Flaming Zeppelins

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “Glad to have you.”

  Outside, next to the House of Discomfort was a large garden. Hickok and Annie sat there with Bull, wondering about Cody, whom they had not seen since the day before, wondering what was going on in the building next to them.

  The walls of the House of Discomfort were well designed. Inside the structure the monster’s cries of pain were loud enough to shake the rafters. Outside, in the garden, the trio could not hear them at all.

  That night, while dinner was served to the others, Tin sat in the House of Discomfort by the table where the monster slowly sprouted a new arm, grew a new foot. The monster lay naked, clean, and sweeter smelling now. Tin had anointed him with oil, had pushed his black hair back from his face and bound it there with a band of leather.

  The monster opened its eyes.

  “Who…who are you?”

  “I am Tin.”

  “You are beautiful. More beautiful than Hans Brinker.”

  “Say what?” said Tin.

  But the monster, exhausted from pain, had slipped back into sleep.

  In the dining room, they took their previous positions at the table, Cody dead center. Jack stood by Momo, of course, and tonight, since Tin had been asked to take care of the monster, he was guardian to the creature and not present.

  Since Hickok, Annie and Bull had gone on their little adventure, they had been watched much more closely. A monkey man with a pistol followed them around, stood near the table by Doctor Momo and Jack. Just the idea of a monkey man with a pistol made Hickok nervous. He felt he might be able to overpower the critter, but it was a long way from where he sat to where Momo and Jack and the monkey man were. He was one, they were three. Certainly Bull and Annie would join in to help him, but still, it was iffy. Hickok decided it was best to lay low until the right moment.

  Cody looked very happy. He was in a new container of glass. There was no liquid. All of the wires had been removed, and at the base of the glass was a metal platform, and when Cody so chose, with the slightest use of the muscles in his face and neck, he could turn his head in any direction.

  “How do you feel?” Annie asked Cody.

  “It’s not perfect,” Cody said. “A body would be perfect. But this sure beats the old setup. And see what Momo has done to my throat? No tube. I can speak in a voice that is almost my own. A little squeaky, but not bad.”

  “Perhaps I can adjust that,” Momo said. “A tweak of the pliers. I might even be able to grow you new and better vocal cords.”

  “Grow them?” Annie asked.

  “Yes, in a dish. Of course, some monkey will lose an embryo, won’t she, Jack?”

  “Oh, he will, Doctor Momo, he will.”

  “She will. Of course, we’ll have to shop for a female monkey.”

  “Yes sir, whatever you say.”

  “You said before, all your creations were male. How come there are no females in your animals?” Hickok asked.

  “There have been. Cat, of course.”

  She appeared so human, Hickok had forgotten her.

  “I find that when both sexes are available they become a bit too independent. I’ve tried it. Had to kill off the females. They sort of civilized things; gave the male creatures too many thoughts about themselves and their future. Wanting to raise children and the like. Civilization is much harder to rule than anarchy is to control. If you’re the one in charge, that is. The great thing about anarchy is the most powerful is always in charge. I’m the most powerful. So, I rule. Of course, there are some wild female monkeys. I keep them about to re-create my crop, so to speak. And for experimental embryos.”

  “You have the monkey men here,” Annie said, “but the others, why are they in the jungle?”

  “Obvious,” Momo said. “They were not so successful. Very ugly, aren’t they? I don’t like looking at them. I raised them all from pups or kittens, or cubs, or whatever. I taught them to read and speak, and to think a little. Not too much, but a little. The creatures other than the monkeys and my chimp here,” he patted Jack, “were a little too independent. Even the dog creatures. Who would have figured that, huh? I think it was the women did that to them. I had to get rid of them. In the House of Discomfort. You know. Chop, chop.

  “After that, well, the other animals weren’t worth a flying shit in a snowstorm. Most of the monkey men I made later, after knowing better how to do it, and knowing not to use women. Women screw up everything.”

  “Then why Cat?” Annie said.

  “Well, women do have their benefits. Is that not right, Mr. Hickok?”

  Annie sat silent, fuming. So did Hickok.

  They eventually ate. From time to time a tube was attached to the platform that supported Cody’s head, and the contents of his meal was drained into a bucket. This, in turn, well-chewed, was deposited on Momo’s plate for his consumption.

  “It’s the teeth,” Momo said when he saw the astonishment on his guests’ faces. “I’m good at repairing most anything, but I have the hardest time with myself. It’s like they say about the blacksmith. His own horses go wanting shoes. The shoemaker’s family goes wanting shoes. The doctor always has a canker. Or in my case, bad teeth. I really must take the time to do some work on them. Sensitive beyond reason, really. I’m attempting to discover how to grow myself an entirely new set.”

  “What of the monster?” Hickok asked.

  “Ah, yes,” Momo said. “Growing a new arm and a foot, right now as we speak. Tin’s watching after him.”

  “You can actually do that?” Annie said. “Grow an arm or foot…from nothing?”

  “I wouldn’t call it something from nothing. Let me give you an example.”

  Momo stood up, unzipped his pants, produced his member, which he plopped on the table across his plate of pre-chewed food. The member was absolutely enormous and very dark in color, like an overripe banana.

  “Used to be horses on the island,” Momo said. “I brought them with me. Two of them. A stallion and a mare. Worked them for a while, then experimented with them. This is all that remains of Dobbin. It’s quite functional, you know. The mare, Mattie, didn’t care for it much, and I had to stand on a bucket to use it. It was entirely functional, you see, but I just was not tall enough to do the job properly. Got kicked once. Sometimes, in a moment of excitement, the mare would pull me off the bucket. It resulted in some injuries. Both to me and the mare. Eventually, we ate the mare. Though I did have her sexual equipment grafted onto Catherine. Would you like to see that?”

  “Heavens no,” Annie said, her face red as fire. “Please…put it up.”

  “Very well,” Momo said.

  Momo, almost sadly, dunked his dong back into his drawers, food particles and all.

  Bull downed a glass of wine. “Big deal.” He stood up, pulled down his pants, tossed his hammer on the table, smashing his mashed potatoes flat. “They not call me Bull for nothing.” Bull shook his penis. “Only little smaller than doctor’s. Not ugly. Not come off horse. Come with Bull. Get damn big when happy.”

  “Most impressive,” Momo said, gritting his teeth.

  “Catherine,” Bull said. “She your squaw? Or she free range?”

  “Oh, free range for sure. But she’s quite in love with me, I must admit. No use trying there.”

  “Put it up, Bull,” said Hickok. “You’re offending the lady.”

  “Oh my, yes,” Annie said, but she took a good long look anyway.

  “I knew a fella with one bigger than either one of you,” Cody said. “He got ready for the deed, so much blood went to it he passed out.”

  “You’re making that up,” Hickok said.

  “No,” Cody said. “No I’m not. It’s true. Every word of it. At least the words in between that I’m not lying with.”

  Cody laughed and so did Momo and Jack. Bull even thought it was a hoot. Then again, after two glasses of wine, Bull thought everything was funny and was willing to do almost anything, though this was the first time Hickok h
ad seen him take his dick out. It was quite a show stopper. Too bad it couldn’t be used in The Wild West Show.

  When the monster awoke, he saw Tin sitting in a chair near him. He thought the Tin Man was gorgeous. His metal skin was smooth and flowing, like silver flesh; his face was like that of a god. The monster tried to sit up, but the straps restrained him. He was amazed to discover his arm had regrown itself completely in a matter of a few hours. It was not sewn on at the shoulder like the other, it was an arm grown from the shoulder out.

  His foot had regrown as well, except for the toes. Momo had explained that since it had been amputated longer, was not as fresh, it would take a bit more time.

  “Here,” said the Tin Man, “let me release those.”

  “Are you not afraid I will seize you?”

  “I am not. You see, I am strong. Very strong.”

  Tin released the straps. The monster swung to the side of the table, but suddenly felt dizzy. He lay back down.

  “It will take some time,” Tin said. “When you get ready, there are some clothes for you on the chair. And some sandals.”

  “Thanks. You asked him to give me anesthetic. And though he did not, I appreciate the gesture.”

  “Momo enjoys the pain of others. Mine included.”

  “You feel pain?”

  “I feel pain. Of a different sort. The metal feels nothing, but in here,” Tin tapped his chest, “in my body of gears and clockworks, wires and springs, I feel much. But I am not human. I have no heart. Except this watch that beats like one.”

  Tin pulled the huge turnip watch from his vest pocket. “It was given me by a man who I thought was a wizard, but I realize now, after all this time, was a fool. No heart, and because I am not human…no soul either.”

  “There is a heart in this chest, but in one sense neither chest nor heart is mine,” said the monster. “It was borrowed by my creator from a dying man while it still beat. In me, the heart beats slow. The blood flows slow, like honey in winter. And like you, having been made, I have no soul, for in the greater sense of things I am not alive. I move. I think. I consider. But I am dead.”

  “I am called Tin,” said the metal man. “What do they call you?”

  “Monster is common. Sometimes Creature. ‘There He Is’ is used a lot. I used to think my name was ‘Get Him,’ or ‘Kill Him.’”

  “You are making a joke?”

  “A little one. Now and then I’m called Frankenstein after my creator, poor dumb fuck that he was. You have heard the stories, have you not?”

  “Stories?”

  “About the murder of his wife…the murder of Frankenstein himself. Both said to be committed by me.”

  “Were they?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Look, I have a past too. Perhaps we could share our stories. I like you. I do not fear you. Do not fear me.”

  “I do not.”

  “Good…so, shall I call you Monster?”

  “Though I have no given name, I actually have taken one for myself. One I overheard, liked, and prefer to call myself.”

  “Then I shall call you that. What is the name?”

  “Bert.”

  “Bert it is. Would you like to come to my cabin where we can talk?”

  “Will that cause trouble with your boss?”

  “He said to watch after you. He did not say how. Besides, I care less and less about my boss. I think, like the man who claimed to be a wizard and told me this watch was a heart, what Momo has promised me he can not and will not give.”

  “And what was that?”

  “The thing we both crave most. A soul.”

  It just happened. A kind of magnetism. One moment Tin and Bert were in Tin’s cabin, Tin showing him his collection of clocks, and the next moment their bodies were pressed together, Tin’s smooth metal lips against the dead rubbery ones of the monster.

  It worked, those lips together.

  Bert carefully removed Tin’s vest with its shiny watch chain and turnip watch, and slowly, Tin removed Bert’s new clothes, dropped them to the floor. The next moment they fell in bed together. The room ticked and thundered clocks.

  There was a problem. Tin didn’t have any place for Bert to put the old see-saw.

  “Look,” said Tin, rubbing Bert’s chest. “I know it’s unconventional, but I can take care of you, and there is a way you can take care of me… Between my legs there’s this loose bolt, and if you touch it with your finger…for I have touched it many times with my own, and you shake it a little, well, it does something to me. The gears and clocks inside of me run faster, seize up, stop, let go furiously, and I feel warm all over. It is a heavenly experience, and in that moment, when I feel that charge... just that one little moment…I feel as if I not only have a soul, but that it can soar.”

  “In other words, you want me to kind of finger that little bolt there until you get off?”

  “Yeah, oh yeah, oh heaven’s yes, that works. Yes. That works. Faster, my love.”

  When it was over, Tin lay on his back. His body was alive with whirling gears and clacking clocks. He felt as if he had levitated and that lava flowed over his gears. It was far better than when he had serviced himself. Bert had the touch.

  “I was built of tin,” Tin said. “I was built to help clear wood to make lumber. I remember nothing other than one moment I stood up and an axe was put in my hand. I was given orders, and I did them. Then one day I did them no more. I was rusted in the forest.

  “I was saved by a trio of travelers and a dog. There was a girl named Dot. The dog was called BoBo. There was a lion that walked on its hind legs and was called Bushy, because of his mane, and there was a man made of straw. He was called Straw.

  “They seemed nice enough. Especially the young girl. The dog was cute. But Bushy and Straw, though nice, there was just something about them. The way they followed Dot. The way Straw’s arm would linger on her shoulders, brush her bottom. It didn’t seem quite right, you know?

  “They all wanted something. The girl Dot wanted to go home. She claimed a storm had carried her to our world inside a house. A little bit of a tall tale, perhaps. Bushy wanted strength and courage. Straw wanted a brain. And he needed it. He wasn’t that smart. The dog was just along, you know. What the hell does a dog want.”

  “This sounds like a very strange place,” Bert said.

  “To me it was normal. It was where I was born, where I lived. It was called XYZ.”

  “Ex-ee-zee?”

  “Close enough,” Tin said. “It is a world that lies somewhere sideways to this one. That is the best I can explain. I asked Doctor Momo about it once. He said my world most likely lies in another dimension. I can’t say. I only know that I am from XYZ, and now I am here.”

  “And how did you get here?”

  “They were all on their way to see a mighty wizard, to get the things they wanted. You see, Dot, she was from a parallel world too. But not XYZ. She wanted to go home.”

  “Are there many of these worlds?”

  “I cannot say, but I suppose. The world Dot spoke of might well be this world. Actually, I thought she was lying. A little dotage in the Dot, you see. Now I know she was telling the truth.”

  “Did you find the wizard, did he help?”

  “We went to see him. It was said he could give me a heart. He gave me a watch and told me it was as good as a heart. He gave Straw a funny hat and told him it was a brain. Well, stupid as he was, he believed it. He gave the lion a gun, told him he didn’t need to be strong and courageous, he could just shoot anyone that bothered him.

  “Well, those were simpler times and it was a simpler place, and we bought that crap. A little later we realized our wizard was a fraud who had drifted into our country out of a mist from a place called Kansas. He claimed it was the same place Dot lived.”

  “What about Dot? Did she go home?”

  “He planned to sail away in his balloon back to his world. He kept saying there was a dark air draft o
n up high, and that if he entered it at a certain time, it would suck him home. He said he would know when the mist showed up. Dot was to go with him, but during the night, he crept away and went by himself. You see, the mist showed. It looked like silver dust spinning. Maybe he did not have time to wake her. I cannot say. But it is my guess he never meant to bother. I hope he was struck by lightning.

  “Anyway, he left me with a watch and no heart. I am full of watch work, so maybe he saw that as a joke. Momo promised me a real heart. A heart taken from one of the animals he experiments on. He said he could fasten it inside of me and it would pump. But he lied. I am sophisticated now. You can not make heart and clockwork click in unison. Not and have it mean anything. A clock does not pump blood through its veins. And a soul…I realize now I was never meant to have that. Never.”

  “Then we are alike,” Bert said. “I am told God cannot love that which has no soul. So I am doomed to be nothing.”

  “If we are both nothing, perhaps we can be nothing together.”

  “Perhaps that is, in fact, something.”

  Tin smiled, the metal rippling slowly across his face, revealing his shiny tin teeth.

  “Did Dot have to stay in XYZ?” Bert asked.

  Tin narrowed his eyes, a drop of oil squeezed out, ran along his face. “For a time,” he said. “Tell me your story, Bert. Tell me how you came to be.”

  “I will,” Bert said wiping the oil drop away with his fingers. “But finish your story. How did you get here from this world of yours? Sometimes it is best to discuss the things that hurt us.”

  “Very well. Here is the hard part. Dot, the little girl. She was supposed to leave by wearing the silver shoes given her by a witch. It is a long story, but when the wizard didn’t work out, a witch gave her some shoes. All Dot had to do was put them on, click the heels together and say something about how it would be nice to go home. Something about computer chips inside them. Anyway, that’s what the witch called them. I have no idea what that is. The witch said they sent surges through the shoes, activated a grid on which Dot could ride through space and time to her world. Had Dot listened, I suppose she would be home now.