___the babylon project, uncorporated__

Babble On: Tales Of Eric

"Eric zee Unruly, you poncy old Never-King git, I still reckon I should have beat you in zee 1994 Acid Bong championship." Thor's voice boomed over the songs, well, drunken mutterings, of his Viking brethren. "Let's have a 'get a human fucked' competition. I reckon I can get any of zee little sings more battered zan you can. ARRR! I challenge you to zee binge, Unruly! Vot do you say?" "Thor, you fat beardy barbarian, your 'aving a laugh mate, if my memory serves me well, last time we went out on the mash, you ended up spending days thinking you were a postbox. I can cane you under any table, anytime, in any part of this Multiverse, just tell me your wager, and watch where you're pointing that hammer, fuzz-features!"

Thor looked pensive for a moment "As many Valkyries as you can manage for half an Aeon *, and zat skull you're holding... hmmmm? Sounds gut, ja?"

Yes... He could see it now...First thing's first, Eric thought, we're gonna need people to possess, preferably on lots and lots of drugs. Folding his coarse, furry legs into a half lotus position (or as near as you can get with knees that bend the wrong way) Our Brave Hero fully closed his already-half-closed eyes. Switching to a more first-persony sort of narrative, Eric began to cooon-cen-traaaaate...

Cooonc-en-trate Eric my boy, coooonc-en-traaaaate. Pushing my mind out from the top of my head I begin to drift slowly across the infinite halls of great Valhalla. Now, one thing you should really get to grips with, if you're going to get the next bit at all, is my domain, my place of being, the-place-that-I-is-in-now-at-the-moment (I shall henceforth refer to it as Where-I-Am).

Now, Where-I-Am is only reeeeally accessible through a kind of veil type-contraption at the edge of Where-I-Am (which, bearing in mind that Where-I-Am is technically infinite, is bloody hard to get to. And out of). I am, however, still technically a God Of Confusion and this allows me certain 'side-benefits' one of which is the liberty to take the piss out of reality and do whatever I want every now and then. Anyway, I did say that Where-I-Am is only technically infinite and there's ways around that. So there. Don't argue or I'll turn you into a poodle or something. So anyways, out I go, through the nothing, twisting and turning, wheeling and dealing, you know, bobbin' and weavin' until Lo! Let there be light. I see a place in the light, a town, a ring of trees guarding a house, amid countryside, by a river, and music, there is music, radiating and singing and banging of drums and confusion. There are people, golden, shiny people, fluffed and battered and mashed and otherwise mentally indisposed and out-to-lunch. And there is much wailing and mashing of jaws. And yea! there is light here also! And lo!, the light shines on and off. At about 160 beats per minute.

I can just feel what I'm looking for; homing-in on me as I home-in on it. One soul. All I need is one soul. Ah-ha! Shazzam! Voila! Ping! and other chirpy phrases connoting surprise, (Here comes another change of narrative). Here it comes....wait for it....

eeeeeoooooeooasoooooooeeooeowweeeeleeaaaarghlglglglgl

*Pop*

* People may be interested to know that the technical description of an Aeon is as follows: It is the time it takes to rub down to non-existence a cube of stone the size of many mountains, with a silk cloth. Eric had laughed at the old Chinese bloke when he'd told him that. That was, until he'd met the poor fucker who had to do it to keep count of the bloody things. Mind you, he still sold an awful lot of pot to that man.

fnord!