#madfic

@sudusong madfic spoilers……

No need to cry about it

Randolf Pentagardner wanted desperately to have seven daughters simultaneously by seven women. “They must at least,” he thought, “be born in the same cut off time for fall eligibility to enter school.” He imagined the throng of beautiful daughters. All half German-English and the other half a medley of world culture. His head spun: “I’ll have a coca-cola commercial of diversity for a family!” The girls he would groom from the earliest conceivable age to be a perfect basketball team. He had thought for a while of adopting but he needed filial love to inspire the girls to professional level athleticism. Randolf turned his home into a basketball gymnasium. He had the ceilings raised appropriately. He hand painted the 3 - point line as well as a precise portrait of Zwanfano, the deity from outerspace who had inspired him with his passion in a prophetic series of nights experiencing open visions of his beautiful daughters executing a perfect triangle offense. Zwanfano had brought in his legal representative to assure that he would recieve 3% of any profits Randolf accrued from merchandising. “A small price to pay!” Randolf thought as walked the streets of New York City. He would go to bars for the next three months to carry out his mission. A glimmer of remorse entered Randolf’s heart when he thought about Zwanfano. “Will the basketball team of my daughter’s eclipse the joy I had with Zwanfano?”

Randolf Pentagardner wanted desperately to have seven daughters simultaneously by seven women. “They must at least,” he thought, “be born in the same cut off time for fall eligibility to enter school.” He imagined the throng of beautiful daughters. All half German-English and the other half a medley of world culture. His head spun: “I’ll have a coca-cola commercial of diversity for a family!” The girls he would groom from the earliest conceivable age to be a perfect basketball team. He had thought for a while of adopting but he needed filial love to inspire the girls to professional level athleticism. Randolf turned his home into a basketball gymnasium. He had the ceilings raised appropriately. He hand painted the 3 - point line as well as a precise portrait of Zwanfano, the deity from outerspace who had inspired him with his passion in a prophetic series of nights experiencing open visions of his beautiful daughters executing a perfect triangle offense. Zwanfano had brought in his legal representative to assure that he would recieve 3% of any profits Randolf accrued from merchandising. “A small price to pay!” Randolf thought as walked the streets of New York City. He would go to bars for the next three months to carry out his mission. A glimmer of remorse entered Randolf’s heart when he thought about Zwanfano. “Will the basketball team of my daughter’s eclipse the joy I had with Zwanfano?”

The Voodoo Shaman stood wise and tall like the mighty oak. The feathers from his headdress touched the sky like little fingers which tickled the heavens. His name was Pongo-Motassum and he was the wise one. He had been raised by vampires, but did not bear the curse of the nosferatu. He wore only a headdress of golden ostrich fathers and a long flowing velvet cape. Running and crashing through the brush of the jungle floor he was indeed a mad-man, quick as light from the sun. He spoke no longer the words of man, but instead screamed unrecognizable words to beasts and plants. Every morning he challenged the wildlife, calling in his strange tongue, taunting the beasts. "MEGASSO CHA GOLMBA!" he cried to the boar and the boar did fight him and Pungo did best him. "CHUY DOL SEEMA!" he called to the bear and the bear did fight him and Pungo bested him also. "EM CHUNGA BULOSSA MONTE!" cried Pungo to the mighty beaver and the mighty beaver did fight him and Pungo did bite and gnaw his foe into submission. And once he had beaten his oppponent, Pungo's vampire elders descended from the lilac branches to feast on the dish which lay helpless on the jungle floor. Like machines, the elders drank blood as Pongo watched from a distance, for Pongo was no Vampire.

The fell beast with his ancient eyes scanned across the labyrinth. The towers of metal and lack of sunlight reminded him of his youth in the seventh circle of Gil-Nash. With his powerful bat-like wings he lifted his body towards the heavens, twisting like a drunken acrobat. Screeching in his desolation, he made his presence aware to all his soon to be victims. Kyle Thompson was pushing his cart down aisle seven when his eyes first locked with the fell beast of Gil-Nash. Kyle had heard the rumors, though he had not believed a forbidden prowler daemon had indeed taken refuge in his local Shop-n-Go. Fortunately, Kyle was paranoid-delusional. It was this paranoia which drove Kyle to take his regular dosage of magnumo-pills that morning. The voices in his head had implied he might be doing battle with a sky warlock later and that he should be well prepared. The fell beast dove at Kyle, screaming and flailing in madness. At that second, the last of Kyle's stomach acid cut through the inner shell of the magnumo medication. Kyle turned to liquid and vanished. He entered the 4th dimension. The fell beast gasped. The titanic monster had never seen one of his victims in this way. The beast of Gil-Nash's heart began to beat slower and an unusual easiness came over him. There was Kyle, invisible, but not invisible to all. His skin had been replaced by gold and his eyes were music. Kyle and the abomination slowly moved towards one another, their palms quite sweaty. Inches apart, they embraced, feeling the breath of the other hot on their face. The kiss was unexpected but desired by both parties. There stood Kyle Thompson and Branore of Gil-Nash necking in the 4th dimension while Martin Boneharp compared brands of toilet paper four aisles over.