dave_littler (dave_littler) wrote,
dave_littler
dave_littler

More pulp adventures from the deepest wilds of Friendster


Since a number of people expressed an interest and/or appreciation of my pulp adventures from a couple of posts back, I've dug up two more. I wish there were more, but they seem to have been lost to the mists of time, as the accounts which they were posted on have since been deleted. And mores the pity;  I have fond memories of one of them. But then, perhaps there's a silver lining to this; if I were to do any more of these absurd little things, it means I can re-use the ideas from it guilt-free! 


BJ:


I first met BJ in the aftermath of my final cataclysmic confrontation with my arch-nemesis, the evil and incestuous Dr. Six. I'd been flung beyond the barrier of time by the explosion of the neutrophilic Doctor's Idea Recombinator device, and after spiralling through some hellish dimensional Limbo for what seemed like an eternity, I found myself plunged into some alternate dimension where the sun burned dim, and the city stood in ruins.

I wandered that nightmare for days without seeing a sign of human life, and more than once, I thought to myself "Perhaps in death, the accursed Dr. Six has finally dealt me the defeat he never could in life. Curse that dog-rapist's bones! Curse them!" It was on my fourth day in this world that I saw my first sign of life; a trail of smoke coming from some distance away. I rushed there, heedless, desperate for some sign that humanity yet existed on this world, and that they were friendly. When I came into sight of the source of the fire, I was aghast at what I saw: A young man, perhaps in his early twenties - though it was difficult to tell underneath the thick layer of filth which was caked on his skin - facing down what could only be described as a demonic Ro-Bot which

stood perhaps fifteen feet tall, wielding no more than a stout wooden shillelagh. Well, I was by no means going to see this young man fall victim to a mechanism of such obviously sinister intent, no matter how spirited he may be.

"Take heart", I bellowed from my hiding place, "Help is on the way!". No sooner had I unslung my custom-built triple-barreled hunting rifle, "Cleopatra", from by back, though, than this young man flung his simple wooden club at the ro-bot, with a laugh upon his lips and a glint of madness in his eyes. I thought him to have lost his wits. As it rebounded against the machine's face, though, it instantly fell still and silent.

"Don't worry about Hannibal here", he called out to me, "I was just getting in my daily sparring practice with the old boy". He patted the beast affectionately on the metallic thigh, and then called out, "Hannibal, Ready-mode!".

At once, the metallic monstrosity lurched back into motion, bowing before the man, grating out the words "As you say, master".

"Uncanny", I replied.

The youth introduced himself as Belthanius Jeriahmartialus. I decided straight away to shorten it to "BJ"; a name which he found charming, and which has stuck to this day. As it turned

out, he too was stranded on this world through a similar series of events as those which had stranded me there, with no more than his faithful re-programmed Murder-Bot, Hannibal. Though he had the means to escape this world, he explained to me, in Hannibal's world-drive, until I had arrived, he had not known there was anywhere safe to escape to; his home-world had been destroyed by HIS world's version of Dr. Six, and BJ had only been able to escape to this benighted world at the last moment by purest chance.

With my arrival, however, he had a means of escape; my blood, he explained, carried with it the vibration signature of my home-world. All that was required, he said, was for Hannibal to take a sample of my blood to calibrate his world-drive. At the mention of this, a rattling came from within the Murder-Bot which seemed disquietingly similar to the heavy breathing of excitement.

"Your machine can take what it needs", I said, drawing Cleopatra on him, "But if he tries to take a drop too much, he'll answer to the Queen of the Nile".

Hannibal fell silent straight away. To make an already long story short, the process was a complete success, and BJ was able to get his Ro-Bot to bring us back to my earth in one piece, albeit in a locale I could have done without seeing again; he'd deposited us within the mountain stronghold of the dreaded Mad Emperor Bush. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire of perdition!" I muttered to myself, as I raised Cleopatra to draw a bead on the incoming wave of guards. "Think your shillelagh is the equal of the Republican Guards"?

"If it's not", he said, hefting his club, "then I'll clobber the lot of them with my bare hands".

"That's the spirit!", I cried, as I let loose with my first volley of shells.Needless to say, we fought our way free, and before long, found our way safe and sound back to civilization, and by the time we were, bonds of friendship had been forged which have never been shattered. He took up residence in my palatial home, Uncanny Manor, and began construction of a new Science Lab, where wonders and horrors of a thousand sorts have been birthed. I even hear from the servants that he's begun work on a bride of sorts for his Murder-Bot, whom he's calling :"Clarice". I don't claim to

understand my friend's strange alien ways, but neither do I question them, as they've seen me through far too many scrapes to count. All I can say is this: Any who would call this man

friend are in for a wild ride that -should they be prepared for it - they will never forget.


Colin:

 

I first met Colin some years ago, during my third expedition down within the fire caves of Yul-britti'cha. Twice before, I'd failed to locate the fabled fire-stones for which the caves are so

famous, and which my client; a wealthy Brazilian land baron had offered me a small fortune. This time, I was well-prepared, and with the assistance of a map I'd bought from a merchant in

Calcutta, I was sure I would succeed. Alas, the map turned out to be a fraud.

I was soon lost, and after three days of wandering, running low on supplies. It was then that I saw one of the most frightening things I'd seen in all my many journeys: a naked and heavily

muscled young man with hair like fire, lips like ask, metal spikes growing out of his neck, teeth like a shark, cold, black eyes, and - most distressingly of all - horns like a bull growing from

his grinning head. He couldn't speak a word of English, and communicated with grunts and gestures, but I quickly realized that this subterranean youth meant me no harm. In fact, after a

brief exchange, he led me to a strange glowing fruit which bloomed from the bare stone walls, and which refreshed me entirely!

I decided to name him Colin, after my third son, who had tragically died the year before during our fifth voyage to the Hollow Earth. Colin the Lesser and I travelled through the Fire Caves for some weeks together, and he showed me many wonders, as I taught him the ways of the civilized world and the Queen's tongue. When at last I came upon the fabled fire stones, I gave a mighty yip

of joy, which Colin seemed to appreciate, as he jumped up and down in excitement, making strange gurgling noises all along.

Shortly thereafter, Colin showed me to the entrance to the caves, and I made ready to return to Brazil for my reward. I bid Colin farewell, and made off. Some time shortly thereafter, I heard footsteps behind me. I whiled to face my follower, turning my custom-built triple-barrel hunting rifle, "Cleopatra" upon him, only to see my boon companion, Colin, right behind me! The lad had followed me to the surface world!

From that moment on, the two of us were inseparable. When I returned home, he took up residence in my basement, next to the furnace, straight away, and there built a nest of sorts for himself

using old rags and pornographical periodicals. He has since learned a simple form of English, and I recently convinced him to start wearing pants when we entertain guests. He's a marvel at parties, and a more faithful errand-boy you'd never meet in a million years. Here's to you, Colin, old boy! Cheers!



In retrospect from my perspective some five years later, there are a couple of elements here which I view as slightly embarassing and which I certainly would't have included today, but at the time, I wasn't precisely aiming at high literature. These were, after all, no more than comments on some friends' profiles. Nevertheless, they do put a smile on my lips even now.
Tags: 19th century, comedy, pulp adventures, writing
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