The Trance Terrors by R.K. Galvez (pdf to ebook reader txt) 📕

was nothing more liberating than gassing on for eternity! I am very sorry dear reader, I had to get that one in there to lighten the tone and for other commercial purposes; just for the record, I should add that I was advised by my Mongolian Spiritual Guru, Tnuk Nam, and he said to me that I must copy Terry Pratchett or I will not have a career. He said pulp fantasy and esoteric texts had pretty much died out.

 …I had to gain a truthful direction. There was only one way…Maybe another way was hidden. You had to face evil to truly conquer it…The good will out; it will be shown to be in you…

 …I had no idea about that industry thing; I am not really the networking cock-sucking/arse-licking type to be honest with you...Why oh why can I not sell myself well! I always give it away and I always end up getting funny with my target audience…I cannot help it; I have started evaporation therapy….

 …I am not sure about the advice of Tnuk Nam...His guru credentials are a bit shaky. He showed me some homemade snuff films, made in 1969, and the footage of his failed artsy sex magick rituals…Apparently he has not found the right fit…

 …I should not have married his sister online, but one mistake always leads to another… Les was always a cheerful character in a depressing way; that makes you acknowledge that all history as sequence of melancholic cycles of pain.

 Why had he been chosen by the realm-slayers? I do not know but Les had never had a proper job, apart from his drag act. Tnuk Nam knew all kinds of people, including pop whores who would do anything for a bit of airtime.

 MAKE ME NO LONGER MYSELF

 …Tnuk Nam looked well-coiffed for a bone fide New Age Guru: with long pink braids, leather chaps, and tinted glasses circa 1985; he even occasionally wore sarongs and diamond flip-flops and constantly tanned his pale skin the colour of baked beans. His skin was so tanned it was able to change colour depending on his moods…

…When Tnuk Nam got the look, his glasses varied their tint. It worked well with his skin changing colour, too. Les had a good idea they were getting it on when Tnuk Nam took interest in him; Les liked a man with tinted spectacles; it secretly aroused him. His loincloth became tight at the crotch and he would occasionally leak some strange glowing goo onto Tnuk Nam… Les knew it was getting dangerous…

...Tnuk Nam smiled, slowly licking at the goo. Tnuk Nam had a powerful enchantment; he seemed to revel in his sexual power over men and women. And he knew that it had got very tough for younger drag queens trying to break on through, as you can only imagine. It has to be said that the world can be an extremely competitive place. Like a giant version of Celebrity Squares, where everyone can be the celebrity…That was not too important, I suppose. But Les had been thinking about his destiny; he had totally forgotten about going to see Professor Norkgrub. He had also forgotten about that timeless vagabond, Johnny Quagga; another queer voice he would ignore. He needed some extreme intervention.

It was supposed to be 1961 that was attempted to be remodeled in 2007. Les got seduced by the industry side of things; the glitter and sparkles. Les even purchased a top-notch synthesizer off some guy called Gerald...

…LaDy BuBa HoTeK was a friend and fellow performer of Les Barloy’s, who worked with him at the Squatshot Club. She wanted to be in the “groove” and hit the Big Time [RUSHRUSHRUSH!]…

…She was always rushing (even without any energy). And she was always coming; she liked that a lot, she told me so during a bad gig… She did not care what dimension she hit either; she just wanted to hit it all the time. Personally, I hated all those hipster inflections…

LaDy BuBa HoTeK admitted someone who looked like Madonna (obviously an impersonator) had watched her masturbate via web-cam. Her new album was called ‘Wet Entrance, Bloody Exit’… It flopped on Earth but done well on Trooluz 9, though no-one knew it had survived the Venusian holocaust…LaDy BuBa HoTeK then continued to process their orders and it became a long-term arrangement. Everyone expected a live cam…Most seditious groups valued this practice…

…She had used all her equipment in the pleasure-seeking process. The other plan was to film a Greek Tragedy in an antiquated female correctional facility, where all the actresses simultaneously gave birth to insect-mutant babies. The Chinese would make their little spandex suits, as all mutants must wear spandex. Life always needs to be protected, no matter what it looked like. Then the world would end, in a bloody fashion, of course...

 PART ONE: THIS MIGHT BE THE PLOT…

 Apparently, LaDy BuBa HoTek did not know if it was the real Madonna. It was just someone calling themselves ‘Madonna’... It was all part of her act, as all performers needed to perform tricks. The other Pop acts would not fully go ‘Pop-Porn’…She needed a fake tranny sidekick to DJ for her, to warm up the crowd and “get the feel”….

 Les did not like spending too much time with LaDy BuBa HoTeK. She wanted him to be her tranny sidekick. Les had a good idea that she was a full-time prostitute – a real high-class professional always searching for a new greasy pole to climb -- and she was a non-stop networking force of nature. She loved to be connected; she would do anything for that golden ticket. Unfortunately she was no salted verruca. She was a smart cookie: She had a tax free ISA and a spaceship in her garage.

"Listen to me, Poxie," said Lady BuBa HoTeK.

 "Maybe one day," Les replied, smiling a cheeky smile.

 "I will get you into the ways of networking. You need to get with it. No joke. The world just passes everyone by. It's the last time I work with Von RapArd. That Futurist waster has gone back to his cleaning job," she sneered.

 "I didn't know that. It's tough being artsy though, isn't it? I don't like networking; I don't really like artsy people. I just like the group sex afterwards,” Les confessed.

 “I knew it! You crafty queer queen, Poxie!” cooed LaDy BuBa HoTeK.

 “Anyway, LaDy BuBa HoTek what's your real name?" asked Les.

 "I thought I told you? I'm Jinny Jinkins, aren’t I? I hate my real name, sounds like one of those fake names you tell people who you don't want to know your real name; it does a bit, don’t it?"

 Les smiled a fake smile to match that of the lady formerly known as Jinny.

Les said, "Maybe. I'm quite open-minded. I don't mind if you kept your real name a secret, Jinny. Jinny does sound strange to be honest with you; but a name’s just a name at the end of the day! I just didn't want you always calling me Poxie. I was being a bit funny. I prefer the quiet life of the electric saver. And I need to see another specialist. He's called Professor Norkgrub. He's going to sort me out good and proper this time."

 "Poxie, you really are a luvvie at times, do you know that?"

 "No, I don't like being called a luvvie. I'm not a total mince, am I?"

 "I'm sure Callum will have something to say about that! You know why he changed his name to Regor Nocab? I think he's an occult-anarcho-conceptualist pop-pornographer now. I don't get it. Does that sound trendy, though? He'll work with all the best; he'll get a case of the funts again and have to jack off his beats! He always preferred to up his beats a bit. He'll do it all live, you know! His sky has no net! I bet he's gone back into Voodoo porn electronica again -- I just knew it might make a bit of money!"

 Les shrugged. Regor struggled to sell five million units worldwide. He also had sold them to Dust Mite People, so the sales did not technically count as “Human Sales”. He had only given his art away for free, as the humans would not pay for it. He did not quite understand things these days. He hated networking. He did not know any real humans, anyway. And he had studied everything about ‘Killer of Sheep’…Maybe he was not on Earth anymore?…

"I honestly don't know, Jinny. I just wish I was able to control Time a bit more."

"Don't we all? Listen to me, I'm offering you a real shot here, Poxie. A one shot deal! Don't you want everything? I'm being serious; come to my new agency with me?"

 "I think I'll pass on that, Jinny. Please call me Les. I keep thinking I’m melting into other people. Look, I’ve said before that I will do my own bookings from now on. I can't be bothered with all the fuss; it's so much easier just to stick to one place."

"Suit yourself, Poxie; stay small-time and trampy, but I'm going inter-galactic in a totally trans-dimensional kind of way! I'll be so universal by the end of the year. Your priorities are pretty fucked up - you need to see the reality of the real world! Everyone will have instant access to me, don't you crave it? Do you know what that means? I'm getting with Goodnow and Goodmann. You must have heard of them? They're legends in their own right. Don't you know? They're based with the C.O.G.! You must know them, Les?"

Les was stumped; she had called him Les, though he did not remember telling her his real name. Maybe his magickal astral cover had been blown…He was feeling like an extra-terrestrial biological entity all over again. All Les said was:

"I've never heard of them, but I wish you all the best, Jinny. At the end of the day, remember me wishing you happiness."

"I don't get you, I really don’t; happiness is dead, it died in 1979; it's an over-rated ideal. We can take the world over together, can't we?"

"I don't really care about this world to be honest with you. It's only another world after all. We’ve got 800 or so more exo-planets to re-populate. Think of all those worlds within worlds," Les replied. His eyes twinkled; crystal spiders crawled out of his tears…  

Les walked away from the stunned LaDy BuBa HoTeK. He had given her the mission cojones. She vanished into thin air, as Les glanced back to give her his best prissy glare; the classic glare of a well-trained mincing poof – just possibly his best glare ever. Better than that staring gopher he saw online…Les had never been viral. The times have a funny way of changing…

…Les shrugged again and realized he should have worn a real coat. His cheesecloth poncho was way too thin for the chilly London weather. What a summer! It might snow tomorrow. He looked around him, feeling like he had forgotten something. Les suddenly remembered he needed to see Professor Norkgrub…

 PART TWO: THIS CANNOT BE A PLOT…Les walked to Norkgrub's office on Kilburn High Road. It did not appear to exist. Les heard another voice behind him. What a strange voice - it sounded like a familiar voice – the shrill inflections mixed with how his old History Teacher, Mr Skewy, had spoken. Strange how he always had a pipe with him; but the cosmic voice broiled his fragile blood brain barrier and said:

 "Hello Les Barloy, I'm Johnny Quagga! I need you to follow me and help me find Professor Norkgrub. There's a secret door in The Good Ship. Go there and vanish in the Good Ship. It's a pub, Les. You really don't get out much, do you? "

 Les nodded and went to The Good Ship. He was sure it would be better there than at that infernal time-shifting public house known to astral types as the Christchild and Vonderpump…Les took ample time to evacuate his bowels there, too. He released