Pineal Discharge

Short stories. Unrelated scenes of violence and bizarre vignettes.
Some(most) of these stories contain graphic violence,sexual content and drug use. Also , lots of fucking language and shit. So yeah , viewer discretion is advised? Not for children. Unless you're one of THOSE children.
Yeah , you know who you are.


Wait...what?

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18. July 1997

 

The cold water droplets explode in slow motion all around us. Ominous nimbostratus clouds hang in solitary delusion. Blackened , grey with dull streaks of white. Oxymoronic lecturing about the end of the world. Apocalyptic entities seem to swarm above our heads in the thickness of the atmosphere. Cold metal and wood. A 12 guage double barrel. Likely the weather. More or less really.

Jessica takes lead as we search the street for someone. What we did still leaves me in an apathetic haze from the shock. But it was necessary. Excessive shrieking on the airwaves.

A bar is open. The yellow aura of people drowning their sorrows can be seen. It mixes with the glow of the blinking neon lights of the "OPEN" sign in excruciating monotany. The figures in the bar are the first people we've seen since the headless fellow.  Jessica produces two syringes filled with 가능.

"When I tell you to , shoot up." I nod in silent agreement. I may not agree with Jessica's violent approach to things , but I don't really have a choice.

The watering hole is quaint and tidy. The people in here keep to themselves , quietly contemplating while they drink. A majestic haze of sweet smoke lingers in the air. A majority of the people are smoking either cigars or pipes. Out of the corner of my eye , I notice a dog wearing a choker/chain collar. It's on a short leash. It's some kind of mongrel. The result of many years of crossbreeding. Refining the gene pool. A little pointer. A little border collie. A touch of pitbull and Siberian husky(It's eyes seem to cut right through to the soul).

The ambience changes. A long drenching of shadows coalesces into an enveloping tapestry of fables. Justice of a thousand years. Blood gushes from various lacerations in the wall. A serrated rumble shakes the building.  

Then everything's normal. Except , when we look outside , there's three massive silhouettes on the horizon. Their shapes are somewhat homo sapien. Their movement is slow and burdened. These giants as slow as the rain. Fires can be seen , forming a wake behind the massive beings. The apocalypse in slow motion. Oh how I hope and pray that this is just a bad trip. Or a dream.

1997. The year the world ended.

The quilt of destruction smothering the sleeper that is the world. Jessica turns and walks to a table. At the table sits a blue person. He's got a long tail. On his forehead , a circle inside of a circle. Other tattoos can be seen crawling up his neck from under his white t-shirt. I cautiously approach and take a seat next to Jessica. The dog from the corner of my eye begins to pull against his bindings. The choker collar begins to tighten. It slowly squeezes the dog's head off. The body-confused-walks in circles before dying in a pool of blood and excrement. The head grows long tentacles(long in proportion to the head)and pulls itself on to our table. It plants itself right next to The blue man. The dog head speaks.

"The world is ending. But this is not your world."

what?

"You need a sacrifice?"  Jessica nods.

The blue man speaks. His voice reveals much more age than we had anticipated.

"I have seen enough. I have done enough. My body is nothing more than a prison. I wish to be released. I volunteer my cage for a sacrifice."

He speaks like an old Native American. Like the ones in those old , politcally incorrect cowboy movies. The dog head hands me a long fish knife with one of its grimy appendages.

"Use this."

At this point , I'm not asking any more questions. A disembodied dog head with octopusesque tentacles just handed me a big knife and told me to use it. In my mind , this is a trip. A gnarly , gnarly trip. One for the ages. Jessica's right. Nothing could ever compare to this. I'm probably still on her bedroom floor. My face covering a damp spot of my own drool. There's no way in hell , this is real.

"It's real" the blue man says. "I can read what you've written. I can read what you're writing. You think that's you typing what I'm saying?"

I feel blood dripping from my nose.

"I can see you reading this back to yourself. Checking for mistakes. Making sure it doesn't sound stupid."

I staunch the flow with a napkin. This is a trip. This is a trip. This is a trip. This is a trip. This is a trip.

"No it's not , dumbass. I can type my sentences with your fingers. I think I know what's going on."

My bloody nose gets worse.

"Kill me and get home. Seriously. This is your first time using  את הכלי המאפשר. Stop wasting time and eviscerate me. Get back to where you came from. You won't survive otherwise."

I pick up the dog head. My face still menstruating uncontollably. I stab the head repeatedly. The blue man stands up and walks to a back room , beckoning for us to follow.   

I plunge the knife into the blue man's abdomen. I drag it sideways. Red sprays all over me an Jessica. His intestines fall at my feet. He smiles and falls backwards. Dead.

Jessica covers her hands in his blood. On the walls of this empty back room she draws that same recurring symbol.

With viscous soaked hands she tosses me a syringe , the dark green fluid aching with malaise.

"Shoot up" she says. I comply.

I lie down on the floor next to the blue man's body. Viscera getting in my hair. She does the same. This time , instead of blacking out , a bright light fills my vision. A searing mental heat permeates through my mind. A great eye opens on the ceiling. We've been spotted.

A loud roar splits the silence. The roof evaporates. The giants are standing above us. They tower over everything. The smell of destruction. And everything goes black again.

1997. The year the world ended.

I don't even know what happened to that shotgun.   

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