88. Jimi & the Galactic Empire
The Celestial Maharani believes music is pure evil. This is not true. Music is just an intensifier. If you are depressed, it encourages you to commit suicide. If you are empty, it brings along a shovel, or more often the case a bulldozer and excavator. If you’re angry, a weapon. Then if you’re happy, music just makes the weather nice and the butterflies friendly. Driven, it will make you feel like you can do anything like climb Mt. Everest. The Celestial Maharani just happened to be in the worst of states when she heard the birds chirp in the Enchanted Forest. An impulsive decision for multi generations to pay.
In front of Zero is a phizog of silence, a sea of faces not knowing what to expect. That was shredded within a second. Boom at the first notes from the massive line arrays. The band decided to enter by force impact. Yvper, Vince van Vobo and Turbo slamming in at the count of one. The audience, including the aristocrats, were not ready. They were in for an electrifying, surprising shock that fired up archetypical and egregorial instincts. The crowd went wild. Class status was at once abolished. Honestly, no one knew how to behave at a rock concert; no one here in the zillions had ever been in one. They just did what came naturally, acted out that which was primate and primal. They ripped their clothes at the pounding bass and drums; naked, Turbo’s distortion sliced off any strips of decency remaining, and together, by order of the band’s music, a fuck orgy commenced.
Zero is officially the biggest musical act in the universe.
Throughout the intro, Killa, in Bowie stance, stared vacant into the citizens of existence via Melki’s lens. There was something supremely satisfying watching class boundaries torn apart in civilizations. The superego slashed to shreds by the irrepressible id. Counts and peasants doing the doggy. Countesses licked by dogs and villains. The spider kin with one-minded sexuality choreographing the love dances and mating wars of the genus. Assholes, regardless of gender or species, buggered. Music intensifies.
Backstage, a vortex-eyed Pepe Gilgamesh ran out across the band and stage dived. The hippo crushed a duke and a Karon guard anal scissoring, two lesbian couples, a few robotic arachnid sex toys and a vanilla couple to pulp. The last discerning thought swimming in the magnate’s mind was, ‘How come Zero never had such devastating energy on Earth? Was the band holding back or was it Earth’s vibe and atmosphere that was restrictive?’ Then ‘click’ his conscious mental defence was down and the Celestial Maharani filled every vacuum of his brilliant mind. He envisioned her in various stages of dress and undress. Every piece of imagination was akin to a parallel reality of its own with a dozen Maharanis and a dozen Pepes indulging in coitus obese.
He ran on like a walrus blubber berserker, on and on toward the corporate boxes and VIP stand, knocking off and out any copulating fuckers in his way. He was a one man stampede. There were a few unlucky orgasmic casualties caught victim by his heavy stomping, but at least they came before they went. When he got to the stand, he tore it down. Those in the VIP area were not spared the melodic onslaught. As below, so above. Prim and proper behaviour was replaced by wanton exaggerations. Prissy queens vomited out their inner whores and precocious children punished aristocratic paedophiles. Prurience reigned.
The Celestial Maharani caught sight of the hippopotamus walrus advancing. In the delirium, her farting jet pack had malfunctioned and she could not control her ecstatic flight. She was like a thick badly folded paper plane doing flips. The airstream cruising thru the oyster between her legs was arousing her, and with impact and marginal control, the Celestial Maharani guided as best she could into the crashing arms of Pepe Gilgamesh. In the madness of the tune they fucked. It was close to witnessing a whale thrashing and wallowing in tractor tyres.
This was more than anybody asked for. Nobody realized the effects and potency of Zero’s power. When Shu’ rHall Karon entertained the thought that perhaps it would be easier to control and rule half the universe if the population was happy, he didn’t expect the people to be this happy. He convinced mother to reintroduce music, and to party. But to see her smashing hard into Pepe Gilgamesh with no restraint and self-control was a tad too porno for her boy to stomach. His mother had always been stiff and upper-lipped. Now she was just a sad fat sex addict. The Celestial Maharani was crying as she was banging, her mascara and makeup running, and Pepe Gilgamesh had folded into his flabby skin, making his eyes and features squint before they dissolved in his own saliva, sweat and oil.
Something was knocked loose inside Shu’ rHall Karon seeing his mother utterly abandoned to obscenity. He drew Shasha Kazoom’s weapon, calmly walked toward the indecent couple and thrust it into their adjoining hearts. The copulating walrus and whale thrashed but they were still alive. Maddened, Shu’ rHall Karon pounced on them and from the broken pieces of concrete from the mayhem of the demolished VIP stand, he smashed their heads again and again with whatever it was that was in his hands.
They jiggered under till they finally stopped. And then the king suddenly dawned on a realization. He had killed his mother. There was blood on his palms. He smeared them on his face and released a loud terrible cry for forgiveness. Zero was still rocking minus the vocals as Shu’ rHall Karon looked up to heaven, beyond the Cosmic Ring of Fire. He saw, descending upon a light, his brother Khu’ rHall and bff Estellar. “Take me,” he blurted out in phlegm, and his head popped!
AI generated art prompted by author
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons and events are coincidental. Use of names of public figures, places and events are purely fictional and are not representative of them.