From the Desk of Gabriel Morton: I Loved You in “Real Men”

From the Desk of Gabriel Morton: I Loved You in “Real Men”

[dictation mode activated]

[deep inhale]

Ahhhhhh… You know, Charles Grodin Millipede, there’s something to be said about air that still has stuff in it. It could be dangerous stuff but that was what the old world was all about. Unpredictability! Not the buttoned-down world filled with millenial–

[hideous primal squawk]

See now, that’s just shoddy. You can’t take a pterosaur and stretch Jennifer Lawrence skin over it. No craftsmanship. That’s what makes you special, Charles, it’s the little bits of effort that keep your face looking like you and what other point is there to all this? [scraping sounds] This is a big hill. Is it a hill or a mountain? There’s probably some kind of height line. I bet this is dead on it. I really should stop muttering to myself, treat this a bit like a documentary.

[throat clearing]

The beautiful Open Zone was created… many years ago as a spacious housing for the results of the Great Genetics Fad. Did you ever want to have your own sexpet, built to precisely your arousal patterns? Did you want wings? Did you want to create a shambling dick-monster to torment your neighbours? The Great Genetics Fad answered Yes to those and many other stupid fucking questions. Like the early 1990s, The Great Genetics Fad is rated as one of humanity’s cultural nadirs, an unstructured explosion of demented want with no artistic merit whatsoever. I disagree slightly but only because I consider saying, “I told you so” to people to be an art. It’s educational. I am a great teacher but even I kneel to the mightiest of educators the universe has ever produced: consequences, and “I told you so” is consequences’ photocopied class handout. Dingbats can piss their lives away what-iffing and no amount of reason or punching can change their mind. But let them bumble out and actually try whatever daft fancy has consumed them and watch the burning light of knowledge fry them to a learned crisp.

Probably my favourite was the furries, most of whom had never considered the realities of trying to talk, eat, or kiss with a snout you couldn’t take off. Ha! Those were some funny times.

And as conceptually puerile as a lot of these monstrosities are, I still see the little bits of art that go into them. It’s important to appreciate art without high or low distinctions, mostly because people will cluster into either camp so bravely trotting about both makes you look unique and clever.

God I’m bored. At least we’re nearly at the bottom of this thing. There seems to be some clear area over to my right, too, so I don’t have to work out my way around this damn mountain.

[distant thunder]

Goddammit. I don’t want to get wet.

“I can’t fly”

I know you can’t, Charles.

“You heard me, I can’t fly”

Why are y–

[slipping sounds]

Faaarkenshitwhoreabitchcunt

“Did she hurt you, Jack”

[dusting sounds]

No, Charles, and please stop digging your little legs into my neck meat.

I am down the last bit of the mountain. Somewhat unceremoniously but it WAS fast so you can only argue so much with results. I’m not used to so many uneven surfaces, everything out in nature is just a bunch of haphazard lumps. How the fuck is a person supposed to safely get about out here? DO THOSE TREES HAVE BRAINS?

Who the fuck makes a brain tree? Are these things alert? Is this tree smarter than me?

[squishing sounds]

ARE they brains or do they just look like brains? Christ this place is stupid. I’m starting to see why everyone hates it. Setting sun at my back, so we’re walking in the right direction at least. Just need to get a signal… [muttering sounds]

[unknown sounds – interpreting]

Charles, did you say ‘thumpeta thumpeta’?

“Two dollars? That’s all you’re gonna leave?”

No, you’re right, it was further away but now it’s getting closer.

Shit! Seek refuge in the brain tree!

[scrambling sounds]

Wow, look at ’em. Not a lot in terms of complexity of work but there’s a certain artistic merit to them, I’ll give them that. It’s basically a kangaroo with a shark’s head, kind of a pygmy great white looking thing, but that’s just the structure. Stretched over this is the face of Jim Belushi. It’s actually weird how well it fits. Has to have been an accident. That giant forehead of his matches the length of the shark form so well the thing looks like the real Jim Belushi but with a shark mouth. Eugh, the teeth look human but they’re arranged in rows like shark’s teeth. Why do they herd like that? Probably something leftover in the kangaroo though Jim Belushi may have had a herding instinct we didn’t know about.

“You lied to me first!”

Charles, shut-up.

[unknown sounds – interpreting]

They sound like someone playing a used fleshlight like a didgeridoo. Are they looking at me? Are those even the eyes? This place may as well beĀ Guillermo del Toro’s head for all the weirdly placed eyes.

[unintelligible]

I’m up the brain tree pretty high now. I’m not that concerned about the Kangabelushi’s getting me as their lower portions are designed for efficient long distance travelling and not high leaps, so they’re kind of nipping about down below like a shitty magnetic fishing game. That said, those are some chompy mouths and I’d rather not chance it. Downside, of course, being that I’m up here and have no real plan as to how to fix this. The Charles Grodin Millipede seems happy enough and is eating some brain.

[long sigh]

It’s cliche to wish for all your cool weapons and stuff to be with you when you need them but dammit, I wish I had at least one of my cool weapons. Shit. I wonder what’s going on back at the office.

Gabriel.

 

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