UGLIE 03: The One With Eddie And Deaths

All things have a reason. Believe me, they do. Even the title of yet another un-looked-forward-for chapters of an un-writable book. Lost between the internalized need to tell a story, and the externalized need to be loved liked tolerated un-ridiculed not un-noticed.

OK, there’s no reason why you needed to know that, and that too through struck-through cop-outs grammatically-incorrect neologisms. But, what’s done is done! Deal with it!

What happened was, that for once I actually read what I wrote. Believe me, it shall remain the third most masochistic thing I did. Second in this sweepstakes stood the attempt to eat my own cooking, the first time round. And, first by a wafer-thin margin was… hey… we are friends, but not that close! Yet.

So, when I read it, I found out that we ain’t going nowhere. The purpose seems to be there, as delineated reasonably clearly in the prologue. But the later posts are (kind of?) lost between trying to justify the “meta” tag I like to carry around. And, forget you the hapless reader (not for long, we are friends, remember!), I as the author keep getting lost, trying to keep track of the pseudonyms and decode the story lurking behind juvenile jokes. A true friend (a friend who values truth above friendliness) told me that “if you simplify the language a little bit and the story picks up pace with shorter sentences, it helps the readers’ imagination”.

So, I thought I shall condense the timelines. Hence, enter the non-character mentioned in the title. From now on we shall have multiple narrative time-lines. The eventuality remains that I shall miff things up a bit (OK QUITE A BIT!!). Hence I shall take refuge in some strange quantum gobbledygook, about eddies in the space-time fabric which shall sort of chronologically prove that a man can be born three days before his grandfather. Anthropomorphized as Mr. Edward, shortened as Eddie. Eddies are swirls, little flourishes that fluid-flows do, to sort of show off to their girl-friends, and those who pause and take notice. Our Eddie 🤓, is all those, but also a short, nondescript, bespectacled, middle-aged man, height 168 cm, weight 82 kilograms, with male pattern baldness. He accompanies us through the space-time continuum in this “metaverse”. Pausing here, hurrying there. Getting lost once in a while, but always coaxing us forward. He has a short attention span. Not as a learning disability, but as an intellectual defense mechanism. He doesn’t abhor bovine fecal matter, yet tries to keep us away from any (“bullshit”). He succeeds sometimes. Sometimes he fails. He is almost… human!

And people who have a problem with him, primarily due to the fact of their having actually read the “real” books on the subject (beware I am gonna be sarcastic… I may even use irony!) may kindly go read them again until they make sense. If they still need to find scientific sense in a light-hearted perspective exercise, hitting themselves hard on the head, with the thickest of those tomes, spine first, may be conducive to the required results.

OK… here goes…

Post the incidents of the last chapter, Terribelus now really feels the weight of his name. What with him having a terrible time. We are pushed by our friend Mr Edward to an indeterminate date after those incidents. And we hear:

you are strong, young restless and stuff like that,

your dad sure to god really ain’t.

you are the one whose social life is flat,

and daddy covers the town with red paint.

POET: ISLANDUS UGLIE, UNSEEMLY NARRATOR

Author’s Note: Please note the consistent use of lowercase

So Terribelus is not too hunky dory, when Daddy dearest shows him a newborn bugger, “mewling and puking in his nurse’s arms” (literary allusion may be noted. Jacques’ speech from As You Like It by the Great Bard) and says “This here sonny, is yer second young bro. The first one, I named as Prince Picturepac Atomus, though everyone calls him Crown Prince 2Pac. Wanna name this one?”

He wrests his gaze off the not nurse who owns those shapely arms, looks at the mewler (and the puker, same one though!) and says “How’s Prince Strangulatus Atomus, Dad?”

Eddie has a fit of coughs. King Pac, loving father of three, and amorous husband of one, is dead. Some say it was with surfeit of love. Some say it was due to excess of age. Some whispers eviller tales. Before we can hearken to these, Edward sneezes.

Now, the Crown Prince of Elephantiston is found dead. Something needs to be done about Eddie. His sneezes and coughs seem to be spreading death and disease. Someone, please hand him a mask. There are muted whispers that 2Pac, was killed by his brother. A few hoarser whispers, slurred with alcohol abuse, talk of him losing a duel, with someone who lay claim to the mantle. Nay someone who lay claim to the name. Somehow, individuals of this (or similar) name, are headstrong and short-lived. In any universe.

OK… we are now at a stage in Elephantiston, that Regent Terribelus (“Terry“) rules in the name of King Strangulatus Atomus (“Strangy“), who is quite weak and has rheumatism too.

And one day Queen Veracity (“Vee“), widow to King Pac, mother of ex-Crown Prince 2Pac and King Strangy called Regent Terry, her stepson, to her chambers.

Terry went there expecting another halting request for, and stammering acceptance of, more fishing rights to the tribe of Chief WhuzyurDa Dee,

But this time Queen Veracity (nee masterful fisher-woman BootifulBo Dee) had bigger fish to fry (pun wholly intended!):

Queen Vee: Uhh… Terribelus… son.

Regent Terry: Yes… mo… mo… mom!

V: Good job you are doing.

T: Thanks.

V: But you see… you can’t be king.

T: I… n… n… know.

V: And, you… can’t marry.

T: I know… m… m… mom.

V: And, your offsprings, all none of them, also can’t be kings.

T: I KNOW!

V: NO NEED TO SHOUT REGENT TERRIBELUS!

T: Sorry, mother.

V: So, don’t you think your dear brother & king, Strangy, should… uhhh… be given a chance to make sure there are someone from whom your offspring, all none of them, cannot take the kingship from.

T: But, I can’t have offspring so where is the need for… Oh… you mean Strangy should be married soon… or he may… uhh….

Strangy as we know is always sick-bedded
And complains that all colors seem so gray..
So he should be married and breeded
Before his oh-so-near expiration day.

POET: ISLANDUS UGLIE, BACKGROUND WHISPERER OF THOUGHTS

V: Egg-zactlee!!

T: Wokay!

Author’s Note: See @shailxpressions. Very short sentences 😇. Simple language 😊. Still opaque 🥺.

So Terry just went and annexed a small kingdom. And brought the three nubile marriageable princesses of that unpronounceable land. Their names were so unpronounceable that they were called by all as Eenie, Meenie and Maynee (or was it Moe).

So… we have Eenie, Meenie, Maynee (Moe)…
Who are to be wedded to their erstwhile foe,
Queen Vee says “By rules a king can have queens only two?”
She likes the first two and to the third she says “Shoo!“

So Maynee is all red with shame,
Not that it was her real name,
She stares at Terry,
With hatred scary,
And vanishes in time with our friend Eddie.

POET: ISLANDUS UGLIE. RHYMER WITHOUT REASON

King Strangulatus was married to the two beautiful princesses. After the end of all the ceremonies, he went for his usual break, for ingesting the whole tray of medicines, helped by his favourite nurse, Ms. Teenie. The medicines were supposed to increase his longevity. He was in a hurry to know his new wives well, and sort of choked and dropped …. DEAD!

And that started the real problems that would, in the future, be the cause the biggest and the bloodiest and the stupidest wars that was ever seen on Intermediate Earth.

But all in good time.

So here’s to further bulking up, vide abdominal adipose layers.