Bad Moon E-Zine #1 - New Moon (4 page)

“Well...
maybe...” spluttered Jaxxon.

“What?! You
take such a vastly massively important decision so lightly?! What
are you, some kind of animal?!”

“No. I’m just
an average person, down on their luck. I want some excitement,
that’s all.”

“Ohhhhh, I
see. One of those. Well, how much have you got?”

Jaxxon reached
deep into his pocket and produced a handful of yen-creds.

“Will this
do?”

The small man
looked down at what was in Jaxxon’s hands and rifled through the
credits suspiciously.

“Hmm, yes.
Just enough. Give those here.”

The small man
snatched up the notes aggressively, then looked up at Jaxxon’s
curious face.

“Now, you want
to find out what I have to offer?”

Jaxxon
considered his position. He’d already lost his money, so there was
nothing else left to lose. He may as well take the sushi, even if
he didn’t actually eat it himself.

“Yeah, why
not?”

“Why not?
There are numerous reasons why not, but I expect that you already
know them. You do, don’t you?”

“Erm, yeah, I
suppose so.”

“So are you
ready?”

“I guess.”

The small man
reached into his pocket and produced a small case, sealed with some
kind of cooling system. He typed some numbers into the keypad to
unlock it and it hissed open, bathing his face in a cold, turquoise
glow.

“Here,” said
the man, reaching in and picking up the sushi with a small pair of
what could have been metallic chopsticks or tweezers.

“With this,
you will reach your own personal Nirvana.”

“Really? How
is that possible?”

“Like I said,
the ingredients are extremely rare, and prepared by a master.”

“A master? Who
is that?”

“Why, me, of
course.”

“But haven’t
you ever tasted it yourself?”

“Oh, oh yes.
I’m the one that came back.”

“Really?! That
was you?!”

“Why would I
lie?”

“What was it
like?”

“Magnificent.
Now, do you want to try it?”

Jaxxon looked
down at the death sushi before him. He assumed that he was never
going to get another chance at this, so reached forwards, took it
up, then slowly brought the food towards his mouth.

He bit
down.

In front of
his eyes, brilliant lights danced. The small man blurred into
nothing as a dizzying display of sparkles took over. It was light
fireworks on New Year’s Eve, but hundreds of times stronger, the
dazzling colours bursting in front of him. He felt pulses beginning
deep within his body. This was strange, and not entirely
comfortable. This was it then, what he had always been waiting for.
The ultimate truth. The lights continued their elaborate neon
ballet, symphonic explosions taking place before him as his body
began to convulse.

As soon as the
lights had started, they blinked out to darkness.

Jaxxon stood
in a cold, dark room. He could hear drips of disconnected plumbing
coming from somewhere nearby. He looked about himself, but could
see very little in the semi-darkness.

“Hello? Is
anyone there.”

The silhouette
of the small man appeared before him.

“So, you’re
awake.”

“Yes. I am.
Where am I?”

“You’re
here.”

“But where’s
here?”

“Your own
personal Nirvana. Dark, isn’t it?”

“Yes. What
happens now?”

“Nothing.
That’s it. You ate the death sushi, that’s the end.”

“Really?”

“Yes. How do
you feel?”

“Kind of short
changed, really.”

“Yes, I bet
you do. If you really thought you could reach Nirvana for just two
months’ wages, you must live in an alternate reality to everybody
else.”

Somewhere at
the side of the enclosed room, a door opened. Jaxxon could hear the
sound of the market outside. His eyes began to slowly become clear
and make out that he was in a storage room near to where the man
had called upon him originally.

“Go on, get
out of here, fool!” yelled the small man. Jaxxon scarpered. The
small man chuckled to himself.

“Hehehe.
There’s one born every minute. Hehehehe!”

- - -

Steaming Pistons –
The Chamberpot Crisis

by Philbert Chicory

Princess
Vitriolica was a prim and proper young popinjay just coming of age,
primed for the throne of Great Tribian, which she would attain when
her father, King Milliaw IV, promptly passed away. This she was
looking forward to a tad too keenly, prepared, as she was, well
ahead of her time. She had done plenty of throne-sitting practice
and believed that she was more than ready for the job.

"Oh, I wish
he'd just cark it so that I can rule the gaff!" she whinged
bitterly to her maids.

Her mother,
Princess Amy Elouise Vitriolica The Duchess of Tenk, along with her
close companion and aide Lord Saveloy, had kept the young princess
relatively well entertained for the best part of her childhood.
They had ensured that she was continually amused and invigorated,
and for this, Vitriolica hated them vehemently. Vitriolica had
personally appointed a new maid in waiting, Orla Wanshaf, to attend
to her as she wished. Orla was a spiteful, critical person, just
the sort of cruel bully that Vitriolica would get on with
swimmingly (especially when they went swimming, which they did
rather often).

"Come now,
Vitriolica dearest! You mustn't be so scornful towards your dear
old papa! After all, he has provided you with everything that
you've ever asked for, and more besides," advised her mother,
considerately.

"Pah!" spat
Vitriolica with venom. "He's a dried up old prune! The sooner he
keels over and croaks to let a real leader like me take charge, the
better!"

Rumour had it
that Vitriolica had already killed her father's brother Egerog IV
so that her father would become the king and then later on she
would be the 'legitimate' heir to the throne, but talk of such
matters was not the done thing about court. If you were heard
suggesting such an eventuality, you'd have your tongue cut out - or
worse. Egerog had been loved by the people, rich and poor alike,
and his passing had been mourned by many. He had lived a healthy,
chivalrous life, improving the conditions of the less well-off, and
instigating a set of social justice schemes to society’s general
betterment. Vitriolica would have none of this, and swore to
replace his hideous system of self-improvement with something far
more repressive and insidious.

The only thing
that interested and amused Vitriolica were her clockwork china
dolls that she spent hours poring over, building, tweaking and
perfecting, and a small pug dog that she kept, named Mopsy. This
was one of a long lineage of Mopsies brought over from Yamnerg, who
would become well known amongst the citizens of Odnnol in their
time, and well after. The dolls themselves were unusual in that
they had small, inner workings of cogs and spindles that Vitriolica
manipulated to make them perform complicated actions at her
bidding. She was adept at getting them to perform intricate dances
and harlequinades for her own prurient entertainment, spinning in
arabesque whorls and delicate, graceful sweeping movements. It was
a splendid sight to behold, but there was still something eerie
about them that left one with a chill running through one’s bones
after witnessing them in operation.

As the days
paraded by like so many changings of the guards, themselves now
partly mechanised through the processes of modern technology, the
young princess plotted her route to the very top. She conspired
with her lady in waiting, Orla, to do the king in with a
particularly elaborate new automated doll that she had created.
This doll could walk by itself and operate independently of any
form of human control over a great distance, as well as containing
a nasty surprise inside. Its internal whirring spools concealed a
sharp retractable blade that once revealed spun at a hectic,
hazardous rate, slicing and dicing anything that stood in its way,
reducing it to mushy smithereens.

The damnable
day to do the dirty deed arrived. Vitriolica wound up the curious
killer clockwork doll with her special ornate key and released it
down the nearest hall of the palace, off to meet the king, and in
turn for him to meet his doom.

Shortly
afterwards, a royal butler stormed into Vitriolica’s room with the
bleak news.

"It's the
king, my lady! He's... gone!"

"Gone where?
For a stroll around the gardens?" replied Vitriolica cynically.

"No, my lady.
I mean to say… he's dead!"

"Oh dear, what
a shame," she casually replied. "It must've been a freak shaving
accident. What will the papers say?"

"I'm sure that
they will say anything that you want them to now, ma'am."

"Quite right.
Probably, "A Close Shave!" Ahahahaha! And a good thing too! Well,
there’s no reason to be so cut up about it. Ha! Step aside,
striplings - Vitriolica's in charge now!"

- § - § - § - § - §
-

On June
20
^th
1837 the 18-year-old Vitriolica came to power as
the Queen of Great Tribian. She had succeeded her father, and also
sinisterly succeeded in getting rid of him.

The coronation
was a magnificent event in every way. Nobody smiled, or smirked, or
even cracked a grin. It was deadly serious, as it should be, and
those spotted even looking as if they had a cheery disposition were
executed forthwith at The Tower.

Once the queen
was installed in her vantage point, it was noted that she must find
herself a fitting husband to further her lineage. It emerged that
Vitriolica was personally interested in a young man named Trebla,
who happened to be her cousin from Yamnerg. The royals liked to
keep it in the family, so it appeared. Trebla was known for his
cunning, avarice and extreme lust for power; therefore the two
would make a rather terrifyingly imperious team. And so it
transpired that they arranged a meeting, after which he mentioned
that he wanted to take her to the opera, as he put it.

"Oh, I do
detest such things! So many notes!" she exclaimed. Still, they
attended the event, to much speculative whispering from the general
populace.

The opera
itself was a tawdry affair, much like the tawdry affairs that many
of her relatives and courtly colleagues had with coquettish
courtesans and scullery servants of the day. It concerned a lot of
squawking and squealing about not letting passions get the better
of your faculties of reason, which Vitriolica found laughable, and
stated as much to all those within earshot.

"What
lamentable dimwits these opera sorts are, Trebla! Take me away from
this place to somewhere more solemn and soundproof!"

The Royal Box
was evacuated to much bluster and kerfuffle, and the Queen's party
retired to a dining chamber at one of her expensive palaces to
chortle about the sorry spectacle that they had just witnessed.

- § - § - § - § - §
-

Sir Trebor
Leep was the favoured candidate for the next Prime Minister of the
time. His famous Leepers were automated law enforcement officers
who mechanically leapt on people and incarcerated them if they
committed a crime, misbehaved in any way, or so much as looked as
though they were a teensy bit shifty. The incumbent Prime Minister
was Lord Snydey, 2
^nd
Viscount Milliaw Balm Snydey to use
his full title, of the Ghiw Party, who allowed for a fairly
liberal, lenient society to exist under his influence. For
Vitriolica, this simply would not do. There had been the recent
scandal concerning Snydey's wife being found having intimations
with the outrageous, outré poet Lord Byrite. This greatly
disheartened Lord Snydey, but he persevered with his career in
public office, ignoring the sniggers and sniping comments of his
more importunate colleagues. He had also overseen the instigation
of the trial of the Tadpole Martyrs, a rowdy band of rabble-rousers
who had taken to swearing at everyone who came within earshot,
which was nothing but sheer depraved vulgarity if you ak me. Some
saw the trial as a grievous imposition on public life, while others
applauded the moral standpoint that Snydey had taken. People could
be quite picky and pernickety like that.

Eventually
Snydey was defeated by a vote of no confidence in parliament, and a
new political force came forwards to take his place in the form of
Trebor Leep.

Leep was a
very serious man, almost entirely without emotion. He had a stern
demeanour, and liked to be in control of any given situation. Leep
asked his political colleague the Duke of Notellingew, a powerful
figure in Great Tribian, a former war hero and inventor of
steam-based self-propelling boots that did all of the walking for
you, as well as a previous prime minister himself, if he would put
in a good word for him with the queen. Notellingew was known by the
nickname 'The Iron Duke', as he enjoyed ironing so much, and loved
nothing more nor less than a neat, crisp crease in his trousers.
Steam-powered trouser presses were not for him.

"Notellingew
old bean, would you mind awfully asking the dear queenie if she
wouldn't mind installing some of my swanky new automated
chamberpots in her vestibule, instead of the dull devices that she
has there at present?"

"Well, old
chum, I'll see if I can't put in an advantageous word, what?!"

Leep was
despondent that his party, the Storie Party, who were fond of tall
tales, were not in favour at the palace, where instead the Ghiws
held sway. This was partly due to the chamberpot situation, as
whoever held control over the monarch's chamberpots had the key to
the nation's business, so to speak. Women, who were not allowed to
vote, since how could you expect them to concentrate on such
important and weighty undertakings, were hereby allowed to exert
some small amount of power and influence by operating the bedpans
and chamberpots of the country, and influencing the monarch's
decisions as they waited for the famous Royal Wee. Of course, these
women were of high class, and mostly advised by their fathers or
husbands, who were honourable men, on what matters to suggest to
Her Majesty during ablutions. Nonetheless, they did occasionally
offer their own suggestions too, and it turns out were rather
insightful.