Barbarian King

by Frank B. Thompson III

in an otherwise partially cloudy sky, she all at once shook with a spasm...then belched!

  Blaughhhh!

  “Fuck that was gross! What the shit did I eat?”

  She was of normal height, small bosomed with broad, well-padded shoulders and pointy, narrow noodle. Her whole countenance reflected unusual dimensions, but without detracting from some slight femininity of appearance. She was all woman in spite of her big-boned physical appearance and loose-fitting encumbrances. The latter were not in harmony with her current island surroundings. Instead of a bathing suit, or shorts she wore a Mao pantsuit that fell short by a hand’s breadth from the ground and was flapping in the breeze. Flaming red toenails of her small petite feet were held by soft leather sandals and the low-diving neckline of her white blouse descended to a point where the unbountifulness of her cleavage completed her costume. On one hip she wore a clip-on canister of mace pepper spray and on the other...nothing at all. Her unruly golden hair was cut fashionably and held in place by a Navaho headband complete with a resplendent eagle feather.

  She was thirsty, she had tossed away her canteen earlier that morning when she had drunk it dry. She looked at the spring, had seen that the donkey drinking from it earlier, so believed the waters to be safe. Dropping to all fours she mimicked her mount save for using cupped hands to ladle the refreshment to her full, lipstick-pigmented lips.

  Slop...slop...slop...

  Against this backdrop the woman constituted a bizarre, out-of-place-looking female; she looked more like she would be suited against the backdrop of a refrigerator, a bag of Doritos in one hand, maybe a liter-size Mountain Dew in the other...not as the future president of the country. There was, however, the look of someone who thought herself superior to most, smarter than most, more important than most in her eyes, and that was as it should have been because this was IllaryHay of the IntonClay Clan!

  She stood with some difficulty then strove to pierce her sullen surroundings for evidence of humankind, but gave up with a muttered oath, “Shit!” after spying nothing interesting.

  Leaving her donkey tied she now strode down to the beach glancing back toward the creature from time to time to make sure it wasn't leaving her again.

  She was unaccustomed to the sounds of nature, the awkward noise of buzzing here and there in the air, the sound of crickets cricketing, the occasional croak of a frog. She walked out onto the beach where the din of wildlife was broken by the sound of breaking surf. This island, this place in Georgia was like no other on the Eastern Seaboard. No motor vehicles of any sort were permitted, nothing save for donkeys were available for transport, and as far as cellphone coverage went, it was nonexistent. Yes, this island was a true gem, a national treasure, and a place completely foreign to this Martha’s Vineyard cosmopolitan.

  Hunger Pangs

  The Bahama Post-Times-Chronicle-Journal - Archaeologists in the Bahamas have discovered pictographs inside a cave that date back to before Amerigo Vespucci and his maps of the Americas. Found during a local snorkeling dive the glyphs are a startling find because, as Scientist Oprah InfreyWay put it, “Most of us university-types believed everything mysteriously faded away over time in the Bermuda Triangle. This finding is particularly unusual because it predates Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the new world. It’s seriously old and we’re calling this ancient culture the ‘Trianglodylians.’ It comes closest to mimicking ‘Triangle,’ as in ‘Bermuda Triangle.’”

  She felt the early gnawings of hunger; she had wolfed down a dozen, or more pancakes that morning and it was now coming up on noon. Illaryhay needed more calories.

  This damsel was in her current predicament because her steed had been spooked when she startled the beast with one of her ear-piercing screams at her husband. Her burro had galloped away leaving her group in the dust. It had been hours since she had seen anyone and because that burro had a mind of its own when it came to walking she was now completely lost. She was beginning to think she might have been purposely left behind by her entourage or, hopefully, they were now looking for her.

  Ahead of her now she saw an uncovered sandbar, sand-like it ran outward into what looked like a bay of rising and falling blue-green waves. Perhaps that vantage point offered a better view of her surroundings. Perhaps she could get her bearings, or better yet, spy someone who could help her out of this unfortunate predicament.

  A narrow spit of land formed a natural bridge that led out to the serene sandbar. After a moment of hesitation she waded out in ankle-deep surf.

  Not long after she was able to take a better look at her locality. The tide was rising and the sandbar was ever-so-slowly beginning to disappear under the waves and unnoticed by the nature novice. As she pranced along something caught her attention; her foot had struck it in the sand. Half-concealed by the flotsam of the sea she kicked the covering layer of shells and sand aside and looked down.

  She gasped, “Holy shit-snacks, is that a skeleton?”

  She ran an inexperienced eye over the exposed portion of what looked like a four-legged animals remains, its bones had been picked clean by the crabs, or something else. The reason a large, bore-sized creature could have ended up here of all places she could not imagine. She was not into pets, so she soon lost interest and continued strolling out to the end of the sandbar, those unusual bones of a very odd looking creature quickly dropping from her thoughts. Strolling along she soon neared the end of the spit of land, before turning to look back to the beach.

  The sand, the waves, the ocean, all were really salty and completely void of anyone, or anything that might help her out of this predicament.

  IllaryHay glanced north in the direction where the lodge must be only to see the rolling green canopy of windswept greenery, as far as the eye could see the sand-covered beach becoming a vague white line as it stretched off along the coastline.

  “Shit!”

  She turned to the south only to see the same lifeless beaches of sand. No one anywhere. She turned with disgust back toward the blue green ocean, Maybe there is a fishing trawler?

  IllaryHay suddenly stiffened and caught her breath, “Wait, what the hell is that?”

  She turned quickly to look west, in the distance giving way to the treetops there was the fuzzy hint of smoke rising.

  “Is that barbecue?”

  This passed belief, she could even smell the faint aroma of the cookout as it was being carried to her on the wings of a gentle, midmorning breeze.

  “Finally, some luck.”

  Her hands began to wring with excitement and her stomach began to growl with anticipation, as she started walking briskly in the direction of the source. Moments earlier she had been frowning with indecision, but no longer was that the case. Her thoughts were consumed with just one thought, Barbecue!

  She knew full well she was a celebrity among most backward folk; hell, those knuckle draggers were what made up the majority of her party. Most assuredly she would be greeted and treated with the respect of the royalty that she was and would be invited to partake in that feast with open arms, some hugs and maybe one, or two of the obligatory kisses on the cheek.

  This had started out inauspiciously enough, a day that was only supposed to have been a short donkey ride excursion of this unremarkable nature preserve. The guide had assured everyone that the tour would last just an hour, or two. Her trip in the mule train had begun inauspiciously enough and without real purpose, save for the part about berating her hubby for his romp to benefactor Ronald McDonald’s island and orgy fun house. Now, however, she was non-wavering in purpose and was resolute on riding over to that cookout and getting some.

  She was watching where she was stepping and pondering only her pangs of hunger when her thoughts were abruptly scattered by the shouting of someone from the beach. She looked up, instinctively snatching her pepper spray and froze motionless staring wide-eyed at the man now standing a short distance away.

  The figure of the man was not imposing; he
a was string bean in stature and wore a white Polo shirt that rippled in the breeze along with a pair of tartan plaid shorts to give the hoped-for-effect of being a serious golfer. The figure even held a large-headed driver and for some reason was wearing one of the sissy belly bags. Light brown complexion, skinny legs and wearing some Oxford golf shoes, his garb was totally dissimilar to hers except for the Navaho headband with one feather he and every other Democrat on the island were wearing in solidarity to one of their typically stupid liberal causes. Oh, and his driver she knew was a ladies driver to accommodate his unusually weak swing.

  “President BamaOay,” she murmured with a grimace, “what’s that dumbass doing here?”

  Lost on Cumberland

  The Bahama Post-Times-Chronicle-Journal - Local authorities have confirmed carbon dating of recently discovered artifacts are from an ancient culture, people who lived and mysteriously melted away over half-a-millennia ago. Experts have, so far, deciphered some of the meaning held within some of the glyphs.

  One Bahamian scientist believes one pictogram is of a door...to another dimension where he thinks the Trianglodylians still live. Another Bahamian scientist is convinced another glyph shows that the portal opens to another dimension during periods of Cosmic Singularities. The investigation continues.

  "What are you doing here?" she yelled out, a little astonishment and anger easily understood by the President in her slitted eyes.

  BamaOay grinned hardily as he approached her all the while his fierce dark eyes burned with a luminescence any woman could understand as they ran over her magnificent figure, lingering on the slight swell of her smallish breasts beneath a white blouse and the slight white cleavage displayed between broad, squarish shoulders.

  "Don't you know?" he laughed. "Haven’t I already made my attractions obvious to you?"

  "Even a man whore could have not made that any plainer," she answered disdainfully. "What are you doing here? Did you really mean to be here, or did you get your dumbass lost, too?"

  He laughed at her observations ignoring her sailor-like witticisms and flexed his mighty voice.

  "You do realize I never need help getting lost," he grinned, his pearly whites on full display. "Of course I am lost. Lucky thing, too, for both of us. At least I have one of my security detail still with me."

  She replied sullenly, "I lost mine."

  "Are you sure, or were you just dumped.”

  “Dumped, I better not have been dumped!”

  “Was your husband with you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “There you go, I’m sure he is the reason you’re here all by yourself.”

  “No way, that limp-dick prick knows better than to screw around with me.”

  “Look IllaryHay, when you have a hubby like that sex pervert of yours you should expect such things, right?"

  IllaryHay knew deep down BamaOay was right, she could not trust her husband any further than she could throw him, something she had done a few times in the past. She stamped her sandaled foot and swore, "That bastard...all he wants is to get back into the White House, but he’s wrong if he thinks he’s going to walk all over me again. This time I’ll string him up by the balls if he misbehaves.”

  “Ah, that might just work,” replied the President with a smirk, as he began nonchalantly strolling closer.

  “Why won’t that dickhead husband of mine just keep his pants and his pie hole zippered up once in a while?”

  “Everyone’s got their issues, but your husband’s just happen to be more perverse than most.”

  “Goddamnit, why won’t everyone just leave me alone and let me become President. It...it is my turn after all, I deserve it!"

  "I don't care about all that," again, the President’s eager eyes devoured her, "but, you were wise to go missing when you did. The ‘folks’ at FOX managed to sneak a journalistic team over onto the island. They would have had you besmirched what with that most recent escapade of your husband’s hitting the front page of the tabloids. Those reporters were not far behind you when you went missing. Your husband’s coverup about his so-called business trip, by-the-way, was better than anything you, or I could have come up with. I’ve got to say IllyBay really is one of the most spectacular snake oils salesmen I ever come across, he’s almost as good a liar as I am."

  “I’ve got a question for you.”

  “What?”

  “Why do you always use that stupid term, ‘folks?’ It sounds like your some kind of redneck rube when you use it. I know you’re a dickhead, but I don’t think you’re necessarily a rube.”

  “The hell if I know. All I know is ‘folks’ must be an important term for our constituents, because the speechwriters keep putting it on my teleprompter.”

  "Well," she demanded.

  "Well, what?"

  "What of those reporters?"

  "Why, what do you suppose?" he returned impatiently. "I had them escorted off the island and of course their boat accidentally sunk without life preservers on the way to the mainland."

  She laughed, "And now you think I am going to run back with you like some kind of college-brat lass?"

  "Don't talk like a fool," he grunted, “of course, what choice do you have?”

  IllaryHay paused for a moment, He does have a point. Her feminist instincts rebelled at the thought.

  "Come woman, don't be such a spitfire and why do you always have to talk like a sailor?”

  “How dare you call me a ‘woman!’”

  “What should I call you, ‘a girl?’”

  “You better be careful you little asshole.”

  “Oh come on, I am not like that whore monger husband of yours. I respect women."

  "Maybe, but you seem to be attracted to married blondes."

  BamaOay laughed at her, “Yes, you might be right, but I hear you have a thing for black men and guess what...”

  She quickly interrupted him, “That’s not true you man pig.”

  The President was only partly right, brown women would have been the more accurate assessment.

  He scowled, his sensations a tangle of conflicting emotions. BamaOay was angry, yet he was amused and filled with admiration for her spirit. He burned with eagerness to seize that splendid figure of hers and be crushed in her beefy arms, yet he greatly desired not to get spritzed with her can of mace. He was torn between a desire to tackle her soundly to the sand and see if he could get to first base, maybe even second! BamaOay had stepped out onto the sandbar during their conversation, he now made a move toward her.

  She sprang back whipping out her pepper spray. "Stand back you jerk off!" her voice shrilled with anger. "Touch me not you man whore, or I will spritz the living shit out of you with my pepper spray!"

  He halted reluctantly his grating laugh sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Then he demanded: "Do you want me to take that toy away from you?"

  "Words, nothing but words!" she mocked, a light like the gleam of the moon on muddy water dancing in her shifty eyes.

  The President knew it was the truth, no weakling like himself could disarm IllaryHay with his bare hands. He knew if he came any nearer he could be risking life and limb. He had seen her one too many times throwing anything at hand at her security team and had no illusions about her threat. He could strike her with his large headed driver and disarm her, swat the aerosol can out of her hand with his club, but the thought of drawing a man’s toy on a woman even without intent of injury was extremely repugnant to him.

  "Blast your soul you minx!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "I’m going to..."

  The President started toward her, his angry passion making him reckless and she poised herself ready to respond, backing up the sandbar. Then came a startling interruption to a scene at once ludicrous and perilous. He stopped short half-crouching, ready, transformed into a figure of suspicion and fear, poised to spring and run.

  IllaryHay had heard it too...a wild scream that broke at its highest note. It was the
cry of a man in dire straights.

  Bunny Ear Creature

  The Bahama Post-Times-Chronicle-Journal - Bahamian scientists have now confirmed that the recently discovered culture inside the Bermuda Triangle knew of a doorway to another world. Glyphs depict the opening of a doorway to another universe during Cosmic Singularities; a combination of non-terrestrial events including something called a Solar Maximus, a Lunar Ellipsoid and a Great Galactic Arrangement!

  Today marks the beginning of the Cosmic Singularity, a phenomena that only occurs once every five-hundred years.

  "What the fuck was that?"

  It was IllaryHay who started violently.

  She forgot her exasperation as her ears were outraged by the most frightful cry she had ever heard. It was not human, instead it was a demoniacal caterwauling of hideous triumph that seemed to exult over fallen humanity and find echo in black gulfs beyond human kind, an appalling medley of horrors unseen—a inhuman baying of terror like a man crying out in pain, a snapping of branches, or bones...all in quick succession. Mingled with those sounds came the noise of a horrendous animal uproar.

  A man’s cries trailed off into the distance, as if running for life and limb.

  "What could it be?” she whispered softly, barely audible to the President.

  They both listened in horror.

  “What could make that kind of noise?" BamaOay responded, fear etched upon his features.

  The President rushed toward the beach, as IllaryHay struggled to keep up with his long, lanky strides; their personal feud forgotten in the politician’s instinct to run and hide when in common peril.

  “Come on, we have got to get out of here,” demanded BamaOay in a hushed whisper.

  They waded quietly through the now shin-high surf and emerged onto the island. They paused staring into the dark reaches of the overgrowth. Above them the clouds spread out amongst the blue sky canopy. About them the sunlight filtered between them enough to present an ever changing shadow of their surroundings. The fronds of the fan palms a short distance away looked dim and ghostly when the slight darkness descended upon them.

  "Our donkeys are just beyond that forest edge," whispered the President; so quiet his deep voice sounded like a breeze to her ears.

  "Wait, listen!" she exclaimed, fright etched in her shrill words.

  BamaOay had already heard and a chill crept through his veins, he unconsciously laid his hand on his companion’s flabby, white arm.

  From beyond the thicket came the noisy slashing of plants and the growl of something beastly together with the heavy breathing and slobbering sounds of a horrible creature.

  "What would make that kind of noise?" whispered IllaryHay, fear intense in the tone of her voice.

  The noise stopped before the President could respond.

  “Uh-oh!"

  A sudden shift in the breeze had arisen and was now blowing from them directly toward the spot where the unseen creature was yet unseen.

  "Wait,