The Laziest Man in the Universe stirred and yawned. Damn it, he thought,
I'm awake. That meant he had to manuever his hand three quarters of an
inch to the left to activate the catheter controls. In a few minutes he
finally worked up the resolve, and after what seemed like an eternity of
agonized effort his stubby fingers found the regulator switch. He flipped
it in one fluid motion and felt his bladder draining.
The Laziest Man in the Universe, who's name was Joss Larion, gave a sigh of relief.
Next came food. He was hungry. But after the torment of activating the catheter controls, Joss felt he needed a break. Perhaps even a nap.
"I really should redesign this superchair so that it monitors my neuropatterns and adjusts itself accordingly." he thought. But the volume of work that would entail terrified him. The month it took him to build the chair in the first place was such a nightmare of labor he got cold chills remembering it.
Finally with a surge of resolve he flipped the other switch and the back of the superchair began to slowly lift his torso into a sitting position.
Joss was breathing hard, his body shaking with the strain. He opened his eyes and looked around his living room. There was trash everywhere - pizza boxes, porno magazines, odds and ends of technomagick equipment. His housekeeper had quit two weeks ago, and Joss was too lazy to hire another one. He wheeled the chair around and looked at himself in the mirror.
"God, what a handsome bastard." he thought.
A strange flicker of shadow streaked across the mirror for a second. Joss blinked. Did he imagine it? Suddenly he had a very uneasy feeling.
But no matter. Food before metaphysics - was that how the saying went? Joss wheeled his superchair back around and propelled it toward the refrigerator. Its gravitational thrusters slid soundlessly across the debris-strewn floor. Joss activated the robot arm of the chair and flung open the fridge.
Inside was a dead baby lamb, its eyes gouged out, maggots crawling all over bloody gaping wounds in its body.
Joss screamed, which surprised him, since he so rarely worked up the energy to even speak. He had to get out of this house. He vaguely remembered reaching the stairs - and then to his horror and disbelief the gravitational thrusters on his superchair gave out.
The next minute was a blur of pain and humiliation, as his 300-pound bulk flew from the chair, the catheters painfully ripping out of his body, and began its terrible, crashing descent of the staircase. When it was over, Joss found himself face-down on the carpeted lobby floor. There was someone in front of him. Joss looked up to see a man in leather clothing, wearing black and white face paint and outrageous hair.
"What a pathetic worm." the man sneered. "Did you really think you could destroy me?"
"I believe I soiled myself." Joss said. What the hell else was he supposed to say?
"Killing you would be much too easy." the man said. "I believe some creative torture is in order before you die. Enjoy the Ice Catacombs of Vormioth, fool! You might be able to find your way out in a thousand years - that is, if you can even stand up! Ha Ha Ha Ha HA HA HA!!!"
8/27/2004 10:03:55 PM
The Never Ending Quest Home
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