked over to the sacrificial altar, maneuvering around a precarious stack of 72-rpm records, a bushel basket of hockey pucks and two stuffed and lacquered crocodiles locked in a death grip. He leaned against the altar thoughtfully. It had been a massive pain in the butt when they had first moved in, converting the beachside prehuman temple into a cabana. The block of stone was too weighty to be moved without a crane, and Bungston had a bad feeling about what might be underneath it; he had read plenty of stories featuring altars that lift up to reveal a bucketful of creepy abominations underneath. All stones had creepy abominations under them, he mused; a law sort of like centrifugal force. And then as if having a big block of stone in the center of the living room wasn't bad enough, from time to time the altar howled like a legion of the damned. At first Napoleon had kind of liked it; the damned were usually on key and he could howl along if the spirits moved him. But eventually Bungston could take no more and had glued on a remedial legion of acoustical tiles, which muffled things nicely, but made the altar even bigger. The welted wizard kicked the puffy lump of tiles, adding another toe mark.
Napoleon hustled back into the living room carrying a half-full bag of sauerkraut, a can of Cycle-3, and a cold bottle of Rose's lime juice. His efforts out in the sun had made him thirsty, and Bungston took a quick swig of the cloying juice. Thoroughly cloyed, he poured the remainder into the bag of sauerkraut. Following a vague instinct to mix together all available ingredients, he also dumped the dog food into the sauerkraut bag then shook it fiercely. The wizard then pinned the bag to an acoustical tile with his can opener. Napoleon did not seem in the least disappointed by the bag of stringy brown mush; he waited avidly a few yards away. Bungston drew himself to his full unimpressive height and grabbed a big spatula to add emphasis.
CRUD ME NEED ME SHOVE ME SEEDY MONKEY BUMPS AND LUMPS OF BEAN CURD WORM TURD MEALY FIRM AND SQUEALY STOLE MY SOCK AND HAM HOCK REELING KNEELING KNEADER LOVE ME FEED ME!A puff of vapor erupted as something happened to the bag. Bungston waved it away with the spatula. There were some brownies there, and the wizard gingerly took a bite. They definitely contained herbs, but he couldn't determine what sort of herbs they might be. It wasn't a seven foot high hash cake, but it was mostly chocolate and it tasted OK. Transmutations had never been his forte.
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.
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