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Merlin’s Curse Part 4.

September 5, 2012

4th installment. Previous installments can be found here.

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3) The Sad Tale of the Semenal Skylarker and Cosmic Bang.

Flaps felt like a lifetime had passed before he finally slithered free of the store-keep and hit the floor in a hearty splatter of bowel butter. For a moment he stayed there, dazed, his mind still trying to process the wonders he’d seen on his Dantean voyage into the depths of the rectal vault. He was barely even aware of the paint tin clasped in his hand as his mind replayed it all. The smeared man leading the way down the exquisite marbled corridors. Then across the stinking quagmires with their noxious fumes and voices singing up to them from the depths. Then from there the descent down the seemingly endless spiral staircase until at long last they emerged into the paradise the smeared man had called the celestial plains.

From his position on the floor, Flaps grinned exuberantly at the memory. The glowing orbs spun gracefully in his mind, their luminous surfaces humming with a power that had truly made him realise how insignificant a man he was as he stood beneath them, watching universes rise and collapse across the blackness beyond.

‘What is this place?’ he’d asked his guide in a breathless whisper.

‘He didn’t tell you the story then?’  The man had briefly disappeared into a nearby cellar and then reappeared by his side, a can of paint in hand.

‘No he did not,’ Flaps murmured, unable to take his eyes off the cosmic fireworks above.

‘I’m not surprised. It is a sad, sad tale and one he is not in the habit of repeating.’ The smeared-man leant on his meringue spear and held out the can of paint. ‘Here is your paint.’

Flaps took it, barely glancing at the emblazoned Merlin’s Curse on its side.

‘Is this heaven?’ Flaps could detect the faint strains of music beneath the hum of the spheres, a choral arrangement that forced tears of beauty to his eyes.

Beside him the smeared-man chuckled.

‘No not heaven.’

‘Then what?’

The smeared man continued his chuckles and despite the sheer beauty of his surroundings, Flaps wanted to kick him in at least one of his dicks.

‘I thought you were in a hurry to buy your paint and be gone. Are you certain you have time for this story.’

But in the face of  such cosmic harmony, Flaps’ concerns about Mrs Nub’s ill-proportioned graffiti had suddenly seemed so petty. He’d nodded, still peering up in wonder at the glory above. The smeared-man had then leaned deeper into his spear and after a pronounced whetting of his lips, begun his story.

Now as he lay dazed, watching the store-keep raise his trousers and set about reengaging his elaborate buckle, Flaps replayed the tale in his mind, new respect shining in his eyes as he studied the man’s elaborately moustachioed face…

‘I’m not certain how familiar you are with homosexual pornography,’ his guide had started. ‘But this is a tale of two of its greats, The Semenal Skylarker and the legendary Cosmic Bang.

‘There was a time the both were house-hold names. The man you know as the store-keep, under the guise of the Skylarker, was the prince of the porn world. A man who bowed to no-one. Well no one except the king himself. He of the rumoured celestial cock. The inimitable Cosmic Bang. But this story begins long before that. Long before the Skylarker’s irreverent post-ejaculation cum puppet shows made him a house-hold name. No, Mrs Zanzibar and the Whoopsie Twins were but a twinkle in the Skylarker’s subconscious when he first laid eyes on Cosmic Bang.

‘A humble fluffer at the time, the Skylarker first crossed paths with Bang on the set of the third instalment in the critically lauded series, Make Love the Cosmic Way. For him, at least, it was love at first sight. He knew the instant he took Bang’s flaccid wang into his mouth and felt its power hum to life that he’d found his soul mate.

‘Unfortunately it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence and many a fluffer before him had gone down the same route. For you see Bang, despite his already legendary status, was something of an enigma in the porn world. Theories abounded about his origins. That he was the offspring of a three-way between god, a seraphim and a moon-lit vista. Or an alien sent to us by a race appalled by our poor standard of all male-erotica. Others just claimed that he had always been. But whatever school of thought you adhered to, it was undeniable that there was  something special about him and his celestial wang – the tales of how it would glow with the fires of new-born galaxies as he approached orgasm; the glittering starlight that was rumoured to infuse his ejaculate.

‘Whatever it was, the Skylarker, like so many before, sensed it and from that point his fate was sealed. Unlike the fluffers before him, he wasn’t put off by Cosmic Bang’s disdainful rejections. Instead he began work on a plan to make Bang his very own.

‘That very night he started on the piece that would eventually come to be recognised as the single greatest porn script of all time. But when he first put pen to paper, it wasn’t the accolades of his peers the Skylarker was seeking. It was the love of Cosmic Bang. He was certain that Bang would not be able to resist the perfection of his script. In his mind, the Skylarker had already cast himself as the nuclear physicist who would play the supporting role to Bang’s janitor in Bang in the Physicist, the title of his masterpiece.

‘It quickly became his obsession and even after his own meteoric rise to fame – when a producer had spotted him trying to cheer a young star who had messed a little too soon with an early prototype of his “Not in me Gulliver, Darling” sketch – the Skylarker worked on it day and night, honing it and honing it until it gleamed pure perfection.

‘Years passed until he was satisfied and in this time his unrequited love only grew. When he finally presented the script to Bang, it was as he suspected. The man couldn’t refuse. Production began immediately and things progressed smoothly until the last day of shooting when they were due to film Bang’s final scene. It was to be of Bang, a lowly janitor, finally succumbing to his desires and making love to the nuclear physicist right on top of the reactor core, just after they successfully foiled a terrorist plot against the power plant. The scene was to be the emotional focal point of the film. It would show that even severe radiation burns couldn’t quell their passion and was to lead directly into the coda of the pair as elderly men, still making love while the radiation sickness deteriorated their bodies.

‘But there was a horrible mishap during that last scene of filming.

‘Just as the scene reached its climax – with Cosmic Bang jack-hammering deep, crowing about how he was hitting the vinegar stroke – he began to spasm. Witnesses to the event describe a strange aura that surrounded his body. A glowing nimbus described as simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. Whatever the changes he underwent were, they clearly exceeded human comprehension. They culminated in a spectacle that melted the brains of 24 of the gaffers who were on set that day. With a cry of, “Here comes the motherload”, Cosmic Bang ejaculated himself through the eye of his own penis, deep into the Skylarker’s bowels.

‘And the result of that event is what you see before you today. This perfection that is buried deep inside a store-keep’s trousers.

‘No one is truly certain what happened on set that fateful day. In the years since, many theories have been put forth but personally I like to believe the one that gained popularity in the immediate months following the incident. That Cosmic Bang was in fact a cursed being, forbidden from loving anyone for fear of unleashing the power of his loins. I like to think that was why he was originally so stand-offish to the Skylarker and that, right at the end, he realised he truly did love the man and sacrificed himself to enjoy that love for just one blissful moment. It’s somehow more romantic than the theory it was an allergic reaction to the make-up they were using to simulate radiation burns.

‘But whatever you believe, this vista before you is the result and its inception also proved to be the Skylarker’s undoing. For the thing he found most beautiful in the world was now trapped inside himself, locked away in a place where he could not follow. In the aftermath he couldn’t help blaming himself for it all. He had, after all, written the script that had doomed his lover. After Bang’s death, the Skylarker’s puppet shows just lost their verve. He had a brief dalliance with a production company attempting to get an “internal furniture” fetish off the ground but it only had mild success in Japan. Finally he dropped out of porn, grew his whiskers and instead pursued a career in the paint industry…’

The words of the smeared man faded from Flaps’ mind and he looked up to see the Store-keep leaning over him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

‘I have seen wonders!’ Flaps announced as the Store-keep levered him up. ‘Such wonders!’

‘I know… I know…’ The Store-keep’s voice emerged as a choked whisper. A single solitary tear snaked through the orgy on the man’s lip.

Flaps shook his head to clear his own emotion and saw that the ‘keep hadn’t been idle while he’d sojourned through his bowels. The man stepped back around behind a sparkling, brand new meringue desk.

With gusto Flaps slapped the gooey tin he’d emerged with onto the new counter. He felt a little bad at the cracks that snaked out from it in the aftermath but the store-keep didn’t even seem to notice. The man wiped the tear away from his moustache, a thousand yard stare in his eyes while he ran a finger gently round the rim of the paint tin.

Finally he spoke.

‘Merlin’s curse. That’ll be a tuppence and a dash of the happy slap.’

Next time: Evil is unleashed!

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