Qayid Aljaysh Juyub
Fantasy of the whimsical kind: Merlin's birth
Marline was full of endless frustration. Another dull family vacation with his stuffy old lady and the tyrannical kids: Gran Canaria 'all inclusive' in the tourist ghetto, along with entertainment that was as primitive as it was intrusive. The financial officer thought longingly of his colleague Jacko. He used to regularly leave for the Canary Islands with like-minded people, but without any family and with the specific aim of going on a booze cruise that was as senseless as possible. 'Man, that was a guy,' it went through the strained head of the busy finance officer. Marline was fascinated by Jack's remark that he would sometimes slap his better half for no reason and that he would then have to slap her a second time if she asked why.
We should note, of course, that some time later, during a pleasure trip of her so sensitive husband, Jack's wife strangely went on the run and rewarded the special care of her spouse by plundering the joint bank account and selling his beloved Porsche; Heiko then could not explain it all and felt really victimized.
"Dad is a knockwurst!"
Scylla, the younger of his two daughters, grinned mischievously at him.
"Joe, don't make such a fuss, you really are such a weakling. I could really eat you."
An astonishing turn of events, the reader will probably find, but the brave hero of our story found himself in the sinfully expensive underground car park of the capital city airport of Absurdistan, which after a 20-year construction period had gone into operation with a little delay, busy maneuvering the exceedingly rich family luggage into the vehicle provided for the purpose. With all his artistically valuable thoughts, our skilled apparatchik unfortunately slipped a somewhat unwieldy suitcase and caused a hard landing, so to speak.
"Please Charybdis. I'm trying."
"Always these stupid excuses, hurry up!"
Angela, the older of the loving daughters, only frowned disgustedly at what was happening and refrained from making any comments. Thus torn from his profound thoughts, the busy husband picked up the fallen piece of luggage under loving sighs of his better half and the giggling of his respectful daughter. Slightly annoyed, Angela, who had been silent until then, joined in the sophisticated conversation.
"Could it finally go on now, mom? The plane leaves in three hours and I still want to store! Besides, I'm hungry!"
"Joe, you hear your daughter, now hurry up! Don't worry darling, that's still enough time despite our lame dachshund!"
Marline was close to tears. How much he hated that nickname. Why did she torment him so much, when he did everything to please her? How often had he thought about a breakup and even occasionally cried secretly to his favorite song, the classic 'I've Never Been to New York'. But alas, our hero lacked a bit of courage to get divorced or get out. Occasionally, his loving companion would tease him with the words 'This is going to be expensive!" after threatening him with a first-class divorce. But gradually the measure was full! Jack would now properly bang on the table and smash it, at least in his mind. 'Enough is enough,' Marline's thoughts continued. He now summoned up all his courage.
"Sorry honey, I'll be quick then. Can you maybe help me a little and make sure nothing falls off when I push the luggage cart; sorry again."
"Our dachshund must be nuts, now let your pants shake (Palatine for: hurry up)!"
Thus the courageous attempt at a rudimentary trace of resistance ended in predictably miserable form and our brave hero resigned himself to his fate. Predestination? Determinedly and orchestrated by the cackling of Scylla the Younger, Marline moved the luggage toward the elevator. Strangely, there was no one on the parking deck, so the show went on without a tilted audience. With slight panic, our daring taxman thought about the reactions of his loved ones in case the elevator was not available within 30 seconds at the latest, or even if it was occupied. But, to make a long story short: The gods were kind to our protagonist. The elevator was on hold and after some wise advice from his wife, accompanied by the encouraging vibrations of his daughters, the daring pater familias managed to deposit the luggage in the elevator, whose spacious interior was thus almost half full.
"Dear ones, we can then. Will you please come?"
"What? You don't think I'm using this tight thing together with doggy dad and the luggage!"
Angela, in the full glory of pubescent monstrosity, looked at her beloved father with pitying contempt and vigorously shook her blond-haired head.
"Thank you, sweetheart! Joe pull yourself together now. You're going to check in and drop off the bags. Then meet me at the gate and don't forget to send the elevator down right away. What do you girls think, your father is expendable after all?"
In her usual manner, Scylla the Younger giggled approvingly, while Angela slightly quirked the corners of her mouth in disdain.
"Yeah honey, see you then."
Meanwhile, the three graces conversed, disregard the wise saying of the stern patriarch, about the upcoming shopping spree.
With a certain fatalism, Marline set the voluminous vehicle in motion in the desired direction. Full of anticipation of having escaped the loving attentions of his family for at least some time, our hero drove towards his fate. When the elevator doors opened with a crunching sound - which was not a matter of course at the capital's airport - he looked almost euphorically into the bustling terminal.
"Let's 'do it' then."
The caring head of the family pulled on the overloaded luggage cart. But, oh wonder, the damn thing did not move a millimeter. Our pater familias was now highly surprised. Despite his stubbornly unathletic low physical strength, the device was supposed to move at least a little bit. Maybe he really did have too many female hormones, as his single father already claimed in tender moments.
"What kind of idiots just leave their luggage lying around?"
A corpulent gentleman, who slightly reminded Marline of his favorite Z celebrity in the jungle camp, pushed his way into the elevator.
"Never mind, they're just out of luck!"
Rudely and with typical - again reminiscent of the hero of the jungle - grunts the well-built gentleman pushed our completely perplexed taxman aside and pressed the button belonging to the lower parking deck.
"Please excuse me, but it doesn't work that way!"
Surprised by the unusual situation, our brave hero completely forgot his usual caution while the elevator doors closed with an unpleasant squeak. Obviously, his friendly elevator companion took little notice of the energetic words.
"Shitty airport, nothing works there. Half of it is still a construction site. Only illegals are working there anyway. ...etc... Damn civil servants!"
Here, the reader may insert a few more moronic to populist sayings as he or she sees fit. However, only the last part of this philippic actually motivated the courageous civil servant to interrupt the monologue of his extremely tolerant traveling companion.
"I must vigorously disagree with you there!"
With unusual bravery, Marline timidly touched the shoulders of the speaker. The daring contact, however, was abruptly interrupted by two events: With a sound that usually occurs when certain winds leave the human rectum, the space-grabbing companion literally vanished into thin air - not without leaving behind an unbearably foul odor along with a kind of brown haze - and the elevator doors opened with a loud 'plop'.
Without even realizing the unusual sight that now presented itself, the gagging Marlin tumbled out of the marvel of modern transportation technology in a panic and fell onto a gigantic pile of dung. You see, my dears, as far as stinking is concerned, sometimes you don't escape your fate. Completely irritated, the prudent taxnator rose and, sliding on the seat of his pants, tried to gain solid ground. Our man from the tax office eventually succeeded, because where there is an official will, there is also a way. Panicked, Marline finally perceived his environment with a final cognitive effort. Obviously, he was now in a rather rustic environment, which consisted mainly of a few warped cottages and associated waste pits - not forgetting our manure pile, of course.
Since the author of this rather lovely tale is pretty lazy, he leaves it to the reader who has made it this far to mentally add the rest of the agrarian accessories. I would like to add that it was a sunny day and a fresh breeze passed through the spicy dung heaps.
The newcomer looked around in complete consternation for a little while with a slightly moronic expression on his face, which the eager civil servant usually only put on when communicating with superiors. Had he even landed in the Midwest for some mystical reason? Mmmh, maybe a wormhole? The term was familiar to him from various SF series, without him being able to really grasp the physical details. Gradually, our extremely quick-thinking traveller noticed that there were no people to be seen and that the lift had obviously gone into nirvana. But before Marline could really come to his senses, the rather unusually far-reaching passenger transport device materialised about 50 metres away and opened with an eerie creak. Finally, our hero was presented with a familiar sight, for - surprise, surprise - his beloved family was inside the vehicle, staring at him in complete bewilderment.
"How did this one get here?"
Wife Charybdis, flanked by daughters, left the really unusual means of transport, which then also disappeared from this world again.
"Mom, did you mess up again with that jump? But maybe we should make the best of the situation, he's something better than those anemic farmers!"
Angela looked thoughtfully at her beloved father. He, in turn, was in a state of progressive confusion, but was still able to articulate himself.
"Honey, I'll meet you at the gate, right?"
"Be silent, wretched fool!"
Our witty hero was now really speechless in a well trained manner. Scylla grinned at her dad with an affectionate smile.
"Mom, doggy dad looks really delicious. I bet he tastes better than my kiddie happa dirt."
"Our dachshund is surely confused, my little cuddle-bunnies. Let's show him our true form!"
Marline was now allowed to observe how the family was transformed in an unusual form. Angela changed the least, growing only angelic wings from her back and enormous fangs from her mouth. Scylla transformed into a kind of spider-like creature, while the faithful mother transformed into a cross between a raptor and a dragon. For our brave taxnator this was really too much of a good thing. Whimpering, Marline fell to her knees, unable to articulate or even act in any way.
"Now you dear little ones, go ahead. You may now feast on these British yokels. I'll just eat your father for a moment and then I'll join you."
"You always grab the most beautiful delicacies. Last time you ate the fat priest without giving us a single leg. He's mine now!"
Defiantly, the older sister looked at her mother.
"I saw him first. Just because I'm the smallest, I don't get to eat Daddy alone."
The expression in Scylla's many eyes was physiologically more of an indeterminate nature, but the tone was quite querulous for a spider creature.
"Selfish children! This is the thanks for all the efforts of a loving mother. You want a good bite for yourself for once, but your precious daughters begrudge you that. Puberty is really no excuse for that! You don't want to make your mother angry now, do you?"
If you were a dragon or a dinosaur - I'd better be careful with my wording in this case - you would probably have been able to decipher the facial expressions of the insatiable wife and make a hasty escape on the basis of that. Unfortunately, our angelic Angela did not meet these requirements and tried to set off in the direction of lunch.
"Stupid old woman, I'll eat him..."
Angela did not manage to finish the sentence, because stupidly the loving mother monster separated her head from her trunk with a blow of her powerful claws.
"I've had enough of you selfish brats who don't appreciate true motherly love. Cooking, cleaning, washing and feeding these greedy little monsters. Then this schmuck who makes my mouth water three times a day and yet I'm not allowed to eat him. But this is the opportunity to free me from everything. Now to you!"
Determined, our house dragon now turned to the younger daughter. She, however, had meanwhile grasped her mother's reaction and attacked in turn. Before Scylla fell victim to a blow from Charybdis, the spider-like child managed to bite Mama and inject her with deadly poison.
Famous last words! With that, the unhappy mother also passed away. As one sees once more: 'Talk is deadly, silence is gold'. However, Marline didn't notice anything of all this, because after Angela's decapitation a merciful faintness enveloped him.
The hero of our story and last survivor of a terribly nice family finally awoke from his artificial coma after some time and found himself surrounded by strangely dressed contemporaries who looked at him rather dumbfounded. As the newly widowed taxnator struggled to rise, the audience murmured in a language incomprehensible to the articulate public servant.
'Backwoodsman', Marline thought, 'structural measures are really necessary here for once'. What a strange dream, where were his faithful wife and loving daughters? These republican customs, didn't they have the skulls of three unknown animals attached to stakes; cowboys!'
Marline was now jolted from such wise trains of thought, as he suspected, by the mayor, who was making his way through the peasant crowd with a few spearmen and was clad in a strange suit of armor that somehow reminded him of Jack's Roman outfit on the occasion of the Mardi Gras bash in New Orleans. The cosmopolitan public servant was as appalled as he was puzzled by the state of federal law enforcement and poverty in Midwestern communities. Or was this even Mexico? Our highly educated public servant should be forgiven for certain misinterpretations, as he drew his historical knowledge almost exclusively from various Hollywood movies with the historical content of strawberry ice cream and peanut butter.
The mayor regarded our slightly filthy and fragrant hero - the dunghill, do you remember, had taken its toll here - with reverential wonder. Finally, the communal chief reverently addressed the much troubled Marline, who in turn understood only the words 'Arturius' and 'rex'. Were these perhaps bankrupt Venezuelans? Finally, the finance officer understood that 'Arturius' was probably the name of the mayor.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Finance Inspector Joe Marline from Avon Ohio."
The supposed mayor looked at the strange stranger somewhat uncomprehendingly.
Those Venezuelans! But maybe he should express himself more simply to these blond and red-haired Latinos.
"Marline from Avon, capiche."
King Arthur nodded humbly and repeated what he thought he understood to be the name and place of origin of the mighty wizard who had apparently defeated the plague of Britain - except for Angles and Saxons, of course.
„M’erlin ex Avallonia.“
Thus began the story of the powerful magician Merlin and Marline the taxnator got an undeserved, but respectable, role in the world of myths and legends.
'Fuck me Freddy' and let it be said that time travel is not impossible.
© 2022 Q.A. Juyub/H.K.H. Jeub
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Qayid Aljaysh Juyub.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 13.05.2022.