CHRONICLES

Story told by Guru Al in the third person, assisted by Hochlor – Demon Extraodinaire.

MA15+ Recommended only for those who have a mental age above fifteen. This contains Medium Level Violence, Medium Level Coarse language and a healthy dosage of gratuitous sex.

PART ONE:

He’s like, you know, dead

Or

"No, don’t worry about it, I don’t want you to anyway," Captain Homes de Pants said.

"Are you sure?" Cleo asked. She gave the French man a playful glance, admiring his beret. "It’s Ok, I can do it while I am down here. Why not make the most of it while I am on my knees?"

"No, I don’t think that it would be suitable."

"Why not? It’s no trouble, I have plenty of time. It won’t cost you anything."

"I have never had a woman do it for me before. I am too young." Homes looked at the blonde woman in front of him, jibbered and looked away.

"That doesn’t matter, I know how to do it properly."

"Ah, no. I have gotta go." Captain Homes de Pants ran off, into the house where everyone else at the party was.

"Shame," thought Cleo. "I really wanted to give him a shoe shine." She shrugged and began to follow the path he had taken.

She took her time and had only reached the side of the house when she heard a rustle in the bushes. This was followed by an odd breathing sound. Cleo could see nothing in the bushes but thought that if she put her face close enough to them whatever it was would make itself known. She did so and was surprised to see a brief reflection of light.

Inside the crowd of friends had complained about each other’s choice of music, gossiped about who wasn’t there and did strange things with sausages and ice.

"Peace and Harmony," Illuminated Rain Cloud said to everyone. She wore a greenish, brownish beanie and had her hair in atrocious dread locks. She wore a tie-dye shirt that proclaimed "I was there, Chernobyl, ’86".

"Hey Illegal Running Camel," Guru Al began. "How do you like these parties on yFalminica?"

"The parties are great," she mused. "But my name is ILLUMINATED RAIN CLOUD!!! GET IT WRONG AGAIN AND YOU WILL [whoa] PAY DEARLY!"

This outburst attracted the attention of most of the partygoers. But they quickly forgot it with the cold thrill of ice down their backs. Gees she’s attractive, Gamblor thought.

Anybody who was anyone, or even people who weren’t, was at the party. The nine Bavarian delegates were present. They were Immature Rhizoid Clam [It’s Illuminated Rain Cloud!!!] OK then, Illuminated Rain Cloud, Cleo, The Black Baron, Bob, Red Hood, Daemina, Mercedes Stuhlfrau, Draco and Egoni von Sine. There jobs as representatives of Bavaria were respectively for environment, Archaeology, Defense, Alcohol, Picnics, Opera, Speaking, Evil and Short haircuts. They were in yFalminica in hope of opening up an alliance, which would include trade with the great Fascist nation.

Guru Al, NTM and Gamblor had arranged the party as an excuse to get pissed, but it offered the opportunity for politics to be pleasantly diluted with a bit of fun. Igor was taking her role as defense force minister very seriously and was keeping a close eye on the nine Bavarians in case they made the wrong move and she felt the need to send the tanks in.

Gorf, Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote, Moolanda Curvytop, Hummana Melonlicious, had found their way to the party and many other yFalminicans also attended.

Intentional Rag Cleaner hugged everyone and spread a bit more hippy love before returning to the wall that she had been decorating with little crayon flowers. It was shortly after this that they heard the scream.

It was loud and shrill, rising surprisingly above the music.

"What was that?" NTM asked, annoyed by the distraction it caused for him and his attempts at flirtation with Al’s co-star, Moolanda Curvytop, from the film The Lost Extract Of Genesis ©.

"Shall we go see what it was?" Al asked.

"No, I think I know who it was," NTM responded.

In the centre of the room Gorf stood horrified. "Nether!" he cried. "Take them away!" A short gatecrasher was dragged away and the group discussed how harsh his penalty should be.

"What the hell was that?" Igor inquired.

"Thome fowl creature came in here and tried to play Hanthon!" Gorf lisped.

A painful gasp went up through the crowd. It was almost impossible to believe. They thought that they had got rid of all of them on yFalminica.

"Oh well, it is over now," Al assured everyone. "We can all return to a normal party."

Just then a body fell from the sky into the small courtyard of the house and splattered onto the ground.

So surprising it was that those present forgot to be surprised or even shocked.

Thirteen seconds past before the great majority started screaming.

"Argh! Argh! Argh!" they said.

"Argh?" NTM asked, dragging himself away from Moolanda. "What’s going on? Everyone calm down!"

He saw the body. "Sweet merciful yFalminica! Argh, argh, argh!"

"Argh!" Igor agreed.

"Argh!" concurred Al and Gamblor, deciding to go with the flow.

"Quiet!" said Ingratiating Raking Cat. "Whoa, you’re all tripping me out."

"Yes, she is right we must calm ourselves," Igor said.

"Argh!" NTM protested.

Gorf stepped up for duty and slapped him. "Pleath!, we haven’t got time for thith!" He stuffed a turnip in NTM’s mouth and stepped carefully toward the body. "Thomebody help me," Gorf said.

Al decided to look the hero, and assisted Gorf in turning the body over.

The crowd went still at the sight. A man with long brown hair, with a most noticeable large gash across his abdomen. It was, oh my god, it was . . .

"Shit! It’s Cicci!" Al exclaimed.

"Who?" No one had heard of this Cicci fella before, except Al and Igor.

"What’s he doing here?" Igor asked. "Last thing I heard about him, he had got stuck in ancient Italy."

"How do you know that?" Al asked.

"I had a fling with a mad scientist from the future. I met up with Cicci in 4383BC. Daisy had apparently disappeared in the mountains a few years before."

"Oh." He didn’t want to know the full details. "That doesn’t really explain why he is here now."

"Nor, does it explain why he is dead or why he has that message on his head," said the Black Baron. He was a tall man with spiky grey hair and an oddly shaped/sized earring. It appeared to be a lifesize figure of a Colobus Monkey. He was dressed conservatively in a black suit. Conservatively? Well now that you mention it, it was a party. Accordingly he appeared uptight and out of place.

"What Message? Oh, that message."

Written on Cicci’s face was a note, barely legible. It read: ‘I know what you did last Chronicles’.

"Well," Al declared. "I am glad someone does, ‘cause I certainly don’t remember."