The Hipster From Outer Space (The Hipster Trilogy Book 1) (29 page)

“Very well,” Gary said, purring. His little scarred nose lifted a little. “Tall One will come with us to complete the mission, but you must promise Gary that, no matter what, you will not stop Thinker from entering portal. It is the only way Earth can be saved.”

Luna nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Save Earth. I’ll be honest, I was leaning in that direction anyway.”

“Can we get a move on?” Moomamu said. “I do admit…” He leaned forward and placed one hand on Luna’s shoulder and another on Gary’s back. “… You two are my two favourite of all the Earth dwellers. You have both helped get me this far and I do appreciate it. I really do, but you’re also wearisome and I can only stand so much of you. It’s time for me to go back to my home in the stars. You won’t see it, but I’ll be watching you. I might even wave to you. Of course, when I get home I won’t be in this human vessel, so I won’t technically be able to wave, but I would imagine it. And I’d like you to know, somewhere in your Earth brains, that someone up there, me, is looking at you.”

Luna made a mental note to change her shower curtain to a non-see-through one.

“Let’s go,” Gary said and they opened their doors and climbed out of the car. “This way,” he said.
 

They walked passed the smoking remains of the cabin, past the two lumps of … Luna couldn’t be sure, but it looked like two burned human corpses next to the Saab. She shook her head and carried on. They walked up a gravel path. Luna felt cold, her hair now soaked through, rain pouring on her face. Gary was hobbling along in front, and Moomamu was right next to her.
 

They made their way to a barn of some sort. Light spilled out from beneath the door and through several holes in the walls. Luna and Gary stepped back as Moomamu pushed the door open. They piled in and shook themselves dry and looked around the barn. It smelled like shit. They heard the movement of pigs waddling and snorting away in their little enclosures. Gary hobbled ahead of them and stopped. He turned to Luna and Moomamu, his eyes wide. Once she caught up, she saw what he was looking at. The madman from the restaurant, on his knees, in front of a dead pig — its guts on the floor around him, black liquid everywhere.
 

“He’s here?” she said. She looked at Moomamu and saw his unease. Gary’s fur was backing up. He raised his tail. She looked back over and saw another man next to the mad man. He was a smaller build, but the relation was obvious. He had that same heavy brow. The same brown hair. He was kneeling next to the mad man. His hands on his shoulders.

“Please Aidan, wake up. You have to come back. What’s wrong with you?” he said, before noticing the three of them stood watching him. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, tears in his eyes.
 

“Where’s the portal?” Moomamu said, steeling himself.
 

“It’s inside the pig body,” Gary said. “You won’t be able to see it. It will look completely invisible to your Tall One eyes, but it’s there.”

“Are you listening to me?” the brother said. “Are you fucking listening to me? Who are you? Did you come looking for the others?”

Luna could almost see what was going through Moomamu’s head — fight or flight. Gary took a step closer. She thought about running back to the car, but instead found a shovel and picked it up. The brother watched her with his beady pigeon eyes. He nodded.
 

“Okay,” he said. “If that’s how it’s going to be.” He stood, wiped his eyes, and picked up a hoe that was leaning on the wall behind him. “I guess I’m going to have to kill you as well.”

As he spoke Luna saw something moving from within the pig’s stomach. It looked like the air inside it was rippling. The brother stepped forward, pointing the hoe towards them. He had pure anger in his eyes. Since moving to England, all those years ago, she never expected to find herself in a fight in some smelly little barn full of pigs, with a cat, a space alien and some Neanderthal of a man. She didn’t expect that one bit. But when she saw the hairy arm reach out of the ripple and touch the floor, she realised she hadn’t seen anything yet. The arm was followed by the dark body of damp, slimy fur, followed by a face full of teeth, with eyes glowing a deep indigo. Whatever the beast was, it climbed out of the pig’s stomach and stood behind the brother, who looked over his shoulder when he saw the shadow of it cover him. The same inky black liquid covering the floor was dripping out of its mouth and its fur. It was black like Luna had never seen — dark to the point of being non-existent — but on the edges, she could see through it, around it, into space. She could see all the colours of the spectrum trapped in the finer points of its individual hairs.

They all looked at it. It had the face of a howling, rabid ape. It was big, no, gigantic. It extended itself upwards, its head almost reaching the ceiling. It looked down at the brother who wasn’t moving at all — trapped in his own fear. It reached over. Its giant furry hands picked the brother up, lifting him into the air.

“Wait,” the brother said. “Wait, no, Aidan, help.”
 

The beast placed its other hand on the bottom half of the brother and pulled him in two, showering the mad man in his brother’s guts and blood. Still, he didn’t move. He was catatonic.
 

“Okay,” Luna said. “What do we do now?”

“We can do nothing. We have failed,” Gary said. “The parasite has entered. We will now die.”

“Okay, shit shit shit shit,” Luna said. “Moomamu, you should go through the …” She turned to look at him, but she couldn’t see him. He’d vanished into thin air. The parasite, the beast, the ape, placed the bottom half of the brother into its mouth and bit down on his legs with a crunch, and she thought of her parents in Poland. The smell reminded her of her father returning from work — the stink of the slaughterhouse clinging to him.

“You shouldn’t go to England,” they’d said, all those years ago. “You’ll be sorry,” they’d said.

“Sorry,” Luna said. “I’m sorry.”
 

Moomamu The Thinker

Moomamu couldn’t see anything. All around was black. But it wasn’t right. He wasn’t home. It certainly didn’t smell like it. In fact, why was it he could still smell? He still had human nostrils, and they were smelling … something rotten, something dead.
 

He heard tapping, loud, all around him, like thousands of tiny feet slamming against metal. He lifted his human hand in front of him, but could barely see it. He pushed himself up from the cold metal floor he was lying on. It took him a second to realise he’d teleported again. He remembered seeing the parasite make its way through the portal. He saw Gary. He heard how the cat explained that this meant all of the humans would die, and then he’d vanished and the next thing he knew he was here, in the black. He was cold, but he reached forward and felt his human clothes. He was still in the shirt that the cat had helped him put on, and the trousers. He thought about the short-haired female from the flat where he’d awoken. He remembered the smell of her breath, her perfume. He felt a pang of sadness that she would perish at the hands of the parasite, and, from the looks of it, the mouth of the parasite. He held his hand out and felt his beard. It was wet. He moved his hand upward to where his eye had been hit by Richard Okotolu, the poor human who he’d left for a life of torment with the Babosi. He was surely dead now, or so close to it you’d be incapable of telling the difference.
 

He remembered the cat defending him against the broken man. He lost his paw, nearly died, because of that stupid imbecile. He shook his head. His nostrils were on overdrive. The mix of smells in the air was almost too much for him. Smoke, metal, rust, and … was that the female from his flat? Her perfume was in the air, lingering, hiding behind a sea of other more potent smells. He reached into the dark and felt something soft in front of him. He moved his hands along the soft surface and felt something he recognised: a human head.
 

His human pupils adjusted to the darkness around him and he could see. In front of him was a dead body. It was Marta — the girl from the flat.
 

The Sesh Report

March 12
^th
, 2015.

First of all. congratulations are in order. That was the most incredible night of my life. We made new friendships, no, brothers and sisters. We became more. We became family. I drank way too many shots of tequila. We ran two hours over schedule and had a noise complaint from the neighbours, and we performed the FIRST EVER SESH!

Can you believe it?

I can still smell the blood. I felt like I was in some sort of Shakespearean play. I spoke to Yayatoo afterwards and she was her stoic self, overjoyed on the inside, thoughtful and wise on the outside. Exactly why we love her? #amiright

Just this morning, as she was tucking into her bowl of Golden Grahams, she told me that the more Yayatooists she meets, the more the foundations are built, strengthened, the deeper down the well we go, the more she knows it to be true — we are creating something special. We will help people. We will save the world.

Or shall I say she will?

Something that I want to do … after every Sesh. Something that I think could become somewhat of a ritual is a detailed breakdown of what went well in the Sesh, what didn’t go so well, and what we generally think could be improved.

Let’s start with the surprise. The moment when we found the Ex. What a moment. Did you see his face? I think this surprise and reveal should become a tradition in itself. In the same way we wrap up a present for Christmas, we should wrap up our presents in illusion and surprise. Which reminds me, we’re looking for future Ex’s for the next Sesh. If you have an ideal candidate, please send your reason, a name and a photo to the main contact address.

Okay so…

The tuck shop was a great success. We sold lots of merchandise, sweets, drinks, and even a few glow-sticks. I think in the future it would be nice to see a little more in the way of beverage choice. So please get in touch with suggestions of favourite drinks.

The stage was an ideal setting for the Sesh. We took the Ex and basically crowd surfed the sucker to the stage where we introduced him to Yayatoo. It was from here where Yayatoo read aloud his crimes and gave her reasons for her need to remove his life from existence. This may seem cruel to some of you, and I can understand why, but in the same way it’s necessary for a family of Mongols to eat every piece of the cow (even the eyeballs and the bollocks) to survive and thrive, it’s necessary for us to let go of our past lovers. We need to let go of them emotionally and physically. And the only way to do that totally is through the full excision of their existence.
 

I’m glad we had an ‘expert’ to help out with the next part. I’ve never skinned an animal before, so thanks so much for the suggestion. The expert added a whole new level to the Sesh. I did see a couple of you guys look away, which I wasn’t too happy about. I know it’s difficult, but it’s important to witness the whole thing.

I would like to suggest gagging the Ex on the next Sesh though. The music was loud enough to drown out his screams to some extent, but I think gagging will help cut it out completely, because from what I did hear of the Ex’s screams, it was deeply disturbing and even found its way into my dreams for the next couple of nights.

I noticed the Ex drifting in and out of consciousnesses several times too, so can we please look into a way to keep them wide awake throughout? Adrenalin or caffeine or something? Usual contact form for that.

Once the Ex was flayed and prepared the celebrations began. We queued up, grabbed our handfuls of salt from the bowls provided, and took turns to say how “we’re tired of his shit”, threw our salt, and then went through to the next room for a night of celebrations. I think it was around 1 or 2 am when my colleagues explained that the Ex had been forgotten and his existence had been fully removed.
 

A successful night for sure.

So there you go. Suggestions are welcome. Music, choice of drinks provided, costume themes, old boyfriends, girlfriends, or even parents or family who you know are holding you back from your true calling. Remember this is Yayatooism. This is where we become the true version of ourselves. This is where we exorcize our demons and move on to our higher calling. Expect an app explaining all of this stuff to be available on the App Store soon.

Until next time,

Samwell Lloyd,

High Priest and Creative Director of Yayatoo, Inc.

Luna Gajos

LUNA FELT HER POCKET. THE small box shape. She nervously thumbed away at it. Her mouth became dry. Her skin was numb. She took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She took another. Gary was hiding behind a fence, his face stoic as ever, fur stood up, fangs on display. He was edging closer to the chaos.

The beast was hunched over itself, gnawing on the brother’s leg, the foot poking out the side of its mouth. Its fur was sopping wet from the rain pouring down through a hole in the ceiling.

The madman was on his knees, staring at the void, and the portal was growing. She couldn’t see the portal itself, but could see the ripples it made in the air — ripples which had grown three times in size since the beast had ripped itself through it. Like the air itself had given birth and was bleeding out, dying on the hospital bed.