Francis of the Filth

by George Miller

  There was a pause and a silence before the final wave was emitted from the flame and overcame Francis. He knew to wait for it and he knew that it was the last of the favors to enfold him. A huge light - red, wild and magnificent - exploded from the centre of the flame and enveloped Francis completely. It blew him away. The previous six waves had brought unfathomable goodness, but this one brought unimaginably glory. It was Love. It was liberating, empowering, intoxicating and fierce. And it was wholly transforming. Francis, tears flowing freely, basked in it without reservation or limit.

  The great voice spoke into him. “Rise, Francis. I dub you ‘Francis of the Filth’ for you are to go to the filth. You are to go to the cesspools, the pits, the infestations, the lowest common denominator. And I will be with you.”

  Frank woke in his apartment in New York and arose a new creation.

  Chapter 15

  He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. And that was now his persona. The specifics of his calling remained obscure, yet the dimensions he now inhabited dispelled the cloud of mystery that once hung about them.

  He stood in the middle of his living room though they were for the most part unaware of it. Safari Man was gambling with Alpha Centurion. Salamander Man and Negi Generation 4 were playing Scrabble which was curious as Negi was bound by no rules. Pink Guy was cooking dumplings in the kitchen with Drone. In a corner chair sat Percy the Pigeon, observing his surroundings with a knowing nod. He was the only one aware of Francis’ presence though Francis remained unseen even to him.

  So when he suddenly materialized right in front of them, they all leapt up to greet him (except for Safari Man, who continued with his game a little longer) and there was great joy. They huddled together and slapped backs and butts and muzzled into thighs and laughed uproariously. “Frank! Frank!” they called. They were so surprised to see him. Many months had passed in earth time since his recent encounters. “It’s Francis now,” he assured them. They accepted this without question (except for Safari Man who wanted a full explanation) and they asked him all about his wanderings and adventures.

  They had already received a foretaste from Percy who had moved in with them shortly after Francis had left. Francis was very pleased, although not altogether surprised, to see Percy the Pigeon alive and well in his living room. “Percy told us,” Alpha Centurion said, taking a seat on a shelf in the cupboard, “how you fought with the peace lords.” The others all nodded in excitable agreement. “He told us about the Octopus peace lord. Man, how creepy is that?!” Salamander Man shuddered. “And how you saved Percy’s life,” Pink Guy added with a grunt.

  “Percy is too kind,” Francis said. “It was he who saved my life.” Alpha Centurion looked at Percy with tremendous pride.

  “It’s true, man,” said Percy. “What can I say? I did save Francis’ bacon.” He gave a proud nod. “Twice!” he added. “But then that peace lord shot me straight through the heart and the last thing I remember was telling Francis to get the hell out of there. No point messing around with that dude. He was mean.”

  “And the next thing you knew,” said Salamander Man finishing the story for him and rolling his right nipple gently between his fingers, “Frank - sorry Frank, Francis - brings Percy back to life, just like he did with our old friend Negi here!” Negi began to bounce on the balls of his feet and clap his hands just as he always did when he was excited, which was an awful lot of the time.

  “Beef to lot!” he said, before throwing his head back in laughter.

  “Percy, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here,” Francis said. “I can’t believe it!” He looked at Percy’s chest where the dart had pierced him. “But I didn’t bring you back to life.” They all looked at Francis confused. “I’m sorry to say that I took your advice, Percy. I had to or that peace lord would have cut me down just as he cut you down. I got out of there just as the octopus peace lord was coming for me. I left you there, Percy. I left you for dead.” There was a stunned silence around the room.

  Alpha Centurion broke into a grin and wagged his finger at Francis. “Are you being modest, Francis?” The others all began to wonder the same thing.

  “I wish I was,” said Francis. “But I didn’t bring you back to life.”

  “Who did then?” asked Pink Guy.

  “I don’t know.” Francis looked around at their faces. “But I suspect it was…” They looked up at him with eyes so expectant, so innocent. How could he even begin to describe what he had experienced and what he now knew? How could they ever understand what had transpired between himself and the Almighty? They continued to wait for him. “I suspect it was… a friend of mine.” All except for Pink Guy and Percy the Pigeon took this at face value and were relieved to know that Francis had powerful, benign friends in the omniverses. Pink Guy and Percy understood Francis to be speaking of himself in the third person. He had his purposes, they reasoned, and they were supremely content with this.

  “How did you defeat the evil peace lords, Francis?” Alpha Centurion asked, taking a seat on the floor in front of Francis. He sat up straight, cross-legged, with his hands on his knees. The others gathered around. There was more than a hint of excitement amongst them. “Tell us, tell us!” they said.

  For a moment, Francis was taken back to that fateful day at Soncorp when that dimension was torn apart and Frank was taken to the icy nether realm. He first met Pink Guy there. He remembered sitting, so confused and traumatized, and seeing this pink fellow and wondering what on earth was going on. He recalled the land under the great bronze sky where Salamander Man first saved him from Lemon Man and become a true friend; his horrific meeting with Chin Chin on the mountain; his first visit to New York, meeting Safari Man in the bar and Alpha Centurion while racing crawfish. How curiously they all came together, he thought. He considered Percy. By keeping a solitary feather of Percy’s in his pocket, the pigeon would achieve peace lord status merely by the overflow of Francis’ own chromosomes. He fell into an awe of himself.

  Visions of his time in the rice field realms, his encounters with the evil peace lords there, as well as with the mysterious tree effigy, came flooding back to him; holding the salmon in the river and discovering his abilities to give and receive his chromosomes. He considered the increased frequency of his encounters with the evil peace lords. He could sense, even then, their increasing desperation to terminate him and bring to a halt his exponential multiplication of chromosomes. He remembered his first victory over a chimpilla. It made him feel so powerful. It wasn’t only a physical victory - he knew that now - it was equally a metaphysical and chromosomal victory. It was a marker of his own growing power and authority. No wonder they began to fear and detest him!

  And what of his latest encounters with the peace lords - rolling and tumbling and brawling across the ages and dimensions? And why? Why should such formidable and mighty peace lords be so roused to hostility against him? Rightly so, he now knew! In such a relatively short space of time, in the passing of so few chromosomes, Francis had advanced from being a mere mortal working in a lab in Okinawa, to becoming a peace lord of unsurpassable power. How could they not see him as anything but a threat? He had raised Negi from the dead! He had raised Percy to peace lord status. Had he even raised Percy from the dead without even knowing it? It was entirely possible. His chromosomes were multiplying so rapidly, even he was not fully aware of the powers and glories of which he was capable. Perhaps he had raised Percy. Perhaps his mere presence, however fleeting, had restored the power of life to his pigeon friend. It was true that Francis had never felt so strong, so unbridled, so powerful.

  He considered God. What a beautiful and majestic experience that had been. What a wonderful God he was. Francis was truly in awe of such goodness, such divinity. But he did wonder why he was so interested in Francis. Why didn’t he leave Francis to his fate at the hands of the peace lords? Why did he intervene? Who was Francis to him that he would do so? It didn’t make sense. Francis con
sidered this some more. Why would God shower such blessing on him? For nothing? Why would he feel inclined to save Frank? Doubt was birthed at that moment.

  Could it have been that even God was in awe of Francis? It made Francis wonder just how much power he had and, more importantly, what limits to his power there would be in the future. Was God merely attempting to harness Francis’ powers through kindness, unlike the peace lords who failed to do this through violence? Was Francis’ potential for might a threat to even God himself? As much as the thought sent a shiver down his spine, he couldn’t ignore the question, nor deny the possibility.

  Perhaps this great King saw himself in Francis. Perhaps he saw royalty - a rising prince with the charisma and backing to win an extraordinary number of subjects to his cause. Could this all be a process of cosmic alliances for some great battle to come in the omniverses? He could see the possibility and the value in God making Francis a vassal king under him. There would be mutual benefit, certainly, but who was to receive the greater advantage? Was this merely a scheme for God to secure Francis’ loyalties and fortify his own rule? If Francis’ potential were truly unlimited, he could see no other explanation for any favor extended.

  Francis paused for a moment. And then from a very deep place, a monumental thought arose within him. He could feel it rising from his loins, working through his gut, flowering in his heart, bearing fruit in his mind: Was Francis a god? Was he God himself? Is this why he was so passionately hunted and courted? Was he rising irrevocably into a deity? Upon reflection, it seemed to him that this question was actually a factual statement in utero. King Francis. Lord Francis. Francis, the Almighty God of the omniverses.

  He looked down upon his subjects and answered their question. “I turned them to stone,” he said. “Every one of them. They will never bother us again.” Francis said this with such penetration and authority that they were afraid and overjoyed equally. He put his hands on them and shared some of his chromosomes with them.

  They were ready for what lay ahead. Francis suggested they go and hunt flatchemburns in the quarry realms just for fun. At this the whole gang huddled around him for transport. He sent them off as one, intimating that he would only be a moment behind them. And when they were gone, and in that moment of stillness, he looked around the apartment and reconsidered everything. Dream, memory, alternate reality, actuality; past, present, future: it was all the same to Francis. He was Lord of them all. He was his own man. He was his own God.