The Troppilop Temprospat
coming undone
Crammed into a corner, I could have felt his breath against my own if he had any. And music was playing. Something weird, all oboes and pizzicato cellos. It was weird and folky and not to my taste at all. The room had orange and brown wallpaper in circles and hexagons and stripes and dots and it looked like a code. I looked at the wallpaper, never at him, never at him, you see. I kept grouping the repeating pattern to make words. Hexagon, hexagon, stripe, stripe, dot. Slut. Stripe, circle, circle, stripe, dot, dot, stripe, hexagon. Beware
And the stripes covered my eyes and my heart and my ears and I couldn't see no more. I couldn't see the truth. Only stripes. Like the world is a bar code. I like bar codes, they seem to call to me when I scan things in the supermarket. I can feel them smiling as I push my fingers against their black and white reasoning. They make me feel better. But not that odious wallpaper. It scared me and it wrapped around my face like a mother's breast on an infant. And children fear that who covers their face without the milky maternal promise. And I was no different.
Something cold and wet startled me and the wallpaper finally behaves. Maniat's tongue was green and cold and attached to my neck, making sickening little noises that I could not quite decode. Eyes poised in battle, I pushed at his overgrown, scaly form. He staggered and I stood tall. The dress was not ruined, the delicate Pishtick embroidery was still intact and that could have only be taken as a sign of goodness in the world.
"Madame, I must protest," the Custard said. I ignored his words and slid a gun out of my pocket.
"Madame, please!" called Plikko. "You must understand the brevity of the situation. You either wed and procreate or you will be executed without kindness or mercy." His yellow bastard friend touched my shoulder and I hissed. There are more things that I could understand at that moment in time than I could possibly give fortune to.
"Custard, Plikko, leave this chamber at once," I barked, my vixen force striking a death bell and everyone could sense it. The sonic waves caused shuddering and I smiled. The pair left, shutting the doors behind them.
"Madame, I must say something as your husband about your inappropriate behaviour," he started. I glared at him and his voice ceased to prattle. Sighing, I took aim and shot clean through one of the stained glass windows. The head of Pearliop the Third giving the Jungilk clan a severe buggering shattered which is a good thing because I despised that window. The past meant nothing to me, Futurist, Vorticist, Narcissist. All the same, all the same to me.
"This will stop, right now. I couldn't give a flying shit about protocol. I am a proud warrior, am I not? Maniat, answer me!" I growled. He nodded nervously, suddenly shrinking back from his lamentable veneer of masculinity. "I am the last in the lineage of the Troppilop Era. When I married you, the era switched hands. This is now the Philistine era."
"Madame!"
"Philistine! Bastards and Philistines and mongrel children. Well, no more. I refuse to rise to that. I knew growing up that ruling my kingdom - my kingdom would result in banality and disappointment but you! You are not so much a husband but a sherry trifle!" Shimmering in a sexual sweat, he moved closer to me, pulling my hips in with his claws, smiling slickly and something vaguely cold and unappetizing in his eyes.
"And what can you do about it, Madame? Or should I say..." Hissing teeth, baring my fangs, incisors and molars, turning barnacles of an ochre shade through a hurt red mouth.
"Say my name and I will kill you." the voice made his hearts spasm, I felt that in his pulse, travelling through my system at four thousand metres per second. And I can feel it on my skin, electrical current on and off. A blinking sonic light in the darkness. And his eyes glazed over as his lips parted the final syllables.
"Stribog." he muttered. I pushed him gently to his knees and he understood what I meant. I was a warrior, first and foremost and semantic mutiny was not in my sensibilities. I stood backwards, again, thrice before cocking the gun and shooting through his eye. Custard and Plikko run into the room, despairing of the bloated, bastardised corpse in front of them. Staring grandly, a map of the universe embroidered onto blue silk on my back, I dared them to say a word.
"Madame, this is not acceptable behaviour!" Custard said. And I closed my eyes. The wallpaper faded back to the white walls and the white walls surrounded me. Spatters of green rain caressing my hot forehead and the soft strokes of strong winds carrying me high in the air.
"I am the Empress of the Temprospats. I am the most triumphant warrior this planet has ever seen. I have brought this galaxy out of the Dark Ages and through recessions. Such phallocentric bullshit will cease." Growling, I held the gun up. Shivering, spineless fools every single one of them.
"Madame," Custard approached, yellow and dogged, "I must call for the guards to take you to the Sevcilo Dungeon to await trial..."
Ignoring the prattling, I stepped towards the broken window. All I could see was the howling darkness, making noises and merriment with clanking signs and chains and I pushed my hand out. Rain spat from the petulant sky and I saw the sea green colour my beige arm.
"I abdicate." I smirked before letting go. Falling and falling and falling and darkness swallowing me whole, the tiny pinpricks of light from the bar code previous fading away and all I could feel was the universe on my back with the embroidery coming undone.
And the stripes covered my eyes and my heart and my ears and I couldn't see no more. I couldn't see the truth. Only stripes. Like the world is a bar code. I like bar codes, they seem to call to me when I scan things in the supermarket. I can feel them smiling as I push my fingers against their black and white reasoning. They make me feel better. But not that odious wallpaper. It scared me and it wrapped around my face like a mother's breast on an infant. And children fear that who covers their face without the milky maternal promise. And I was no different.
Something cold and wet startled me and the wallpaper finally behaves. Maniat's tongue was green and cold and attached to my neck, making sickening little noises that I could not quite decode. Eyes poised in battle, I pushed at his overgrown, scaly form. He staggered and I stood tall. The dress was not ruined, the delicate Pishtick embroidery was still intact and that could have only be taken as a sign of goodness in the world.
"Madame, I must protest," the Custard said. I ignored his words and slid a gun out of my pocket.
"Madame, please!" called Plikko. "You must understand the brevity of the situation. You either wed and procreate or you will be executed without kindness or mercy." His yellow bastard friend touched my shoulder and I hissed. There are more things that I could understand at that moment in time than I could possibly give fortune to.
"Custard, Plikko, leave this chamber at once," I barked, my vixen force striking a death bell and everyone could sense it. The sonic waves caused shuddering and I smiled. The pair left, shutting the doors behind them.
"Madame, I must say something as your husband about your inappropriate behaviour," he started. I glared at him and his voice ceased to prattle. Sighing, I took aim and shot clean through one of the stained glass windows. The head of Pearliop the Third giving the Jungilk clan a severe buggering shattered which is a good thing because I despised that window. The past meant nothing to me, Futurist, Vorticist, Narcissist. All the same, all the same to me.
"This will stop, right now. I couldn't give a flying shit about protocol. I am a proud warrior, am I not? Maniat, answer me!" I growled. He nodded nervously, suddenly shrinking back from his lamentable veneer of masculinity. "I am the last in the lineage of the Troppilop Era. When I married you, the era switched hands. This is now the Philistine era."
"Madame!"
"Philistine! Bastards and Philistines and mongrel children. Well, no more. I refuse to rise to that. I knew growing up that ruling my kingdom - my kingdom would result in banality and disappointment but you! You are not so much a husband but a sherry trifle!" Shimmering in a sexual sweat, he moved closer to me, pulling my hips in with his claws, smiling slickly and something vaguely cold and unappetizing in his eyes.
"And what can you do about it, Madame? Or should I say..." Hissing teeth, baring my fangs, incisors and molars, turning barnacles of an ochre shade through a hurt red mouth.
"Say my name and I will kill you." the voice made his hearts spasm, I felt that in his pulse, travelling through my system at four thousand metres per second. And I can feel it on my skin, electrical current on and off. A blinking sonic light in the darkness. And his eyes glazed over as his lips parted the final syllables.
"Stribog." he muttered. I pushed him gently to his knees and he understood what I meant. I was a warrior, first and foremost and semantic mutiny was not in my sensibilities. I stood backwards, again, thrice before cocking the gun and shooting through his eye. Custard and Plikko run into the room, despairing of the bloated, bastardised corpse in front of them. Staring grandly, a map of the universe embroidered onto blue silk on my back, I dared them to say a word.
"Madame, this is not acceptable behaviour!" Custard said. And I closed my eyes. The wallpaper faded back to the white walls and the white walls surrounded me. Spatters of green rain caressing my hot forehead and the soft strokes of strong winds carrying me high in the air.
"I am the Empress of the Temprospats. I am the most triumphant warrior this planet has ever seen. I have brought this galaxy out of the Dark Ages and through recessions. Such phallocentric bullshit will cease." Growling, I held the gun up. Shivering, spineless fools every single one of them.
"Madame," Custard approached, yellow and dogged, "I must call for the guards to take you to the Sevcilo Dungeon to await trial..."
Ignoring the prattling, I stepped towards the broken window. All I could see was the howling darkness, making noises and merriment with clanking signs and chains and I pushed my hand out. Rain spat from the petulant sky and I saw the sea green colour my beige arm.
"I abdicate." I smirked before letting go. Falling and falling and falling and darkness swallowing me whole, the tiny pinpricks of light from the bar code previous fading away and all I could feel was the universe on my back with the embroidery coming undone.