The Aggie Show

by

WetJazz

Not Dead Yet ~ Your Man, Godfrey

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Allow me to take a moment—some time to remember the circumstances leading up to my death. It was the first of many, and it began once I bashed in my alarm clock. I allowed my eyelids just a moment to creak open, and the room met me in pitch-black! Mind you, I left my curtains draped open the night before; I am sure of it—I rolled up the blinds, and I set an alarm.

Oh, but I set an alarm for 2:00 AM. Of course I did! Because that is what I sought to do. Anyway, I sat up, and I screamed.

“Fuck!”

That was a morning ritual of mine. I am beloved by all my neighbors. I rolled out of my bed, practically strangled to death by my own bedsheets—Oh the fucking humanity! And I raced downstairs, and I rushed out the front door.

Not that any of these matters. I marched down the block, far out of my suburban neighborhood, along a line of properties. There was a substantial bit of sidewalk at the edge of the neighborhood, cushioned up against a bit of road. I followed that bit of sidewalk, noting my surroundings. There was an electrical meter on the sides of a few houses.

A few cars whirred by, spaced as a sporadic line. There was something that I recalled. I stuffed my hand into my pocket, and out I snatched out a digital voice recorder. And I pressed my hand against a lever on its side as I continued to walk, and it recorded my voice! I will play it for you now.

“That’s neat. If somebody were to play this back, they would have my voice forever—fuck, I would call this ‘cool,’ maybe even ‘radical.’ Now, I have to mull over a few things. A great span of my life was unimportant. I am of the objectively true opinion that one’s infanthood is an examination in survival of the fittest. If you survive into maturity, then you can do whatever you want, of course. I love the sound of my voice.”

That’s quite enough for now. I went to college; you know. I exchanged four years of my life for a degree in English, the second greatest decision I have ever made in my life.

After some time, my legs ached. I had strayed quite far from home, along that narrow sidewalk. The sun was coming up, and shadows of telephone poles strayed down onto the street. At a few moments, shadows cast themselves down, shadows that looked like knots in the phone lines. I knew better than that! Whenever I spotted such a knot, I paced around the sidewalk, through a neighboring patch of grass, and avoided the kink in the line—they were not kinks at all! In fact, on one occasion, I saw what looked to be a kink in the line, and I avoided its shadow and a bird shit on the sidewalk just beside me! I am careful! I would never stand just beneath a bird, and I likely never will.

I finally had a plan, though. I jotted my name down in my notebook, as well as a brilliant and creative plan, and I stuck it underneath a mattress in the grass. Pacing be damned, let’s get to the good part!

I wandered down the sidewalk, and I found my way into a city later into the day, approaching night time, and I had blistered feet, and my legs were killing me! So I ascended to the highest apartment building I could find, and I climbed up onto the roof.

That’s when I found the last item. The final jewel! The most beautiful gemstone I’ve ever seen! If you were wondering how I’d gotten it, that’s how! Of course, I placed the gemstone into my mouth. I took off my shirt. I tossed off everything, and I stood proudly in the structure, staring down the horizon! Footsteps made their way behind me. I will play the second entry on that recording device.

“With a sudden leap, I became bathed in brilliant green light, and landed on the top floor of the building. It was like a giant fireball of light, and the only thing left was a heap of sparkling green jewels.”

That is what would have happened. Something more interesting happened. I realized, at that moment, how I would die. A man had followed me onto that roof. A hulking figure stood between me and the stairway back down from the ledge. I felt pressure pushing down on my skull, like pasta being strained through my body, like TV static burrowing into my lungs. I jolted around to face him.

“What are you doing up here? You’re not supposed to be up here.”

I said nothing. He sauntered toward me, his footsteps echoing on the concrete. “I’ve been watching you,” he said.

I said nothing. I just stared back at him. He was easily six and a half feet tall. He was young, maybe thirty. His skin had an odd translucency, the result of drug abuse or some other unfortunate combination. He had hollow, unfocused eyes, as if he had been playing poker with his eyes closed for days. He wore a brown jumpsuit; the hem dragging in the wind. The man reminded me of some morose jailhouse resident.

“You up here looking for love? Or did you just get laid off?”

I shook my head. Just for the hell of it, I said.

“I can’t tell. I’ve been up here for about a week.”

I said nothing. I just stared back at him. He was easily six and a half feet tall. He was young, maybe thirty. His skin had an odd translucency, the result of drug abuse or some other unfortunate combination. The man had hollow, unfocused eyes, as if he had been playing poker with his eyes closed for days. He wore a brown jumpsuit. The hem dragged in the wind. He reminded me of some morose jailhouse resident.

“You up here looking for love? Or did you just get laid off?”

I shook my head. Just for the hell of it, I said.

“I can’t tell. I’ve been up here for about a week.”

He laughed. He laughed. It was a giddy, overly self-assured laugh. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“No. No, I don’t. I don’t believe that.”

He stepped toward me and I felt him standing so close that I thought I would topple. His face turned slowly to the side. He smiled.

“You’re just mad at the world right now.” He pointed back to the real world. “You got some things to figure out. We all do. Don’t you worry about it.”

It was a clever speech, delivered in such a juvenile fashion. We both knew it. And yet somehow it hit me right in the gut.

“Well, my name’s Deagon. What’s your name?”

Just for the hell of it, I said

“God.”






You sure are clever! I am sure of it—you are still reading this account because you are clever. Also, because you are clever, you have likely discerned this by now. I am Godfrey. If you are clever, you have also discerned that Godfrey is not my real name. It really would have been poor form to let people know my name. Deagon and I became great friends. We trusted each other deeply, and one night, he brought me to watch something of particular interest. He took me to a field, and, to my amazement, he seemed to bend the will of the world around his body. Before my very eyes, I watched the world crumble, and I witnessed the will of something greater than myself. I bore witness to its very circulation! He dug his hands into the Earth, and he tore out a boulder. He lifted an automobile over his head, and it was amazing. I had never seen such a thing.

And so, Deagon taught me something invaluable! I learned something about my dear friend, and he taught me something about myself! I am a destroyer of souls, as it were. Every person can use their soul in some way or another. Deagon called this his “rite,” but that is a mischaracterization. You see, we can all do anything if we want it bad enough. No matter — something far more important would come to my attention. While Deagon and I continued to investigate the souls of ourselves and others, Deagon detected that a powerful presence had been following us, and he whispered to me,

“I have a plan. Stay where you are.”

And he ran inside a nearby store, while I froze, stupidly. I glanced around the area for a moment, until I noticed what I thought, at the moment, must have been of interest to Deagon. Indiscreetly, what a terrible actress! She was staring right at me. It did not take long from my verbal poking and prodding to unveil the truth. Her name was Muriel. She had come across something incredible. I prodded some more—and she told me more, while I squealed as much as reasonably permitted about the nature of one’s soul. What she told me was much more, though: there was a creature that she called “The Cloud.” It had hijacked the universe’s natural process, that of reincarnation, that whenever our universe would die, it would reset itself, slightly different from before. The Cloud, a horrible creature, was prematurely beginning things anew, consuming the excess souls in order to become more powerful. I was in a believing mood.

Such was a horrifying discovery, to be sure, but it was quickly upstaged! My good friend Deagon introduced me to something far more terrifying—a revenant—for the sake of brevity, I will leave you with a brief explanation: two half-wits, Cervantes and Franky, were taken down into a curious little basement under the home of a friend of mine. They were slaughtered promptly, but, to my amazement, they sprung back from the dead, more powerful than before! Better yet, Deagon, by happenstance, met the son of the family! You would never believe what his soul would be capable of: he had the ability to begin the universe anew… He could restart everything. A plan was formulating in my mind.

I am not proud of what I did. It was a necessary evil. If it were not for Deagon, and Muriel, and the son of my good friends, then I would have no purpose in life. If I did not have a purpose in life, to defeat the cloud, then I would have no will to live. Deagon gave me a will to live that day, the day I met him, and I plan to use it to its fullest. My only regret is that Deagon could not be with me to see my full potential as it was realized. I wanted to teach my good friend Muriel one last thing about the soul. I contacted her once more. Deagon trailed behind us. We talked once more. On my signal, Deagon killed her. I promptly drove her to my friend’s home. I brought her back. I fixed her. She became one of the living once more, one of the many who has died innocently. It was for a good cause, of course. She did not know that Deagon and I were working together – with her greater understanding of the soul; we concocted a plan to destroy The Cloud. My life was coming to its climax, as it were.

I would use my own soul to destroy the cloud; I am the destroyer of souls, after all. Simple, right? But the cloud was responsible for rebirth, it would simply rebirth itself. But, the son of my good friends, he was able to reset the universe just as well as The Cloud. It was simple: just as I destroyed the creature, Jack would start the world anew, and we will have won! It was trivial!

Before I could put the plan into action, I met Gary. I thought nothing of the event. I killed him. I began the world anew. His cat arrived. I felt the most horrible dread I had felt in my life. She was the one who would do what I sought to do. Gary assured me that it was so.

I was terrified… To feel the weight of the world collapsing on one’s shoulders is not a pleasant experience. I knew that something had to be done. My life was not guaranteed. There had to be some sort of insurance, and so I drafted “El Infierno Godfrey,” the text which you are reading now! Of course, you already knew that. You also already knew that this subsection of “El Infierno Godfrey” is entitled “The Aggie Show.” It is a name that I have grown fond of — anyway, the majority of this text is an explanation: if the steps given at the beginning of this text are followed, then you should be able to eliminate the cloud for good! Much more than this, you should be able to incorporate its all-encompassing soul into yours! What a nice devourer of worlds you’ve become, Aggie! By writing this, I understand that I have sealed Gary’s doom as well as my own. That is a price that I am willing to pay. You already know what happens next — a cocktail of compromise and betrayal.

Two unimportant souls made their way into my office. Their names: Flynt and Braellyn! I hopped down from atop my desk, and I strode towards the two! To give credit where credit is due, the two of them were persistent. I battered them across the room – I smacked the two of them down a bit as they tried their damnedest to do something, anything! Admittedly, I was shocked that Deagon allowed them to come this far. Neither Cervantes nor Franky could cause the two of them any trouble? What a laugh! I asked the two of them,

“What have they sent for me here? Why is it just the two of you? Where’s Deagon?”

“Fuck you!”

As I mentioned, they were persistent. A third, slightly less unimportant one came in. In fact, she was Gary’s sister. It is a small world, after all. It was still boring, in fact. Their souls were nothing I hadn’t seen before. Eventually, I made my way away from the three of them. Thereon out, the world became fuzzy. Unfortunately, I do not have the greatest recollection of my final demise. I was surrounded by the weak ones. We were in a body of water — and I’ll be damned if I knew where that came from — and my good friend Muriel was there, and she fried my body from the inside out until I collapsed onto the floor as nothing more than a corpse… But, of course, my spirit cannot be destroyed so easily. I apologize for my absence. I will return shortly.

THIS WAS MEANT FOR YOU

 

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WetJazz

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