Dylan Perry

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Excerpts from Gods Just Want To Have Fun


It was one of those decisions that shouldn't have been so easy to get so wrong. Go on your own or take the half wasted waif. She was wearing denim hotpants with a pink vest top, and was hanging off his arm, more for stability than closeness, so he propped her up against the wall next to the counter and reached inside his coat pocket for his badge. It was definitely his badge, he clearly remembered stealing it two years before whilst in California.


"Police stations are always the best places to score," Corvid said, half supporting, half dragging Alannah along. "You can check out what they have in stock, just by reading the papers and unlike from criminal sources you can con your way in and out. They even conveniently file the drugs away in a designated room without you having to search for them. And the best thing? Even though everyone's armed, the police are less likely to shoot you because they don't like the look of your face."


At twenty years old, Michael had vague plans to make changes in his life, but turning blue whilst stood in a walk-in bath in an old people's home wasn't one of them. Usually boys of his age might consider changes along the lines of smoking less grass at home, at college or at work, to be a good idea. Or maybe spending less time on that solitary pursuit common to men of his age across the globe. Enjoyable though he found it, he was going to cut back on the procrastination, but that was going to have to wait.


Staying relaxed was helping him cope with the drug induced juddering vision that could be best described as being like a Hitchcockian visual effect operated by a hyperactive squirrel that shook the whole universe closer and farther away. If you went with it, it was quite pleasant, as long as you didn't introduce any lateral movement like turning your head or the car. This caused the universe to try and slide away from underneath you. The other side effect was the constant feeling you ought to try to twist your head off, in a good way.


He stared down the road behind them, away from his sister's nudity and tried to make sense of the streaking shapes of colour. His brain was trying to decipher ultraviolet and infra red wavelengths and represent them into the normal visible spectrum. The result of the extra effort made the vision in one eye run a split second behind the other. There were trails and streams of light, flashing red and blues. Undulating sounds washed over him. He forced himself to focus on the black and white objects shapes trailing behind. What are they? Whales, killer whales? No, not unless a pod of killer whales has learned to hunt humans in cars over ground. No, the sounds were wrong. Not peaceful, not relaxing, not available to download for meditation. The sound's too urgent. I can't see past the glowing swathes of floating, twisting red and blue lights. They must be pandas, maybe not pandas, pandas don't move that fast. Something clicked in his mind and he rolled back to face front. "Uh, the cops are catching up!"


"Hey, buddy. Does the Jack taste okay to you?'
"Think so." Marcus swigged some more, washing it round his mouth, trying to test for any unusual taste. "Why?"
"Thought your sister might have let some of my spunk rinse off her back teeth into the bottle."


The silent horror of Archie's ordeal had been temporarily replaced by the howling, agonising pain of the blood refusing to drain from his penis, the end of which was a deep purple verging on black where Officer Griff had tested how hard it was by using the back of his hand to give it a solid twang.


"I don't understand humans." Caradoc shook his head. "It takes their brightest minds decades to plan an unmanned voyage to the nearest planet, which can take a year to travel each way. Yet they expect there to be aliens travelling distances it takes light decades to reach us, just for a weekend of bum fun with a total stranger without asking their permission, before dropping them off where they found them. They're just dying to believe the weirdest, least plausible things possible."


"There is one thing though, faking a prophecy in the past is easy, you already know the result. How will you make this come true in the future?"
"I have someone in mind for it, but I'm not sure he'll go for it. But then prophecy is all optional anyway."


"These look familiar," Owain said.
Lady Lianne glanced over the statues. "Are they by that French artist?"
Owain faced Corvid. "Are you that French artist?"
"No sire." Corvid took the opportunity to step in front now that he had addressed. It wouldn't be long before the ravens amassing overhead had organised themselves. "They're photo realistic statues of a photograph from a magazine."
"So it's your own work?"
"Oh yes. I found the image in an article on French art. I sourced the manufacturer who uses local art students."
Owain looked confused. "So it's someone else's image made by other people? Is there a name for this kind of art?"
"Brit art."
"And it sells?"
"Yes. Very popular with media moguls, advertising execs and the like."


When Zeus saw man, he was angry that the titans loved him so and had given him fire. To get his revenge he created the first woman with a deceptive heart and lying tongue and named her Pandora. She was given a jar that she was forbidden from opening that contained all manor of evils, sorrows and misfortunes. One day she gave the jar a quick clean and it accidentally, no honestly, opened and the ills flew out. She was immediately hit by hunger and felt how empty her stomach was. She reached out for an apple that hung from a tree that held a small sign that read 'Forbidden Fruit : Do Not Eat'.
As they were frogmarched out of Eden, involuntarily freed from it's boundaries, Adam tried to ask Pandora what had happened. She was in a foul mood. No one gave her credit for avoiding the forbidden shoes of fashion, or the forbidden cream of youth, or any one of the dozens of other forbidden items littered about that she hadn't touched. All anyone mentioned was the fruit.


"So what do you do?" Louisa said, drawing Michael's attention back to her.
"Me?" He tried to keep a jolly tone. "Not a lot really, other than occasionally supplying drugs to the elderly. What about you?"
She smiled cheekily. "No, I've never supplied drugs to the elderly."


"Is that it?" Michael said.
Scruffy looked up at him. "Can't see from down here, but it looks like the right spot."
Michael reached down to Scruffy.
"Hey!" Scruffy said, "you better not be thinking of picking me up like some bimbo's handbag dog."
"No." Michael straightened as if he'd meant to stretch. "I'd never demean you like that. So who's that around the stone?"
"Enough!" Swift shouted. "This is your one chance to pick the winning side. Worship me. You do already, you just don't know it. Join me."
"I don't worship you!" Michael said bewildered.
"Of course you do, I'm the new god, the god of money, business, information. That's all you humans worship these days, isn't it? You don't worship Zeus or Odin or Lugus or any of the old gods. You're world is godless without me. Join me."
One of the benefits of not sleeping was it gave you lots of time to read, especially things you might not bother with if you weren't trying to fill your time. And reading gives you knowledge and knowledge gives you power. The power Michael wielded was to annoy Tracy by knowing more about her Theology course than she did, or in this case to be deliberately obtuse and irritating.
Michael looked at Swift confused. "Godless? What about God or Allah, Brahman, Buddha, Jehovah, Baha, Yahweh, Elohim, Jesus, The Light, Huwa, Waheguru, El Onkar, Ahura Magda. I could go on."
Swift's smile dropped, "Nobodies!"
Michael could see Scruffy trying to free himself, so to keep Swift's attention, he pointed out helpfully, "More than half the world's population believe in just the three Abrahamic religions."
"How can you worship gods you've never seen?" Swift shouted at Michael, pointing his sword at him.
"Well I've never seen you. If you're a new god, I doubt anyone else has either. And what makes you a god? If you're a new god, you can't have created humans, we've been around for ages. So what god like abilities do you have?"
"I," Swift yelled, "am more powerful than you can imagine."
"Okay, fair enough. But if I went to see a little baby fairy and said 'Look at me, I'm an all powerful god worship me,' it wouldn't actually make me a god would it?"


Scruffy took a look at the brand new, showroom state of the fifteen year old midi Korean car and knew what was required to get the owner out. He bypassed the druid's normal processes and reached down to his most primitive impulse to keep the car clean. By the time the druid came out screaming, Scruffy had curled out eight inches of turd on the windscreen.


These werewolves and the gwrgi are not like the American breed of werewolf. They are not part timers. They do not spend the one, full moon, night in every twenty eight as a wolf or wolf-man beast. They do not spend twenty eight days and twenty seven nights wandering round high school hallways and shopping malls filled with teenage angst about falling in love with the 'one'. They do not go to cool parties where everyone is half naked and waxed.
When werewolves change that's it, seven years as a wolf. Gwrgi are stuck the way they are permanently and aren't so much a wolf with a large dollop of teenage heart throb mixed in, but more a wolf with a little too much stinky tramp mixed in.
One folk legend is true. You can kill both werewolves and gwrgi by either shooting them through the heart with a silver bullet or by chopping their head off. But then, pretty much any animal can be killed by shooting them through the heart with a silver bullet or by chopping their head off. And if you're on a budget, the bullet probably doesn't even need to be silver.


"Don't worry about Sian," Louisa said, "things will get better."
"What, she'll stop hitting me?"
"No, but you'll stop bruising so easily."


On the corner of Cathedral Road a raven sat in a tree watching him. He knew it was Dorkus for two reasons. Firstly, he'd told Dorkus to stay there to keep an eye on Michael. Secondly, he was wearing a top hat, carrying a cane, and if Corvid's eyes were right, he now had spats over his feet.
"Cacaw," Dorkus said.
"Really?" Corvid replied, "we're back to cawing?"
"I thought it would be less suspicious in public."
"You do know you just said that carrying a cane and wearing a top hat and a pair of spats?"


He looked round the room and noted two things. Firstly it wasn't Bethan's room, the clothes strewn about the place were a woman's but more smart and showy, like a wedding guest's rather than the smart and functional of a spa owner. Secondly he could see three empty bottles of whiskey. Sobering up was not an option, he was, after all, still celebrating, so he would have to get some more whiskey from somewhere.
There was a moaning from under the duvet, which at first, Corvid thought was his stomach. When he felt movement he knew he wasn't alone in the bed and the heavy duvet over him was actually a light duvet and a person. He flicked the duvet off to reveal a short, petite brunette woman in her thirties, wearing matching white lingerie and stockings that looked like they'd received a significant amount of stretching. She opened her eyes.
"You're not my husband!" she said.
"Morning," Corvid said cordially, "and you're not my wife, not that I have a wife. Anyway, we seem to be in a slightly awkward situation."
"You're not Gary."
"I know." Corvid was sure they had just covered that. He steered her towards the more pressing problem of the lack of alcohol. "But it's worse than that."
There was a flush from the en suite. They both turned to look.
"I'm rather hoping," Corvid said, not wanting to deal with some silly human being upset or angry, "that isn't Gary."


"So he's nuts?" Sian was pleased with the confirmation.
"He's a high functioning, power obsessed screwy wacko, but give him his due, he's the sort of crazy you could name a whole range of mental disorders for gods, after."


Corvid looked up at her. "Oh, hello Doris."
"Gertie, dear," she said. "They call me Gertie."
"You used to be Doris," Corvid said as a matter of fact.
"Who?" She seemed unsure of what she was being told.
"Doris, daughter of Oceanus and Tethys?" Corvid carried on when he saw her blank expression. "You must remember Nereus? Your husband?"
"You gave birth to fifty sea nymphs. I guess sea nymphs come out slippy and hydrodynamic, but even so, fifty of them? That must stick in the memory as the day before you felt really sore for a month or so?"
Doris thought about it for a moment. "It does ring a bell. Sorry, who are you?"


"In that case," Corvid smiled eagerly, "how about doing a friend a favour?"
"What favour?" Michael asked tentatively, not sure what kind of trouble he might be getting into.
"See that guard?" He pointed to the guard he was chatting to earlier. She waved. "She's invited me for a drink after her shift, then back to hers. Only thing is, she shares with another girl. I told her, I had no problem with doing both of them, but she insisted I got her flatmate a date too. And that brings us to the favour, I..."
"No!" Michael said flatly. "I'm not looking for a cheap girl."
"She's not cheap!" Corvid said, mockingly offended. "What she and her friend represents is excellent value for money. For the price of a pint of cider and black, she'll bounce on you like an Olympic gymnast on a trampoline."
"In that case, definitely no."


"Mozzies don't like you then?" Michael asked.
"You know how sometimes people see me different to how I am, and sometimes not at all?"
"They can't see you?"
"They can. They just see a six foot tall dragonfly. They find it discouraging."


Michael was astounded. "If you can do that, how did he escape?"
"It's part of his punishment," the prior explained. "He kept proposing to goddesses and then jilted them at the altar, keeping all the expensive gifts they gave him. Wholesale upsetting of goddesses can have a ripple effect on the scale of a tsunami."
I don't like the idea of that. Just having Sian on my back without even upsetting her is bad enough, jilting loads of goddesses sounds like trouble for everyone.
"Now," the prior continued, "he shares a cell with a battleaxe of a woman who nags, berates and generally detests him for not being good enough."
Is there two of Sian?
"To make the punishment more effective he has to be allowed to believe it is possible to escape Lady Macbeth, hence the charade. For them hell is other people."


Curious about these new entities, the elementals asked why the gods were in the shape they were.
"We are bipedal," Erebus said. "We wish to be distinguished from the animals."
"What are animals?" an elemental asked.
"We're not sure yet, but they will have more than two legs. Unless we give them less than two... or maybe not. Anyway, it's just a concept we're playing with at the moment."


"Ready?" Aeron called over.
Michael span to see him giving a thumbs up to the booth. His eye was drawn down to the huge war hammer hanging from his other hand.
"How about we start with a chase? Try to touch the far wall and get back here before I cripple you." He smiled as if he'd said 'tag you', not 'cripple you'.


"Atlas? Yes, we still talk. I'll see if he knows anyone."
Michael was confused. "Why don't you just get him to come? He's a big fellow, isn't he?"
Aeron gave Michael a quizzical look. "He'll be busy."
"Doing what?" Michael said a little testily. "Surely saving the world is a bit more important than whatever else he's doing?"
Aeron suddenly looked at him like he was a small child. "He'll be holding up the heavens. It's generally considered quite important they don't fall onto the world."


Rhonwen walked over to the police car and put on a distressed expression. She threw her arms around the officers waist. "I've lost my daddy. We were walking and I saw a deer, it was huge and I chased it and when I stopped, daddy wasn't there and I looked and I called but I couldn't find him and it got dark then I remembered the carpark, so I came here, but he's not here and now I don't know what to do. I'm not allowed out at night on my own."
The officer peeled her off him, trying not to pull a disgusted face at her. "Okay, why don't you wait here for a while, I'm sure he'll be back for you soon."
Rhonwen could see she was getting to him and a little push was all she needed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved me, you're a hero, I'm so glad I found you, I could stay with you all day. What are you doing here? Are you policing? Do you have a gun? How long-"
"Okay!" the officer said loudly. "Why don't you wait in the nice police car?" He opened the door and steered Rhonwen into the back, next to the witness. Rhonwen waved enthusiastically until the officer walked to the front of the car, pretending to be busy with his notebook and keeping his back to her.
Rhonwen turned to face the girl next to her. "Hi. I just need to ask you a few questions."


She took her rucksack and gave Michael the folding shovel she'd brought. "As we didn't get over the Rainbow Bridge, we should probably remove identifying marks. Fingerprints, dental, that sort of thing."
"Okay..." Michael said as he let the thought settle in. "How do we..?"
Louisa pulled a hammer out of the bag. "For the teeth." She produced a hacksaw. "To cut his hands and feet off."
Michael had a sinking feeling. "You came prepared?"
"I'll just wait the other side of the clearing while you do it."


"I asked Abraham to keep an eye on her."
"He's watching her get dressed?" Esrum shook his head.
"He's a raven. What's the inverse of bestiality, humanality? Anyway, he's not into anything like that. Probably because he's got a bird sized willy and can't measure up."

© 2014 Dylan Perry