The Day of the Anvil
Back to the Anvil Index Go to Chapter: 1 3
April 1, 2001
This day is significant for a few reasons. It was the April Fool’s day that saw three convicted armed robbers placed on death row as a joke (however someone forgot to take them off it, and they all died in the electric chair). The President General and his cohorts held a party at the presidential palace that was so wild that forty people went missing, complaints of noise were made from Chile and Nine Turning Mirror’s, in his drunkenness, passed a law that allowed parents to kill their children if they came home any later than 6pm. This Law was later reviewed and annulled. But the most noteworthy event that occurred this day, well in my day, was a major breakthrough that I experienced in my treatment of Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote. And this also inadvertently led to me digging up graves in the early hours of the morning.
It occurred during a ritual in which I attempted to invoke a spirit, which would act as a guide and agent in the netherworld, to find out for us what was plaguing Coyote.
A straw mat sat in the centre of the coffee table, upon it the giblets of a chicken, and a small silver dish in the middle, containing goat’s blood from one of the bottles. I sprinkled a blue powder on Coyote’s wrist and rubbed it in. I guided his arm over the dish and made a small slit in it with my knife. He grimaced at the wound, the blood dropping into the dish slowly, making dramatic, hollow, plopping sounds. I stirred the contents with a human finger bone. I threw in the mix a small drop of a clear, yellow liquid and a green flame rose up from the dish.
"I invoke the spirits. Come, come, who shall be our guide in the netherworld?"
"I shall!" a deep voice vibrated around the room.
"What is your name?" I inquired of the voice.
"Hochlor!" the voice confessed. "I shall greet thee in the form of a vessel." The voice seemed to be coming from the giblets, which shook with each intonation.
"A vessel?" I queried. There was no response. A moment later, the door was thrown open and at it stood Guru Al, the light sifting in around him, into the curtained, gloomy room.
"Hurry, enter! You are ruining the whole spooky atmosphere thing!" I shouted. Guru Al entered, closing the door, and approached the table. "You are the vessel?" I asked. There was no reply, and in one swift movement, Guru Al reached down and picked up the giblets from the straw mat and placed them on his face.
He spoke suddenly, possessing the same voice that was heard before. "I am Hochlor. I come to play agent to thee in the netherworld. I approach thee in this human vessel, my link with the mortal world." He then commenced clucking like a chicken.
"What means this animal banter?" I asked.
"Nothing, I seek only to ridicule Guru Al, my vessel, making him do stupid acts while he has no control over his body."
"I see." I replied. "And the giblets?"
"They are necessary for communication. But they also lend themselves to the derision of Guru Al."
I paused for a moment, noticing the smirk on Coyote’s face, obviously amused by the situation. "Can you then act as agent, seeking knowledge of the spirit that afflicts and tortures young Coyote?"
The vessel, or rather Guru Al, turned to look at Coyote’s face. The giblets obscured much of Al’s face, but his eyes could be seen glowing red. "I shall seek knowledge, yes." Hochlor growled, turning back to me.
"Thankyou, humble being of the nether."
"It is a deed I do, only seeking a favour from you. A small favour."
"Name it!"
"A mortal virgin."
"Is this for you or Al?" I inquired adopting a suspicious tone. "I want only her soul." Hochlor professed. "Can I have her body then?" Al said, this time in his own voice, his eyes clearing for a moment. "Silence vessel!" Hochlor seethed, as the eyes glazed red again. "I shall seek this knowledge, and you shall hear from me again." Hochlor said. For a moment he stood, leering at me, and then he turned suddenly, to Coyote and let out an enormous bellow that frightened Coyote and even me. "Swirly!" he growled viciously. "Prithee no more to do with thee, mortal!" he yelled, turning to me. "I shall not return!"
"Please, stay and help me!" Coyote said, I immediately turned to him in shock, just as Guru Al fell backwards onto the floor, moaned and pleaded for someone to assist him in getting up. "Juniper season Christmas lemon." Coyote stated, reverting to his nonsense talk.
"Hochlor! Return!" I commanded, shouting at Al, who still lay on the floor. I picked up a knife from the table. "I shall slice the belly of your vessel, if you do not return!"
"Hey, steady on!" Guru Al yelled. "I am not just a freaking vessel! I have feelings you know!" I poked Al’s neck with the knife tip and a drop of blood slid down his moist skin. "Ow! Watch it you psycho!"
I replaced the knife. "Help him up Coyote." I said.
"What the hell is this on my face??!?" Al screamed, sitting up, scrambling to displace the giblets. "Gross! What the hell is going on here? You really pissed Hochlor off! I haven’t heard him so rough and using that old style English for ages. It’s been years at least since he referred to me as a vessel. It kind of hurt." Al whined. "I feel used!" Coyote patted him on the back.
"Did you notice what you said?" I hastily inquired of A.F.O.C. He shook his head, unsure of my meaning. "You made sense, boy!" He cautiously initiated a smile.
"What’s with all this ‘boy’ crap?!?" Al asked indignantly. "He is in his late thirties!" Al paused. "Wait, did you say he made sense?"
"Yes, didn’t you hear him? He said, loud and clear, ‘Please stay and help me!’!" I paced excitedly around the room. "Marvellous, my boy!"
"Yeah but it didn’t last long." Guru Al added discouragingly.
"Hysterectomy." Coyote conceded.
"But don’t you see?!?" I blustered. I received two rather blank stares. "It is the only sense he has ever made, that I have heard anyway. We must have done something right!"
"Yeah, you may have something there." Al commented with poorly hidden disinterest, "I suppose. But if you don’t mind, I was busy, and as much fun as I am having here, chicken guts and all, I really must get back."
"Very well." I said, allowing the Guru to leave, without harassment. He saluted lazily, uttered a swift goodbye and quickly left, slamming the door behind him.
"Well, Coyote. We may have something here." I said. "That demon or spirit, Hochlor, to whom we spoke, seemed to hiss someone’s name before he left this world. Now, what was it?"
I continued my obsessive pacing trying to recall what Hochlor had said. "Swiggy!" I looked to Coyote. He shook his head, looking around the room. He dashed suddenly to the kitchen bench and picked up a pencil, scanned the area for a piece of paper. "Squirrely??!" I said. He dismissed this with a wave of his hand and scribbled something on the paper, passed it to me. "Catsup mild trench potato?" I inquired, reading the note. "Poor lad, you don’t make any sense when you write either." Coyote banged on the bench with his fist in frustration. I thought for a moment. "Swirly?" I asked quietly. Coyote spun around.
"Well he was buried around here somewhere!" Gamblor screamed in annoyance. "Ask that stupid Captain Ryback, his brother, he is the one who buried him!"
"Settle down, Silky," Nine Turning Mirrors said patronisingly, "it’s all going to be OK."
"Hey, don’t use that tone with me!" Gamblor yelled.
"Please!" I shouted. "We are meant to be here to help Coyote!"
"Yeth!" Gorf agreed. "Think of thith poor man, before you think of yourthelf!"
"Inundation disembowel cat needle luncheon." A.F.O.C. said humbly.
Coyote’s sister, Running-Creek-Drowns-Kittens, also known as Kitty, approached him. "Don’t worry Coyote, I know that if anyone can cure you of this affliction, it is this group. Bafflingly, they manage to consistently fight of the forces of evil, without a hell of a lot of effort or conviction," she said, a soothing tone in her voice.
Nine Turning Mirrors eyed her. "Should we be insulted by that comment?" he asked, leaning over to Guru Al, Gamblor and Igor.
"I . . . don’t know," Igor confessed. "I think worse things could be said.
I aimed the torch I held at the ground, surveying the whole area. There appeared to be no grave whatsoever. "I am a little confused. Who is this Swirly, the Nec guy anyway?"
"Well, it is very confusing. You see at the time he was buried, he was actually, Swirly the Re-Nec," Al explained, "after being formerly known as Swirly, the Un-Nec, and originally Swirly the Nec."
"Oh, it’s all clear now." I muttered sarcastically.
"Well, Poco," NTM began, placing a patronising arm around my shoulder, "we killed him just a year ago when he was Swirly the Re-Nec. And his brother, who happens to be the Captain of the yFalminican army buried him where he was killed, which was about here." NTM pointed at the ground. "This was at the time that the Kiwis invaded us, you remember when that happened? You know, it coincided with massive volcanoes rising out of the earth and the dead rising from their graves."
"I remember something of the sort." I confessed.
"It’s strange," Igor commented, "that when we were in Ga, in 1975, when Swirly was killed then, all his spells and curses, except the one he put on A.F.O.C. stopped."
"Ah, yes, that would make it even more certain that Swirly called upon a spirit to plague Coyote, and when he was killed, however many times that has occurred, the spirit has continued with its work."
"Yeah, yeah," Gamblor said, "are we going to just stand here all night. It’s freezing!"
"Well, if the grave isn’t here, where would it be?" I asked.
"I think I know who to athk!" Gorf said.
Guru Al knocked on the door of the small, corrugated iron shed. A man of average height, with very dark brown, straight neat hair and a pair of glasses that admittedly made him look nerdish, answered it.
"Ah, Paul isn’t it?" Guru Al asked the groundskeeper, shining the torchlight in his eyes.
"Yes . . .eh . . . sir, Paul Scalp." The Groundskeeper replied, shielding his face with his hands.
"That name sounds familiar . . ." Igor said to herself.
"Well, Scalp, would you know where the body of Swirly the Re-Nec was moved?" Al asked.
"Certainwy. I bewieve . . . eh . . . the pawace gardener, Mr. . . . eh . . . Skipper, moved it into the pawace . . . eh . . . tomb."
"What?!" NTM blustered. "How dare he!? We don’t have that tomb for psychos, it’s there for the honourable staff of the Presidential Palace!"
"Show me a psycho and I’ll show you a yFalminican minister," Igor commented to Guru Al.
"Calm down, Mirrors," Gamblor said, "we can go and get the body now and dump it."
"I’ll fire that gardener!" NTM roared.
"Thankyou, Paul." Igor said, winking at the janitor.
"My . . . eh . . . pweasure." Paul Scalp uttered breathlessly.
NTM crept carefully through the door, reached around the side and flicked a switch on the wall. Four neon lights flickered for a moment, before they threw the tomb into their perfect white light.
"You put electricity in here?" Kitty asked.
"Sure, why not?" NTM said. "It makes it easier when you want to go playing around with dead bodies, doesn’t it?"
"It’th thacrilege!" Gorf moaned dramatically, Kitty hanging from his arm.
"No, it’s logical." NTM responded simply.
"It’s rather dark and eerie in here," Kitty said. Gorf patted her on the arm, and gave her a reassuring glance.
We all gazed around at the rows of stone sarcophagi, arranged in rows of six by three. We could see five that were engraved – the others obviously unused. Guru Al, Gamblor and I walked between the sarcophagi and examined the ones at the back that were inscribed. "No, if he is in here," Gamblor said, "his coffin isn’t inscribed."
"Great, so we have to go through thirteen sarcophaguses to find him!" NTM wailed.
"I reckon they would have just put him in the first one that they came to," Gamblor said, "well, it’s what I would have done!"
"You may have something there Silky." Igor agreed, approaching the nearest sarcophagus. She rested her hands upon the edge and slowly began to push the mighty cement slab that lay on top of the sarcophagus. She dusted her hands when the job was finished and peered in. "Shit! They could have at least put him in a coffin!"
The group in the tomb held their breath as the smell of rotted flesh seeped out of the stone case. Swirly the Re-Nec was in a totally unglamorous state. His skin was dark, dry and severely wrinkled, falling from the bones beneath it, bugs and maggots wheedling through the decomposing flesh. His face was not so much like that of Steven Segal anymore. In fact he looked more like The Mummy, from the movie of the same name in 1999.
"Oh my God! It’s the woman from the Golden Girls!" Gamblor screamed.
"No, Silk, it’s just the rotting body of Swirly the Re-Nec! You know, the one that was constantly mistaken for Steven Segal?" Al said. "Although, I agree it does like remarkably like Bea Arthur!" Al said, looking at the corpse in astonishment. "So what do you do with him now, Poco?" Al asked.
"Err . . . well, we must use the body in a ritual to identify the spirit that afflicts Coyote."
"Button mushroom." A.F.O.C. said quietly.
"So, err . . ." I continued, "get him out for me will you."
"Not me!" Gamblor scoffed. "I am not one for getting my hands dirty." He paused. "Well, it depends where I would be putting my hands! But dead bodies is where I draw the line!"
I looked at the others. Igor rolled her eyes lazily. "Mmm, let me think about that . . . NO!" she cried. NTM shook his head, and Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote looked the other way conveniently, while Gorf and Kitty dissolved into an opportune flurry of passion, embracing each other wildly. Finally my eyes rested on Guru Al. He stood there unaware for a moment.
"What, me?!?" He spluttered. "I am not touching that!"
"Words you don’t often hear him utter." Gamblor whispered to Igor.
"I know!" Al chanted. "There is a simple way to get the body out that will make everyone happy!"
"Hurry up Scalp!" Guru Al yelled, whacking the Groundskeeper on the back. "Look, just grab him and put him in the wheelbarrow!"
We all stood there with gas masks on, while Paul Scalp, in a dirty pair of overalls, attempted to hoist the rotting corpse out of its case by tugging at its arm. "I . . . eh . . . can’t do it! It’s just too . . . eh . . . disgusting!"
"Like this!" Al said, grabbing Scalp’s arm and slapping it down on Swirly the Re-Nec’s putrid carcass. Paul Scalp’s hand fell through the chest of Swirly the Re-Nec. He screamed out it horror. "Argh! Argh . . . eh . . . Argh!!" He took his hand away in disgust. A running yellow liquid covered his hand, like a ghastly, sickening evil custard.
"Get a grip, Scalp!" Al yelled. "Now, put the body in the wheelbarrow!"
Scalp grimaced as he hugged the decaying body, lifting it from its encasement, finding that it was fortunately light. He held it, ready to place it in the barrow, Guru Al watched on irritably. "Hurry up!" he kicked Scalp in the back of the knee. He immediately fell backwards, Swirly the Re-Nec on top of him, the dead man’s face crumbling against his chest. Paul Scalp gazed in horror at the skull on his chest, split apart and oozing a brown, putrid-smelling liquid. He quickly shoved the body from him, edging away until his back was against the sarcophagus. "Mmm," Guru Al said in an ironic tone, "the barrow looks empty to me. What do you think, Mirrors?"
"Yes, certainly no corpse in there!" NTM agreed.
Paul Scalp quickly stood, took a deep breath and lifted the corpse, and threw it into the barrow. I watched him flee from the tomb, crying out in disgust. "Argh!!! Argh! Argh . . .eh . . . Argh!" I counted myself lucky that I wasn’t in his situation.
"Ok . . . but I am not pushing the barrow!" Guru Al said.
"Damnit, I will!" Igor shouted. "You bunch of cowards!" She grabbed the handles of the barrow and began to steer in to the entrance of the tomb. The legs of the corpse hung over the edge of the barrow. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she stopped. "How the hell are we meant to get it up here?!" she yelled.
"Gorf!" NTM yelled. "Your turn."
"What? Me? What do you want me to do?" Gorf asked.
"Carry the body up the stairs!" NTM yelled. "Isn’t it fucking obvious?"
"There ith no way I am touching that thing!" Gorf cried, edging ever closer to Kitty.
"I think we just need some constructive thinking." I suggested. "How about we carry the barrow up the stairs. With four of us it will be easy."
I noticed that everyone was looking at me. Guru Al and Gamblor were standing off to the side of the group, glaring at me in obvious loathing of my positive thinking and team-work approach. It seemed as if they were not used to this at all. "Oh, la-di-da, let’s all work together as one!" Gamblor mocked.
"Yeah," Al said, "like everyone pitch in and it will all be fine, man!"
"Just pick up the fucking barrow as I suggested!" I screamed. Yelling and carrying on seemed to be the only language that they understood. I thought that all my years as a hermit in yFalminican society was probably a good move, and that, if possible, I should return to this life as soon as possible.
Guru Al, Gamblor, Gorf and Igor eventually hoisted the barrow up the eight steps. Coyote stood with an anxious look on his face, eyeing the body of Swirly the Re-Nec with caution.
"Where do you want it?" Igor asked.
"Well we need the right atmosphere . . ." I said, glancing around. "How about between that grave and the compost heap?"
"Certainly," the Marshal General said, "would you like fries with that?" She lifted the barrow up and dumped the body on the ground. As it hit the moist soil an arm fell off and a further piece of its skull broke away. I placed a large chicken’s feather and poured a pitcher of blood on the body.
"Now, I think we are ready to begin." I beckoned Coyote. He approached me slowly. "Stand on this side of the body." I said, indicating a certain spot. "Okay, open your right hand." He did so and I placed in it a wriggling pouch of leaches. On this I sprinkled a yellow powder and a feather from a plump Richy bird. I closed his hand and bound it tightly with a red rope, coloured so by goats blood. He looked at me in a way that told me he could feel the leaches being squashed in his hand.
"Don’t worry Coyote, this won’t take long, and the benefits will be enormous for you!" He smiled briefly. I told him to remove his shirt and smeared chickens blood down his muscular chest, and placed giblets on his shoulders. In his other hand I placed a small charm made of sticks. "Okay, that should complete your preparation." I said as I disrobed, so that all I was wearing was a loincloth. I was glad that at least this was covering my pride, as it was a very cold night, and my manhood was in somewhat of a shrivelled form. I splashed chicken’s blood across my chest. It was noticeably warmer than the air.
"OK Coyote. There are only two more things left." I turned to the others. "I will need your assistance."
They were caught unawares. I saw Gamblor and NTM arm wrestling on a tomb stone, Igor practising her high kick, Gorf and Kitty reciting a scene from Hamlet and Guru Al consulting Fred the chef on a meal. "What, us?" NTM asked.
"Yes! You!" I spat. "Here, take this Ouija board." I passed it to Igor. She received it with curiosity.
"Cool!" Guru Al said, "we get to call the spirits!"
"Now all that remains is this . . ." I placed a small tape player on the gravestone and pressed the play button. After a few seconds of silence and the sound of crackling, the old and worn tape began to play "The Monster Mash". The group seemed happy with the soundtrack that I had chosen and began to sing along. "You will have to come closer. Sit here." I commanded. They did as I said, the Ouija board in front of them, and they still sang.
"The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash . . ."
"Now, Guru Al, NTM, Igor, Gorf and Kitty place each a finger on the planchette . . ."
"The what?!" Guru Al asked.
"The little pointy thing on the Ouija board!" I yelled in frustration. Finally they did as ordered and I walked to them, smeared a symbol on their foreheads with chickens blood.
"Gross!" NTM wailed. "Ooh, it reeks of blood!"
"That’s because it is blood!" Igor said.
"I hope thith works, Coyote!" Gorf cried out encouragingly.
"Yes, good luck! You will be making sense in no time big brother!"
I stood sideways so that I was between the group on the ground and Coyote, and just in front of the body of Swirly the Re-Nec, and I could see each out of the corner of my eye. I turned to Coyote again. "Hold both arms out straight. Place your right fist on your left fist and point them at your companions here." Coyote did as I said and looked at me anxiously. "We call the world of the spiritual!" I called out dramatically. "I force you to identify yourself spirit who afflicts young Coyote! Come forth immediately. Come forth spirit, supernatural agent of Swirly the Nec!" The giblets on Coyote’s shoulders began to tremble and Guru Al gasped as the planchette on the Ouija board began to move.
"What sayest thou?" I questioned, indicating for one of them to read out the letters that the planchette pointed to.
"W . . ." Igor began. "H . . . A . . .T . . .I . . .S . . ."
"What is?" I said to myself.
"Thith ith exthiting!" Gorf lisped animated.
Igor took a pen from her pocket and continued to write the letters on her hand in silence. When the planchette ceased its movement, Igor looked at me and said aloud. "What is the difference between a raven and a writing desk?"
"Is that what it said?" I asked, perplexed.
"Well, no," Igor began. "I just wanted to know. You see I watched Alice in Wonderland heaps of times. And well, the Mad Hatter begins a joke, ‘What is the difference between a Raven and a writing desk?’ and then he never finishes it and it has just been driving me in . . ."
"What did the Ouija board say!!???!" I screamed.
"Oh, it said ‘What is your name?’"
"I am Poco Loco! King of Conserves!" I cried out. "By which name do you call thyself?" I yelled out into the darkness.
Once again the giblets on Coyote’s shoulder vibrated and the planchette on the board slid first to the letter – ‘B’. Igor watched as the planchette slid slowly down to the bottom of the board and then to the right, taking her finger with it. "U." she said.
"Hey! NTM is doing it!" Al yelled.
"No, I’m not!" NTM squealed. "You’re doing it!"
"Silence!" I yelled.
"D. . ." Igor said. The pointer circled around the letter D and then rested on it again.
"B-U-D-D!" Gorf said excitedly. "Perhapth it ith Buddha!"
The planchette again moved towards the bottom right corner, this time going to the letter . . . "Y," Igor said, "Buddy." The planchette ceased its movement.
"Buddy!" I screamed into the night. "I bid thee raise thy voice to mine ears! Dost thou need a vessel?" I asked, glancing at Gamblor.
"Me!!??!" Gamblor spluttered. "Uhuh! There is no way there is any demon invading my bod . . ."
NTM and Guru Al shoved Gamblor out towards me. I pointed a small twisted stick at Coyote, at Swirly’s body, and then at Gamblor. Gamblors eyes glazed over green. "Howdy!" he said in a slightly higher pitched voice with an American accent.
"Greetings, Buddy!"
"What do you want with me?" Buddy asked from within Gamblor.
"We plead for you to end this harassment of the soul of Coyote. You were agent to Swirly the Re-Nec, but now, you see his carcass. I bid you play agent for me and leave Coyote.
"Yeah, quit screwing with my mind!" Coyote said. Everyone glanced at him in awe. Coyote continued. "I have lived with this freaking curse for twenty eight years, enough already!"
Gamblor’s eyes, presently resembling shining emeralds, shifted to the body of Swirly the Re-Nec. "Yes, this is the guy who employed me. Golly, he was irritable." Buddy’s voice said.
"So you will cease your aggravation of Coyote?" I inquired.
"Maybe." Buddy replied. "Such things can be a bit of a bother though!" he warned me.
"Bother, what do you mean by this?"
"Well, there are regulations and all. Sheesh, I can’t leave him alone just like that." Buddy called, clicking Gamblor’s fingers. "You’re lucky I haven’t been dropping so many anvils on you lately!" He said, turning to Coyote.
Coyote was about to respond, glaring at Gamblor. I however held him back with my hand and turned back to the vessel. "OK, what do we have to do then?"
Back to the Anvil Index Go to Chapter: 1 3
27/08/2000 18:12