Super Digital Nekronomi Pals Are Zing!
Bold adventurers Brott and Chayla marched happily down the road to Excitement City, where dreams come true if you are brave enough. Both carried backpacks filled with snacks, clothes, camping supplies, and Shining Dodecahedrons.
Brott was a stalwart, dark-haired young man with lively bright eyes, like those of a jaunty rooster. “I can hardly wait to get to Excitement City!” he said. “Tomorrow they will hold the Nekronomi Master Global Competition, and I shall be the victorious one, you bet!”
Chayla laughed. “Global? You want to win every competition in the universe!” She was a sweet-faced, slender woman with round blue eyes and pursed cherry-red lips. “You are very good, but many others have been Nekronomi Masters for so much longer. Do not be despaired if you are beaten.”
“If they beat me, I will surely kill myself, plain and simple!” He put his hand to his heart. “But what have I to fear? My Super Digital Nekronomi Pals are Zing! They are the best in all of Computronea!”
The land of Computronea used to be ruled by a power-mad mega-computer known as the Continuum. To save the day, a noble warrior scientist had overloaded the evil machine with data on goodness, causing it to explode. The explosion released a great amount of the mysterious Zing Energy that powered the Continuum. All this unleashed power created a new race of beings known as Nekronomi Pals, composed of either digital goodness or evil, or sometimes an unpredictable mix of both.
Basically, there were four main types of Nekronomi Pals. The most common by far were the Tulus—loyal, doglike creatures with tentacled faces, bat wings, claws and scales. Brott’s very favorite Pal was one of these, and his name was Peeka-Tulu. Most of the Tulus were friendly and relaxed. Their favorite pastime was taking long naps in dark, damp basement corners. But some could be quite snarly and ill-tempered, and their claws left awful scratches. Tulus contained high levels of Zing Energy.
Daggies resembled monkeys that had been crossed with goldfish. They had pale, lanky limbs, big fishy eyes and blubbery lips. They enjoyed swimming and splashing around in cool streams. Though electro-digital by nature, Nekronomi Pals could move about in water when in solid form—in fact, many enjoyed it. All the Pals had to eat and drink to nourish their solid bodies, just like real animals. Daggies loved water the most. Each Daggy was either all-the-way-good or all-the-way-evil.
Fungos had the appearance of hermit crabs, but instead of shells, they sported over-sized mushroom heads on their backs. Their stretchy eyestalks allowed them an expansive field of vision. They were aggressive fighters, with sharp, fast pincher-claws. Also, each type of Pal had its own special power—and the power of the Fungos was an especially formidable one. The other Pals certainly did not like to fight Fungos.
Shoggies were big, bouncy, rubbery Nekronomi Pals. They looked like juicy globs of gelatin with funny little wiggly bits suspended inside. These wigglies were their internal organs. Each Shoggy had two sturdy hearts and three pulsing brains, and so they were very industrious and intelligent. Their Zing Energy burned with a steady glow.
The people of Computronea accepted the presence of the Nekronomi Pals, and many would train them, trade them and engage them in competitions. The digital nature of the Pals allowed them to transform into raw Zing Energy, and they could travel through computer cables and phone lines. Owners of Pals could command their pets to download into handheld storage batteries known as Shining Dodecahedrons, which had metal sides and crystal faces.
“Let us rest,” Brott said, “and allow our Nekronomi Pals to play for a spell in this meadow by the road. I wonder if they get bored inside their Dodecahedrons?”
“Oh, I think it’s just a nice sleep for them. But yes, we ought to let them out. They might be hungry.” Chayla opened her backpack and brought out her collection of five Dodecahedrons, while Brott unloaded all ten of his.
Chayla pressed the Zing Button on each of her digital pet carriers. “Zing-Time! Awaken, Mup-Tulu, Flap-Tulu, Snap-Daggy, Fin-Daggy and Foo-Fungo!”
“Power up!” cried Brott. “Harken to my command, Peeka-Tulu! Arise, Ruf-Tulu, Glub-Tulu, Zuk-Tulu, Turbo-Shoggy, Kika-Shoggy, Goo-Daggy, Bug-Daggy, Shub-Fungo and Prima-Fungo! Super Digital Nekronomi Pals are Zing!”
Sizzling zaps and bangs sounded as the creatures shot out of the glass faces of their Dodecahedrons. They shimmied and swirled—some of the showier ones even cascaded through the air as lively spark showers. And soon they materialized as lively, happy Nekronomi Pals. All fifteen began running, jumping and playing in the lush grass. The Pals gurgled and purred with delight.
A stream flowed through the meadow, and some began swimming and catching fish. Others found berries and tasty leaves to eat.
Peeka-Tulu carried a branch laden with plump berries to Brott. “Thank you, my digital friend!” the young man said. “Your wholesome goodness makes my heart sing.”
Chayla pointed down the road. “Say, who is that coming this way? He looks familiar.”
Brott scowled. “Why, it is that no-good Peetro. He and I had a furious Nekronomi Master face-off in Belt-Buckle City about a year ago. Remember? Peeka-Tulu whipped his awful Caca-Daggy into submission! His evil Pals all fight dirty.”
“Oh yes, now I remember.” Chayla crossed her arms. “His Pals have bad Zing Energy. He should not be allowed to join the competitions.”
“What is this I see?” Peetro shouted. He had white hair, a black moustache and deep-set eyes. “Two steaming turds in the middle of a meadow! Yes, their smell is strong and ripe.”
“You have a dirty mouth. It matches your mind!” Chayla stated angrily.
“Suck upon my pizzle, you demented whore!” Peetro suggested.
“You are even more rude and foul than I remembered, you scoundrel,” Brott said. Then a breeze blew wildflower pollen in his face and he sneezed.
“Oh, are you ill? Bend over, my round-bottomed friend! I will take your temperature with my sturdy meat thermometer,” Peetro offered. “Then I shall give you a bountiful protein injection. How generous I am!”
“That does it!” Brott raged. “I challenge you to a Nekronomi Master battle!”
“With pleasure,” Peetro said. “If I win, I get to use the two of you to pleasure myself as I see fit.”
“No way!” Brott ejaculated.
“Are you afraid you will lose? Then let us call off the battle, because I do not fight chicken-shit wussy-wimps,” Peetro informed him. “You know, it astounds me that the both of you aren’t always rumping and humping like crazed insane maniacs. Don’t you know what sex is?”
“Brave adventurers have no need for that sort of thing!” Brott turned to Chayla. “Isn’t that right?”
The girl shrugged. “If you say so.”
Peetro laughed. “So what is your final answer?”
“Very well, I accept your challenge! Do not worry, Chayla—we shall not lose!”
Chayla studied Peetro, who, though evil, was actually rather handsome. “I am not so worried. You know, Brott, you do not want to tire yourself too much—we have much to do in Excitement City tomorrow. Maybe we should just give up and accept the consequences.”
“Never!” Brott stared at his white-haired enemy. “Bring out your Nekronomi Pals. Let me see the creatures that serve such a deplorable master.”
“I have rid myself of my old Tulus, Daggies, Shoggies and Fungos. They were so common and boring!” Peetro reached into his coat pockets and brought out a pair of black, not-at-all-Shiny Dodecahedrons. “I have only two Nekronomi Pals—but they are unique! Their Zing Energy is ominous! Believe me when I say: you cannot win!”
“We’d better just give up,” Chayla said.
“Give up? Ha! Winning is the answer! Triumph is my legacy!” Brott enthused. “Peetro, let us see these so-special Nekronomi Pals of which you speak.”
The villain smiled. “When the Continuum exploded, the most evil data on its hard drive recombined into two especially wicked Nekronomi Pals. And here they are!”
He pressed the buttons on the Dodecahedrons. “by the black heart of Zing Energy, I summon you, Ultra-Nylotep and Mondo-Aztoth!”
Ultra-Nylotep was the most humanoid Nekronomi Pal that Brott and Chayla had ever seen. Like most of the Pals, he was about as big as a dog, but he walked on his hindlegs and looked like an elfin pharaoh. His wide, slanted eyes glowed bright magenta. Brott was shocked to see that unlike the other Pals, Ultra-Nylotep was endowed with genitalia—large, male, and abundantly engorged.
Mondo-Aztoth resembled a large cluster of oily, shiny bubbles. Among these bubbles rolled numerous bloodshot eyeballs and thickly veined testicles. The being exuded syrupy streams of yellow and green slime that wilted the grass it dripped upon. The reek of this Pal was like the mingled stenches of dead fish, burning plastic and a sick pig’s diarrhea.
“These Pals are obscene,” Brott said. “They are corrupt with bad Zing Energy. My good Nekronomi Pals will be able to defeat them easily!”
Peetro cocked his head to one side. “Indeed? I am so sure that Ultra-Nylotep and Mondo-Aztoth shall win, I will even allow all fifteen of those good Pals to fight mine at the same time.”
“Truly you have sealed your own doom with your reckless boasting,” Brott replied. “Let it be so. I do feel sorry that soon, your two freakish Pals will be moaning in bruised defeat.”
“It is time to fight!” shrieked Ultra-Nylotep.
“Your Nekronomi Pal can talk!” Chayla said. “I’ve never seen one that could speak before.”
“Well, now you’ve seen two,” thundered Mondo-Aztoth in low, bubbly tones. “Let the fighting begin!”
By this time, all the Pals of Brott and Chayla had gathered behind their masters, curious about the strange evil Pals. Brott turned to the assembled digital pets. “I call upon all of you to use your special powers to conquer these vile beings. Fungos! Use your super-powerful freeze-beams! Shoggies! Fire your glue spray! Daggies! Hit them with your hypno-eyes! Tulus! Activate extra-fierce tentacle action! Super Digital Nekronomi Pals are Zing!”
For the next hour, the good and evil Pals tore up the meadow as they engaged in a ferocious battle. The Fungos fired their mighty freeze-beams, but the chilling rays of their special power just bounced off of Mondo-Aztoth and gave Ultra-Nylotep a slight itch. The two evil Pals drank deep of the thick Shoggy glue spray, and the hypno-eyes of the Daggies only made them laugh. The whipping face-tentacles of the Tulus gave the wicked Pals quite a challenge, but alas, even those sinewy appendages could not subdue so much concentrated bad Zing Energy. Peeka-Tulu fought long and hard, but in time the brave pet slumped to the ground, exhausted.
It was only after the fifteen good Pals had depleted their powers that the nasty ones began their own special attack.
Ultra-Nylotep held up his slender hands, revealing huge, rolling eyes in his palms. Magenta heat-rays shot out of these eyes, scorching and blistering all the sad, tired good Pals. Then Mondo-Aztoth floated overhead and began to gush glowing purple ichor on them, causing all the friendly Daggies, Tulus, Shoggies and Fungos to wail in agony.
“What is that horrible fluid?” Brott shouted.
“My specialty: Liquid Pain!” the evil, bubbly Pal roared.
“It is clear that you and your weak Pals are defeated,” Peetro announced. “Their inability to succeed is a testament to my power. Now bend over, you two, and allow me to deal to you the penultimate degradation! Then, when I am done with you, Ultra-Nylotep will use you to demonstrate his erotic digital perversions! How he will relish the opportunity to ravish your tender human flesh!”
“Start with me!” Chayla urged, lowering her pants. “Do not worry, Brott. I will take the brunt of their sexual frenzy, and perhaps they will not have any stamina left for you.”
Brott marched up to his exhausted Pals, who were huddled together in a quivering mass, crying and moaning.
“Do not accept this fate!” Brott cried. “Rally to the cause! Regain your strength and protect the virtue of Chayla! See how she squirms helplessly, skewered by the relentless Peetro! See how Ultra-Nylotep eagerly strokes himself to readiness! Such abominations cannot be tolerated! You have no time to nurse your wounds. You still have more courageous fighting to do! Serve! Strive! Protect! Super Digital Nekronomi Pals are Zing!”
It was then that Peeka-Tulu, the most cherished of the Pals, separated from the group and crept toward Brott. With a supreme effort, he managed to squeeze out of his throat the first words of his whole digital life.…
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
Peeka-Tulu then stretched out his tentacles and strangled his master to death.
The Pecker at the Passageway
As he towed my car that crummy day,
the crazy, gap-toothed hick had this to say:
City boy, you’d have to be a fool
not to know that someday, birds shall rule.
We breed the fiends as food for finger-lickin’.
We’re hatchin’ our worst enemy, the chicken!
They’ve got a god, you know—a rooster-thing,
so huge and fat, it couldn’t lift a wing.
Instead of feet, there’s tentacles. The beak
is edged with fangs. That puffy feathered freak
dwells in a nest beyond the wall of time,
beside a river filled with livin’ slime.
His name’s Clukthulhu, Lord of All the Hens.
You won’t find humans on his list of friends.
One day he found a passageway to Earth,
but could not pass because of his great girth.
Let’s hope he can’t peck into our dimension—
our fate would then be far too vile to mention.
But still, I fear that fowls shall rule someday.
They’ll burst forth from the coops and spread dismay!
We’ll all be torn to eensy-weensy bits.
Just thinkin’ ’bout it sends me into fits.
Remember, circuses have no more geeks,
the kind that bite off chicken heads and beaks.
Without that geek protection, we are lost.
Into a giant stew-pot we’ll be tossed!
Oh, how that rooster-god will cluck with glee,
as human bein’s become a fricassee.
We will be the ones to scream and bleed
as families are pecked to chicken-feed.
The hens will sprout fierce tentacles and fangs
just like their god—those evil poultry gangs
will hunt down men and turn them into poop!
The White House will become their finest coop!
You think I’m crazy? Well, boy, that may be.
But ‘crazy’ does not necessarily
mean that I’m lyin’. One sure thing I know:
the dawn of doom begins with one loud crow!
Why’d the evil chicken cross the street?
To gorge itself on tasty human meat.
There’s the shop—those guys can fix your car.
I know you have to travel pretty far.
At least you will not have to take the bus.
Just heed my words, my boy…for soon
the yolk will be on us.
The Slithering Quiver of the River Lizard's Twisted Liver-Blisters
In the city of Phlemuria, three miles west of Ulthar in the Elder Dreamlands, folks had a saying: the god of Fate is no more than a capricious old pig-herder made cranky by an embarrassing rash. And who knows, perhaps there was some truth in that sage bit of gossip: for alas, Phlemuria is no more.
Phlemuria was once a fine and noble city, with cobbled streets, quaint thatched huts, and an interesting choice of religions. Folks could worship Krog-Kablog, the River Lizard of Unspeakable Death and second-cousin of Dagon, or perhaps the insect god Blaalador, whose priests were man-sized dung beetles in flowing brown robes. They could even worship the blacksmith’s hermaphroditic man-daughter Sha-Boom—though really, Sha-Boom’s worshippers were not exactly members of a religion. More of a dating serv
ice, really.
Know this: I, Qizami, was the High Priest of Krog-Kablog, and this is my tale, and my tail as well. For I am now inscribing my long tale upon my longer tail in letters as tiny as baby ants, with the indelible pigment one collects upon squeezing the bright scarlet protuberances of the p’narr frog.
Eventually Sha-Boom ran off with a demigod named Kyle. Kyle: such a disturbing, alien name—verily, it chills my blood. They’d met at a nightclub in Kyle’s neighborhood on the semi-forbidden continent of Mu. So Sha-Boom’s worshippers were left without a deity, and as we all know, municipal law states that to abide in Phlemuria, one must be a registered worshipper of someone or something. These faithless folks had to select between Blaalador and Krog-Kablog.
As High Priest of Krog-Kablog, it was my sacred duty to enlist the faithless to the worship of the River Lizard of Unspeakable Death. This was not as easy task, for although I was the earthly spokesperson for said deity, even I had to admit that he was not what one would call ‘easy on the eyes.’ So in a dimly lit cafe off the Avenue of the Seven Unlikely Torments, I sought out and chatted with Grohkma, former High-Priestess and Beauty Consultant to Sha-Boom, to see if I could purchase some council from her. After all, she was out of a job, so she probably needed the money.
“Before I got a hold of him—or her,” Grohkma confided, “Sha-Boom looked like a long stretch of country road well-travelled by overfed donkeys with irritable bowel syndrome.” She was a slender lass with long silver nails and an abundance of stylishly pointed teeth. “Sha-Boom was very large, you know. Her—or his—skin was of a texture reminiscent of that loose, watery white cheese made by cottage dwellers…Someday, someone should think of a name for that small- or large-curded comestible. Anyway, one day I took a good look at Sha-Boom and saw—potential. A whisper of bone structure. I worked with Sha-Boom for three weks solid. From that point on, he—or she—had worshippers lined up around the corner, down the street and a few paces into the valley. All because of me. And now that bitch—or bastard—is shacked up with Kyle in a temple of eldritch dread in Mu, and I’m out of a job. That’s the thanks I get.”
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