-Part I, The Travelling Circus
A hand clenched a mahogany hatchet and swung about the chasm. A swift thrust and then with a twisting dab the mountains obeyed their wooden master. Rocks turned and switched direction, the hatchetman delivered swiftly jabs and pierced the mountains from a distant chrome-drenched platform. It swung the hatchet with such careful precision as a choral director enjoins his musical ensemble.
We don't care about that. We were contacted by a duke from, like, space. Dukes are cool because I think of New York when I do think of them, one rank away from prince. Like me. Except I am not a prince yet. That is in the next future. You can't know about that, stop. I'm also a king and a marquis and baron. I'm not a king or a marquis or baron.
I am/was contacted by a cosmic duke. I was only contacted by him once, I still am contacted by him currently, and I was contacted, and will be contacted by him forever. But only once. He opened lots of chain restaurants in Fernando Poo once. The duke also made the dirt around the carrots once farmers plant them; Once. The duke doesn't understand the word "Condiments" and refuses to learn it, as he says he has known the word in his previous time frame (future/past, we don't know) and lost to it in a drug-fueled match of Gin Rummy; Once. The duke never lost to anyone in Gin Rummy or any known variations of Rummy (including Cosmic Rummy); Once. Let me tell you now that we're on the subject, he only does things once but forever. You might be thinking now, no one can do things once but forever. Ok, that's fine. We won't judge you, you are stupid. You were born thinking, and you might think you cease to think every now and then and rest. However, this is false, as you are stupid. You were born and only begun to think once, but you thought forever.
"We can make you less of a human and more of a polygon" - Cosmic Duke
"KRGHAF AUHGANSF GAEDSOPA APOJDE" - Ekud Cimsoc
Um, me and Ponko were born on the planet Texas, and half of us was born on Georgia. I grew up in a house of former drug dealer "Wrongy Plonk" (Alternatively, "Wrongy Prism"). He had moved out when I had moved in with my family. Lights which sustained the marijuana were left hanging in the garage which reeked of the diggity dank. I was two years old when we bought the house. Upon entering my abode the ganja'd out fumes hit my underdeveloped baby brains which sent me into a spiral of funky cool. I became one with the cosmic gnarlhood, it's gnarly features were too much to bear for anyone who wasn't of the proper mindset. In this case, my mind was far from set, in fact, it toppled over to the side and fell asleep for a while, and when it awoke, my drug-addled baby mind was funky cool. But I didn't know that yet. Wrongy Plonk, who now resided on the south side of West Korea, wasn't aware of the birth of a Funkchild, nor did he know what one was. Nor did I, nor Ponko know what one was. Even though we were them and they were us, so to speak. Ponko was birthed by his human mother in the east side of Georgia, on an island (St. Roseblock's Socialist Republic of the People) that was conquered by a Georgian Mafia leader back in the 80's. Ponko was born, like, a year after me; Since we're the same person the time difference was super confusing. Ponko and I ended up being both a year older and a year younger. Please don't take us the wrong way, we are two different people. We are just the same exact people. At the tender age of 1, night dawned, and Ponko was fast asleep in his blue crib which had the words "Ekud Cimsoc" carved out into the side of it. That's probably Latin. That night he heard light. He saw colors coagulate from the carpet and transmute into a Horseman. He stared him down with deep purple cyan eyes and whispered "Bro, I rode the Cranbog into your roof, sorry lol." That was translated from early Cyrillic. The Horseman wrote out the Cyrillic letters with his voice, he had first contributed the Cyrillic language/alphabet to the planet Earth, but since everyone forgot it he was super mad and didn't chill with humans anymore. Ponko understood him and Horseman understood him. In fact, it was Horseman's first encounter with a human since he last encountered one. He sat Ponko on his lap and imbued his mind with funked out groove. He mouthed the last four letters of the Cyrillic alphabet and left a bowl of soup. Ponko too, now joined the FUNKCHILD MOVEMENT. He didn't know, I didn't know.
On a funky August morning the ochre leaves fell from the trees, and didn't fly back up and attach themselves onto the branches. On one of the trees it was written "Ekud Cimsoc". Must be Latin. As we matured, we aged, and as we aged we turned better, and more potent. Like fine wine, per se. In fact, if you bit down under our skins, our blood tasted like grapes and alcohol. Ponko and I were cool guys, on that funky August morning we were awoken by a SHARED HALLUCINATION. A cloaked man with eyes glistening, standing in a field of white lights and large tubes of swirly colors, a smell of strawberry scented markers was in the air. The air was thick and you could taste it. It tasted like air. The man's cloak lit up and he danced, his head turned but his eyes were fixed on me. I had turned my head to see a young man a year younger than me, he stood there too, I was not alone in the astral plane of color. A cacophony of cosmic love. A voice was heard. It was bold, you could see it. It spoke in Esperanto.
LOAVES OF BREAD, LOAVES OF BREAD. YOU CAN TASTE IT.
YOU CAN HAVE IT, DEAR CALVES.
WE CAN SING HERE.
THE TRAVELLING CIRCUS, IT LIVES, OK?
YOU ARE THE TRAVELLING CIRCUS, DEAR CALVES.
WHAT HO, THE KREMLIN SHOWS.
It might not seem like a lot to you, but oh boy, were we excited. We couldn't understand it either, but we heard him, and heard him once. And forever. He united us, the Funkchildren, we were the ones who served him, and he gifted us with love. This story marks our insanity, but it doesn't; What's really marked is "Ekud Cimsoc." It's marked on your trees.
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