ZID PART V CHAPTER 4 EN-TRANCE

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Of course it would be the start

to the end for us all.


We will sail to the end of sanity.




Would you care to participate?


Somehow, I thought that you’d say YES.

3.

2.

1.



DRINK!



Sean slammed the door to the hearse. He stood there in his thigh-high leather boots and adjusted his tie

which here, means:


his luggage.


He was always quite a bally sort of fellow.


Sean re-rung his many leather belts and his two bells and then he started off to the doors of the busted church of them unruly punks.


Well, nothing left for us to do but follow. You remember that he wore only those weird boots form Fat Jerry, and some torn-up, melted jogging shorts. You recall that his body was covered with bleeding slices from window pane shards, and that he had smudges of burnt body hair across his torso and along his limbs.


He smelled like burnt hair and 151 rum.

Sean had a head full of matted, burnt hair, and he was full of ZID, but he was having a very angry trip.


Yeah, I would have gotten out of his way as well.

For some, it might have been the burned crisscrossed belts over his bloody torso below his leering face.

For the rest, it was the way that he swung that huge hearse over the dirt from the curb-less road, and landed it in front of the broken church in a cloud of desert dust. Them tires were built for strength, not traction. For weight of dead bodies, all who carry the weight of the Dead upon their hands, like Pallbearers.

Not built for speed maneuvers.



Sean stood there and leered like a damaged circus clown. He was feared now.


Jerry held back and watched this creature he had created.

A play toy.

A boy toy.

Pinocchio.




We did not understand this fact at the moment.


Looking back and seeing how Fat Jerry and Sean would always continue to fight each other:
It now appears that Jerry had respect for Sean in some different, fucked-up way.


Yes indeed, Sean parted the big crowd and walked right up those stairs and he faced the doorman.


The doorman was also tall with huge muscles but he did not have the odd odor of Sean.


He stepped up to Sean.


Sean nodded.

The other big guy shook his head.

NO.

He was the Protector. He was going to keep everyone safe. Sean nodded again and then he looked back at Fat Jerry.


Jerry nodded, and Sean was let inside.


Man, can I tell you, the people outside started to holler, to scream.

It was not in anger.

They were hoping for a good time.

They would have it.

We had a lot of ZID.


That, my friend, is how you make an En-trance (which is a French term for: to become entranced) and it would also be very interesting, for what happened after.


Do ya ken, Sean had the key of this entrance from Jerry, and this meant that Sean was Jerry’s bitch at the moment of the entrance.


Oh no.


Here is a tune that you should not listen to, unless you turn your headphones down, and also, if you like some lovely punk rock.


I Turned Into A Martian by Misfits


Now time for a Black Martini. Would you care for one?


Gawd help us all.



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