hastwothumbs

I know I said I would only spend an hour on each story, but today's installment of Revenge of Strange and Crappy Short Story Bonanza took two and a half. Judging by the length (and quality, probably ) of it, it shows.

To be fair, a lot of that time was spent being distracted by a Rainer Maria dvd I just bought. Oh, man, I love that band.

Anyway, I think this story turned out pretty well. I like it, at least.

The Bastardly Doings of Michael Strange - Chapter One: Artificial Life

Michael Strange wanted to be the world's greatest magician. At the age of eleven he was granted apprenticeship to the world's eighth best magician. He learned quickly, mastered his spells easily, and ate his vegetables studiously. By the time he reached adulthood he was a very good magician, surely, but not the world's greatest.
One day he went to his master, whom he now outranked on the list of best magicians, for counsel.
"Master and surrogate father," Strange said. "No matter how many spells I weave, no matter how many laws of reality I find to bend, no matter how many names I call upon, I just cannot seem to become the world's greatest magician. There's something missing, I know it. There's something I have not done that is essential to my magic. What is it that you've kept from me in my training? What secret have you not revealed to me?"
"Apprentice and friend," the master replied. "You are correct that your training is not complete. Though you stand before me, my superior in all things magic, you have not yet even attempted the most important trial to a magician."
"Which is?" Strange asked impatiently.
"You must defeat a demon," the master explained. "Once you have done so, you can take its power and add it to your own."
"Then I will be the greatest magician in the world?"
"No, apprentice and friend. Then you must seek an even more powerful demon and defeat it. Then you can add its power, as well. More and more powerful you must become, so more and more demons you must defeat. That is how one becomes the greatest magician in the world."
"Why have you kept this from me?"
"Because it is the path to ruin, you see. With each victory comes a new enemy. And each new enemy brings allies, whom you must now count as enemies. I had hoped to save you from such a life. It is still not too late to turn away."
"Master, I know what..."
"Please," the master interrupted. "At least weigh my words before descarding them."
"Yes, sir."
Michael Strange took four days and nights to decide his fate. When he returned to his master, Strange asked, "Master, who is the demon with the worst sense of humor?"
"That would be Vrag the Dentist," his master answered. "Not the most powerful of demons, but certainly one of the better known."
"Then he will be the first to fall before me."
And so, Michael Strange began his first journey to Hell. For six nights he headed west, staying as far ahead of the sun as possible. He reached the gateway to Hell without any difficulty, but it is common knowledge that getting to Hell is the easiest thing in the world to do. It was not so easy, Strange found, to approach the guard of the gate, a towering mass of personified nightmare. But approach he did.
"Who comes to Hell of their own accord?" the guard asked. "Speak your name to me, lest I skewer your soul with my adominable penis."
"As abominable as I'm sure it is," Strange mustered all the bravado he had. "You know very well that I won't give you my name, just as you wouldn't give me yours if questioned about it. Now let me pass, else I cause your bowels to decay."
The guard laughed, a great thundering that almost deafened Strange. "You may enter, flesh. But I'll remember your threat when you seek to exit."
Strange entered Hell. Before he even had time to reflect on the guard's words, he was approached by a small, green demon.
"Man, know me. I am Gunther Shoestain, a small, insignificant demon. Yet I offer you my services if you would have me."
"I have a map and know where I'm going. You obviously would not be much protection. What use are you to me?"
"I am a native here in Hell, sir. I have many allies and connections among the demons."
"And how much do your services cost, Gunther Shoestain?"
"Oh, I come quite cheap, sir. Let's say, maybe, an hour of your life for a lifetime of my services?"
"Hmmm. Gunther, I'm going to ask you two questions. If you answer them to my pleasure, I'll accept you as my servant."
"Of course, sir. I'll do my best."
"First, what do you know of Vrag the Dentist?"
"He is a cunning foe, sir. Honorable, in his own way. Many a magician has entered his house, but none ever leave, sir. The usual myth. But, sir, it is said that once a magician enters his house, Vrag himself is not seen to leave for many years, either. Sometimes decades."
"I see. That opens the way for my second question. Do you have any chewing gum? Preferably bubble."
"Not on me. But I know where to get some."
"Splendid. Alright, Gunther Shoestain, you are now honor bound to serve me so long as I live just as I am equally bound to give you the last hour of my life. Now, let's be on our way, shall we?"
Save for an argument with a succubus over which flavor of chewing gum was best, Strange and Shoestain arrived at Vrag the Dentist's house without incident. Shoestain decided it was best to distance himself from any violence, so Strange had to forge ahead on his own. Compared to the gateway, Vrag's house did not seem threatening to Strange. He was almost disappointed in how confident he was as he knocked on the skull-laden door. When finally face to face with Vrag, Strange almost laughed at how unimposing the demon was.
"Yes?" Vrag asked, his voice containing all the menace of a barking puppy.
"Vrag the Dentist?" Strange snickered, almost swallowing his gum.
"I appear to be at a disadvantage," Vrag said. "You know my name, yet are a stranger to me."
"I am Michael Strange. Are we now on equal grounds?"
"Yes. Quite."
"Good. Now let me inside. I wish to destroy you."
"If you insist. I've made some tea. But..." Vrag cracked a smile. "I haven't eaten today."
Strange grinned right back. "I'm hungry, myself." As he entered, Strange took out his gum and stuck it on the doorway.
"If I am the challenged, then the rules dictate that I choose the nature of the duel. Do you play chess, Mister Strange?"
"Of course. Any magician worth his salt plays chess. All you demons ever do is challenge people to chess matches. It's rather cliche."
"Well, there is something to be said of the classics. We'll play in the parlor, if you don't mind."
"Not at all. Now, as to the spoils of war?"
"Ah, yes. You're after my power, correct? If you win, I will give you my essence. That way, I shall survive, but the universe will always mistake you for me. You will have access to all my power, sir. However, if I win... I will eat you. And your soul will digest in my stomach for eternity."
"Doesn't seem very fair, but then again, fairness is not something one should expect from a demon. It's acceptable. Shall we play, Mister Vrag?"
"Just give me a moment to get the tea, Mister Strange."
Strange and Vrag played chess, drank tea, and chatted with one another. It was all rather civil and charming, in a fashion; not the classic battle between good and evil that poets would write about. In the end, Strange defeated Vrag.
"Well, Strange," Vrag said as he sipped his tea. "It appears you're the new me. I'll give you my essence now. But... oh, bother, I can't seem to recall where I stored it. It's somewhere around here. Do you mind if I think about it and try to remember?"
"Go ahead. I can wait."
Vrag sat in his chair and appeared to be deep in thought. An hour went by and he still couldn't remember. Another two hours passed without any success. Then four hours, then a day. Strange had retired to Vrag's library by the end of the week. Strange spent a month reading all of Vrag's books. By two months Strange had grown tired of Vrag's books but continued to read them. Four months and Strange had finished reading every book that Vrag owned. Six months later Strange had reread all of Vrag's book. After a year of wandering aimlessly throughout the house, Strange went to Vrag.
"Any luck yet?"
"Maybe I left it in the attic. Did you look in there?"
The attic was really a small pocket of limbo, stretching endlessly in all directions. It was full of artifacts, some of which Strange recognized. But he knew he was looking for something he hadn't come across before. Strange searched the attic for two years before finding a blue, glass container.
"Is it inside this jar?"
"No, that contains the wails of seven-hundred and seventy-seven childless mothers."
Strange searched the attic for five years before finding a velvet box.
"Is this it?"
"No, that contains the tooth of Cain."
Strange search the attic for ten years before finding a metal jug full of water.
"Is this it?"
"No, that contains the drool of a murderous lunatic."
Strange searched the attic for twenty five years before finding a plastic bag full of marshmallows.
"Is this it?"
"No, that is a plastic bag full of marshmallows."
Finally, Strange lost his patience. "I've searched in vain for decades. Do you remember yet where you placed your soul?"
"Not as yet. Give me a little more time."
"I've given you enough time. And now I've had it with your trickery. You've broken your promise, demon."
"I'm offended, sir! My honor is intact. I fully well intend to give you my essence."
"Bah. To hell with you." Strange decided it was time for him to leave and stormed toward the door. When he tried to open it, however, it refused to budge.
"Part of the rules," Varg hissed. "The runes around the frame forbid the both of us from leaving. You see, I've had many magicians challenge me. All of them were under the same rules you were and too many try to renege on the deal after losing. So I put that spell on the door. It can only be opened when the winner collects his prize."
"So that's how you've managed to survive so long. I bet you've lost the game before."
"Many times."
"And you pull the same trick. You can't remember where you put your essence? Balderdash! You merely stall until the magician grows old and dies."
"Speaking of which, you don't seem to have aged these past decades."
"Because I've beaten you twice at your own game, demon," Strange boasted. "I will never grow old while inside your house. I've removed this place from the flow of time."
"Impossible! How?"
"I whispered a spell into the chewing gum I stuck on your door. My own rune, you might say."
"Bastard," Varg pouted.
"Now hand over my new power. Or you'll never escape this place."
"I could always just kill you."
"But then the winner, in this case I, would be dead and unable to collect the prize. You'd be stuck here forever, anyway."
Reluctantly, Varg said, "Well, it just so happens that my memory has come back to me. It was in my pocket the entire time. How silly of me." Varg pulled a small tin can from his jacket pocket. "Drink this and go forth, oh, man, with my power."
Strange ripped the lid off and drank from the can. The liquid inside was so bitter it made Strange gag. But as he did, the door opened. Smiling, despite the disgusting linger in his mouth, Strange thanked Varg and took his leave.
"Master," Gunther called as Strange came down the walkway. "What happened? You were only in there a minute."
"I won," Strange smiled. "Now come along, Gunther. I've had enough of this place."
But leaving Hell was an adventure all its own.