Cupid Boy and the Arranged Marriage
Chapter Two: The Perils of Psyche
Exotix Bar
Yesterday my wife left me, Its now, like, a day later. I had no luck finding my beloved Psyche, so I did the next best t0hing, purchased a bunch of blue roses (just in case) and then got drunk on carrot juice at the Exotix bar.
I was so self-absorbed I didn’t even hear Phil approach.
“Come on” says Phil pulling me out of my seat and dragging me toward the library room (I pulled him back to the table to retrieve the roses before following)
As with all rooms in the Exotix Bar the library’s ‘skin’ is themed by the person that opens its portal. If I’d opened it, it would look like the Hal9000 computer, if Mark the Yucca had opened it, it would probably look like Saruman’s Tower. This time it looks like the library on Buffy the Vampire slayer, I don’t know who’d choose that as a theme, most of us here at the bar would consider it to be in bad taste.
Books are spread all over the table and pretty much everyone I know is there looking things up.
I’m kind of flattered by the turn out.
Who have we got? There’s Morph and Junior a pair of morphologically challenged penises, Pris, my ex-girlfriend, who’s also a Were-mecha, Lambourne the stallion, his two centaur sons Arkle and Redrum, Fred ‘The Pred’ Pringle (you’ve seen him, he had a movie career a while back), Vic the lizardboy, Mikey the Barkeep, the bar’s owner, Buzz the Bee-man and of course Mark the carnivorous Yucca, you all know.
“Uncle Doug! Uncle Doug!” cries Arkle cantering over to my side and giving my knee a hug
“We found it!” boasts Redrum doing the same from the other side.
It’s amazing; they are like, 9 months old and are already the size of 6 year olds with minds closer to those of ten year olds. They’re the result of one of my earliest matchmaking attempts; I’m an embarrassingly proud step-uncle.
“That’s good! Well-done boys! What did they find?”
Pris puts down a scroll that she’s been studying.
“Dougy San, We’ve found out that you are in much much deeper shit than usual. You’ve gone and got yourself trapped in a post-destination loop.”
“A what?”
“You’ve heard of pre-destination?”
“That’s like, where everything I’m ever going to do is, like, fated to happen?”
“Well Post-Destination is when you are fated to repeat your ancestor’s mistakes”
“Uh oh”
“Uh oh is right, but it isn’t all bad, you do get the constellation Pisces named after you.”
“I die?”
“Of course not, your ancestor and his Psyche just got to be stars is all”
“I’m getting the impression that you don’t mean ‘film star’.”
“Βeta Pisces and Kappa Pisces to be precise” adds Lambourne helpfully.
“News Flash guys. I don’t want to be a large ball of burning hydrogen”
“That’s what we figured. Fortunately we have a plan” replies Phil putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
I’m so worried by all this I don’t even bother to ask if the plan is a cunning plan.
“Ok, what happened last time is this; Aphrodite got to hear that Eros...that’s you...had married and gave the original Psyche several impossible tasks to complete if she wanted you back, the last of which put her in a ‘death-like sleep’...what we’d call a coma”
“No!” I gasp
“...The previous ‘you’ got Zeus to immortalize her and that’s how the whole star thing happened.” continued Pris.
“All we have to do is make sure she gets through the whole impossible task thing un-injured, and without anyone realizing that we’ve interfered. If we can do that the post-destination cycle is broken....easy!” says Phil confidently.
“I-yah isn’t wantin’ tu bruk yo’ upful mon. But dere’ being a prob-lem wid yo bizness.” Says Fred the Pred in his toothy mangled Bermudan accent.
My universal translation sense allows me to hear him say *I don’t want to ruin your good mood old chap but there’s a problem with your affairs.*
(I wonder why my universal translation sense seems to give everyone a British English accent...even Texans!)
“What else can go wrong?” I laugh weakly
“De tasks is bein’ dif’rent, hupdated by time. We got to be findin’ what de tasks be ‘for we can be fixin’ dem.” he explains.
“So what were the original tasks?”
“Cleaning a temple, sorting corn, shearing the golden fleece from a flock of man-eating sheep and the tricky one...fetching Persephone’s cosmetics from the realm of the dead.”
“Well, looks like two out of four have to be completely different....I mean nobody I know has any man eating sheep and I haven’t seen any entrances to the realm of the dead recently, not even here in the Exotix Bar.” I say, more to jolly myself along than for anything else.
Pris winces.
“What?”
“I’d have to check, but genetically modified sheep would be exactly the sort of thing my ex-employers at Genon Corp might have come up with. A source of biologically generated gold that has a built in lethal security system...yeah, that’s exactly the sort of thing Sensei Sanami would come up with.”
“Oh fucking great! So anyone seen the entrance to hell recently?” I say sarcastically.
I then remember the Buffy episode where the Hell-mouth is directly below the library and look nervously at the floor. I’m not the only one to glance down.
Suddenly Phil claps his hands, snapping us all out of it.
“Alright listen up people, lets not worry about death just yet, first task is to find Psyche and bug her...we need to know what exactly she’s getting asked to do.
“Pris, you’d better get onto Genon and find those sheep.
“Mikey, can you use your connections? See if The Big Guy is interested in us owing him a ‘personal favor?’
“The rest of you people, our target had been on the run for 48 hours. Average ground speed on Greek roads is eight miles an hour, barring breakdowns. That gives us a radius of 100miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every Church, temple, synagogue, mosque, meeting house, vicarage, nunnery, monastery, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse within that area. Checkpoints go up at the ports and airport. Your fugitive’s name is Mrs. Psyche Saunderson, go get her” orders Phil.
That would have been sooo much more convincing if I didn’t know the movie he was misquoting from or if everyone hadn’t just stared at him like he’d grown a second head instead of ‘go getting’ like they’d been told.
I spent the next few hours alone, pacing up and down, looking for trapdoors in the library dimension’s floor, without success.
Finally my phone rings and I scramble to answer it. The rotten thing had crawled under a pile of books, grimoires, tomes and data-chips; it was making a nest for itself inside the New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology (uncensored edition)
MobilePhones are another of those un-natural species, similar to TV-Remotes, when humans are about they freeze, terrified of discovery; but as soon as your back is turned they scuttle toward their nest, usually the back of the couch. If you get really lucky they’ll breed in there, but usually the strongest one will kill and eat its weaker rival.
Usually I have my phone on a leash but in the excitement I guess I forgot to tether it.
“Dougy!” I acknowledge, holding the phone tight to stop it wriggling
“Morph here. Me and Junior have got her, She’s in Macys Istanbul branch, see.” he says in his best Dirk Bogart -Maltese Falcon accent, I can see on the video image that he looks the part too; that’s Morph’s ability, he can look like people and do the voice. Unfortunately right now he’s in black and white obviously never having seen a color photo of ol’ Bogey.
“She’s where?! I thought we were checking mosques and shit”
“I followed a hunch. According to the text the original babe...
(he gets a glare for disrespecting my beloved Psyche)
“...’consulted Demeter the goddess of the hearth’. I was on my way to that famous mosque here, when I noticed Macys advertising itself as ‘A Temple of Modern Kitchen Gadgets approved for use in the Devout Household’. Now that’s a bit of a departure from Macys usual ‘Sale—50% off’, so I took a look, jackpot. Hang on I’ll transmit the video.
The most beautiful girl in the world walked past the displays of kitchen cutlery, she paid the goods no heed. She’d come here for retail therapy but had so far put nothing at all in her basket.
She was so absorbed in grief that she didn’t even notice the gray skinned guy in the hat, pointing a cam-phone at her.
A moment later she’s shaken out of her dark mood by the crash of breaking pottery, her basket has clipped a 6ft tall pyramid of novelty mugs sending the whole lot crashing to the carpeted floor.
Sobbing in despair she moves to tidy the mess, glancing around to see if she can find a shop assistant to tell, only to find they are all busy at the checkouts.
Knowing that her luck has changed to permanently bad she begins the task of tidying the breakages and rebuilding what’s left of the stacked display herself.
With only fourteen mugs left to balance she feels a presence, and turns to see a middle-aged shop assistant with the name ‘Demi’ on her lapel.
“I’m so sorry, I knocked the stack, I’ll pay for the breakages” she babbles, her tears returning.
“Easy, easy there. It ain’t no never mind, it’s only a few mugs” soothes Assistant Demi.
“I’m sorry, Its not just the mugs, they’re just the last straw. Everything’s gone wrong with my life, my husband has left me, my best friends committed suicide... and its all my fault, if only I hadn’t doubted him”
“Men! I might have known! Come and sit down and tell Aunt Demi all about it”
“You don’t understand! He’s the kindest, gentlest most beautiful person in the world! All he asked was that I trust him. (sob) But I didn’t! My sisters said he was a monster, and I believed them, I even fed him garlic and holy water! How can I ever get my Cupid Boy back?”
“Cupid? Oh my, you do have troubles don’t you. Do you really love Douglas?”
“Douglas (sniff) is that his name? He said he couldn’t tell me” replies Psyche, not stopping to wonder how a shop assistant knows her Cupid’s name.
“Do you really love him?” repeats Demi, in a dead serious voice
“With all my heart!”
“Then you’d better go see his mother, she’s likely the reason he didn’t want his name known; get her on your side and you’ll soon have him back.”
“But...I don’t know who his Mother is”
“She’s a regular client in our cosmetics department, She’s called
Aphrodite....she owns a chain of stores called ‘Aphrodite Summers’ they sell intimate apparel and sex-aids. I’m sure you can track her down. A word of warning though, she can be a tad ‘difficult’ so tread carefully.”
“Thank you!” say’s Psyche giving Demi a hug.
The video clip ends.
“Oh Shit! Aphrodite will kill her...or me.. Or both of us!” I gasp
“Well, yeah. That is why we’re tryin’ to save... your cute lil’ butt” points out Morph in a John Wayne drawl
“Oh! Yeah, thanks!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve planted Junior on her, he’ll pretend to be an ant and hang out in her clothing. We’ll know exactly what happens.”
“Junior?” If you can hear nervousness in my voice, it’s because Junior used to be a wreathing mass of erectile tentacles the size of a school bus.
“Its cool, he understands he was a ‘bad boy’ back in New York.”
“He’d better” I really don’t like the idea of Junior hiding out in Psyche’s clothes; especially as I’m pretty sure I know his hiding place of choice.
The Library
I spent the next few minutes phoning the others letting them know what had happened.
Soon my posse are reappearing, the entry portal is changing to look like a variety of differing door shapes as each new arrival ports in.
Unfortunately they are followed by a somewhat less welcome visitor...its Mom.
Before any of them can act she’s hitting them with an un-visibility effect similar to my own. They all turn to look at the personification of feminine love and completely forget everything else.
“You said someone unacceptable... I figured I’d do” I say in a weak voice with a nervous grin.
“Oh you are unacceptable all right Eros. My first thought was to just give you a spank and a good plucking. But then I thought of a far better punishment! I’ve set the bitch...”
“..Yes, yes several impossible tasks, yadda, yadda” I interrupt “You are like, so 6th century BC. Well newsflash Mom, I’ve read the rules too and if my Psyche succeeds in beating your tasks I get to keep her!”
I guess I must have had a rush of love to the brain, thinking back I must have been insane to say something like that to a Goddess.
“So be it!” smiles Aphrodite victoriously “In any event, it will all be over soon. I tossed Psyche’s wedding ring grain Silo, all she has to do is find her ring.”
“She’ll find it, easy!”
“The Silo is aboard the bulk transport ship Grain Argo, so no handy ant colony to help her this time!..oh and just to add a little zest to the game, that ship’s due to sink in about ..oh.. let’s say 54 minutes”
“What?!” I gasp, realizing that I’m not the only one who knows our back-story.
“Be seeing you” She smiles and vanishes.
The instant she’s gone my posse is released from her spell.
“Quick! Mom was just here, she told me Psyche’s first task! She’s got to find her wedding ring, Mom hid it on some grain ship that’s due to sink in less than an hour!”
“Yo Dougy-mon, you mudda she is bein’ dee I candy” says Fred The Pred still getting over the effects of her un-visibility.
The others are in no better shape. Poor Morph has reverted to his natural phallic form and is so erect he’s virtually a statue. He tries morphing into a more human form, it doesn’t help, he’s stood to attention with veins bulging along his arms, his face bright red and tilted upward.
“Go get some cold water to throw on him” instructs Lambourne.
Arkle and Redrum nod and gallop away to find a bucket and a faucet.
“Phone... Junior... He can... Help” gasps Morph through swollen lips.
As if hearing its name my phone starts scuttling back toward its nest. Not fast enough! I grab it and give the quickdial button a vindictively hard jab.
MS Grain Argo,
The most beautiful girl in the world sat in the middle of a sea of grain, desperately scrabbling about amongst the pile.
She never saw the distinctive periscope-like eye that emerged from the corn looked around then ducked back out of sight. Had she seen it she would probably have looked for something to brace the walls with. It was the sort of eye one associates with Trash Compactors on the bigger Imperial vessels.
And had she seen what was under the grain she’d probably have been screaming.
Off to one side a tentacle quietly surfaces holding the cam-phone that’s feeding the scene back to the rest of us.
Junior had once been a scientist, researching exotic creatures. Due to some careless handling of some Morph seed by a certain Cupid Boy she’d become exactly the sort of creature she’d been intending to dissect.
With her change in form (and gender) had come a few new instinctive priorities. In short, given a choice, Junior would much rather have been doing a spot of ravishing. Only the fear of his elder brother Morph, keeps him in line, mostly. On the upside his main mission, spying on Psyche, allowed him to hide in some entertaining places, a situation I’m not entirely happy about.
A tiny hair width filament of tentacle near the bottom of the silo brushes against pure gold.
Swiftly Junior causes the member to swell filling the ring and then pushing it to the surface within reach of Psyche’s scrabbling hands.
Her efforts cause the ring to sink deeper and Junior has to retrieve it again.
Three more times the ring is placed within reach only for it to be swept away by the frantic search.
In the end I get impatient and hiss down the phone “For fuck’s sake Junior! Give her the fucking ring!
My beloved Psyche suddenly finds the hand she has buried in the grain, is being grabbed. Desperately she tugs, trying to free herself.
I get the impression Junior is trying for a quick grope and growl “Do you want to fall in love with a Preying Mantis Junior? Stop fucking about”
Suddenly Psyche’s hand is free and she falls back on her butt, looking with amazement at my ring firmly back on her finger.
For a moment I think we’ve won, but isn’t going to be that simple; without warning Mom appears standing over Psyche, hands on hips.
“Cheat! That ring wasn’t retrieved by your own effort.”
“It was!” snaps my beloved.
Like I said my Psyche doesn’t take crap from anyone, not even my Mom.
Unfortunately Mom has proof, she shoves her hand into the grain and pulls out Junior by the hair. He currently looks like Peter Pan and is stood to attention, paralyzed by Mom’s beauty exactly the way Morph had been.
“What do you call this then?” asks Mom sweetly
“?!” my beloved Psyche has, like, no clue.
“I declare this challenge void. Bring me some of Genon’s golden fleece instead.” snaps Mom, doing her vanishing thing.
Psyche is left standing over Junior’s paralyzed body trying to get her head around what just happened. The human brain has to work really really hard to ignore weird shit, in the end her conscious mind gives up and edits Junior out of her memory. Ignoring him like he’s invisible she walks toward the silo’s hatch with a determinedly dreamy look on her face.
I really hope the stress of having all us weird folks turn up isn’t hurting her mind.
The Library
Another day passes, and I sleep in the library just in case there’s news. I feel so helpless! Sex Gods shouldn’t feel that way! I keep getting the urge to go out to a speed dating bar and get some wrist exercise in.
I wonder if my love venom becomes toxic if I abstain from matchmaking? It’s been the longest I’ve gone without shooting anyone and it’s like not sneezing you know... I know I will sooner or later.
The others pop in every now and again to see if there’s news, there isn’t. The only positive thing is that Psyche hasn’t found the sheep either.
Finally the portal opens and Mikey the Barkeep returns from his audience with The Big Guy
“Did He agree?” I pounce before the Barkeep can open his mouth.
“You’d better summon the others first, I’m afraid they’re not going to like the deal I had to cut.” say’s Mikey in doom laden voice.
At this point I should explain about The Big Guy ...He Who Works in Mysterious Ways... Basically Good and Evil have this armistice thing going on, and you really really don’t want to mess with either faction’s top guy.
Sometimes if you have something He wants, you can offer to do Him or the ‘Family a ‘Personal Favor’ Capish?
Personally I find the other Big Guy easier to deal with, all he wants is souls for the barbi.
Soon, the entire posse is present, including Pris, whose armor looks like she’s gone three rounds with Godzilla san.
“OK, we’re all here... Did he agree?”
“Yep, I got you both signed up for ‘Close Personal Protection’, full immortality cover and his number one guy looking out for you.”
“That... Is incredible” say’s Phil clearly awed “Even Dubya doesn’t get that sort of protection. I mean that’s Gabby himself he’s put on your case.”
“What is the catch Mikey San?” asks Pris
“He gets the movie rights. We have to film the entire thing...and we have to recreate any incidents that have already happened.”
There’s a long long silence as that sinks in.
I think about it for a few seconds, looking for the real catch...I can’t see any real problem, I mean if they can do Blair Witch with a handheld, its not exactly difficult.
“Sorted!” I grin widely
“...and make at least $50 million at the box office” adds Mikey the Barkeep
Oh Shit!
“Clever clever bastard” says Phil thoughtfully “Don’t you see, He’s playing within the post-destination’s rules. The post-destination is trying to force an ending where you and Psyche are ‘Stars’; by defining star as film-star, it doesn’t matter to him if you two live or not, He’s still picking up a sure thing on the box office. And what is Gabriel patron saint of? Yep you guessed it, broadcasting, even your personal protection has an angle on this”
I really want to swear about The Big Guy’s parentage, but it’s just something you don’t want to do in a confined space with innocent bystanders.
“So...where the hell do we get a camera, let alone a film crew?” I wonder out loud
“M’good brudder hAr-Nold can ‘elp wid dis bizness, we waz in a film t’gedder back in heighty-tree” says Fred.
That sounds good except that Fred is always bumming drinks and usually starts an anecdote with the words ‘Back in heighty-tree...’ or ‘I waz sayin’ to hAr-nold, I said..’
Still, there’s always possible he really does have connections.
“Great! Thanks Fred, see what you can do.” I say in what I hope is an enthusiastic tone and give Mark the Yucca a ‘go with’ gesture.
Quietly Pris clears her throat. It’s one if the odd things about Pris, she can be ultra-shy and respectful one moment and an ice-cold ‘destroy-Tokyo’ combat-monster the next.
I bow respectfully to her. I have found it’s much easier to be respectful to someone whose right arm can become a plasma beam cannon if needed. She cut me in half once, jeez was that painful.
“Did you find the sheep Pris?”
“Yes Dougy San. I also managed to escape after finding them.”
“I guess Genon security has gotten tougher since that little accident in New York.... Shadow Ninjas?” I nod wisely.
“No Dougy San. Genon do not need Ninjas, those sheep are quite capable of defending themselves.”
“But they’re sheep” I blurt, confused.
“Dougy San, picture the tyrannosaur enclosure at Jurassic park. Now picture a sheep the size of an Indian elephant with a taste for human flesh and the temperament of an insane hippo. I don’t think you have worry about the movie making money, with those sheep the action scenes are going to be spectacular”
I must have looked like a ghost at that point, the color draining from my face, My Psyche’s life is going to be in serious danger.
Sheep Pen
I lower the binoculars and shudder. I wouldn’t go in there with those sheep, even if I do grow back when I’m injured.
Behind me my film crew are busy unpacking and setting up the trailer park. Apparently Fred really does know hAr-nold and hAr-nold knows Quentin. Quentin, well he gets keen on the whole idea and now we have a ‘small crew’ out here, about eighty humans so far not counting union reps.
“This really isn’t going to work” I sigh “I mean look at that lot, they aren’t exactly inconspicuous. Either Psyche or Mom are bound to notice something.”
“Don’t worry I...” says Phil
“...have a plan?” I interrupt, guessing.
“Seriously, I can fix it so Psyche doesn’t notice the film crew, and I can also fix your other problem.”
“What other problem?” I ask giving my wings a flap for emphasis.
“You’ve been irritable all week. My guess is you’ve been so worried about Psyche you haven’t even masturbated, let alone used your love darts....for a God of Love I figure that’s pretty serious, possibly even unhealthy.”
“So, what do you want? I nip down to the beach for some target practice? Make a few hundred new loving relationships?”
“You should probably do that anyway. No, all we have to do is convince Psyche that she’s booked to star in our movie and that if you and her actually erhmm....(he does a hand gesture that indicates full on sex with kissing and nipple sucking)...then she’ll think it was all in her dreams” says Phil toying with the pocket watch he uses to hypnotize people with.
I don’t spend more than a second worrying whether what Phil’s suggesting is sociopathically disrespectful. After all, she wouldn’t be risking an encounter with giant carnivorous sheep if she didn’t love me.
“Ok, go for it”
Psyche’s mansion
As always with Phil’s plans there’s a little snag he’s not thought of. This time the problem is that, unlike the most excellent Cupid Boy, Phil the Were-hypnotist is 100% visible to human sight.
My father in law’s security is more than enough to keep us out. For some reason Phil is, like, totally unfazed by this and sits down like he’s sunbathing.
“Well?” I ask impatiently (I still haven’t visited the beach)
“Just relax, play with yourself or something. We go in when the time is right.”
“hmph!”
I take to the air and circle overhead, spiraling inside a thermal; it may not look like pacing up and down but it is equivalent to it.
After what seems like an eon or two I see the dust kicked up by a car and glide down, landing next to Phil.
“Car coming” Says I
“You only just spotted it?” says Phil implying that his senses are way better than mine (which they are mostly).
Without bothering to get up he gestures toward the approaching Contache. “Do me a favor Dougy, stop that car,...gently mind, I need to have a chat with the driver”
“Ok” I think I see his plan now and focus my attention on the speeding motorist.
Now I suppose you are thinking this is going to be one of those ‘glare-intently-and-magically-the-car-stops’ moments. Well if you do think that you ain’t been paying attention. All I can do is distract the guy with my perfect body, now normally that would mean he’d be busy looking over his shoulder at me whilst his car said hello to the gatehouse wall.
Fortunately I’m more cleverer than that. After that pile up on route 66 (which really wasn’t my fault) I’ve been experimenting, I can now stop traffic rather than just crash traffic.
It’s really not that difficult once you’ve thunk it through. I figure seeing me is kind of like falling asleep at the wheel. What does a driver do when he realizes he’s been asleep at the wheel? He breaks hard, swerves a bit and then goes slower.
All I need to do is flicker my aura of lust repeatedly until I catch him with his foot on the break, sorted!
The Contache squeals like its in pain, tires smoking and the back-end fishtailing wildly. Fortunately both Phil and I have good reflexes, I go airborne and Phil leaps so that he lands easily on the car’s hood.
Ok, note to self, make sure he’s not turning the wheel when you zap a driver.
Phil gives me a quick glare, so I shrug and flip him the bone.
Slowly the occupants get out, it’s Max Clipart, and he has two serious lookers with him, girls I instantly recognize, Posh Babe and Scary Babe, the singers Max has hired to replace Psyche’s suicidal band; that’s two more people than I expected.
For a moment I consider using my un-visibilty to freeze them in place, but think better of it, its only professional courtesy to let Phil do his thing.
“I...I’m sorry, I nearly... I mean are you ok?” stammers the publicist
“I’m ok, I think. My watch, damn! I hope it’s not broken” says Phil, sounding shaken and fishing around in his sequin covered Jacket.
Finally he fishes out his gold, gem encrusted pocket watch and dangles it in front of their eyes.
“My eyesight’s still kinda fuzzy, can you see any damage?” he asks, all three lean close.
Gotcha. An instant later Phil’s doing the whole Were-creature bit, his muscles bulging, going from slim-cyclist to heavyweight boxer in nothing flat, his carefully gelled hair turning into a wild mane.
“Fivforthreetwo-one SLEee!” The cry of the were-hypnotist, there’s not many who can resist his call when they make direct eye contact.
He once told me that I was a really tough subject and that he couldn’t hypnotize me. I found out later that I’d just spent an hour walking up to people and insisting that I wasn’t a Llama and then debating the matter even though they’d said they didn’t think I was one either. I came that >< close to making him fall in love with an Alpaca for that....
What? Oh yeah, the victims...
Regular humans don’t stand a chance, Max, Posh and Scary are under his power straight off.
Of course having gone into full Were-hypnotist mode, Phil’s forgotten why he wanted them under his power in the first place and is sniffing the three savoring the aroma of their sexy crotches.
No matter what sort of creature a ‘Were—’ transforms into there is always something of the dog about their behavior. (the ability to lick one’s own crotch being a dead give-away I.M.O.)
I’m just beginning to wonder if I should intervene when Phil forces himself back toward his normal self, loosing the Tarzan stance along with some of the muscle.
“Listen closely Maxwell, listen only to my voice, as you watch the clock ticking, the memory of why you are here fades further and further away when you see the second hand reach 12 the memory will be gone.”
“...gone” repeats the publicist.
“You are here because a famous director wants Psyche to star in her very own film. You are bringing his agent Philip to see her.”
“...See her”
“You find Phil to be a very masterful young man, the sort of charismatic person that deserves your obedience and undying respect. We will get in the car now, once you start driving, all that we have discussed will become the truth as you have always known it.”
“...known it” say’s Max sleepwalking back to the Contache, with Phil slipping into the passenger seat.
Suddenly I realize he’s leaving me alone with the hypnotized Babes.
“Hey Phil, what about these two”
“you’re a Love God Dougy, you’ll think of something...eventually” say’s Phil as the Contache accelerates away.
Now, you are all thinking you know what I did. You are thinking Cupid Boy: a lecherous, sex obsessed, allegedly immortal mister luvver-man, who has been left in charge of two of the world’s top babes; babes who happen to already be in a highly suggestible hypnotic trance.
Well you are wrong! That was the old me, the new me is a faithful husband to the beautiful Psyche.
I didn’t order them to kiss my feet, and lick upward until they got to my endowment.
I didn’t order them to have a tongue fight over who got to suck cock and who got to do the balls.
I didn’t order them to pleasure each other whilst I slurped at their proudly swollen nipples.
I definitely didn’t slip a finger into each vagina pressing expertly at exactly the right pressure point to cause a double orgasm.
And I absolutely did not order them to take turns wrapping their legs around my waist, riding up and down my pole like its a living dildo.
Nor did I get them to groom my fine white feathers. Did I mention that the points where feathers meet wing are erogenous zones, about equivalent to nipples. Aaagh that feels good.
So there! It never happened. I will admit to ordering the two famous singers to walk back to civilization and perform a really raunchy stage act for the benefit of the port’s artificially increased lesbian population. I was feeling guilty about those ex-boys ok?
Anyhow what with one thing or another it took about an hour before I followed Phil into the Villa.
True to form Phil has gone through the building like a gay tornado. All the maids and other female servants are stood to attention wherever he found them, eyes closed and hand delving into panty. As for the groundsmen, butlers and valets, all that remains is the occasional pile of clothes, almost as if they all crumbled to dust, like that star trek episode.
Of course the reality is quite different, they are all where Phil is, serving their new master in various erotic positions. I begin to worry that Phil’s been letting his wild hypnotist side a little too much free reign around my beloved Psyche.
Eventually I find him in the Olympic sized Jacuzzi.
“Were you successful?” I yell.
I had to yell because it’s that far from the near end of the Jacuzzi to the end where Phil is.
“What kept you?” he yells back taking a bite from a barbecued sausage that one of his slaves is holding between his lips.
I shrug and avoid the question.
“Where’s Psyche? Did you find her?” I shout back.
“Yep, sorted! She’s signed up for our film, quite eager actually, and pretty damn smart. She’s plotting to use our ‘fake’ sheep’s wool to deceive your mom.”
This all sounds pretty damn good. The fact that Psyche thinks Genon’s giant man-eating sheep are a special effect doesn’t register as important right then.
“Oh yeah, I found another cast member, according to your myth a river-spirit tips Psyche off about how to get some fleece, I found a confused ex-coy carp who will fit the bill just fine”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And the ‘other’ business?” I ask, eager to get back to nuptualling Psyche.
Phil grins, that large wolfish grin of his. “All you have to do is say ‘I’m a Llama’ and she’ll think she’s dreaming....and once you’re finished say ‘I am not a Llama’ and she’ll wake up.
“Ha bloody ha!” I glare at him and pretend to start looking for a roach for him to fall in love with.
It’s absolutely hopeless, Phil just doesn’t take me seriously. Annoyed I turn and stomp off toward Psyche’s room.
What? You expect me to tell you how I put my wife into a trance and fucked her nine ways to Sunday with all the passion of a sex god who’s abstained for a week? I’m not going to describe that! I mean sheesh, she’s mine not yours!”
The Sheep Pen
The limo pulls up next to the trailer park, the crew crowd around to show appreciation for the star. Apparently it is traditional to suck up to this week’s Diva, they even get a pay bonus for doing it, union rules they say, in their contract they say.
Quietly I jump down from the roof, I’ve been playing glider, hanging onto that boomerang shaped aerial thing and gliding with wings outstretched. Speed with minimal effort, that’s my style.
The crowd parts to allow Psyche a direct path to where our Director Quentin is talking to Cupid Boy.
Hold on! Reality Check! I’m here, so who the heck is that over there with Quentin.
Launching myself into the air I quickly locate Mark the Yucca and Fred The Pred lurking behind a hot dog van.
“Who.. the fuck.. is.. that?” I say pointing at the guy in the fake wings.
“He is being Leo di Caparoni mon”
“Your close up double” adds Mark helpfully
“My What?!”
“Quentin says the film needs a headline star, someone who doesn’t have a Floridian accent and is used to reading from the script” admits Mark
“Script?! We have a fucking script?” I reply dangerously.
“Dere is always bein’ a script mon.” replies Fred.
“This is getting out of hand!” I growl, already looking for someone or something for Leo to fall in love with.
“I know what you’re planning Dougy. Don’t do it. You need this movie to make money remember.” rustles Mark desperately
“You tell him, If he even looks like he fancies my Psyche, his love life is going to become something really bizarre and... And.. anatomically complicated!”
Yeah that’s right I’m as bad at making threats as I am with chat up lines. I decide the best course of action is to stomp off looking annoyed.
A day later, and the whole thing seems to have taken on a life of its own. I’m told they’ve got a second crew out in New Zealand working on recreating Demeter’s temple. They want a more traditional look, so I guess Macy’s kitchen department isn’t going to get a look in.
Over by the river, next to the 20ft tall stock fence, Psyche is doing a scene with the ‘River spirit’ who’s played by that ex-carp I shot, his name’s ‘Deep’.
There’s a problem, Deep may be a mer-man now but a few days ago he was just a fish; sure his mermaid lover is coaching him but he’s still not exactly the brightest of pondlife. To be honest he’s only co-operating because he’s on the promise of some wet sex with his girl afterwards.
“Be-ware of the the...big things”
(it gets worse when he improvises)
“CUT!”
“They are Sheep, Deep, got that? Sheep!”
“uh ok, the Big Things are called sheep” he replies and after a moment of brain cell straining thought “they don’t look like sheep. (his expression brightens, a genuine lightbulb moment) ...Can I spawn with Maria now?”
“Get your lines right and we’ll turn this stream opaque with our spawning.” promises his Maria, the ex-maid turned mermaid
Deep smiles, it’s a beautiful uncomplicated smile, he’s been reminded of his love and the reward he’ll get for saying his words.
“Take #58, Action”
Deep: “Beware of the sheep, lady, they have eaten everyone who has gone to their place.”
Psyche: “Why thank you for your warning River Spirit. But how am I ever going to get hold of some golden fleece, those sheep are simply terrifying”
(Who wrote this script?? Nobody’s talked like that since Wizard of Oz)
Deep: “See the trees, the sheep rub against them and the fur stuff comes off”
“CUT!...That’s Fur, not Fur Stuff!”
“Take #102, Action”
“.... sheep rub against them and the fur comes off”
“CUT! That’s a wrap!”
Finally!
Maria wastes no time, she may have been human once but my venom has made her fully compatible with Deep both physically and emotionally.
I can sense the mental link between them, it has grown, from the slim strand of energy I created into something all-consuming; the two mer-people share a love that goes beyond the rational.”
Don’t expect any humanoid style action though, their reproductive technique in rather fishy in nature. Put it this way I’m not swimming in that river anytime soon, not now she’s laid eggs in it....eeew.
I’m so distracted by Deep and Maria making out I nearly miss what’s about to happen.
Psyche’s climbing the stock fence and is already 10ft up. At about then it occurs to me, she thinks those sheep are animatronic! She’s going to get eaten!
I launch myself into the air intent on a heroic rescue.
Now you might think, carnivore the size of an elephant versus handsome winged dude, and, like, put money on the sheep. Well I’m a bit tougher than I look, I’ve defeated soul-sucking cheerleaders, mutated genital appendages, even been cut in half-length ways and still come out alive. Ok the cutting in half thing stung bit, but I’m still here, which is something.
So, those sheep; Mean fuckers, they see Psyche scurrying toward the stand of olive trees, their featureless gold eves tracking her like a pterosaur spotting a proto-mouse.
The ram bleats, a signal to its pack. I’m calling them a pack, herd just doesn’t do them justice. He lowers his head and charges intent on reducing the lovely Psyche to a patch of splattered strawberry preserve.
Behind me I can hear Quentin giving direction.
“3/4 Close up on the girl, don’t zoom too close, we want to get the entire disembowelment sequence...”
Fortunately I’m too focused on what I’m doing to get angry about that.
Here I come to save the day! With a swift flick of the wrist I send a love dart slamming into the Ram’s neck, the other dart hitting one of the ewes. Fortunately they don’t have armored skin, I didn’t think of that until afterwards.
Gradually the Ram slows, I contemplate giving it a few more darts for good measure. I’m reluctant though, an overdose of love venom will leave the creature with only a single thought, it will continue mating until it starves to death.
Psyche has seen the charging ram and stands petrified, perhaps realizing that the ram is not a Trojan horse stuffed full of special effects dudes.
With ten meters to go the ram’s regular sized sheep brain gets the message, it stops like its hit a large boulder, the mental link that only I can see flares brightly. Like some great dreadnought it begins to turn lining itself on the ewe’s rear, which is now pointed in his direction tail lifted invitingly. His turn complete he moves back up to ‘ramming speed’ and charges after the love of his life. Sorted!
Now Psyche’s not stupid, she looks up in my direction realizing she’s had help.
“I am a Llama!” I yell hastily.
Psyche’s face goes blank and she stands at parade rest, head bowed, for her this is all now a dream and I didn’t really intervene. This is not a good time for her to take a nap though.
Quickly I get out of sight and yell “I am not a Llama”
The effect is thankfully swift, Psyche blinks and then races to the olive trees, hurriedly grabbing huge wads of golden wire wool.
In the distance I can hear Quentin ranting. “Where the hell in MY script does it mention Llamas! Jordan, see what you can do about dubbing it out. Exec, tell that stunt guy he’s fired! Stunt guys don’t do improv, not on MY set!”
From a great distance in the other direction I can hear the tortured scream of steel plate being ripped to pieces. The force of the Ram’s passion has slammed both of the mutant sheep through the fence.
Fortunately for everyone else, the impact seems to have stunned the ewe and the ram is quite happy doing what he’d been planning to do.
Feeling rather pleased with the outcome I glide back toward the film crew, noticing only at the last minute that they are all frozen looking in the direction of Psyche...and Mom.
Quickly I dive behind Leo’s trailer and listen from there.
“I... got you... your golden fleece” gasps Psyche out of breath and offering the glittering wire wool to Mom.
“Doesn’t count! Which part of ‘without help’ does this film crew come under?” snaps Mom vindictively
Psyche looks confused, Phil’s hypnotic instructions and reality are having a little war in her head.
“I don’t think you are supposed to mention the film crew, Quentin wants this to look authentic rather than post-modern” confides Psyche as if talking to a fellow actress.
I smirk, the look on Mom’s face is priceless
“Not... mention... the Film crew?!?”
I didn’t know that a goddesses’ face could turn that exact shade of red. Unfortunately Mom’s not without a lethal comeback.
“Fine! One final challenge then! Go to Elizabeth Taylorn’s island, break into her underground research lab and bring me a sample of her new make-up range.”
“Taylorn Island That’s impossible! I’ve heard the stories! No paparazzi photographer that’s gone there has come back alive!” wails Psyche, slumping in defeat.
I desperately want to go to her and tell her that it will be alright, hug her and make her pain go away, but I dare not, not with Mom right there. If Mom sees me she’ll be pulling my wings off and I bet Psyche wouldn’t be interested in plump, acne spotted, homely looking Dougy Saunderson.
In frustration I target some rabbits and fire off a pair of love darts, at least they can be fucking happy even if I can’t.
Sound stage 007, Pinewood Studios.
I am hiding behind a curtain. It is a nice curtain, real silk, no expense spared.
Why am I hiding behind a curtain? Because this is a closed set and they’ve sacked me. Apparently my contract was for a non-speaking part, me saying Llama ‘ruined the shot’.
I mean sheesh! Fired from my own goddam movie, I’ll never live it down.
Right now they are filming the scene where Cupid is figuring out how to get into Liz’...I mean...Persephone’s citadel. To save time the scene doubles as our real planning session.
Phil dressed in a toga and Pris resplendent in her Amazon warrior’s soup-bowl brazier bend over a model of Persephone’s underworld palace pointing out the various security measures to a ‘concerned yet determined’ Cupid (played by Leo, who thanks to Phil, thinks its all an improv. scene)
For the sake of authenticity, infrared detection grids, chain-guns, minefields and guard dogs of Liz Taylorn’s island have been replaced with glyphs of detection, undead skeleton archers, the river Styx and a pack of lead miniature Cerberuses.
“As you can see Cupid, the chances of getting Psyche in and out with the goods are slim; doing it without Aphrodite suspecting anything is next to impossible.”
“Even so good Philius, My beloved needs must survive this trial unharmed if I am once again have her within my arms” say’s Cupid
It’s too much, Pris makes a strangled smirking noise, a tear running down her cheek.
“CUT!”
“Sorry Leo san, its just you make Cupid san sound like a comic book version of Thor, he’s just not like that”
The actor smiles in that annoyingly cute-puppy way he’s got, its irritating the heck out of me.
“Yeah, now that expression, he’d do that, but not all the grim wrath of god stuff.” adds Phil flicking a gotcha glance at the white silk curtain I’m hid behind.
“Sorry guys, I’m still trying to get a handle on the role, I mean who is Cupid? What’s his motivation? It’s pretty hard to get a handle on how some ancient Greek god would behave. Your feedback is valuable though, the last thing I want is to star in a remake of ‘Clash of the Titans’ "
Of course, being only human his mind has edited me out of existence other than a vague recollection of a stunt double.
“You should try playing it from the viewpoint of a sulky teenager who’s not been able to get off with his girlfriend for a week. Sort of like Dougy” says Phil, his eye on my curtain
Bastard! He’s trying to get me to give myself away. Well if he thinks I’m going to give away my hiding position with low level jibes like that he’s wrong!
“What? that god-awful stunt double? I don’t know, I always figured Cupid would be more...masterfully romantic; no disrespect to your friend, but I get the impression he’d shag anything that got within arms reach.” replied the great actor.
Phil winces, he knows his joke just up and grew consequences.
Fortunately I’ve been learning self-control. Leo’s new love life as a male preying mantis can wait until after the theatrical release.
Instead I just reach out with my aura of lust and selectively reduce Leo and the film crew to thoughtless blank eyed masturbators.
“There. Now we can get on with business!” I say emerging from behind my curtain. “Nice toga Phil”
“I like it, plenty of room to swing the old tackle” replies Phil completely unperturbed. (my humorous insults never work on Phil, its most disappointing)
I glance at Leo and glare, even though he’s, like, totally out to lunch right now.
“I know you’re thinking payback Dougy, but could you let me have him instead, I’d kind of like to add him to my collection” asks Phil
I owe Phil too much to turn him down; ah well!
“Ok, ok, you can have him. Now lets get on with this; how do we get Psyche in and out without Mom noticing we helped?”
“Bluntly Dougy san, I don’t think we can. Ms Taylorn’s defenses are specifically designed to eliminate all varieties of non-human, humans actually get off lightly. Recall, she is the female personification of death itself, in the same way that you are a personification of Love and that Shop Assistant Demi is a personification of homely virtues. You will have to trust Psyche to do this one unassisted.” explains Phil
“You should not worry yourself Dougy san, according to the legend the trip to the Underworld research lab, isn’t the real challenge.” adds Pris
“Oh right! So megawatt range plasma cannons, guard dogs and hypnotic zombification inducers aren’t a problem”
“Exactly! Look, it says here that the previous Psyche failed her last task because she put on some of that make-up. Apparently she still thought Eros was angry with her and hoped to win him...you... back by enhancing her beauty.” explained Pris.
“So all I have to do is stop her wearing make up!” say’s I, finally catching on.
Hey, nobody said I was intelligent; good lucking yes, Sherlock Holmes, no way.
“Phil, could we hypnotize her so she believes she looks even better without make-up” I ask seeing a quick solution
“I could. It’d probably be easier if you just walked over there and told the poor girl that you love her.” say’s Phil laconically “If you can convince her of that then she won’t get tempted.”
I look at Phil for a long moment. Why on earth hadn’t it occurred to me? I should have seen it, like, days ago.
“I’m on it!” I turn ready to launch myself toward the door only to find Redrum and Arkle stampeding through it.
“Uncle Dougy!, Uncle Dougy! Mrs. Psyche lady says to tell you some stuff” blurts Redrum
“Ok, calm down, now what did Psyche say?
“She says to tell you if she doesn’t come back..”
“Wow, there, hold your horses!”
The boys look confused, glancing at their equine rear ends.
I blush with embarrassment, me and my big mouth.
“Never mind that, has Psyche gone somewhere?”
“Yes she dressed up like Lara Croft and she had guns and a backpack and a car and... and...”
“NOooo!”
This time I really am running, and as soon as I am clear I get airborne as well, flapping my wings like never before...I’m at about 3000ft before I realize I haven’t see Psyche’s car nor do I have a clear idea where Taylorn Island is relative to Pinewood.
Perhaps I should call myself Headless-chicken Boy from now on.
Taylorn Island
Next day and we’re camped next to the river Styx...or the Thames as the locals inaccurately call it.
The way things are going there’s going to be a battle.
When we arrived with the film crew we found the Anti-Vivisection League have already camped on the best camera angles. For once Leo is turning out to be useful, the Viv’s desire to defeat the great demon Hollywood is being deflected by their marginally greater desire for Leo’s autograph.
They think he’s good, wait till they get a load of me!...(I thought that last bit in a Jack Nicholson voice by the way; just so you know).
So, there we all are waiting. We’ve been here so long Mark the Yucca has put down roots. Some of the others have a camp table out and are playing high stakes poker, most of the film crew, those not antagonizing the Vivs, are just sunbathing.
As for me, I’m pacing up and down the ferry ramp absolutely determined to be the first to see my Psyche.
I feel a presence behind me and turn around, I’m face to face with a massive pair of pectorals. Looking up a few feet I immediately recognize the Big Guy’s number one guy...Gabby, complete with huge hawk-like wings.
“Your wings are good! Mine are better”
It just popped out, no sane godlet would insult Gabriel, patron angel of broadcasting. Then again, who ever accused me of sanity.
His brow furrows, as the tiny brain processes my comment.
“I’ll let that pass, on account of you bein’ inna distressed state. But don’t think yuz can make a habit of disrespect capish?”
Something occurs to me. “You know Gabby, the movie business today, the public love a happy ending, there’s money in happy endings, you get my drift?”
“That’s Mister Gabriel to you, Olympian.” He thinks for a moment and then adds “You may have a point though. Were I you I’d be watching the far bank”
Hurriedly I spin around the ferry has started back, pulling itself along the chains that link the two sides of the river.
I squint, I can make out my beloved Psyche stood on the prow just behind the drop down landing ramp.
She looks remarkably intact, no laser burns, or Cerberus bites, not even a hair out of place in fact. I learned later she’d had tea with Ms Taylorn, explained her predicament and been handed the cosmetics just like that. Its not the way I would have done it; I guess asking and being polite have their place after all.
I can see a bulky Haz-mat container next to her, about the size of a cool box done in brushed gray aluminum with both the radioactive and biohazard symbols etched into the side.
Don’t open it, don’t open it!
She opens it.
She takes out a lipstick that seems to glow a bright kryptonite green as she twists its base.
I have to stop her!
Time seems to slow, I wonder insanely if Quentin will re-do this scene in Bullet-time (tm).
Desperately I aim my wrist and let fly with a love dart aiming to knock the poisonous lipstick from her hand...and miss...the dart deflects off the box hitting the ferryman.
Idiot that I am I’d forgotten how my own powers work, the second unfired dart sends bolts of agony up my other arm.
But there’s no time for this, her hand is moving toward her lips.
Pointing my swollen arm at Gabby I discharge my second love-dart. The Big Guy’s number one guy, looked down at the dart protruding from his middle-right abdominal...his brain is even slower to react than the sheep’s.
Not that I care, I’m too focused on Psyche. Her lips pout, ready to receive the deadly coating of lip-gloss.
No time, no time, and then it occurs to me, the answer!
“I... AM... A... LLAMA!”
My screamed words seem to echo across the murky black waters of the Thames...Styx.. I mean Styx.
Psyche’s hand is frozen just millimeters away from her lips, her eyes blank, and her mind deep in a post hypnotic trance.
It works! It works! I begin doing a little dance on the jetty. I’ve won I’ve beat them all!
Hearing the commotion my friends finish their hand of poker and the film crew look up from their sunbathing, annoyed at the prospect of actual work.
But the job’s not quite done, as soon as the ferry’s ramp hits the ground I rush to Psyche’s side and whisper the instructions that will ensure that she’ll never touch the damned cosmetics again.
The guys want to crowd around and do all the congratulations bit (apart from Gabby and the ferryman, but that’s not important right now).
I catch Phil’s eye, he’s frowning. Of course! Mom still has to take delivery.
“Back away guys, we’ve like got some divine godly stuff to do. HEY MOM SHOW YOURSELF!”
And there she is, Aphrodite in all her glory.
Oops I nearly forgot. “I am not a llama”
Psyche blinks in confusion and then sees me, her eyes go wide and the most beautiful smile in the world nearly turns me to a melted puddle at her feet
“Oh Cupid!” she gasps
I hug her “Its ok, you did it, you passed all of Mom’s tests; we can be together now”
“Fools!, you think this is over” snarls Mom
I turn to face her, one hand still protectively on Psyche’s shoulder, my right wing wrapped around her like a cloak.
Having Psyche next to me must have done something strange to my survival instincts, for once I don’t care that mom is a vastly powerful archetype.
“No! That’s enough! Psyche passed the test completely un-aided, we win!” I yell.
“Fine, lets see how much she likes you without your wings!”
Without warning a string of plasma bolts, fired like a machine gun, stitch a line of holes in the concrete between Mom and me, Its Pris her right arm morphed into cannon-mode.
“It’s over Aphrodite, but not the way you think. You’ll note we’re no longer being held enraptured by your glamour, and there’s a reason for that”
“You dare defy ME!”
“The whole subject of post-destination intrigued me; so I did a little research, turns out that the post-destination effect is a parasitic lifeform that exists at right angles to normal reality, instead of bodily organs it has events.” explained Pris
“What are you saying?!” gasps Mom
“The creature was able to influence reality because it had latched onto people and events that closely matched its ‘shape’ it just had to jiggle things slightly so that events matched the requirements of its organs, Dougy became analogous to its heart, his quest to save Psyche equivalent to a blood flow.
“...So I got to thinking if Dougy is analogous to Eros, then that also means that Aphrodite is analogous to Mrs. Saunderson...isn’t that right Mrs. Saunderson.”
“No!! I am Aphrodite! I am a Goddess!” gasps Mom, sounding like she’s in pain.
As I watch she begins to change, looking older, less beautiful, more like....
“Mom!!!?” Now I am seriously pissed, first the business with the exorcist and now this!
And then it occurs to me...if Aphrodite is reverting and changing into my real Mom; does that mean I’m going to change back to being plain old Dougy Saunderson!
Now that’s a real ‘butt clench moment’ in panic I glance over my shoulder, yep, wings still there! Phew!
My next thought is Psyche, is she going to turn into some ugly girl? I turn to check.
Ok, so she’s no longer the world’s ultimate babe, but she’s still a real babe, by human standards at least.
It didn’t occur to me until after we’d been kissing for, like, half an hour, that her love for me might also have been generated by that weird-ass Post-Destination creature. I guess I’m a lucky Cupid.
As for Mom, I guess she must have slipped away whilst I was getting reacquainted with Psyche’s body. I’m really going to have a chat with her at some point.
Later at the Exotix bar after we’ve been celebrating....
“What I don’t get...right...what I don’t get..is..is if the creature turned my mom into Aphrodite, right, and she changed back when the parasite died, right, how come I still got wings?”
If that sounds a bit drunk, well that’s what happens when I’ve downed half pint of carrot juice.
Morph does his morphing thing and turns into Bill Murray in full Ghostbusters uniform
“Hey Dougy, when someone ask, ‘Are you a God?’ you say ‘YES!’ got it?”
“Yeah, but am I...Am I really a God?”
“Dougy san, the Post-Destination creature’s choice of you as a host proves conclusively that either you are definitely a god...or that you are definitely not a god...depending on your point of view that is.” advises Pris
“My brain hurts” I complain
“No change there then”