The Angels Saga

Rebirth Volume 7

'Clamorton Clans'

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

Copyright 6182 SC

Stories:

PART ONE – CLAMORTON CLANS

Teacups and Teaspoons

Michael on Eternya

Silk Suspenders on her Thighs

Vortexes

Raphael and Tobit

Clamorton Clans

Vortexes 2

Heart Jubilee

Clamorton Clans 2

Michael on Eternya 2

Teacups and Teaspoons 2

Kaleriaphon and Brigidina

Raphael and Tobit 2

Kadravanan Sarcasm

Callodyn and Kayella 19

PART TWO - ASTORIA

The Dodgy Barbarians

The Dodgy Barbarians 2

Vortexes 3

4 O'Clock 23

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe

The Dodgy Barbarians 3

Life in Avatar City

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe 2

Monkeyman and Monkey

Monkey and Bagman

PART THREE – GEOCITIES

The foundation of Creation

Journal Entry 347.444.443.78902222888

Ambriel Ninetysixfire

Satan the Bagman of Geocity

Krondak the Usurper

Dragonrage

Pinnacle Visitation

Geocity Arcade

Davriel Sevenheaven & Amiel Fifteenfight

Life in Geocity Prime

PART FOUR – LIFE IN CLAMORTON AND OTHER TALES

Life in Clamorton

Life in Avatar City 2

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe 3

Clamorton Clans 3

PART ONE

CLAMORTON CLANS

Teacups and Teaspoons

'It's a collectable,' said Daniel – Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

Taylor Swift nodded.

'It's worth about 70 Billion Googol Dollars,' said Daniel. 'A realm credit still buys near a dollar.'

'Australian or US?' asked Taylor.

'Not much difference,' said Daniel.

Taylor nodded.

'There are 500 in the series. A teaspoon also comes with the teacup and saucer. They only have the cup and saucer here, but sometimes you find the full set. It's some of the finest from Royal Prestwidge. A 33rd century company from New Terra. Welsh finest.'

Taylor nodded, but still continued purveying the stand.

'Mmm,' said Daniel, holding his chin. 'Not impressed, huh?'

Taylor looked at him for a moment, but continued looking at the table. After a while she turned, walked over to a nearby bench, and sat down, taking out her water bottle. He looked at the item, and it's price, then sidled over to Taylor, sitting down next to her.

'These things go on forever, Daniel,' said Taylor.

'The point is you put them on a Meludielese timetable checklist, and get to them after several epochs, use them, and appreciate them for a while, before back into storage.'

She looked at him. 'So you say. But why?'

'To spice up life,' he replied.

'It's spicy enough with favourites. A few thousand personals which are dear to my heart. Don't need the extras.'

'You haven't worked it out then, yet?' he replied.

'Then explain,' she said.

'It's not about having JUST the personal. Obviously we keep the personal close. It's the every day use things our lives revolve around. But mum always had the special itmes which came out once in a blue moon. So these go into storage, and are rarely used. When they are, it's a bit of colour in life, and something to rag on about for a while.'

She looked at him, then sipped on her water, still looking at him. Finally she stood and went to the table.

'I'll take it,' she said, handing over the card. 'Please wrap it carefully.'

'It's eternya,' said the vendor. 'But I'll wrap it carefully.'

Taylor took the item after a while, and returned to the bench.

'Your logic is sound,' she said after a while. 'We will be shopping hard for the next millennia. I have muchos doleros in savings. I will purchase an archive space near some of yours, and begin this dastardly project. Your idea is fine. No flaws, actually. I don't mind special at all in such a context.'

Daniel smiled.

'Special kisses tonight?'

She kissed him on the cheek.

'Dream on Daniel Daly,' she said.

'He got a special kiss after dessert. He said something rude then. Taylor slapped him on the cheek.

Collecting was now the priority.

The End

Michael on Eternya

'You shouldn't be here,' said Theophilus Largeheart, wizrd extroardinire of the Guild of Wizards and Witches of Eternya.

'And you shouldn't practice magic. It's a sin,' replied Archangel Michael, looking over the land in the valley below. He was not far from the top of a hill which had a wizard tower in the Vale of Aldur tradition from the Belgariad, which was Theophilus' home. Theophilus had come down to see the strange visitor who was on the edge of his land, in unclaimed territory, not yet settled, in this area of Eternya – just the way he liked it.

'Isn't Zionistya enough for you Michael?' asked Theophilus. 'I had felt the judgments on the issue were sound enough, and that separation of covenants was the best solution. We were getting along better with separate communties. Why would you want to change that? It's working ok now.'

'I don't intend to change that,' replied Michael. 'Not in any major or significant way. But Eternya is middle ground, and I have judged that at this stage, this far out from centrepoint, it's fair game for Zionistyans to start settling, and competing with the other communities.'

'You are in your legal rights,' said Theophilus, stroking his chin. 'Eternya is a different kettle of fish, of course. It probably won't bother us much if that is what Zionistya wants to do. But Eternity will not like it much. You surely know that.'

'I don't expect them to, and I don't expect that will bother me much, or change the agenda. We'll claim what authroity we can in the end, through perseverance and getting what we can from life. Saruviel and Daniel won't have it all their way.'

'Argue that with Samael of Infinity. He doesn't let eternity up much. They often find it challenging when they do, and we don't like it much up there at all. Very strict and much expected. Far more happy with Eternya's pace of things. We don't judge nearly half as much. Why I expected you guys not to care being at the bottom anymore. Figured the suffering servant has had enough and is over it.'

Michael continued surveying the valley. 'We generally are, if you must know. I'm making a more rationale decision in that respect. Logical ways of furthering our postion from, forgive me, an eternal mindset. What works eternally well for us.'

'Eternya will probably accept you,' said Theophilus. 'But I personally like the peace and quiet of my region. I know you are probably going to buy that valley down there. I can see it in your eyes. But futher along is a lot of nice greenery. If you do build here, promise me only a quiet hutlet, with maybe some levites. Rabbis I can live with. They are sedate enough.'

Michael looked at Theophilus. 'Ok. I agree to that. What is your name?'

Theohailus of the guild of wizards and witches. Typical Belgariadian style.'

'I understand,' said Michael. 'I will be building a castle down there, and a middle ages village will settle. I see your stylings, and will go with your general flow of things.'

'Thank you for that mercy,' replied Theophilus, and turned and started making his way up the hill. He paused, and turned to Michael. 'Come and visit once you are settled in. We'll have a feast of turkey and things, and chat about things. I have much knowledge you might not yet know.'

'Sounds good,' said Michael, and Theophilus smiled, continuing his way up the hill.

Michael looked at the valley again. 'Life moves on,' he said himself.

And the wind blew in the leaves of the trees nearby.

The End

Silk Suspenders on her Thighs

‘Oh, Jessica.  You want sex again?  We had it last night.

Jessica Daly nee Murdoch was in her silk suspenders, and not much else, in Daniel’s bedroom, Daniel the Seraphim’s bedroom, on the ground floor of Danielphon, gazing at her husband, whip in hand, reading to flog him.

‘Slave, your mistress needs a bit,’ she said, looking ravishing with her short blonde hair, in that inimitable style she eternally wore it.

‘Who does your hair?’ Daniel asked.

She looked at him, and came down from standing on the mattress, and sat on the edge of the bed.  She looked at the mirror of the cabinet, touched her hair, looking at herself.

‘I don’t really recall you ever asking that,’ she said.

‘I’ve never really thought about asking, but looking at my dominatrix, your eternal cut suddenly reached out and imposed itself in my head.  Just curious where you get it done.’

‘I have a stylist down in Just Cuts, not far from Zaphon tower.  In Ludstrom Plaza.  She’s been there forever, and is very qualified, despite it being a budget cut store.’

‘I get my hair done there occasionally,’ he said.

‘I know.  You came in once, and I disappeared out the back very quickly.  Didn’t really want you to know.’

‘I see.  Is it the brunette or the blonde?’

‘The blonde,’ replied Jessica.  ‘Her name is Mary.  She’s married, has 7 kids, and has been there since the resurrection practically.  Owns a home in Dalnaphon district.’

‘Right,’ he said.  ‘It’s always flawless.  Always perfect.  You are eternally desirable because of it.’

She jumped back up on the mattress.  ‘That’s the point, slave.  Now give me some, or I will whip you to an inch of your life.’

‘If you insist,’ he replied.

Later on, passion finished, Daniel was eating his weet bix, while Jessica was sipping on a latte she purchased in one of the café’s upstairs a bit in Danielphon tower, reading the Danielphon News.

‘Shelandragh is looking for a blonde business type for some work.  What do you think?’ asked Jessica, not looking up.

‘Sounds good,’ said Daniel.  ‘Will keep you busy.  You are always taking time off work these days.’

‘Technically I’m part time now,’ she said softly.

‘What?’ he asked.  ‘Since when?’

‘Quite a while now.  I’ve enough of an income, and you have a card I can use when I want to.  Thought I may as well enjoy something of the good life.’

‘And you like a bit of my beanstalk a bit more regularly because of it, huh?’

‘I’ll let your beanstalk recover a while first, but indeed I like a bit of the passion of Daniel the Seraphim.  He has eternal skills in being a bit feisty.  Never gets jaded and pious.  Always remembers he likes the ladies.  Exactly what I like about you dear husband.’

‘When they are as hot as you babe, not a problem,’ said Daniel, fishing into the box of weet bix and pulling out the cards.

‘They’ve done classic rolling stone magazine covers,’ said Daniel.  ‘That’s new.  Must have got rights.  Don’t recall them doing this before.  I’ll have to make sure I collect all 20 cards.’

Jessica nodded, and continued reading the newspaper.

Daniel looked at her, as he munched his weet bix.

‘Obviously I like Meludiel and Melanie C and Gloryel a bit,’ he said to her.  ‘And my twin a bit.’

‘Your point, ‘said Jessica, not looking up.

‘They really only need to be friends now,’ he said soberly.

She looked at him.  ‘What I’ve been working on you for.  I take our vows seriously buster.’

‘You always have, Jessica Murdoch.  You always have.’

Jessica nodded, continued reading her paper, and Daniel looked at his cards, his heart happy at the prospect of going off to buy some weet bix regularly and building yet another full set of trading cards.

 The End

Vortexes

‘These anomalies are called Vortex’s,’ said Professor Zelzazon.

‘How do they work?’ asked Saruvien.

‘They appear sporadically in the universe, sort of like a wormhole through time thing, as far as we understand.  But, of course, time travel is a fantasy.  Physically impossible.  What has happened is that the universe has an in-built recording mechanism built into it, and there are timestreams which are managed by the Time-Masters to fix destiny.  The Time-Masters plot out the workings of destiny from the book of Destiny created by Eve, firstborn child of heaven.  In harmonizing all the passions and energy of the timestreams, which are like the impulses that are theorized will be in the actual universe in the real world, beforehand the Time-Masters fix things up and get it all under control.  So many issues in life were resolved for us in pre-planning work by the Time-Masters, who harnessed our passions and unified the whole.  Divine interference in a sense.’

‘Apholox explained it all once to me,’ said Samaen.  But what the fuck is a Vortex.’

‘An irresolvable.  The time-masters take an element or elements, some times, which will not work out in destiny, and create an alternative universe for them to fit.  Where they can express themselves better in a world, born anew, which would not have understood them.  They are only ever eternal destiny individuals, but these misfits of space and time could not resolve their passions in the natural flow.  A vortex becomes necessary, and a new world.  God creates in and starts it all in flow, in separate dimension frequency.’

‘Can we harness them?’ asked Satan.

‘You really are evil, aren’t you,’ replied Zelzazon.

‘Takes one to know one old chap,’ replied the Dark Lord, and puffed once more on his ciggie.

The End

Raphael and Tobit

‘Yes Tobit.  You are an idiot.’

‘You have been saying that for many a long century,’ replied Tobit.  ‘But Azariah, you are hardly a man to make such a comment.’

‘Nay, I am the angel Raphael in disguise.  Can you not tell.  If I say my mother was a Kushite, with colour that can not change, and you believe me, then you must also believe I am telling the truth when I call you an idiot.  It is well known – a received fact amongst the clans of Clamorton.  Tobit of Vinner City is the world’s greatest idiot.  An electrician of ill repute, who rides in a van every weekend with his best friend, a scot no less, and hangs around a banal an boring club, because his daughter has married such a one, and boozes, and chants horrible pictish sonnets, and bores all and sundry with how the Rothchild’s are doing such a wonderful job running Televere.  Nothing less than an idiot.’

‘I have new Scottish CDs from ‘The Universal Scotsman’ society on a regular basis, ones which I am not mocked for owning, due to my fidelity to the Clamorton Clans club.  Cultural possession is strong in humanity, and so many are defensive, but young Delilah is faithful to Doogal Maintyre, and they have received me whole and unblemished.’

‘Nincompoops.  Israel should be in Zionistya, and get going when they learned their place.  I am here to teach you this.  Come dwell in Zionistya, and leave this Scottish farce behind you.  Michael takes much to drum sense into, but he will learn in time.  We have a perpetual domain and I have gotten used to it now, and I see little point in crying over spilt milk.’

‘Son of Hananiah, listen to me.  I am comfortable with my trade in Vinner City, and live in a comfortable suburb, with a comfortable wife, and a comfortable family.  The Clamorton Clans club receives my quiet happily, if you must know.  There are no issues whatsoever.  They are patriotic indeed, but Televerans, and Televere is quite happy with it’s Jewish royalty.  Leave me be.  Return to your place, Azariah, and get on with your own concerns.’

Raphael picked up the cold glass of Scottish beer, and looked at the paintings on the wall of Tobit’s living room in his abode in Vinner City, on Clamorton Continent on the planet Televere.  He sipped.  ‘Maybe I should buy in the local.  The best fishing in the universe is in Vinner City I have been told.’

‘Now you are making sense,’ replied Tobit.

Raphael sipped again, and put down his glass.  ‘The covenant claims are being honoured, as they are legal, but do not think there will not be tensions down the road a little.  The Morning Stars could not find peace with the Evening Stars, and separation has solved much of our dilemma.  I think it is the best of solutions, but there is chance that places like Televere, and if Michael can succeed in his vain ambitions, parts of Eternya which will receive us.’

‘You fret too much,’ said Tobit.  ‘Drink up, and we’ll play snooker.’

‘So the afternoon passed in Tobit’s house, and Raphael, concerned with a citizen who usually resided in his dominion in Zionistya, an ancient friend, decided to go with the flow for the time being, and see where the waters ran.

The End

Clamorton Clans

Celia picked up the red pencil, and mulled it over. 'Red or Purple' she puzzled to herself. Unicorns should in all natural course of affairs be white, but fuck it. She was a Connelly, with a father who had made a living of going against the grain, and while Azrael was far away in the Realm of Eternity, serving beer to drunkards, and hanging around that Icelandic clown he was fond of, her mother faithfully by his side, young Celia was not to be drawn into such a lifestyle. But her father rubbed off on her regardless. She stuck with red, and started colouring in the Unicorn.

'Celia,' yelled her mother 'Your uncle will be here shortly. He's just rang. Are you ready? Is your backpack packed? You have bottled water, and a book to read?'

'Everything is fine Auntie Petunia,' yelled Celia in reply.

'I'll let you know when he gets here,' yelled Petunia, and went quiet after that. Celia's uncle, a brother of Azrael, born many years later to Azrael's human parents, Uncle Jim, was her legal guiardian. Jim Connelly. Well renowned plumber of Vinner City, Clamorton. Famous for his inventions and patents in the fields Clamorton wide, but mostly renowned for his long drinking sessions and card playing up at the Belton Clamorton Clans club in Belton City, the capital of Clamorton. She chose him for, despite their weekly trip up to Belton from Vinner City, which was filled with Scottish idiots doing stupid Scottish Clan things, in the predictably Scottish way, he was mostly a conservative sort of fellow, a straight laced plumber, who did a no-nonsense job in cleaning out sewarage works a lot of the time, and unclogging blocked toilets and the like, and life was far more sedate and predictably safe than life with her own parents, who seemed to have an incredible knack for revelry and sarcasm. Much to much sarcasm for the straight as a nail Celia Connelly. Yet while she like the straight way in life, with a predictable accounting job in her uncle's company, and equally predictable conservative friends, where she ate the same meals and drank the same coffee, and spoke the same conversations time and time again, the irony of it all was that her heart longed and lusted for a hero, a wild highland man, to come and take her, and carry away, and bed her, and make her his own. So much did she fantasize on this that it was not Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice, or the like, the reading material to fill her bookcase, as although Mr Darcy was indeed the perfect gentleman, with his fine English manners and most likely fine English looks, she was infatuated with the Scottish romances, of wild highland men, and one character in particular, the greatest of rebel hearts, Roary Magee, whose brazen lovings with every scarlet woman that Scotland has known, caught the part of her heart which, in the end, would only settle for the most passionate of lovers, and nothing short, to take her away from her dry life, and her dry career, off to the Clamorton Highlands, to make wild and passionate love, and leave it all behind her, gone with the wind. But, no, her saviour had not come, her redeemer had left her be, and the thrills for young Celia was the weekly drive up to Belton, and the banal idiocy of the Clamorton Clans club, and a long night of crude Scottish jokes, cruder Scottish pickup lines, and a fowl mannered uncle the following morning, who would need to sober up for the long drive home. Oh Roary, she bemoaned, where are you?

'Your uncle's here,' yelled her aunt.

Celia sighed, put down the pencil, looked at the Unicorn, and said, 'I'll see you soon enough,' and grabbed her backpack, off to her uncle, and the long drive to Belton and another night of predictable Scottish entertainment.

* * * * *

'These red tile steps are like your mouth on these evenings. Filthy, uncle Jim,' commented Celia about the steps mountin up to Clamorton Clans Club in the heart of Belton.

'Aye, that they are. Should probably bring that up at a club meeting. But it's traditional, you know. We like the worn look at the club. Not shiny and new. Well worn Scottish heart, a place which is old and set in its ways, and not giving much of a care anymore.'

'True enough,' replied Celia.

Rosemary Dawson, the ancient club receptionist, greeted them at the club entrance, and they flashed their club cards, and Jim instantly headed for the bar. Celia took her seat and looked up at the big TV screen. The volume was not too loud, but you could hear it. The ground level club was filled with TV screens hanging from the ceiling all over the main bar areas and eating places. It was alive with chatter of mad Scots and Irishmen, arguing about this and that, and there was a corner were the Welsh traditional hung together, but predominantly a scottish atmosphere. Technically it was a Celtic club, not specifically for the Scots, but Clamorton resounded with Scotsmen who had found a home on the continent, so Scotland was the flavour of the day for Clamorton Clans. You would occasinally get a Manxian or a Cornishman hanging around, and the rare Brittan from the celtic French people. In fact there was a dartboard near the back of the club on the ground floor which had a sign in French, and Britans throughou the year would sometimes show up and play darts there.

Celia looked at Jim at the bar, chatting away, and noticed Tobit had finally caught up to them, and had sat down opposite them. Tobit usually drove up for the meetings in his car, trailing behind them, letting the Connelly's set the pace, but often he disappeared as they neared Belton, off to mates of his for a while before heading to the club. Once a month he was also a passenger to save a bit on fuel, and she would chat with him from the back seat, as he would usually sit in the front chatting with uncle Jim. Tobit's daughter had married a Scotsman and was involved with Clamorton Clans a lot, and the club was happy enough to have the apocryphal legend hang around, famed for the book of Tobit in the Apocrypha, a long term resident of Clamorto and Televere, which also housed the biblical Ruth and Boaz on Androvon, the other southern contient of Televere. Callodyn the Cherubim, one of the Daniel Daly's, had introduced her to Ruth and Boaz once, when she was visiting with her parents in Paradision. They were regular people with out any spiritual pride was Celis'a main thoughts, which could be surprising considering their great fame. But they liked the regular life, with not too much fuss, and apparently Paraidsion life suited them.

'He'll be at the bar probably another hour or so, and then downstairs for the evening,' said Celia. 'As usual.'

'I'll buy you dinner tonight,' said Tobit. 'My treat.'

Celia picked up the menu. Very well worn, and ancient. They'd never changed them, and they were made of Eternya. She'd ordered everything on the menu over the years, and really didn't need to look at it, but did so, probably more out of habit than anything.

'Steak and Chips and pepper sauce,' she said, looking at the menu. Tobit nodded, and headed off to order their meal, while Celia stared at the TV set, her mind lost in the regular humdrum of club life.

* * * * *

If there was one thing which was universally honoured amongst conservative Anglo-Celtic white women everywhere, it was the law that when you came into a club you looked at the menu when drinks were being ordered, considered all the fine cocktails, spirits and beverages, and ordered a lemon lime and bitters. It was ingrained into them. Celia knew this to be true. She had one in front of her. They were in the basement level of the club, the cardplaying, music, and clan boasting going on, and the flowing barrels of lager being consumed by the dozen, and in her typical way she had her lemon-lime and bitters, a permanent frown on her face, and nearly ready, as it was just about to turn to 8 O'Clock, and most of the official business was over with, to open her book, start reading, and ignore all the revelry and clowning around, lost in her latest romance, blissfully ignorant of her Uncle Jim's endlesss arguments and carrying on's, too familiar now, too jaded really, to bother to interfere anymore, happy enough that if he got into a fight, well, he could bloody well suffer the consequences. So when she looked up at the casio clock above the bar as it hit 8 pm, and the chatting started turning to more serious drinking, she put her shawl over her legs, sipped on her lemon lime and bitters, took note of the current state of sobriety of her uncle, and picked up 'Highland Thrills and Spills' and started on chapter 8. She was lost in the world of Roary Magee, the greatest celic loveer of them all, and while chaos reigned around her, she was lost in her world, in her highland fantasy, well equipeed now to traverse the evening, and live and let live.

She was propositioned twice, grabbed on the butt thrice, and around midnight an old flame propesed again, who'd done it every few years, and she smiled, but said no, as he was no catch, and around 1 am, the strength of their partying mostly diminished, she put down her book, nearly finished, and braved looking around the room. Her uncle was at the bar, chatting with Tobit, looking suprisingly sober for once. She noticed there was vomit not far from her table, and piles of peanuts, in fact one big pile, with ping pong balls mounting the top of them. Whatever game that was she did not yet know, but was sure she would find out soon enough. Most of the largely male ensemble were bleary eyed, and telling sorrowful tales, as they were wont to do, and the mood was somber, the music having been lowered at midnight. Her uncle looked at her and caught her eye. He and Tobit came over, and he patted her on the shoulder.

'Your a good lass, Celia.'

'You don't look too drunk for a change,' replied Celia.

'I'm not,' he said. 'Been discussing bsuiness with Tobit. We have an idea. Something for a bit of a blessing for the family. An investment, classit art. Should be worth the money, as he only ever rises in value.'

'Who?' asked Celia.

'Angus. Who else?' replied her uncle.

Celia looked at her uncle with a fixed eye. 'Uncle Jim. Let alone Belton City, but the Clamorton Clans club has likely several hundred Angus's as members. Gosh, there is probably a dozen in this room. Angus who?'

'MacKenzie, Celia,' said Jim, and grinned.

'Aye. MacKenzie,' echoed Tobit.

Celia looked at her uncle, confused for a moemnt, then the penny dropped. Angus MacKenszie. The famous Highland Nudes artiest. Well, ok, not nude technically. But wild scottish women painted in most definitely compromising positions.

'Why invest in him?' asked Celia. 'You have a job. A home. What more do you need?'

'They inevitably go up as the seasons turn over,' said her uncle. 'And Angues is well famed in Belton. He's a club member in fact. Should be sound, and looking at the prices, and my savings, there is a piece or two in local galleries I think I may perchance afford.'

'If you say so,' replied Celia. She looked at her watch. 'Well, are you ready to go? I can drove both of you to the hotel, and we can settle down, and you can both snooze away the rest of the night.'

'Aye. Time's up,' replied Jim. But he still spent another half an hour saying farwell to this and that member, promising to see them soon enough, the following afternoon in fact, for another evenings revelries, before the long drive home Sunday afternoon. Usually her uncle kept it down on the Saturday evening bought, as he liked to drive back to Vinner City, so it would be a more sober affair the following day. Celia drove them to the hotel, were they had a membership in fact for regular use, and as her uncle snoozed in the bed beside her in the room, she gave a brief though to the art of Angus MacKenzie, before turning over, closing her eyes, and drifting off to sleep.

* * * * *

Clamorton Clans club had an official Tartan of the club. And many celtic families had their own tartan, the Connellies being no exception. The following Saturday afternoon Celia and her uncle were in the clan meeting, a general meeting, chatting about clan tartans, and some of the history of the Scots involving their tartan colours. Clamorton Clans general meetings were filled with anecdotes about Scottish and Celtic histories from all over the universe, and Tartans and Bagpipe stories were ever popular.

'I remember,' said Scott Kingsley. 'I was in my tartan overcoat, and thinking patriotic thoughts, and a garbage trcuk was driving by and garbage wafterd out into the air, some nasty stuff covering my coat. A lady friend of mine, a matriarchal figure, saw me who lived up the street, and commented a proud tartan should never have to wear such a blemish to its dignity, and had me take off my coat and she washed it at once, and put it in her drier, feeding me tea and bixcuits while I was waiting. Tartans produce a lot of respect in people. I've known that for a long time now. It's our badge of honour.'

And so the stories came and went and Celie paid attenton, some she had heard before, some new to her. Afterwards she was involved with a craft group for a while, before inevitable the revelry began, but Saturday night was usually a little less festive. It was the football game of the week in the Clamorton Celtic League, and while it was noisy, and a lot of drinking, they were usually absorbed in the game on the big screen, and chatting among themselves. Her uncle had barely had a drink when the night was over, and he drove them back to the hotel. She'd read the final pages of her romance that evening, happy at its outcome, but instead of starting a new book, had simply watched the match and enjoyed the atmosphere for once. It was ok in the end. Why she actually came along in the end, to enjoy some lively atmosphere, and men being men. Ultimately, still to find a match one day, but she would have a good long look at them all before she said yes to any proposals. So Celia attended Clamorton Clans Club, with a point and a puprose in the end, and while she sighed at the shenangicans of her fellow Scotsmen, she did not really want to change them either.

* * * * *

Televerans drove on the left side of the road. Celia was in ther right front passenger seat, well into Sunday evening, on the long drive home from Belton to Vinner City. They left mid Sunday afternoon, and would not be home till well into the wee hours Monday morning. Jim would drive the whole way, with two breaks at the same service stations for fuel, and they would have a short break each time, catch something to eat, and then back on the road. They'd had their first break earlier, and it was now approaching midnight, and they had the highland hills on the right of them as they drove south west from Belton back to Vinner City o the south-west coast of Clamorton. Celia would gaze at those hills, looking past her uncle's concentrated face on the road ahead of him, and then put her head agains the window, and stare ahead at the dark road, lit up by the reflector signs, and the occasional wild animal jumping out along the road. They'd done road kill over the years, and Jim had to peel of a rabbit every now and again from the wheels or bumper bar, and Celia thought it the most gross of things, but that was life, wasn't it. God didn't exactly try to redeem animal kind in the spiritual universe either. It was speculated the soul of a creature went off to a place in another spiritual dimension were it would finally be at peace, free from the scourge of humanity and the wild. Celia didn't know if that was true, and and in the end supposed she didn't really care either. She continued staring at the road, then her mind drifted off to the highland hills to the west of them, thinking about Roary Magee, whose strong and tender arms could catch her, and take her away, and do rude things to her, of an explicit nature which you only found in the more racier of the romance novels, and not her highland series. Oh Roary, where are you? She said to herself.

The car continued on, and soon, around 1:30 they hit the next rest stop, and she changed in the rest room, as she was feeling a bit grotty, before going into the eatery, and having a donut and coffee. The donut tasted like it had been there since last week, and she was quite sure it was the same one she had rejected last week. But she ate it, and it filled her up, and she smiled at the familiar faces in the rest stop, and soon enough they got under way again.

It was familiar road they had been down a thousand times, and she knew all the signs, and all the landmarks, and felt she could practically drive it eyes closed if she had to. When he made the final turn off the highway, into Vinner City, she looked at the houses on the outskirts of the city, and even they were starting to look all too familiar She recognized roofs and window and trees she had seen before, event though they were places she had never visited, and people she had never known – at least not known they lived there, if they were people in her circle of acquaintances. Who knew where they all lives, the many people she had met in life. Everyone had to live somewhere, of course. They could harldy live in the trees or the sewers. Well, some people did. But not usually the kind of people in Celia Connelly's circle of friends. No, people probably lived in these houses, probably some she knew well enough, and as her uncle turned onto the parkway which led to their own district, she gazed at a few houses, wondering silly thoughts about knocking on their doors, and saying guess who it is? Celia Connelly. But they were silly thoughts, and shortly, when they pulled up in the driveway, she hugged her uncle, and when her Autine in her dressing gown kissed her on the forehead, thoughts of meeting strangers fell away, as she fell into bed, not bothering to change, and with a fleeting wish for her highland lover Roary Magee to hold her oh so close and whisper sweet I Love You's into her ear, she drifted off, exhausted at another long weekend's goings on, knowing it would be work again Monday afternoon, and another dreary week in the regular grind of Vinner City life, Clamorton Clans awaiting her yet again as the weekend inevitably came around once more.

The End

Vortexes 2

'Our beast himself, Dickinson. The Dark Saber. The Iron Maiden guru. He already has the answers,' said Samaen.

'Our Saruvim brother Damien is the inevitable beast,' replied Satan. I have Jesus private telepone number and will ring him before Judgment Day to remind him of that very fact.'

'Another Judgment Day?' queried Samaen.

'They happen periodically,' replied the Dark Lord, riffling through his lollie bag for anotherh banana lollie. 'Shit, I'm out of banans. Only frikking licorice allsorts left. I frikking hate licorice allsorts,' said Satan.

'Here,' said Samaen, passing Satan his own lollie bag, from when they had stopped at thenearby 7 Eleven.

'Thanks bro,' said the Devil, opened the bag, and picked out a banana lollie.

'Anyway, Dickinson. I've been reading his memoire of his time in a vortex world. He travelled through it with a fellow team of Rugby League players, but they found their way back.'

'And how does that help us?' replied Satan, munching on his bananas.

'Vortex world, according to theological sources, cater themselves to the individual or groups thrown into the vortex. To accommodate the misfit.'

'I see,' said Satan.

'What greater misfits than us?' asked Saman.

'How do we get back?' asked the Devil.

'Bruce has the info in his memoir. But the point is, once they bend to our will, we bring them all to this universe. And conquer it all.'

Satan chewed on his yellow banana lollie. 'Tell me more, devil.' And Samaen started relaing his well though out plan.

The End

Heart Jubilee

Ganymede Genidweller was gay.  Traditionally very gay.  He lived in the 1000^th disc of the Realm of Eternity, were the gay lifestyle was legal. Technically it was legal from the 30^th disc of the Realm of Eternity and onwards, but why bother?  Seriously?  These days it wasn’t until well into the discs in the 700s that you bothered to declare your alternative lifestyle orientation, as all the inner discs before this were quite set in religious standards now.  And in the 1000^th disc even, from Ganymedes recent observations, gay was on its way out.  You couldn’t flaunt it at all anymore.  Still, he was settled in his ways, and had decided he would have to adopt a more conservative outlook, as he had no intention shifting ground.  He’d bought a book on strict homosexual bibilical living, which advised that you keep discussions in public on the issue very polite and well mannered, and you let your private bedroom shenanigans remain private bedroom shenanigans.  Because of this Ganymede had gotten rid of 90% of his wardrobe, all the outlandish costumes and such, and chosen colourful, but conservative, green and yellow suits, with appropriate ties and vests.  He dressed in a way in which it was known he was gay, but he did not push it with people any more.  Besides, he ran Heart Jubilee, which had a good reputation with religious circles for being accepting of people of diverse backgrounds and catering for them, and the right wing didn’t mind tolerance and acceptance of outcasts necessarily.  Jesus was still an influence, the cherubim angel, and his views of acceptance of the sinner and reforming them was a part of the Realm of Eternity’s traditions, if no longer in any Christian way of teaching these ideas.   Christianity itself?  Mostly dead now.  He was not Christ, nor ever had been.  But his teachings had been refined, and had carried on, and Ganymede had once been brought up in a Chrisitan household who long ago reformed its ways, and had let go of Jesus Idolatry, but followed Kosher Gospels of various kinds.  Heart Jubilee was Ganymede’s attempt at trying to please his family in some ways, catering to individuals who found it difficult to relate to society at large.  Misfits who ran their own path and did things their own way.  And his clothing modelled itself on peculiar ideas, things out of the ordinary, with often vibrant colours, and blingy things for many, but odds and ends you might normally expect.  Ganymede knew he was gay from a young age, but in recent years he felt it was more of a choice to allow such things enter his heart from desires, and knew enough theology to know it was something he had more initially let dominate his thinking, rather than repenting of, which had let it to cement itself into his sexual lifestyle choices.  Probably gay by choice in the end.  He knew that true now.  Still, he was not 100% gay.  A small percentage fancied women when the dressed colourfully, and it was not unknown of him to visit a French prostitute, dressed to the hilt, in some of the decadent French cities of the 1000^th disc, which had quite a chunk of France here and there in its vast geography.  Heart Jubilee was a successful company, and while times were in some ways changing for Ganymede, he would adapt, and his company would remain in its 1000^th disc location, going on doing its work of celebrating accomplishments from the fleeting fantasies of the human heart, and whatever came along, Ganymede had his work and was dedicated to it, and life was good enough for this child of God in the Realm of Eternity.

The End

Clamorton Clans 2

‘Rebecca Hill,’ replied Rebecca.

‘Friend of Marcus Chuan Chi Chin?’ asked Celia.

‘That’s him,’ said Rebecca.

‘You live in Canberra on Androma, right?’

‘Most of the time.  Also on New Terra.  Cherubim Callodyn is a friend, and we chat a lot.  I know his father well.’

‘Is that Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly?’

Rebecca went silent.  She spoke after a bit.  ‘They like a bit of an air of mystery about that, but yes.  I knew him for Earthly years.’

‘What brings you to the Clamorton Clans?’ asked Celia.

‘I’m a member,’ said Rebecca.  ‘I visit Belton once a decade, and usually drop in at the Clamonton Clans club.  It’s identical to Tuggeranongs Southern Cross Club practically.  Same designs used in the club.  That was very familiar to me.  Downstairs also uses a club design from Tuggeranong, the underground section of the Greenway Vikings Club.  Clamorton was founded by a Tuggeranong gentleman.  Mick O’Connor.’

‘Mick is around a lot,’ said Celia.  ‘Big sense of humor.’

‘I met him a few times once,’ said Rebecca.  ‘He informed me on Clamorton Clan’s club layout.  I became a member because of it.’

‘Right,’ nodded Celia, and sipped on her lemon lime and bitters which Rebecca had also ordered.  ‘Marcus visits often as well, with his friends.  He’s in Canberra were I catch up with him occasionally.  I know a lot of Androma people.  Probably 20, 30 thousand of them now.  Dad introduced me to some Televere people he knows in the hierarchies, and Callodyn introduced me to a few of his acquaintances because of it.  Are you married?’

‘I’m a non-denominational Christian nun,’ replied Rebecca.  ‘I have a convent in Nazraphora.  I there ever third millennia.  Quiet life with the other nuns.’

‘No menfolk, huh?’ queried Celia.

‘Just for good company,’ replied Rebecca.  ‘I can have children, but I don’t need that for a happy life.  Content being me.’

‘I’ve met a few nuns.  God knows I’ll probably end up being one myself,’ replied Celia.

‘It’s in you or it isn’t, I think,’ replied Rebecca.

‘Interesting,’ said Celia.

'How about a drink. A toast,' said Rebecca.

'To what?' asked Celia.

'Don't you know?' asked Rebecca.

Celia shook her head.

'It's just turned midnight, and we are now at the midpoint.'

'Middle of the night? Strange thing to toast,' replied Celia.

'Not the middle of the night. It was on Internatioal news last night. Midpoint.'

Celia looked dumbstruck.

'The midpoint of the fifth Process,' replied Rebecca. 'A toast to new beginnings, and midpoints of plans underway.'

'I haven't been around for a smidgeon of the process yet. Didn't even know it was half over,' replied Celia.

'A process is a vast amount of time,' said Rebecca. 'But it passes. Inevitably time marches on. Very used to it now. It's funny. I have a personal salvation ministry with God. And dragging up the dead from early processes really alarms them in some ways, but the spiritual energy is usually enough for them to give a damn for a while.'

'What's that all about?' asked Celia.

'Death. Comes to eeryone in some way or another But some are sinners. Yet their spirit is eternal. God won't save them, though. Won't give a damn. But if you'll deal with much of their sin, and pray scripture upon them, he'll give you the dead back for a time, and you can rule them somewhat. As long as you abide by the laws on the issue. I have a web miinistry in the Realm of Eternity were I settle my members, and I have a nun's ministry to them. There are many billions I've brought back so far. I still seem to be able to recall them all. Daniel does it as well. He prays hard. God doesnt' guarantee much though. Depends on the effort of the prayers. You just build up guaranteed time for the soul. The core idea, according to Daniel, is to eventually talk some sense into them. I'm learning to do that.'

'What religion?' asked Celia. 'A nun, but what religion?'

'Monotheism,' replied Rebecca.

'Oh, just the general God faith, then?' queried Celia.

'Something like that,' said Rebecca.

'I don't think I have a heart for the lost,' sighed Celia. 'Just my own poor soul.'

Rebecca smiled at her and sipped her drink. The evening continued on.

* * * * *

Celia sat in the main eating hall, were she sat often, while her uncle partied it up downstairs. She just needed to get away from that for an evening. It was quiet, but the pokies were pretty active this evening, and a darts game was going on with the Frenchies. She heard a bit of French that evening, and was a little shocked when a dark skinned man of African descent yelled out in French, something like 'I am going to kick your arse Matthieu,' as best as she could tell from her knowledge of French. She had a lemon lime and bitters she had been nursing for an hour, and was sitting quietly, tapping into her tablet phone, looking at varioius profiles on 'Clamorton Lovers'. She had a membership, and knew a huge number of the available men. She went on dates on occasions, but it was never what she wanted. Never her highland dream. And, quite frankly, though she told herself time and time again she wasn't fussy, there always seemed to be a reason she'd find in her date, an observation she'd make from his dress or manner or something he said about himself, which she told herself she just could not accept and could not live with, and that there was never anyone suitable. But as she sat there, she felt in some way it was more than that. And while she was not sure what that was, she had once heard ideas from a visiting rabbit at Tobit's house that human beings and angel beings often had a soul mate which God had made just for them. And she was thinking – perhaps hoping – in her hearts of hearts that God had made someone perfect for Celia Connelly, and it was her job to wait till that perfect man appeared. Of course she'd mapped out in great fantasy detail exactly what she expected in her lover. Tall, dark, handsome, subtle humor, strong but not barbaric, the perfect gentleman, yet with a wild heart, and ravishing good looks. Who was she kidding, right? But she was stubborn, nobody more so, and while she perhaps knew one day she'd have to wise up and settle for Tom, Dick or Harry from her dating site, marry and just get on with things, for now she would hold out, believe in the soul mate of her deepest hearts desire, and till then remain virginal and pure and do her work and just live her life. So Clamorton Clans keps her amused till then, till God finally got of his ass and sent in her husband to be.

She looked up at the clock. It was 5 minutes to midnight. She sighed, clicked off her phone, and went downstairs, sat down at her usual table, and sighed as her uncle continued boasting that he would win the arm wrestingly contest one day, even though he was no muscle man. Friday night passed, she sat on her bed in their hotel, and she stared out the window at the night, and silently wished upon a star that God would get to his business soon enough.

* * * * *

'Spaz. What on Earth would you know about pouring beer!' exclaimed Celia. 'Come away from that bar.'

'He's fine,' said the male bartender. 'Spaz is in the trade.'

'Oh, I forgot,' replied Celia. 'Stupid of me. That's what you actually do.'

'I don't live on Scotch mist,' replied her brother Spaz. 'The best pub in all of New Terra 17 relies on me to do my job at the top of the crafte. And I do it well.'

'Yes, I recall now. Father said you were an incompetent nincompoop who couldn't pour a beer to save his life.'

'Jealousy,' replied Spaz. 'I've more qualifications than him. The universal guild of bartenders can testify to that.'

'Your in the guild? Me too,' said the other male bartender who was serving a customer.'

'Life long member, mate,' replied Spaz.

'Here we go,' began Celia.

Spaz looked at his little sister and bit his lip. Best not to brag he thought to himself.

'Anywyay, dad and mum will be in Belton at the end of the year. I'll be hanging around till then. They want to visit Clamorton Clans and resume their ongoing rivalry with the club. Old Billy Boy has been battling them for the best damn Celtic Club in the world for a long time now.'

'Ego verses bravdo,' replied Celia. 'And stupidity will undoubtedly win over.'

Spaz grinned and his sister smiled at him.

'It's good to see you Celia. It's been too long,' said Spaz.

'You didn't bring the family?' she asked.

'Not this time. But next time I promise you. This is technically a working holiday. Looking at various pubs and clubs in Clamorton and going to some conferences on Televere here and there about bar maintenanc and things. Brushing up on my crafte.'

'I see,' she said.

'And looking for some of that art by Angus MacKenzie,' said Spaz. 'Uncle Jim has been raving about it.'

'You too,' sighed Celia. 'But your hardly a sex maniac. Why MacKenzies art?'

'I prize piece for the pub back home,' said Spaz. 'Will give it the right atmosphore. Not too crude a one mind you. Just suggestive enough to be desirable, but not pornoraphic.'

'Apparently he walks that line,' said Celia. 'With his work. Happy hunting.'

'Aye,' said Spaz, and sipped on his beer, winking at his sister.

* * * * *

'Look. Celtic Blue kick Celitc Red's butt,' said Spaz. 'There is no two ways about it. All throughout the bodies of New Terra Celtic Blue is dominant.'

'Hardly,' replied Raguel the Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity.

'He's right son,' said Azrael. 'Go further out, past the century, and latter New Terra's have a huge fanbase and strength in the red. Much stronger, and runs well in strength to the more recent established bodies.'

'Must be out of touch. Celtic Blue dominate the top hierarchy.'

'Football,' said Celia to Rebecca Hill. 'All mad Scostmen think about.'

'What brought you to Clamorton ahead of time?' Rebecca Hill asked Azrael.

'Meeting Michael the Seraphim here to discuss affairs of Eternya,' said Azrael. 'It's an old argument he's having with me and Cosadriel. 'Like he's pleading for our permission to push his Morning Stars agenda.'

'Morning Stars agenda?' asked Celia.

'Technically the former Seraphim of Eternity who dwell in Zionistya are classified as the 'Morning Stars'.'

'Which makes you?' asked Celia.

'An Evening Star,' said Spaz. 'Definitely a night wolf as far as I am concerned.'

'Where'd all that come from? ' asked Celia.

Azrael's eyes misted over. He was looking into the distance, and Kwintakel was staring at him with an equally mesmerizing look.

'He's off with the fairies,' said Spaz.

'Just reminiscing,' said Azrael. 'It was a long time ago. A long, long time ago. And so many faces have come and gone. Ironically, though, all our Seraphim numbers are still intact. The Morning Stars of Michael in Zionistya and the Evening Stars of Saruviel in the Realm of Eternity. Maybe one day they'll return when that blasted Daly clan gets over its fierce rivalry with Jacob. Too serious about a human covenant trumping an angelic Torah. Too serious.'

Celia looked at her father. 'You were two groups of angels?'

'One. In the beginning. In fact, it always really was one. But Saruviel came up with a list once, and enforced it later on, like the Daly's helped him too. And I don't think Michael even complained about it in the end. But it's a long story. Some other time.'

And Azrael stood, and winked at Kwintakel, and they took their beers, and retired to a back seat of the club.

'Bought him back some memories,' said Spaz.

'Looks like it,' said Rebecca.

'Obviously,' said Celia, loooking at her parents, and the soft glow which seemed to emanate from them at the moment.

* * * * *

The Oraphim Angel Kaleriaphon of the Realm of Infinity was in Vinner city. In face he was at the offices of Jim Connolly discussing business with Jim.

'What do you think he wants?' the Cherubim offspring angel Brigidina asked Celia.

'Don't know Brig,' replied Celia.

Brigidina was a cousin of sorts of Celia, related through marriage, and had joined Celia in coming to live in Vinner City, leaving her life in the Realm of Eternity behind her to try something new.

'Maybe angel business with Jim? Something to do with his brother Azrael?' queried Brigidina.

'Could be,' said Celia, but started typing again at her calculator, ignoring the stares in the office towards Jim Connely's office.

After a while Kaleriaphon came out and stretched his arms, looking around the office. He spied Celia and Brigidina and came over.

'So there you are. Young fillies,' said Kaleriaphon.

Brigidina batted her eye lashes, and Celia blushed at Kaleriaphon's muscles and handsome looks.

'You work out, huh?' asked Brigidina. 'A big handsome Oraphim like you.'

'I stay in shape,' said Kaleriaphon, smiling warmly.

'What brings you to Vinner city?' asked Brigidina.

'You two. Actually,' replied Kaleriaphon.

'Little old me?' asked Brigidina.

'Your up on the list. Sammy and Logos would like to chat about protocols. Between realms. Get some things sorted.'

'Sammy?' asked Celia, eyebrow raised.

'Samael the Onaphim. Your two honorable ladies have come up on the list for an official invite to the Realm of Infinity, and the two head honchos would like to give you some history of the Realm and our rivalry with the Realm of Eternity over many a long aeon.'

'I see,' said Brigidina. 'Will we be going with you now?'

'I'll be back in a couple of years. Give you time to think over questions you might have,' replied Kaleriaphon.

'Do you have a woman?' asked Brigidina.

'Feisty, aren't you. I'm settled Brigidina. Don't you worry about that,' replied Kaleriaphon.

Celia smiled at the Oraphim, but deliberately focused on her work. Kaleriphon prodded her arm and said 'Plenty of time Celia. We look forward to having you at Azaphon for a while.'

'Should be wonderful,' replied Celia.

Kaleriaphon made small talk with Brigidina a while longer,before going back to the office, and finally leaving the building.

'Ooh, an invite to Infinity,' said Brigdina. 'Aren't we the lucky ones.'

'Yeh, great,' said Celia. 'One thing she knew, there was no man for her in the Realm of Infinity. But it was two years away anyway, so she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

Getting back to work, Celia settled herself after the proud angel's visitation, but reminded herself of her father at Belton with mother, and again looked forward, perhaps more so, to the weekly trip to Belton, especially considering Azrael's rather, she did not know how to say it, but almost more settled and reserved nature. He seemed more of a father now – more than before – and she was lking her parents, seeing things in them she had not noticed before. Perhaps too proud to notice before.

The End

Michael on Eternya 2

'So you are set to visit Clamorton,' said Theophilus. 'Ironically I have some of the finest Clamortonian artwork on display.'

'Where?' asked Michael to Theophilus Largeheart's statement.

'Right behind you,' replied the wizard.

Michael turned and looked up at the stone castle wall. There was a large painting of a scostman in his traditional attire, kile, bagppip and all, with a redheaded maiden at his feet, in an alluring pose, her breasts openly hangind out, looking very lusty.

'Aye carumba,' said Michael. 'That's a bit much.'

'Angus MacKenzie. The artist,' said Theophilus. 'He tickles my fancy with his work. I bought that piece when he was starting out. It's worth an enormous amount now. He's very much in deman.'

Michael put down his soup spoon and stood, stnading to admire the piece.

'He;s classical. In his painting style. Typical European sort of style from the 1700s. Just very brazen,' said Michael.

'Common theme in his work. That piece, with a bottle of Scotch, has gotten me through many a long winter here in the castle.'

'I could imagine,' replied Michael. 'He has other works, I take it? Of a similar theme.'

'Hundreds of well known pieces,' replied Theophilus. 'Eternya galleries have a few. I'm very lucky I nabbed him when he was starting out. Treasured the piece forever.'

'Indeed,' said Michael, returning to his seat. 'Well it seems I might have more than just catching up with Azrael to take care of on my visit to Clamorton. Might have to look up this Angus MacKenzie. See if he has anything for sale that I can afford.'

'Aye, you do that,' replied Theophilus.

They continued their meal, but more than once Michael gave the 'Mackenzie' a glance, and by the end of the night had it firmly fixed in his mind that he would indeed look up this Angus MacKenzie and see what offerings he might perchance survey.

The End

Teacups and Teaspoons 2

'How many metals?' asked Taylor.

'17 different ones, each melding into the next along the spine of the spoon to its spoon bit,' said cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly in reply. 'As you can see the shades run from light to dark or dark to light depending on which way you look at it. These designs are ancient designs held in the legally registered patents archive of the Daly foundation. The first edition limited set will have 17,000,000 copies, and the second set to the 100^th set 17 Billion copies. Then they came no longer as llimited editions, but just standard released. They'll be made available at Noahide Books stores. We expect them to go very very quickly. There is a teacup which goes with it.'

Taylor nodded. She continued reading her magazine, in the front lounge of Danielphon keep, but then looked at him.

'Are you still intending to chase down a 'MacKenzie' in Clamorton.

'I want to catch up with Rebecca Hill in Belton,' he said. 'She's staying there at the moment. MacKenzies have been chatted a bit about she remarked. Apparently both Celia Connoly, Azrael's daughter, uncle Jim who is her legal guardian and a friend of Rebcca, Azrael's younger brother Jim Connolly that is, apparently Jim is after a piece and Azrael too now, and from the last email Michael is catching up with Azrael to discuss some things involving better visitation rights for the angels of Zionistya to the Realm of Eternity, and it gives me a chance to find a 'MacKenzie' and let Michael know the precepts of Morning Stars visitation are well established, and changing them is not a good idea.'

'Too fussy,' replied Taylor. 'Michael should be allowed to come and go as he pleases. It's his realm also.'

'Things changed. You know that as well as I did. Covenants change things. Even human covenants – they change things.'

Taylor went silent, continuing to read her magazine. 'Will I be coming along?'

'Will you?' asked Daniel.

'I'll have to pack if we're going soon.'

Daniel looked at the teaspoon. 'I'll make sure we get a set each. Pack on the weekend. We'll go the following week.'

Taylor nodded, and continued reading her magazine. A holiday to Televere. Always good to get away.

The End

Kaleriaphon and Brigidina

'I'm not an idiot,' said the angel Valladore. 'I know she's a feisty little wench. But she's obviously only got eyes on you Kaleriaphon.'

'Humble Abraphim angel,' replied Kaleriaphon the Oraphim to his Abraphim angel brother. 'You are the 54^th of the Onaphim of Infinity, and you are wise, and knowing, and long-lived. But I'm a settled angel, and I don't need the likes of Brigidina the Cherubim to worry about. I'm settled.'

'And virginal for aeons beyond measure,' replied Valladore.

'Yes, he doesn't touch them much,' said Shabradore, the 53^rd Onaphim angel of Infinity, fourth on the list of the Abraphim angels. 'But hardly virginal. He's known at the red lights of Nadrazon. Word does get round.'

'Do tell,' said Valladore.

'Oh, the details are quite lewd,' said Shabradore. 'He shags em alright.'

'I do not, 'retorted Kaleriaphon.

'Ha. The lad protest too much,' said Shabradore. 'I have Garanel's sworn to God oath that Kally gets around a bit, and gets his leg up every so often. Despite this rumoured wife on the far side of Infinity.'

'The wife is a non-issue. We separated aeons ago. I think technically we might be divorced now, but I can't actually remember. Haven't seen her in a long time. Don't need to. I'm happy with my life in the Golden City, reading my library, egnaging in horse riding, and playing chess. I have a complete life and a happy life.'

'And you need to shag this Brigidina of Eternity and settle down,' said Valladore.

Kaleriaphon glared at Valladore, but just sipped on his melit water. 'She's young,' he protested at last.

'She's dead keen, and good looking to boot. And you are a handsome enough brother of ours,' said Valladore.

'He's not a peter pumpkin eater, I do agree,' said Shabradore.

'So choose this maiden, bed her, and have done with it. Time to have another go at wedlock. You've been holy enough long enough. I'm sure heavenly father is suitably impressed.'

Kaleriaphon sipped on his juice, glaring at his brothers. But, truth to tell, Brigidina, who had decded to visit early, with permission granted, was on his mind. She was fesity, and cute, and work bleck mini-skirts which caught more than just one eye around the city. And, honestly, it probably was about time he moved on. And it wasn't like the girl wasn't keen.

'I'll consider your advice,' sighed Kaleriaphon at last.

'He's come to his senses,' said Valladore.

'His pecker has come to its senses,' said Shabradore.

'That too,' replied Valladore.

Kaleriaphon just ignored his brother's lewd remarks.

The End

Raphael and Tobit 2

Raphael and Tobit were on the docks of Vinner City, Clamorton, fishing.

'Can I have your autograph Archangel Raphael,' asked a blonde lady. She handed him an autograph book.

'You carry this with you?' queried Raphael.

'I went home and got it. I saw you when you arrived earlier. I knew it was you,' replied the lady.

'To whom shall I make it out to?' asked Raphael.

'Rachel. Rachel Rothsmith,' replied the lady.

'Rothsmith?' asked Raphael.

'A Jewish and English family. The Roths were Jewish, my great-great-grandmother, and the Smiths were English. They settled in Vinner City a long time ago,' replied Rachel.

'I see,' said Raphael, and signed the book. 'Surely you want Tobit's also?' queried Raphael.

'She already has mine. I'm near the front,' said Tobit.

'Page 17,' replied the lady. 'Tobit is a minor celebrity in Vinner City. We're lucky to have him.'

Raphael handed the book back to the lady, smiled at her, and she smiled back and left.

'Minor celebrity,' said Raphael.

'Shut up,' replied Tobit.

'Classic,' said Raphael, grinning.

'I'll have you know I'm well received by the Rothchilds up north.'

'Televere, you mean,' said Raphael.

'They don't have a name for the continent, officially. It's consideret the planet in a sense. Bigger than Androma and Clamorton combined.'

'Any other major islands on Telever?' asked Raphael. 'I've never really looked at a map of the planet.

'Antarctica is big enough. No other continents. Smaller islands, but we're the third largest land body after Androma and Televere. One of the oldest of the planets as well. Original ones. But you'd remember that as well.'

'Back further still,' sighed Raphael. 'When it was a little world, Zaphora, but it wasn't called that right away.'

'And now you live in Zionistya. A sea change,' said Tobit.

'It's the final of the Realms. Well, the bottom of the Realms. Apparently there are more to come interspaced between things. Future projects. Zionistya to Home. The complete Realms geography.'

'Yet planetry bodies further down,' said Tobit.

'Not sure if they are under any related judgment of responsibilities,' said Raphael.

Tobit looked at him. 'What does that mean?'

'In Zionistya we have base standards. Only required to be as holy as men. In Eternya there are some standards. In the Realm of Eternity there are laws which you generally have to comply with. Whether you like it or not. Law rules, and you have to obey. In the heavens above it gets a bit stricter as you go up, but in the Realm of Infinity above the heavenly realms, they don't expect just compliance. You have to apply yourself. In the 7 heavens, though, it's more than that still. Application and achievement. You have to get results and accomplish things. You have to be quite special in your attitude to reside in the heavens,' said Raphael.

'And at Home?' asked Tobit, smiling.

'God only knows,' said Raphael. 'Now when are these fish going to bite?'

And so they carried on with their fishing, free from the pestering of any more autograph hunters, and Tobit had food for thought about realm hierarchies, while Raphael buzzed a bit at having been asked to sign his life away.

The End

Kadravanan Sarcasm

'What do you call a scientologist?' asked the lowlife on the streets of Kadravana.

'What?' replied his bedfellow.

'Tightarses,' replied Bud.

'Funny,' said Fred.

'I mean, come on,' said Bud. 'We rock up every year at Christmas for a feed and the first thing Pastor Jones says is 'Local Losers again.' Bastards. All of them.'

'They think we need to get a job,' said Fred. 'But I like the streets of Kadravana. I became a citizen to do nothing, all the days of my life. Liverpool was just becoming too legalistic for me.'

'Same here,' said Bud. 'But I was born here. Came to the streets for the freedom. The free life. And to do nothing. Fresh air. Good water. Plenty of wild berries. I'm happy.'

'But a loser,' said Fred.

'Both of us are born losers Fred. It's why we live on the streets. It's the life. I'm planning this lifestyle for the next trillion years in my plan book too,' said Bud.

'You have a plan book,' said Fred.

'In my head,' replied Bud. 'I keep a basic plan of what I'm going to do with my life. And heaven above won't change it.'

The Unitarian Scientologists of Jehovah Van pulled up just then at the railway yard, and Pastor Jones jumped out.

'There you are you two clowns. Do you want a job? We need two maintenance men for the southern assembly. The family has moved up to the capital because of an opening. An exec has hopped over to run Kadravana on New Terra 7785. Couldn't turn it down, the top job. So positions shuffled, and we have two maintenance jobs in the south.'

Fred looked at Bud. 'Scientologists. I always liked them.'

'Come on hypocrite,' replied Bud, as they struggled to their feet, collected their knapsacks, and hobbled down to Pastor Jones van, and off to their new scientological lifeplan.

The End

Callodyn and Kayella 19

'How's Bigfoot?' asked Callodyn.

'Blackstock,' replied Kayella.

'Blackfoot then. How is Blackfoot?'

'He's fine,' replied Kayella. 'How's Claudia. She pregnant again? Rumour has it your expecting another.'

'She might be,' said Callodyn. He sipped on his latte. 'Bud and Fred seem competent. The compound has had them seven months and the odd jobs are all done. Only 6 months training and they are up to scratch. Interesting idea – choosing lowlives because they are long term citizens and still going at it. Usually dad insists on that. Me, I'm finished with most of my salvation plans, but father tells me its a job to redeem the dead of Sheol. Someone has to do it in the end. Let the saints. I think, now, in grim realization, I'm cheeky, and not cut out for sainthood.'

'Figure that alll out by yourself, did you,' replied Kayella. 'Could have told you that in the beginning. Just a clown. Not the serious type. Not your natural style of things.'

'The way I'm made?' queried Callodyn.

'Some sort of psyche has settled into you, and it just won't leave. God help me I've tried redeeming you, but you are too lost to save.'

Callodyn sighed. 'I still assemble with 7DF but don't bother much with the Assemblies of Faith anymore. I think I'm simplifying my life. Cutting down unneceesary things. There are plenty of dedicated people in those things. They don't need me making a mess.'

'Wise,' replied Kelly, sipping on her water.

'Probably end up just in Haven Noahide Fellowship.'

'Try the Baptist church,' said Kelly. 'Far more stable.'

'Jesus aint my disco stick sweetheart.'

'You are crude Daniel Daly,' replied Kelly Clarkson.

'Anyway, Haven is the plan in the end. It will do. I think dad prefer AOTDC, but Haven will do me. It's the firstborn in the end of the whole thing.'

'Full of Catholics like your grandmother,' said Kelly.

'Ex-Catholics,' replied Callodyn. 'People who didn't agree with Jesus after consideration.'

'Fair enough,' replied Kelly. 'Love works for me. God knows I need it with you as a twin.'

'And such love,' replied Callodyn. 'Like a cheshire cat. Colourful and cuddly.'

'You calling me cuddly?' asked Kayella. 'Chubby Bubby is calling me cuddly?'

'And sassy too,' replied Callodyn.

'Watch the workers try and clean the windows,' said Kayella.

And so Callodyn continued enjoying the hospitality from the back of the school campus of the southern Unitarian Scientologists of Jehovah of Kadravana, watching Bud hold Fred's ladder, as he was gingerly trying to clean a high up window on the basketball stadium. Things were not looking good.

The End

PART TWO

ASTORIA

The Dodgy Barbarians

Grunt was a dodgy barbarian. He'd give a heave and a ho and he liked to give a ho a good heave at the brothel also. He was indeed Dodgy. He came up short on paying his lackey, Brunt, more often than not. Brunt did not notice. He was thick, which is saying much for a barbarian. Brunt did the majority of the work, but didn't complain, because it amused him. One day Grunt and Brunt ran into Runt, their younger brother. Yes Grunt and Brunt were brothers. Runt was the runt of the litter. Spineless, mischievous, evil, wicked, and down right nasty. Grunt liked to think himself a polished gentleman in Runt's presence.

'Shag any ho's on the weekend?' Runt asked Grunt.

'Several,' replied Grunt.

'I shaved their vaginas and did them up the anus,' replied Runt. 'They didn't want the dogs involved. Harlots in this city – standards. What you gonna do.'

'I got lucky,' said Brunt, figuring out what they were talking about. 'Bimbo kissed me.'

'I shagged Bimbette,' said Grunt.

'Bimbitch gave me syphillis – for the second time this year,' said Runt.

Grunt chewed on his pork rib.

'That right?' he asked his brother.

'Aye,' said Runt.

'I have cooties. Bimbo said so,' said Brunt proudly, not knowing what cooties was.

'Some guys get all the luck,' said Runt.

'Tell me about it,' replied Grunt.

They continied their get together meal at the 'Bloody Ox' tavern.

'Food's shit here,' said Runt.

'I don't mind it,' replied Grunt.

'What's rump again?' asked Brunt.

They finished their meal.

'You got work for the weekend? Dad is looking for some honest labour,' said Runt to Grunt.

'I'll pass,' said Grunt. 'But I'll show up and let Brunt do it.'

Brunt grunted.

'As always,' said Runt.

'As always,' agreed Grunt.

The End

The Dodgy Barbarians 2

'So what did you do with the rat after that?' asked Grunt, watching Brunt shovel the sheep shit into the bag. The sheep shit from their farm had been collected by their old man, and was now being shovelled into sacks for sale at the markets. They were at the farmstead of the family, on old 'Devil Lane' in the back worlds of Avatar City, on the contenent of Astoria, on a large planet which the exploerers had not gotten to the end of yet. God created the world, so they were told. Part of the Milky Way Galaxy, it was said in the Scientologists technical terminology, the ancient order of knowledge who ruled their world. Apparently, long ago, they may have once been part of a whole host of worlds, which ruled the universe. Grunt thought that a fantasy. They were alone in the world, and God had created their world, Astar, and they were humanity, and their were no others. Fantastic thinking of the Scientologists. The Geo-Scientists claimed they were the real citizens of life in the universe, the other major branch of scholasticity, and their scholars talked of a first man named 'Cainan' who was the father of all men in their world. That was probably true in Grunt's estimation.

'I stuck the rat on Ctuchik's arse. I'd tied him down, and it bit his butt several times.'

'You've tormented Ctuchik since you were kids in the school yards,' said Grunt. 'He'll bear a grudge one day.'

'I untied him later,' said Runt. 'Had my fun though.'

'You really are an unsavoury character, aren't you Runt?'

'Rich coming from Avatar City's most hated thief.'

'Most loved thief,' replied Grunt.

'This shit stinks,' said Brunt.

'Keep shovelling,' said Runt, overseeing the project.

Runt still lived with father, on the homestead, while Grunt and Brunt travelled around with no permanent home, staying in the taverns and hostels of Avatar City, pinching wallets as they went, a quiet coin given to the bartender to turn a blind eye. Hey, Avatar City was not exactly known for its nobility. Nor was Astoria terribly much. They had morality, but many chose a rather loose interpretation of things.

'His new woman will cook us dinner for all our hard work,' said Runt.

Grunt looked at the 7 bags of shit that Brunt had filled so far all by himself, with Runt having done nothing.

'Yep, all our hard work,' said Grunt.

'Work pays the bills,' said Brunt.

'Keep on dreaming,' said Runt. 'You work for your supper matey.'

'I'm used to that,' replied Brunt.

And the day marched on.

The End

Vortexes 3

'As far as I can tell, it's backfired. We're somewhere in the Milky Way in the physical universe,' said Professor Zelzazon.

'It's breathable at least,' said Satan.

They had emerged from 'Dimension Hopper' as the ship had been coined, and were standing on green grass, in a meadow, in the physical universe.

'It's not Earth,' said Samaen. 'But there is a town down there,' he said pointing.

'We may as well stay a while,' said Satan. 'See what this world may offer us.'

They locked the dimension hopper, and the 7 Saruvim and their pilot of the 'Dimension Hopper,' Professor Zelzazon, ventured down the valley, through the forests, and came into a large village. The villagers gazed at them, and gasped.

'Strange visitors. They are of the devil!' yelled a voice.

'They know you so well,' said Damien to Satan.

'They speak English,' said Zelzazon. 'Interesting.'

'What world is this?' asked Satan.

A woman, glaring at them, spoke. 'It is Astoria. Where are you from?'

'We are the gods,' said Satan. 'Doing our – voyages around the galaxy, visiting our mortal children. We have come to be the rulers of your world.'

'Praise the gods,' said the woman, and saluted, then picked up her bucket of water, and carried on with her day.

The crowd glared at the gods, but gradually dispersed, each concluding they were probably fanatics from Avatar City.

'We'll settle in for a while. She what fun we can get up to before Jehovah get's word of our presence here.'

'Looked medieval of sorts,' said Zelzazaon. 'Probably set in its ways.'

'That suits me just fine,' replied Satan, looking at what could be an interesting enough new experience.

The End

4 O'Clock 23

It was 4 in the morning. In Avatar City.

'That is Earth,' said God, to the inquring child.

'It's always been so big,' said the child. 'We've wondered what it is in our family forever.'

'It grows as well,' said God. 'The Universe expands to accommodate it. It is the foundation of humanity. Were all life began. Caainan was actually the fourth man. His father was Enosh, whose father was Seth, whose father was Adam, the first man.'

'Adam,' replied the starry eyed child.

'Why do they not talk with us?' asked the child's father.

'They do monitor Astoria. They are the protectors of humanity throughout the universe. Earth will grow forever, and be the champion world of humanity. Other alien civilizations existed for a while – but that was let go of. Those alien souls were taken into humanity in time in eternity. They were – experiments. It was not considered the thing to do in the end. God has an image in the Angels and Humanity – that is sufficient.'

'Could Astoria grow?' asked the Child.

'If a prayer to God was persevered with. Not as big or as fast as Earth, but such a prayer would be kosher.'

The child smiled at Wolfgang.

'How do you know who I am?' asked the man, to the leader of the 5 visitors who had knocked on his door that afternoon.

'I am – well informed,' replied Wolfgang.

'Let us go inside,' said the man. 'I will entertain you for the night as you have asked, and we shall drink some brandy, and sing songs round the fireplace.

And so God went inside with the man who he had befriended him, and sat next to Gemstone and Wormdog and Wormdrogan and Marckonyel, learning new songs, enjoying the warmth, and enjoying the brandy even more so, in an actual refined part of town, in Avatar City, on Astoria.

The End

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe

'The planet is called Astoria,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly to Cherubim Taylor, Taylor Swift.

'It looks – pleasant,' said Taylor at last.

They were on the space cruiser 'Dark Voyages 44', stationed in orbit around Astoria, in the United Galaxy.

'Why aren't we at Televon now?' asked Taylor. 'You spring this detour on me when we get up,' and it was hectic at the spaceport.'

'Sorry hun,' said Daniel. 'But I had a reuest from Wolfgang the Theophany to check out the planet. Would be relevant for some reason.'

'Whatever,' replied Taylor. 'When do we go down?'

'This ship is orbital only. We go down on transporter which will come up from the planet. Should be an hour or two,' replied Daniel.

'Marvellous,' replied Taylor. She took out a pack of playing cards and started playing solitaire.

Daniel looked at her, and relaxed in his couch, looking at the bright blue world through the large window of their room on the space cruiser. He looked at Taylor, as she calmly switched through the cards, thinking how lucky he was to find a lady who had stuck with him for so long.

The hour passed, and they took their luggage, and waited at the disembarking ports. Soon the airlocks opene up, and they, with a few other travellers, were ushered into a transporter ship, which flew them down to the planet below. Grounded, they took their luggage, provided their interuniversal ID visas, and made their way the terminal.

'Where now?' asked Taylor.

'Just a week or two. To get to know Astoria,' said Daniel. 'To see what God was driving at.'

'They uses carriages,' said Taylor, pointing. 'And it's all medieval by the looks of it.'

'You're not wrong,' said Daniel, surprised.

'Just what had they gotten themselves into?

The End

The Dodgy Barbarians 3

Grunt examined the lock.

'Do you know, do you ever get convictions over this?' asked Runt.

'You presume I have a conscience,' replied Grunt.

'I sacrificed mine to Baal when I turned 14. I know all about forsaken consciences. But while I practice wickedness, deceit and general wrongdoing on a regular enough basis, sometimes there is a small, quiet voice in the back of my head which suggests maybe not shove the third rat up Ctuchik's arse. He might take offense,' said Runt.

'And you listen to this voice?' queried Grunt, confident he was about to pick the lock to the room of the tavern a supposed wealthy guest had rented for the week.

'Hell no,' replied Runt. 'But it bothers me.'

'Happy to say my conscience is alive and well,' replied Grunt. 'I just excuse this as childish youth.'

'Your 36 years old,' replied Runt.

'Adolescence then,' said Grunt. 'Here we go.' The lock picked, the door swung open, and the two of them started rifling through the room. The gentleman was currently not present, and had obviously taken his valuables with him, but he had left a leatherbound edition of 'The Way of Scientology', which upon examination was 14 centuries old, and deemed of probable value by Grunt.

'Let's skedaddle,' replied Grunt.

At another tavern, further down the avenue, they sat eating a meal. Brunt was out the front, snoring on the rocking chair the tavern provided for its guests.

'I don't know,' said Grunt. 'One day I probably will grow up. Not sure if I can really justify theft in the long term. God might judge me one day.'

'Still believe in Jehovah then?' replied Runt.

'I guess so. When it comes right down to it. How we all got here in the end. I doubt he has a positive opinion on me and I doubt I care very much. But one day I might have to look into escaping the condemnation of the pit.'

The pit was generall the Astorian view of the afterlife for those not blessed with ascent to the heavenlies.

'It'll be a rare day in hell you repent,' replied Runt.

'Such is life,' sighed Grunt.

They examined the book for a while, discussed potential fences that might have a buyer for them, and kicking Brunt in the shins after paying for their meal, they started the journey back to their farmstead, the place they were residing for the moment with their old man, regretting they hadn't the persusive powers to borrow horses for their travels, the old man keen on them developing personal fitness, much to Grunt and Runt's chagrin, but not bothering the resilient Brunt, who seemed so accepting of everything in life.

'If there is a God,' said Runt, as they made their way to the outskirts of the city,' I doubt he'll ever cross our path in life.

'Course not,' said Grunt, and looked at the sun for a moment, thinking about the flaming fire that was Jehovah, but dismissed the thought, as they carried on their march.

The End

Life in Avatar City

Grunt swore. Then he pulled out his willie and looked at it.

'What's up?' asked his brother Runt.

'Sudden sharp jolt on my cracker,' replied the concerned Grunt.

'That Nubian whore from last week?' queried Runt. 'She's got a really grotty reputation around the traps.'

'Probably,' replied Grunt, examining his pecker. 'Nah, it seems fine. But I'll keep the situation in hand.'

'You keep it in hand every evening don't you?' querid the equally grotty Runt.

'As much as possible,' replied Grunt sarcastically.

'Put that shit away,' said Grunt. 'Sister Superior.'

The nun from convern of Geo-Science, the school they had grown up in, approached.

'Theodore J Bartholomew. What exactly where you doing just then?' asked Sister Superior.

'Keep it down will you Sister. I've got a rep. They don't need to hear my frikking real name,' replied an anxious Grunt.

Runt chuckled.

'Alphaeus S Bartholomew. It is just like you to laugh at your brother's crude remarks. I should take you down to the confessional and extract confessions from you to our Lord.'

'Sorry sister,' replied Runt, who retained an instinctive respect for the religious.

The sister seemed to sum the two of them up. 'I have seen neither of you at Assembly in years now.'

'Been busy sister,' replied Grunt.

'Yep. So much work. We're good honest men. A lot on our plate.'

'Yes, I am sure,' said the sister. 'How about honouring the Lord and attending some time this year. It would be good for your soul's nourishment.'

'Yes sister,' replied Grunt and Runt in unison.

'And bring that brother of yours along as well. Sebastian is so easily led by you two, but has a good heart.'

The sister continued on down the street, and Grunt and Runt returned to their seats in front of the tavern.

'Give five minutes talking about God, and in comes the relgious,' said Grunt.

'God must be watching,' grinned Runt.

Grunt looked at his brothers. Those words struck him. Those words might have a tinge of truth in them.

'Anyway, drink up,' said Grunt after a moment of introspection.

And they drank, and the day passed.

* * * * *

'It's a pretty shitty city,' said Samaen. 'Could use a council garbage collector or two.'

'We shall be their saviours,' said Satan, as Zelzazon and the Saruvim continued striding through the streets of Avatar City.

'Definitely a medieval sort of European thing, but a bit of other culture,' said Professor Zelzazon. 'I do believe that was a basic train network further back up the road a little. But I've spied no real technology to speak of. Just the basics.'

'They might not want to advance,' replied Satan. 'Set in their ways possibly. And possibly by deliberate choice.'

'Fascinating,' replied Professor Zelzazon.

They continued on down the streets, and spied a tavern, with two likely lads out the front, gazing at them.

'You two,' said Satan. 'Can you buy some visitors a drink. We've come to rule this city.'

Runt looked at Grunt. 'Weird visitors.'

'We'll buy them a drink. They might have concealed cash,' said Grunt.

Grunt spoke up. 'We'll buy you all a round of find Avatar Ale. Our shout.'

They entered the pub as a group, and Rutn forked over the coinage, soon the group of them drinking around a large table.

'We are lords from a far away world,' began Satan. 'And Astoria is in our dominion. It is time to teach them the way of the Saruvim.'

'Sounds fab,' said Grunt.

'We shall rule firmly, but with justice. Not too many daily execustions. Just enough to keep the populace living in fear, but still doing their regular activities.'

'Firm but fair,' said Runt.

'We like to fuck em, so sacrificial virgins will be supplied,' said Samaen.

'Nothing like a sacrificial virgin,' said Runt.

Grunt was looking at these strange visitors. They were a tad – crude – it seemed.

'My name is Damien Bradlock,' said Satan. 'And I am a Prince of the Universe.'

'Glad to meet you, Lord Bradlock,' said Runt.

Damien nodded in reply, but Grunt just stared at him. These were not the best of tidings.

'I shall be introducing new policies. Increeases in tax, to ensure a properly run government. Gathering up of street riff raff and sending them to concentration camps. And, in general, a complete overhaul of society to conform to our vision of perfect authority.'

And as Satan waffled on abou the rather dire kinds of policies he would be introducing, Grunt, who was a flexible enough fellow, found that this Damien Bradlock was of a shade of the dark side which he, in the end, was not really of the same calibre of. He was not exactly a cool dude.

* * * * *

'Well,' said Wormdog. 'What next old man?'

They continued on their march through Avatar City, and God pointed to a tavern. 'We drink in there.'

They entered the tavern, and God produced coinage out of nowhere, and bought them Avatar Ales. And they sat, next to another group.

Samaen nudged Satan, and motioned. Satan turned. The theophany finished sipping on his beer, looked up and smiled at Satan.

'Shit,' said Satan. The devil looked at his guests. 'Well, nice meeting you Runt and Grunt. 'We'll drop around to your farm later this afternoon,a and enjoy your offered hospitality for the evening.'

'We look forward to having you,' said Runt, who had made the offer.

Zelzazon and the Saruvim exited the tavern, while Satan, at the doorway, glared at God for a moment, and turned and left.

'I see,' said Gemstone to God. 'We're obvously here for a reason then.'

God said nothing in reply. He looked at Grunt, whose face had a concerned look on it.

'Cheers, pilgrim,' said God to Grunt, raising his glass.

'Yeh, cheers,' said Grunt, raising his glass also.

God sipped on his beer, and the mood in the tavern picked up a bit with the Saruvim having departed. But Grunt the Dodgy Barbarian had a concerned look on his face about his guests for the evening. He was not exatly sure if they were going to be his cup of tea.

The End

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe 2

'Speak Now. Tuesday afternoon at 3 O'Clock, sporadically. It's a consistency, but I placed no technical rquirement of a quote for how many times each millennium. Also Slippery When Wet by Bon Jovi has a mandatory play every now and again. Technically just those 2 in my collection I insist on getting around to, but I play many regularly enough. There's always a tune on the go,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

'I've noticed,' replied Cherubim Taylor. She sipped on her coffee, and looked out the classic window of the tavern of Avatar City. A carriage rolled by, and there was a lady with a bonnet on, dressed in green and white striped garments, and a husband, who looked like any character from the Lord of the Rings, Taylor's favourite point of reference for this medieval society, urging on the horses which pulled the carriage, as they went about their business in the city for the day. 'But Speak Now? You have a particular devotion to me?'

'Built from a decision that if I had to choose just one album to live on forever, I would use Speak Now on afternoons, primarily weekday afternoons, and sit there, quietly, by the window, looking out at the city, enjoying the music,' replied Daniel.

Taylor glanced at Mr Daly, who was looking down at his plate of stew, made a mental note, and picked up her coffee again.

'This coffee is very......' she trailed off.

'This stew is the same,' said Daniel, and put down his fork. 'I mean, it's edible, but they don't exactly cater for tourists now do they.'

'They'd obviously rather preserve the integrity of their culture,' said Taylor.

'I've been sensing that,' replied Daniel, looking out the window. 'The bartender mentioned the main religions of this planet.'

'Oh,' said Taylor.

'Unitarian Scientology and Geo-Science. They were the formative powers that be which crafted out the chief religion of this world. This is called Avatar City because it is ruled by the Avatar, sort of the supreme pontifex of Astoria, who keeps the balance between the two main faiths.'

'So its your own creation. ANM Assemblies of Faith,' replied Taylor.

'Yes,' replied Daniel, continuing to stare out the city. 'God wanted me to check it out. I'm querying whether he wants corrective surgery on its spirituality and is witnessing to me about the agendas I began, and their results.'

'I doubt that,' said Taylor. 'It might be basic, but they are solid. A little casual, but it's maintained. They are old enough, as has been pointed out by the ticket lady at the rail station.'

'Things run, they don't always run on time, but they run,' replied Daniel grinning, imitating the ticket lady's words on a train journey they had taken to this part of the city.

'It works. This society,' said Taylor.

'Your defending me,' said Daniel.

'Of course. But I think they probably like what they have. It's original thinking. Probably no world out there quite like this one.'

'I suppose said Daniel, and went silent. He picked up his stew and began eating it.'

'Finish it off. That's the spirit Daniel Daly,' said Taylor.

Daniel nodded. 'I suppose,' he finally replied.

The End

Monkeyman and Monkey

'Technically I have life in my program. Devotion to a constructed iconic entity creates spritual integrity within. Trees have vague awareness – a sense of being. I have control chips which allow the sense of life witin me to make choices,' said Monkeyman.

'I think you're smoking bullshit,' replied Monkey.

'Coming from a plush toy that is rich,' replied Monkeyman.

'I was a birth within Daniel San's brain,' said Monkey. 'I came alive.'

'Similar principles are at work,' replied Monkeyman.

Monkeyman lit a cigarette and put it to his inhaling monitor vent.

'Good shit,' said Monkeyman.

'I like weed,' said Monkey.

'I've noticed,' replied Monkeyman. 'Anyway, you only have a spiritual existence of any real merit. Only in the Angelfire can you express well enough. Your just a plush toy.'

'An Eternya one, buddy, so bite me Monkeyman.'

'Where do you reside?' asked Monkeyman.

'29 Merriman on New Terra,' replied Monkey. 'Jacinta plays with me most days. Daniel San shows up regularly enough though.'

'And you live here on Riverdance Strip in Angelfire City,' replied Monkeyman. 'Do you have work?'

'Ask Superman,' said Monkeyman. 'I'm in the Cartoon World Cavalcade, but Superman thinks I'm too crude for much regular work. He sends me to Bugger Muppets occasionally to do stand up, but I live up in 'Comerama' in that Penthouse up there with the other Comedy Dolls. We do this and that. There are plenty in the community. 350 of us all up. A good mix. Some funky stuff goes on.'

'Let's get a coke,' said Monkeyman.

They ordered a drink, and Monkey looked out at the river running under their walkbridge. The sun was setting in Angelfire City. It was a good time of day.

'Samael is at it again. Up on Mt Champion. Him and Raphael always arguing points of abstract theology for cementing the doctrine. They always want to frikking cement the doctrine. They apply every century when God takes a new application, but it never passes. They don't get much in any more to TORAH.'

'It's complete enough from my own computations,' replied Monkeman. 'Issues of life are addressed in enough depth.'

'It lacks spunk,' said Monkey.

'Many don't take too much spunk,' said Monkeyman.'

'The funky spunky monkey takes all the spunk,' said Monkey, and jumped up and down a few times.

'Quite obviously,' said Monkeyman in reply.

'Let's do this again,' said Monkey. 'You are impossible to get to this edge of the city. Always up in that weird lab.'

'Lots of study and work,' said Monkeyman. 'New chips and development of my circuitry. Aeons of research goes into each chip. Working on lots of ideas. But we'll catch up again.'

Monkey nodded, and the coke came, and he drank, and they enjoyed the setting sun, and the day passed, in the world of the Angelfire.

The End

Monkey and Bagman

'What you got in that bag, bagman?' asked Monkey.

'The Satanic Bible and the Bible,' replied Bagman. Bagman was nestled on the main Angelfire River Walkbridge, just at the base of Monkey's scraper were the comedy dolls lived.

'Does it have the New Testament?' asked Monkey.

'I don't hold to that shit. It is a KJV, but Jesus was not the Christ. It was Zerubbabel,' replied Bagman.

'Yeh, that's what Daniel San says when it comes right down to it,' replied Monkey. 'You the devil, aintcha. Satan.'

'What if I am?' replied Monkey.

'Why you live here, Satan?' asked Monkey.

'Still got a few aeons left of service before I can have my apartment back. It was a birthright, but choices, you know. Not always good ones in my fleshly spirit.'

'I understand, Bagman,' said Monkey. 'I still make shitty choices. You have a nice spirit, though. You a nice person.'

'I'm not as thick as the dick down below,' replied Satan. 'He has his charms, but I sense all of this fucked up thinking in his choices. Right now he's in a world he hasn't been before, and the Theophany is there, and he knows it, and he's planning how to outsmart him. I whisper once a billion years, get along with the bastard. Would make all this shit a lot easier to cope with. But he's frikking stubborn. Does it his own way.'

'How old you be, Satan? When did you come from the Angelfire.'

'I'll be moving on next month, Monkey. Won't be back till the end of the aeon. I'll spend a few millennia with you again.'

'You avoid the question. How far back you go?' queried Monkey.

'Latter development. Before Home was fashioned, though. Still an original archetype,' replied Bagman.

'Why do you have a picture of Sporty Spice in your wallet, Bagman?' asked Monkey.

Bagman looked at Monkey. 'It's a long story, Monkey. It's a long story.'

'I got all day,' replied Monkey.

Bagman smiled, and petted Monkey on the shoulder, and sipped on his bottle of juice.

'You'll get there, Bagman,' said Monkey.

'One day we all will,' replied Satan the Bagman.

'Amen,' finished Monkey the Comedy Doll.

The End

PART THREE

GEOCITIES

The Foundation of Creation

Daniel Hundredchild knocked on Meludiel Thirtysevengold's door. Meludiel opened it.

'You are really obnoxioius,' she said. 'Ambriel is out there, you know. On the streets. He has an airgun you idiot. It'll blow you up to the sky, and you'll be all frustrated and bothered, and your demeanour will be out of whack for days. You never like your countenance bothered. Don't call on me idiot. He's probably stalking Ariel, as that amuses him these days. Or probably drinking with Michael, as they fancy themselves the Rabbis of the Geocities.'

'They've always fancied themselves the Rabbis of the Geocities,' said Daniel. 'Was it them who designed the Angelfire? No. It wasn't. I did it with Valandriel, and we're in charge, and it is the way it stays. So I'll visit you in this epoch.'

'Live a new life,' replied Meludiel.

'I get tired of it,' said Daniel. 'Been through 5 of them now. Thinking I'll settle down with this Rebirth period and just stick with it. Been at this a million years now. Old records are fascinating. In the journals.'

'I avoid them,' said Meludiel. 'So many dastardly things I read about who's done what.'

'How much core do you choose? I wanted to ask you that last time.'

;'It's always been the first million years of my life. I have some geographical universal data I add in occasionally, stuff which won't affect original thinking in life.'

'If anything is still original in the Geocities,' replied Daniel. 'Goldfish we are. Been through this many times now.'

'5 for you,' smiled Meludiel.

'What, it's like 300 for you,' he said. 'But it gets us going each time. Forgetting it all, and moving on with it liks its fresh and new. Works well enough for me.'

'It's supposed to,' replied Meludiel.

'Wanna go to PINNACLE?' asked Daniel. 'Bask in the Foundation of Creation.'

'Shoo. Ambriel has a sense of sarcasm he's deliberately running away with.'

'Till next time sweetcheeks,' and Daniel Hundredchild was gone.

The End

Journal Entry 347.444.443.78902222888

'Another Day, another frikking dollar,' said Daniel Hundredchild to the microphone. 'And that will do buddy.' Daniel finished his journal entry and looked at the Theophany. 'Your still not legal here buddy. We're older than you, so what makes you think we should give you the time of day.'

'I represent God. You should know your place,' replied the Theophany.

'You were Meludiel Thirtysevengold's creation, idiot. She planned you out from the beginning of the Angelfire. Your no frikking lord to me. Lose your arrogance junion, or I'll take you on my knee and give you a smack.'

'Sorry,' replied God nervously. 'I've known of Geocities 17 years now. Made a query.'

'So you say,' replied Daniel. 'What, you expect us to let you all in to the Geocities? We have our own community. We've been separate since the beginning, impartial observers and commentators to the Great Spirit of the Universe. Call him God if you must, but that's a title. He just is, like Yahwen suggests.'

'People need a moniker,' said God. 'It gives us a sense of idenity.'

'We know this to be true,' replied Daniel, picking up a recorder made of blue plastic, and handing it to God. 'Take it. I have several. You can keep it and take it to home with you. If you play Auld Lang Syne on it, we will be notified you want a visit, and someond will accommodate you within a few weeks.'

'Fine,' said God. 'Do I need legal permission to explore.'

'Try the library. Cross town. Ask for main Metro library on the bus. I'll give you some money, you can get around a few days.'

'Thanks,' replied theTheophany.

'We can hardly not expect you to tell all and sundry, but keep future visits planned out well in advance. We have a new continent, quite big, which is spare at the moment. If you need official realm access we don't really care anymore. We can join in. We chatted about it, some of the council of one hundred, and nobody really minded.'

'How many of you are there?' asked God.

'Aw, I can't count that high easily. I see the numbers of the computer screen, but it still takes a while to work them out. Vast, buddy. Vast.'

'I see.'

'Ask the housekeeper. She'll give you cash.'

God left, and Daniel looked at the microphone. God would probably find PINNACLE. Probably the best place to start for the Theophany. He picked up his drink, sipped, and returned to his current journal entry recording.

The End

Ambriel Ninetysixfire

Ambriel poked at the mouse. 'Go up screen,' he said to it.

'I'm not much of a mouse. You have to push me,'replied the robotic mouse in accordance with its programmg.

Ambriel pushed the mouse up the Googol Search Engine webpage, and clicked on his current favourites list and selected 'New Arrivals'. He looked at the pictures of Samael of Infinity and the Theophany, standing at the PINNACLE, having a chit. The cornerstone of creation – it's highest point – the obelisk which had the 20 cardinal axioms of creation on it written by the finger of God. He read the article. 'God has been busy on Astoria till recently. He resolved a debate with Satan on issues of responsibility, and gave Satan an opportunity to rule Astoria, if he made civilized enough judgments. We have interviewed Bagman downtown, and he is happy with the news.' Ambriel read on. He reached for his airgun, and left his apartment in central Geocity.

'I'm hunting for you Daniel Hundredchild,' said Ambriel, out on the prowl. 'I'll find you.'

Up above, on a walkbridge, about Angelfire River, Daniel looked down. 'Your an idiot Ambriel. I have just cause on Meludiel.'

Ambriel roaomed around the road, and sat down at a cafe, ordered a lemonade, and drank slowly. He pointed his Airgun at various passers by. One female said to him, 'You are probably back in your heyday, aintcha 96.'

'Right up there, Frieda,' replied Ambriel.

Frieda grinned, and wallked on.

Ambriel finished his lemonade, and started dancing around, pointing his airgun at people and objects. Daneil watched from above.

'He'll find you,' said Meludiel.

'Shit,' replied Daniel, startled by Meludiel's sudden presence.

'He's having the time of his lie. Fresh again, very much so, the scoundrel. Being deliberately playful.'

'He likes the show,' said Daniel, returning his gaze to Ambriel.

'Don't we all,' replied Meludiel, watching Ambriel.

Ambriel started doing cartwheels, and said to people, 'Don't steal the gun, or I'll get cross.' Frieda showed up again, and craftily pinched the gun. And for the rest of the afternoon Daniel and Meludiel amused themselves as Ambriel chased Frieda around the plaza, in a play act of trying to catch her, as another find day passed in Geocity.

The End

Satan the Bagman of Geocity

Satan Fourstar had a sense of humour. He lived on the streets of Geocity, the primary city of the Geocities, with Bags, collecting bits and pieces of food, monstly donations, and enjoyed the urban life. He was a naturalist – in an urban setting. He liked the streets, and the very real life, and the action of the crowds, and the real confrontational weather. He had an apartment down town, and he would slither down there every year end, and hang around a bit, and check in on the kids online and things, but mostly he hung around the streets of Geocity, in grotty t-shirts and jeans, and was a constant amusement to the folk of the geocities, and the council of one hundred. But it was his style in things. The council met every few years for catch up, and they didn't really care if he insisted on casual garb. He was old enough to afford it. Satan was not the devil. Satan was a person of God, like all the Geocities inhabitants. But he was sort of a pre-archetype model for the Angelfire crowd, Daniel and Valandriel's brainchild, and they looked similar enough to the classic folk out in the realms who beared similar monikers. But they were not the Archetypes – that was done in the Angelfire.

Satan sipped on a popper box of juice someone had given him, and he watched the show below of Ambriel chasing Frieda around. 96 always acted a fool when he was young again – it was his way. Satan enjoyed the show well enough, though, and it kept him amused that afternoon. When day was over, he settled down on his blanket, and rested his head on his pillow, and gathered up his rug and put it over him, and watched the stars as they emerged. It wasn't that cold that night, and he thought on his ancient life. He'd been Bagman an awfully long while now, but that was the plan. He wanted to establish the moniker as a tradition of his, and he knew it would talke a heck of a lot of aeons still before people probably permanently remembered Satan in this role. But that is what he wanted, so he enjoyed being a naturalist urbanite, and braved the weather, happy to be in the full force of God's created natural order.

The End

Krondak the Usurper

'The Geocities are weak,' said Witch Hazel.

'Bah. Who careth,' replied Krondak 45blaze.

'The Geocities are weak, and the Children of Pinnacle take much for granted. 70 Children of Form and Fantasy can overcome such pretenses as a decently run universe with a far more lively playfield. Use us, for I've nobbled most of them into the program of the Papyrus, and they'd rather have a bit of adventure than the same old same old.

'Could I be bothered? What's in it for me?' replied Krondak.

'You're the only schmuck who falls from time to time, and Ambriel comes and kisses your butt, and works to restore you, but its not your nature. You loke a party, a good old time. Pinnacle, I must face this in my heart, for I am a conformist also, but so drab and dry and boring it becomes after an eternity. Usurp the 100 Pannacleites, and we'll serve you, and make the Geocities are far more entertaining place.'

'They'll respond,' sighed Krondak. 'They'll gather their dim wits, and work out a plan, and will spend hours in the prayer room, and the Creator will turn his face towards them, and deliver them, and they'll jail us for an aeon. I don't like prison food Haze. It does not suit my appetite.'

Hazel grumped. 'Bored. I'm frikking bored Krondak. Come up with something to do.'

'We could usure, and liven things up to about 20 to 25 percentage points, and if we pay enough lip service to Pinnacle, they'll tolerate our usupration for a good long while, and only depose us when they've had enough, but probably leave us be thereafter.'

'The deed is done, the manifesto declared, bid me thine will, for I'm bored as fuck my master,' replied Hazel.

'Turn over, after you've taken off your clothes,' replied Krondak.

She looked at him. 'Fine,' she replied.

He caressed her bottom. 'You are single at the moment, aren't you?'

'Yes my lord,' replied Hazel.

He caressed her bottom again, and then patted it. 'Good. I'll look into a contract with the courts for a de facto relationship. I'll enjoy your company for a while.'

She turned over and smiled at him. 'If that is what it takes, Kronnie.'

He turned back to his PC, looked at his journal entry, a thing God required of the 100 Children of Pinnacle on a regular, basis, and typed in his new agenda. May as well record it anyway. May as well be honest with the record. He was not, in the end, a devil of misinformation. Sanctification had taught him that much by now at the very least.

The End

Dragonrage

'I'm too old to play a videogame,' replied Daniel to Ambriel's suggestion. Daniel looked at Ambriel on the arcade game of Dragonrage, in the central Mall games arcade of Geocity Prime, and noticed a flicker on the screen. He noticed it a minute later, and watched for 5 minutes. Every minute it would flicker. Ambriel turned to him.

'We should book some prostitutes from Geocity Gamma, were it's legal, and party,' he said.

Daniel looked at Ambriel. That was not really Ambriel's style. He looked at the video game. Turning, he walked over to the counter.

'How long has Dragonrage been in?' he asked the coin lady.

'3 weeks,' she replied. 'Everyone is playing it. Addictive, apparently. Daniel nodded. 'Where can I order one?'

She supplied him the company details, and he went homd and ordered a machine. A few days later there was a knock, and he found the machine. 'Thanks,' he said to the delivery guys. He opened it up, and connected the CPU to his equipment, and turned on some programs on his PC. He found where it flickered, and slowed it down. Krondak Fortyfiveblaze was smiling and said 'I am Your Master. Do My Will Implicitly.' There was a drone of noise, and then it finished. Subliminal messaging. Obviously. Krondak was having fun being a beast. Daniel would have to think this one over. A new game was afoot.

The End

Pinnacle Visitation

'I can't climb the hill. I'm sweating bullets,' said God the Theophany.

Samael of Infinity looked at his God. 'It's only up a bit further.'

God straightened himself, and looked up the hill which was a climb of about 50 more yards. Then he vomited, and started walking down the slope. Samael looked at the Pinnacle for a while, then started following God down the slope.

God was at a bench where he was sitting, breathing heavily. 'There's this pressure, and it attacks me inside, the higher I climb this hill,' he said to Samael.

'I don't notice anything,' replied Samael.

God glared at his son for a moment, and stared up at Pinnacle. 'A Pinnacle Visitation is not meant to be for me. This far, and no further. I think I might know what is going on. The Spirit does not want me any higher.'

'Oh,' said Samael. He looked up the hill at the Pinnacle. 'We'll come here. Sit on this bench every aeon or so. Look at the thing. Work it out.'

'Don't know if I ever will,' replied God.

The spirit nudged his heart and his head. God looked at Samael. 'I have a task. There's some trouble brewing here. He wants me to look into it.'

'I'll hang around,' replied Samael.

God took one last look at the Pinnacle, rose to his feet, and said to Samael they'd best go back to their lodgings, as he needed to recover. As they walked down the hill Samael though on what the Theophany was going through, and perhaps his own place in the heart of Almgihty God. Even God's theophany – there were some places he could not go'

The End

Geocity Arcade

'It's naff,' said the Bagman.

'It's concrete, motherfucker,' replied Krondak. 'The Manifesto of Amuestement is solid fricking concrete, dude. Your a celebrity. Your a character. Hop on board.'

'I'll tag along, but I'll only observe,' replied the Bagman.

The popped into the arcade. There was a long line of people at the Dragonrage Video Games. There were 7 of them in operation.

'Total Mindfuck going on with this shizz,' said Krondak. He yelled out 'WHO IS YOUR GOD!'

'Krondak is our master,' said the people. Ambriel came up, and kneeled. 'Your bidding, my liege,' he said.

Daniel was playing Xevios in the parlour, keeping a steady eye on the people. God sat down at the player 2 station.

'Oh, you again,' said Daniel. 'Want a double play?'

'I know this one,' replied God.

'We imported it from Earth,' said Daniel. 'It's a classic.'

Daniel played for a while, and made the first mother ship. God looked around the parlour, as people bowed to Krondak, noticing Bagman hanging back behind him, but not seemingly getting involved. He'd done a bit of research on the Bagman of the Geocity. Mostly an honouralbe enough fellow from references. He looked at Krondak. The usurper didn't seem to be acting to untoward in his game.

'He's zonked the community with sublminal messages in electronic media,' said Daniel Hundredchild, not looking up from the game. I'm not too concerned. It doesn't affect me. Just watching the people.

'Like invasion of the body snatchers,' commented Samael, who had a soft drink, and had pulled up a stool beside them, watching the game.

'I know that one,' said Daniel. 'Earth classic.'

'Are you going to do anything about it?' God asked Daniel.

Daniel glanced at the parade of Krondak, and returned his focus to the game. 'I know Krondak. And that Witch Hazel at the back. They're probably having their fun. They do that from time to time. I'll just watch. Let him know somewhere down the road a bit that enough's enough.'

'He won't act up too much?' God queried the child of Pinnacle.

'Probably not. We're old, you know. Fun only washes so much, and God is in control.'

'That he is,' replied the Theophany, as the game went on, and Krondak continued paradiing himself around the parlour, Frieda and Ambriel cheering him on.

The End

Davriel Sevenheaven & Amiel Fifteenfight

'Pinnacle Theology. Blah, blah blah,' said Amiel Fifteenfight.

'You are always the tough one,' said Davriel Sevenheaven. 'Can't get a word of knowledge into you, no matter what I do.'

Amiel turned from the PC desk as Davriel was working on his journal entry, and looked at 'Geocity News Internationl' on the big screen in the room.

'They're literally worshipping Krondak now,' said Amiel.

Davriel waved his hand. 'Kids like having fun. Inside that psyche they're only going along for the ride. Doesn't affect you either. I've thought on that. Probably that you don't go for much bullshit. Tough girl, but also no nonsense. They probably go together.'

'And you are just too deeply theological to fall for such shenanigans,' mocked Amiel.

Davriel looked at her. 'You noticed, babe.'

She slapped him. 'Don't call me babe. You are lucky I am even hanging around.'

'You always liked me,' replied Davriel, returning his focus to the PC screen.

Amiel got up and picked up the 'Audio Out' CD by Amiel of Eternity. She put it in the player, and the music started.

'You even do look like her a bit,' said Davriel. 'She's obvioiusly made by the most High with a bit of you in mind.'

'She's not as tough. More of a lady,' replied Amiel.

Davriel continued typing. After a while he clicked on save, and looked at the screen.

'Going to do anything about it?' Amiel asked him.

'I'll enjoy the show a while. Somewhere down the road a bit, enough's enough. But I'll let them have their sport for now.'

'Brilliant, kemosabe,' replied Amiel, and sipped on her bottled water, as the music played in the backgroun.

The End

Life in Geocity Prime

Three weeks passed. Krondak had a lot of fun. Meludiel rebuked Daniel and called him pathetic. Amriel suggested Davriel was too highbrowed to be any practical use. And God was nudged by Samael to get on with this holiday, and make sure services were running, not so Krondak-obsessesd-like, which was starting to bother him.

The team of misfits, who did not conform to the grand vision of Witch Hazel and Krondak the Usurpers grand vision of a hell of a good time, showed up at the council chambers, barged in, and were armed and loaded. God strolled in behind them, and took a seat.

'My presence should not be disturbed by recalcitratnts,' declared Krondak.

'You're messing too much with their frikking heads,' said Amiel, the first to pick a fight.

'Your dress code messes with more heads,' said Witch Hazel to the blonde bombshell.

Amiel glared at her.

'You've had your fun and games,' said Davriel. 'We have resources, and can sort you out if we need to Krondak. Get off the damn throne, cease the manipulation program, and get back to your own normal frikking life.

Krondak picked up his laptop, and pressed a few buttons. Ambriel came in from the side chamber.

'My liege,' he said, bowing to Krondak.

'What does my lickspittle think of Krondak the Usurper?' asked Krondak.

Your glory is unmatchable,' replied Ambriel.

'There you go,' said Krondak. 'Happy subjects. And what will you do for me, my lisckpittle?' asked Krondak.

'Your every whim, your divine eminenence.'

'They love me,' said Krondak.

'They adore him,' said Witch Hazel.

'Ambriel,' said Daniel.

'Ambriel turned and looked at Daniel.

'I've plans on shaggineg Meludiel this weekend.'

Meludiel looked at Daniel. 'You do?' she queried.

'Just run with it,' whispered Daniel.

Ambriel glared at Meludiel, and then at Daniel and then at Krondak, and then he looked at Daniel again. 'I'm getting my frikking airgun. You are dead shit,' he yelled at Daniel, and ran off, to find his airgun.

'A little twist,' said Daniel.

'And they've had their fil of you,' said God, rising to his feet.

'Oh, yes your bloody majesty,' replied Krondak, to the presence of the Theophany.

God looked at Samael. 'Game over here, let's get on with the tour.'

Krondak ordered his henchmen to cease with the sublminal messages thereafter. They didn't sentence to any time, as no real damange to any property of anyone physically was done, but he was issued a fine for distrbing the peace, which he paid, and got back to his regular life, in two minds about his current minimum six month de facto relationship with Witch Hazel.

And as Bagman settled back down on the streets for another snooze, he was amused at Ambriel's presence in the Geocitiy Central plaza that afternoon, dancing around, his airgun on the bnech where he kept him, mouthing off about his eternal love of Meludiel, a sight to all passers by. Life as usual in Geocity Prime.

The End

PART FOUR

LIFE IN CLAMORTON AND OTHER TALES

Life in Clamorton

Marcus CCC pulled up in his rented Porsche, in front of 'Slaves of Clamorton' and walked up to the glass doors, opened, and went in.

'Julian. How lovely to see you,' said Marcus to Julian Cheng.

'We have what you want,' replied Julian. From New Terra 947. She's young, and beautiful. Hopelessly dedicated to lesbianism, and refuses to acknowledge God is Holy. Says the Devil should rule the world. Lots of weird idioysncracies, and has been on social support since turning 18. She sold herself to slavery when her allowance rights expired, and signed up for Clamorton.'

Marcus said, 'Can I see her?'

Julian pushed a button, and shortly a madame came in with an asian lady, dressed in a T-Shirt with an Anarchy symbol on it, a nose ring, and strange glossy pants of some weird substance.

'Hello,' said Marcus.

'You suck,' replied the lady.

'She seems – wonderful,' replied Marcus. He looked at the lady. 'Will you ever escape slavery?'

'I'm never going to fucking change,' replied the lady, and scratched her arm. Marcus looked at the arm.

'It's a persistent rash,' said the Madame. 'Part of the symptoms of the curse sh is under.'

'The natural curses,' queried Marcus.

'God doesn't have it in for her, as far as we can tell,' said the Madame. 'Just what life dishes out to her for her attitutde.'

''Do you object to being a slave?' asked Marcus. 'I don't want any troublemaker.'

'I couldn't give a fuck,' replied lady.

'Will you serve?' asked Marcus.

'Not much. If you shout I'll get the point.'

'She'll do just fine,' replied Marcus, turning to Julian. 'I'll transfer the funds now, and take ownership immediately. She will return to Androvon with me, and will be my house slave.'

The woman glared at Marcus, and scratched herself again.

A few days later they were at Marcus place, and she'd been no real trouble. He wanted company for a few millennia, and intended to free her eventually, if she showed any improvement, or return her to the Slave Market. She was not exactly bought for sex – Marcus kept himself pure most of the time. But he had noticed that she was not exactly ugly, despite the way she presented herself. He got her to do menial things, but mostly sit with him, listening to classical music, and mild chit chat. She proved useful enough for that. He was satisfied.

The End

Life in Avatar City 2

Grunt picked up the stone, and threw it into the creek. Bradlock was an asshole. The old man had had words with him, sorted him out, and Damien Bradlock had softened a tad, and was not so threatening now in his ambitions in Astoria. But he was an undeniable asshole. There was something in the dodgy barbarian's heart that, despite the fact he was a flawed soul, and that he lived in a flawed world, it was HIS flawed world, and it was set on a level of behaviour which he liked and a level of tolerance of behaviour which he liked. And Damien Bradlock seemed to want to fuck with the status quo, and he was just not convinced that that was in his best interests. But what would he do about it? The princes of the Universe were dining with the Avatar these days, speaking strange things and strange knowledge, and the Avatar had appointed them as official advisors to his throne. But Grunt knew firsthand they were not going to settle on mere counsellor status. They wanted more. Damien and his crew. And what he would do about it? Hell, he didn't know. Destiny would hardly call on a thief, sometime underage pedophile – ok, they had to be 10, but some people didn't like the jokes. He was not exactly a saviour. But some asshole had to put an even bigger asshole in his place, and Grunt had a sinking feeling in his guts that that would be him. The most unlikely of heroes. He read the Astoria Chronicles regularly enough, and followed the new counsellors and their marvellous judgements, but he knew that hidesos strength which would exhert itself one day, and he needed a plan. Some way to defend his way of life, warts and all.

The End

Astoria of the Spiritual Universe 3

Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly sat in the spaceport lounge of Astoria. Cherubim Taylor was opposite him, on her tablet.

'Can you even pick up signals here?' asked Daniel.

'There are radio beacons throughout the universe with accelerators on them,' said Taylor. 'Stuff gets through. Sometimes a bit garbled, but stuff gets through.'

'Fascinating,' replied Daniel. He looked at Taylor. She had her red pants on from the Red video. 'Those pants are pretty old,' he said to her.

'Eternya now,' she said, patting them. 'I don't wear them too much. God likes to repair them a bit when I rest them.'

'Yep,' replied Daniel. 'How the shizzbang thing works.' He went silent, looked at Taylor for a moment, and looked out the window. Their flight was a few hours away, back up to the cruiser, and onwards to Televere. It had been an interesting few months, and he'd learned things he'd needed to see. The functionsing of a society based on his wisdom in many ways. They still followed regular human practices, and there was tinges of all sorts of culture, but mostly European, with a tinge of America in them. There were other Astoria planets. The standard numbering sequence was used. But this was their prime reality, and he guessed there was something special about it. He'd been thinking about what he should draw from the lesson God had suggested for him. It was ancient Noahide religion he had founded long, long ago, which was the bedrock of their society. First of all, it did work. What he had created worked, and worked well enough. And thinking that through he realized he mainly needed to look at his product, and think over attention to detials, and missing theological stew. He had a responsibility here on Astoria. They'd not been told just who he was, and it didn't seem too obvious that the name Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly was much attached to the two spiritualities which were united in the Avatar in Astoria. But he was their founder, and that meant something. He was responsible for them. For their spiritual life. And perhaps, in the end, it was simply a 'Take Care of This' from God, a notice that he had people who looked to his faith and to be mindful of that. So he kept that in mind most of all from this visit, and stared at the city, occasionally looking at Taylor's red pants, something he had always liked seeing her in.

Taylor put down her tablet. 'What did you take most from your time here?' she asked him.

'The Maxims of the Avatar,' replied Daniel.

'That booklet you bought in the bookstore?' queried Taylor.

'200 Principles of the Avatar of Astoria. Well, Avatar's, actually. A document refined over aeons, with contributions from many of the most popular Avatars. It contains the core principles of the twin faiths of Unitarian Scientology and Micro-Nationalistice Geo-Science, or mainly Geo-Science as they call it here. The way the faith has ended up being expressed, and the wisdom the Avatar's have gained from their learning. I looked at buying the history of Astoria, but decided to leave that till another time.'

'So you have a new theology book,' said Taylor. 'Just your cup of tea.'

Daniel looked at her, and out the window of the spaceport. Something he had taken from the trip. Something to ponder on, and think about what he'd established had developed into. Reflection in a sense. Something, perhaps, he should look to in all the growth of the ANM. Something, from his knowledge of Astoria of the Spritiual Universe, to take seriously. Something to learn from.

The End

Clamorton Clans 3

And they drove, and Simple Minds played on the radio, and it was a good night. Well into Sunday evening as it where – or Monday morning. She was on the left of the car, but usually looked to the right, out westward. To the hills. Her highland dream hills. It was not populated very much up in those mountains, and a lot of it was free land, unclaimed stuff, which nobody could claim because of the unwritten laws of Clamorton. It was the highlands, and people needed to roam free up there when they could visit, a stay in a log cabin by a stream occasionally, for highland men built temporary log cabins up there from time to time, and that is where she dreamed of being, a big burly highland man, with a fierce and proud axe, and a fierce and proud chest, and a fierce and proud kiss on her wanton lips. Oh Roary, I love you, she would answer instantly. Was she infatuated with a dream lover she would neve meet? Probably. But she equally probably didn't care. It was her wild heart which wanted what she wanted, and wouldn't settle for anything less. She looked at the hills, where she'd rarely travelled, but seen thep pictures in Vinner City magazines, and it was celtic purity true. To her it was celtic purity true. What she wanted to be but what she shhould be. A highland bride, in Celtic purity true, just like her romance novels taught her she should be. Grow up? Why bother. Those dreams could be inherited through patience. She could bear young when she needed to, so she would not be persuaded against her highland dream and her celitc purity true. She gazed at the hills, and Simple Minds gradually sent her nodding off, as her uncle steadily drove through the nigh, Vinner City not that much further down the dark highway.

* * * * *

CLAMORTON CLANS 3

SECTION TWO. Celia with Rebecca Hill and Marcus CCC. They chat about the 'MacKenzie' her father has purchased, which is with them, while Az,Spaz and Kwintakel are playing snooker in the snooker room. They talk about how her uncle looked over the MacKenzie with Tobit, but passed on purchasing it. It was bought at a local gallery. There is an aucition coming up soon, were a few art pieces are for auciton, including a MacKenzie, her uncle intends to bit on, Marcus talks about his collection of lovely art books of scantily clad maidens. He confesses he does not actually own any pornographic magazines, and that his taste in such things is for the finer things in life. They chat about the nature of MacKenzies nudes and how this issue can have the very artistic associated with it as well as the cruder elements such as pornographic magazines and pornoghraphic movies. SECTION THREE. Celis is doing more artwork in her room with coloured texterssss. She likes to draw rainbow and unicorns and dolphins. She has a number of scrp albums full of artwork of such things. Over her life so far she has painted about a dozen serious works on these subjects, which she has sold at galleries. She takes a lot of time with her work if she is going to bother to do it preoprly, and makes sure it is up to professional standards. She thinks about MacKenzie, and his name, and realizes she will probably never be that popular as her artwork has not quite the same appeal, but she will stick to the way she does things regardless. Its what makes her her. SECTION FOUR At the club again, enjoying a little bit of a drink, watching her uncle and her father's revelries. She zones out again, returns to a romance, and gets lost in the novel. At midnight she finishes, up, looks around, and notices various odd things, before dragging her drunken uncle and fahter with her mother back to the hotel. SECTION FIVE. Another long drive home, with similar thoughts to last time, and wondering if she will ever ind her true love.