"Let Bigods Be Bigods"
Let Bigods be Bigods, they always said. But really, what else could they be? The game board looked suspiciously like a familiar universe, and the game pieces looked even more suspiciously like you-know-whos. The lesser gods seemed to be dragging themselves, grumbling and coughing, into position to make a move or two regarding the position of the board pieces.
The game was indeed at a critical, if not farcical, point: you could cut the tension in the place with a blade of grass. Let's face it, tension isn't quite the right word for it: no one was tense about the impending moves except for Rex, Mona, Larry and the gang, and their collective tension didn't add up to a grain of sand in the great egg timer of the Bigods. Universe #27 seems to have a perverse need for wasted energy, and Rex and his cohorts were doing their best to fill that need.
One of the grunt gods rolled the dice. A tremendous roar of laughter shook the board. A nervous, nicotine stained hand reached down and moved RAMona's left leg three squares, landed on the "create a religion" square and took a card from the stack in the middle of the board. In all honosty, it seems way, way too late, under the present circumstances, for the creation of a new religion; but then, anything for a laugh, as they always said.
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(c)1997
THE REX FILES: chapter 13
GENERATION REX:
When in the course of cosmic event horizons, a bored god decides that there is a need, albeit a frivilous need, for a new religion, shehe will get out the old gameboard and roll the dice. In-order-for this new religion to find a follower or two somewhere in the universe, it is tossed into the teeth of a black hole, where it is greedily devoured, unceremoniously digested, and, without any fanfare what-so-ever, pooped back out into the cosmic meilu. Somehow our intrepid crew had found their way into that black hole, through that black hole, out through that black asshole and back into the twinkling goolash of galaxies.
You float through the dream finding yourself a traveler in territory and landscapes that are simoultaneously all-too familiar, and yet amazingly unrecognizable. These places weave an environment and fabric of events that take you on a trip through the possible and the impossible. To ol' Rex, this whole damn trip was an impossible dream, and he wanted to wake up, collect his fee, down a stiff drink or two, and get on with his rather boring life as a small time big city private dick. But nooooooo; the goddamned universe had other plans for him, and he, as-well-as the others, were all too aware of their lack of control regarding these events.
Let us take stock of our situation, shall we?
Gameboards, body parts, new religions, giddy gods, lesser gods, iris virus, missing monas, black holes, man holes, donut holes, worm holes, assholes, slimy oysters, sweet cigars, private dicks, cyber-slumpers, caffeine clowns, foxy lawyers, big guns, little men, bad riddles, ominous voices, strange tastes, deific flatulentce - OOOOOOOweeeee! Yea, it's all there, tossed into the ol' cosmic osterizer and whipped into a frenzy of dizzying activity. WHAT THE HELL DOES IT ALL MEAN?????? Where's it all going? Haven't a clue, honey, but we've come this far, so what the hell....
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(not) chapter 14:
WE INTERUPT THIS STORY TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT MESSAGE!
Due to the negative influence of solar flares emitting from sun #267 in the fourth quandrant of the sixth system in the inner ear of the high holy god, "YENOM", we are unable to bring you further adventures of Mr. Havoc and his cohorts at this particular time. The aforementioned flares have screwed with our transmissions, and indeed the balance of the entire universe residing in the gray matter of the high holy god "YENOM". On behalf of the entire staff here at REX central we send our sincere (for the most part) apologies for this inconvenience.
We are certain that the new religion will be rolled out any day now, solar flares and tempermental gods permitting. Please excuse us now, we must depart for the Milky Way on a housekeeping mission to tidy up The Face On Mars before its upcoming photo op.
Thank you for your indulgence. We now return control of your universe to your fingertips.
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(c)1998, inevitability press
REX FILES: CHAPTER 14