The Fuckno Wars TFW CH 23 SVEN AWAKENS

Opportunities appear even when a man may not know the rules, but he can navigate the course.  –Minister Glinty McFlintock, ca. 1880’s.

SVEN

OPENS

HIS

EYES

Into The Void   by NIN  

When you awaken with a new set of eyes, the worst thing to do is to scream in horror.  Do Not Panic.  Instead, the best thing to do is to assess your condition, your surroundings, what weapons are available, and also where the nearest exit is and how to get to it.

After that, there other things you need to do.

Sven whispered, “Aargh.  Farr degrader.”   He searched the garments lying about that might be useful and he stuffed them into a backpack near the lit candle.

He found wallets, knives, old school metal lighters with some sort of insignia on them, a bottle of lighter fluid for them, and even a small pistol.  He snatched purses and watches and other jewelry from the hands and fingers of his unconscious room-mates.

He had no idea who they were and yet it was a freeing sensation that flowed over his skin.  He was awake, while they were not.

The urge to use a knife on all of them, on some of them, on even one of them was quite powerful, but he realized that he would need to leave soon, to escape.  But you should know that there is no escape.  There is only forward motion, and such a thing can dig one deeper into a hole.

He knew that he would not get far once these young folks awakened.  He would have to keep them where they were, for as long as possible.

And that, my friend, meant they would have to remain at that Heroin Hotel.

Forever.

Indeed, the Walkin set about cooking up a new batch in the spoon, using the tiny bags of yellow powder he found near the candle.  He clicked the tiny butane torch and filled the needle to the brim.

Then he went to each sleeping body and inserted the tip directly into their fresh tracks.  He filled them with their pleasure and their destiny.

When he was done he shrank back into the shadows and watched.

In a few minutes, they began to awaken, one by one, starting with the first one he had injected with his own sort of love.

Their eyes fluttered, there were moans joy and even a small whimper of happiness from one in particular.  She was quite pretty with her face all dolled up in the style of the time back then.

And then each of them began to tremble, and wriggle, and then convulse.

The contents of their stomachs dripped out of their mouths, except for the pretty one:  She leaned to the right and coughed and her eyes fluttered open in a panicked state, and she could not catch her breath.

She saw him.

She saw Sven, but it was not Sven, to her.

It was her friend.  She reached to him, trying to call for his assistance, but he shrank away, back into the shadows.

She reached as she coughed, but then she fell back.  She, too shrank back into the shadow.

She slunk into the spinning world of the over-inebriated, the overcome, the over-dosed, and her lungs filled with her own bile as she choked and inhaled, trying to catch her breath. Her heart tried to speed up and slow down at the same time. 

She dissipated.

These young folks would return as new Walkins, each with the need to torture others.  They would need to inhabit an unconscious person.

And, you know, there were many to be found on the south side of Fuckno.

Sven’s teeth gleamed from the shadows.  The candle flickered in his eyes.  He had never felt such joy from such a little amount of work. He savored the moment, but he didn’t know that the last view of him was seen by that pretty soul who could come back to fight him, joining another that we know as Sherry.

He simply knew that he needed to cover his tracks.

And that was why he went back to them dying, choking drug addicts and squirted the lighter fluid all over the table near the candle.  He set the plastic bottle on its side so it appeared to have been knocked over.

He pulled one young man’s leg over and placed his tennis shoe on top of the pool of spilled fluid and got the pant leg all wet in the puddle.

He set the candle down on its side and the puddle ignited.

Next thing you know, the leg was on fire, and so was the table.  He used the fiery leg to kick the tiny table around and then over, and the puddle spread under the legs of them other young folks.

He stepped back again.

He admired his work.  He hefted up the backpack into his shoulder and smiled.  It began to smell like burning hair and barbecue in the small room.

He knew that he could drive off in a car that belonged to one of these kids, but for the moment, he enjoyed himself.

He was glad to be alive.

Again.

Swim In The Ocean   by The Call

I had no clue.

But that was just about right.  I never knew the rules, but boy could I navigate.  Well, at least that was what it looks like now in hindsight.

Other people call it blind luck.

And some call it destiny, which can’t be denied.  You might be dragged to your destination screaming, blubbering and scrambling to get away.

And then once you arrive, you stand up, you wipe your tears from your muddy face and you say, “I meant to come here all along.”

Yeah, right.

I saw those boys lying on the ground after the cold air brought them down.  The screaming girl evaporated into a cloud of snow and the only thing awake back there behind the mansion was a small blue ghost girl crouched over Tellesco’s head and the red moon above. 

Big Bryan lied off down in the midst of them purple robes, and they all looked to be dead.

The rest of them blue ghosts were gone, baby, gone.

I fell back into the shadows.  I was going, baby, going.


I stepped back into someone standing behind me.


My skin crawled.


I was about to die, I was sure of it.  I held no weapons and I had dropped the smashed bag of talismans inside the mansion.

And then I smelled her perfume. 

Perfume from a dead girl under the ocean five thousand miles away.  Her body was still strapped into the aircraft seat, and she was watching an in-flight movie the likes of which you nor I would ever see, but it had no ending for her.

Lorelei whispered in my ear.  She said, “Hold steady, Weeeeee-ill.  We need to get those guys awakened.  That Brian lying over there is OK.  He will take us from here.  You can be safe and sound.”

I whispered back, without turning around.  I said, “Then what happens?”

She said, “That is something you don’t need to think about now. At this moment, we just need to focus on the work at hand. We have to go and collect some bones.”

Hah?

What the hell was she talking about?

Collect bones?

From where?

Of course, you know that she meant we would have to go back inside and down under the mansion and do some digging.

Holy shit.

Indeed.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

Dannemora Blues   by  The Pack A.D.

.

TFW CH 23 BETA

Plaster   by  Beast Patrol

TFW CH 23 


HOURS 

TO ALL OUT WAR

Tellesco was the savior.

Big Bryan was the Truth Seeker.

Little Joey was getting a clue.

Me?  I had no clue.

Sven was getting a clue.

The southside of Fuckno became infected by Walkins.

But, the old drunk man infected by the new Walkin we now know as Sherry would become the leader of the besotted and smoked.  She would lead to Sven’s downfall.

Ya got all that?

 Good.

Here we go.

SVEN

He woke up in the body of one of them Purple Robes.  Of course, the young man whose body he took over was not wearing a purple anything.  But he was one of them, and he was the son of someone high up in the ranks of them Armedmenia.

Sven looked down at his velvet track suit and frowned.

He spoke in his native tongue, “Arrr, Farr Degrader.”

This meant, to him, from the times of old, this:  “It’s become much worse.”

He would need to figure this out,.

TFW CH 22 GOT A CLUE

The Sea   By Exitmusic

JOEY 

GOT 

A 

CLUE

Lion Man, I mean, Joey, …well, he pulled himself up by the boot straps.  His ears rang from the icy screech of Katheena, and it woke him the fuck up.  He was in driving mode.

He looked over at the damage he had caused with the big truck.

The cement block structure glowed with flames and sizzled and sparked.  He rubbed his jaw.  He made sense of his shituation.  His mind reminded him of his mindlessness.

He had left his two buddies alone in an abandoned mansion, and he felt kind of bad about that.  Joey wished that the impact amnesia would return, but it didn’t. 

He looked at the ghost girl standing before him for a clue. 

Her icy glare frosted his balls.

Joey got a clue.

He headed to the little truck that purred, awaiting the next direction.

AVISON

The little girl with the deep blue eyes looked down at her king.

Such a sad thing for a girl to do.

One must never look down upon a regent, a sovereign, a savior.

No One, I mean, Tellesco,  …well, he was kind of fucked up.  You recall, he had followed Big Bryan into the fight with them Purple Robes.

You should also know these three things:

1. Them Purple Robes at this First Engagement at the destroyed mansion were very low on their totem pole of power and ability.  All that they truly held was a belief in their armament; their guns.  And this had not served them well.
2. There was a Walkin, an evil dude from a foreign country, one who liked to torture people, and he had Walked-in to one of them Purple Robes, higher up on the totem pole.  He would rise and do you know,  he would take over.  His name was Sven Slindlivrenn.
3. There were now 10 hours to all-out war.

Avison bent down and kissed his cheek.  No One’s eyelids fluttered, and he looked about. He had felt the cool breeze on his cheek, and he saw the red moon rising.  He touched his cheek.  It felt as cold as the breath from a grave.

Avison whispered into his ear, and he heard her.  She said, “Mister King, you need to rise up.”

No One shook his head to clear things up.  The scent of the cornflower blossom entered his nose from nearby, but it was mixed with the earthy smell of a long-forgotten grave.

He remembered where he was, what he was supposed to do, and this occurred in a moment.  Such a hard way to wake up. This brought tears to his eyes. 

He saw her now, knelt beside him, bent over him, with her blonde hair hanging down and brushing his face. She was looking right into his eyes.  She was awaiting his next response.

He gritted his teeth.

Of course he would lead.

It was in his blood. 

He simply did not know that he was a blood relative to the evil man called Sven, down from the ages.

He also did not know that he was a relative to another leader, one called The Glinty.

That old cowboy preacher, Glinty,   well, he would be showing up soon.

Tellesco put his hands to the ground behind him, and he began to rise.


He said, "Little girl you make me cry."



Avison said, "You sure do cry a lot for a King."



Tellesco got up and put her up on his back.

He whispered back to her as he looked around at the broken bodies of them weak Purple Robes with their guns all skittered about.


He said, "I ain't no king.  I don't have a clue about that."


He looked up at the red moon almost over head, and he frowned.  The little girl was waiting for something, and he finally got a clue.


Tellesco McFlintlock whispered back to her, "I do what I say I will."



And that, my friend, 


well,   



...That is what it's all about, isn't it?

S H E R R Y

The infection of the Walkins grew in an exponential way.  One fresh victim of an infected Walkin passed on the infection to five more.

Five times five times five times five…  Well, you get the idea.  Do the math, baby.

Sherry found the exit and she staggered down the dark stairwell and tripped.  She fell head long down the rest of the steps and landed at the next turn below.

Her face hurt.  Warm fluid dripped from her nose down over her lips, and she licked them.  It tasted like metal, like rust. Her tongue ran over her front teeth, and these came away and fell out onto the steps.

Blood dribbled out of her mouth.  She vomited again.  She was not used to this new way of living.  It was different.

Sherry felt the sharp pain of broken roots in her upper jaw as she sucked in a deep breath.  It was the raw nerves in her broken teeth that caused this to make her feel such pain.

She did not like this new body.

She did not know that she could find another one to inhabit.

A Walkin can do what a Walkin wants.

The Walkins would.






See you next time, my friend.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

TFW CH 21: LION WITH A BIT OF SHERRY

A Quitter Never Wins

Lotta music here baby.  No apologies.  Let's go.

You drive.  To truly connect with your vehicle, you may choose to drive bare-footed. Other times, you need to wear them black boots.

Always mind your leather, baby.

Them Shoes   by Patrick Sweany

L I O N

Them Purple Robes from Armed-men-ia fixed themselves in the middle of the desert with nothing to lose, but everything to gain.  They rose into power from investing in two things:  Electricity and water.

Folks will always need water to drink and to grow food, and they also like their power.

The dam and its irrigation canals and the electrical generators that fed the ugly king of the desert with water and electrical power gave them Purple Robes control of Fuckno.

The man in the power truck was a Purple Robe, but quite low on the scale of their totem pole.

Both he and Joey lied unconscious on the tar beside the demolished power plant structure.

But one had a powerful ally.

The ghost of Katheena had come to his aid.

Katheena looked down at the young man before her.  She looked over at the man who lied by the tiny truck that still purred in the darkness, lit only by the red light of the moon rising up in the east.

She knew that he was one of the evil people.  She turned and knelt by Joey.  She screamed into his ear.

Joey awoke with his ears ringing.  His jaw hurt.  His shoulders felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to them.  His knees were numb.  His hands bled at the knuckles, and they held the grit embedded in them that one gets from taking a dive out of the door of a fast moving vehicle before it crashes into a building and cuts off the power to a huge city.

He looked up and saw Katheena.

He about shit his pants.

Walk Idiot Walk    by The Hives

S H E R R Y

The old man wiped his foul tasting mouth on the arm of his nasty overcoat.  He pulled strings of thick drool from his beard and flung them to the floor.

He staggered up from his knees and felt the place spin a bit.  The plastic bottle of vodka fell to the floor and rolled, leaving a trail of clear liquid, to join the drool and the vomitus pile.  He needed to rinse his mouth, and there was only one thing he could see that would do the job.

He lurched forward and gabbed the bottle up and put it to his mouth.  He tilted his head back, and the liquid filled his mouth.  Oddly enough, it tasted sweet to his white-film-coated tongue.  His liver shrank back, but his gullet called for this nectar.

He closed his eyes as they rolled back into his head, and he swallowed.

The heat in his belly exploded out to his arms and legs, and he grinned.  He felt really fucking good.

Sherry was victim number two, and she had walked-in to this old drunk man who lived in a condemned building.

And now, she had his addiction to drive her, as well as those of the man who had killed her.

God Help Her.

She stuffed the bottle into the big side pocket of her trenchcoat and looked around on the floor.

A Walkin will do what a Walkin will.

Walk The Walk    by Poe

S V E N

T U R N S

Sven Slindlivrenn looked down at his hands.

He was a Walk-In, and he had simply followed the light.  He was in a new body now.

The hint, the whisper of an eternity spent in the fires of Hell evaporated before his eyes.  Sven saw that his hands were not without their skins on them.  He’d witnessed their removal from his hands, but now, he was simply amazed.

Perhaps he had somehow become immortal though such an event?

He did not know that he had indeed become timeless, but he missed the mark by a hundred years.

You see, he did not understand that he was a Walkin.  He did not know anything at all.

He thought that he was invincible.

That would be his downfall.

He looked about the room and saw young people all lying about, in sleep.

In front of him sat a candle, and beside it, butane torch lighters and spoons and arm wraps and needles and small plastic bags of yellow powder.

He had awakened in a decrepit room in a forgotten building on the asshole end of the ugly king of the desert, and he did not know what the fuck.

As he stood, he looked down at himself.  He was dressed in the clothing of folks who lived a life of leisure.  God Help you if you laugh at this following description: it was the 80’s.

Sven found himself wearing a velvet track suit and tennis shoes.

He shook his head and swore under his breath.  “Arrrgh, farr degrader…”

He kicked the feet of those around him, but they did not stir.  They were in another place.

Sven assessed his situation.

These were rich druggies, probably spending the wealth of their parents, and they were completely vulnerable to any intruder at all.

This revealed to him two things, which were these:  

He was in a place of trust, without any protection at all. They were out for the count.

He could do as he pleased with them.

Sven smiled.  This did not bode well for his new friends.  He began to search for their weapons.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

Soothing long time song for you as antidote.

Misty’s Nightmares 1 & 2   

by Father John Misty 

The Fuckno Wars Beta CH 21 Sherry

Hello there.  For those of you who have been following my tale, I say thank you.

I apologize to you, my friend, for I have been called away on travel, and there is only the remnant of a story left here and now for you.  I’ve been doing the busy practice of memorizing ppts, and that pays the bills.

My work supports my writing habit.

When I return, it will be something that you might wish to see.

For now, here are the bare bones.

Going.

VICTIM No. 2 

WAS SHERRY

Howl   by Beware of Darkness

The old man wiped his foul tasting mouth on the arm of his nasty overcoat.  He pulled strings of thick drool from his beard and flung them to the floor.

He staggered up from his knees and felt the place spin a bit.  The plastic bottle of vodka fell to the floor and rolled, leaving a trail of clear liquid, to join the drool and the vomitus pile.  He needed to rinse his mouth, and there was only one thing he could see that would do the job.

He lurched forward and gabbed the bottle up and put it to his mouth.  He tilted his head back, and the liquid filled his mouth.  Oddly enough, it tasted sweet to his white-film-coated tongue.  His liver shrank back, but his gullet called for this nectar.

He closed his eyes as they rolled back into his head, and he swallowed.

The heat in his belly exploded out to his arms and legs, and he grinned.  He felt really fucking good.

Sherry was victim number two, and she had walked-in to this old drunk man who lived in a condemned building.

And now, she had his addiction to drive her, as well as those of the man who had killed her.

God Help Her.

She stuffed the bottle into the big side pocket of her trenchcoat and looked around on the floor.

(Here we go back onto the southside of Fuckno.)

Dead Man’s Shoes   by The Virginmarys

(Here is where the description of Sven’s Walkin-into them Purple Robes, the Armedmenia.  This is what it’s all about, my friend.)

And then, when we see how the golden car that had some secrets in it was pulled out of the desert after having been drowned, we would see the return of the blue ghost man with one and a half eye-shades. 

The Glinty.

And Mayhem would ensue.

See you next time, my friend.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---traveling willies out.

B3     by Placebo