Tales of the Improbable Volume 1
Giancarlo pursed his lips and stared at the old, blackened wooden box in front of him. Intricate, but well-worn carvings adorned the surface, and a palimpsest of glyphs flowed across the grain. What were they? Instructions? Stories of days gone past? Warnings?
He'd bought it earlier at General Li's Curio Emporium and Budget Mysteries in old Chinatown on a strange whim. Sure, he'd walked by the store many times without a second glance, but an unbidden thought crept into his head today and made him walk inside, stopping in front of the box.
"Ancient! Very special! On sale for five dollars!" beckoned the old man behind the counter. He cackled unsettlingly and smiled at Giancarlo, who immediately grabbed the box, plopped down the money on the counter, and began to walk out.
"Wait!" cried the propietor. "Very important! You must-"
"Yeah, I know. Don't feed it after midnight," interrupted Giancarlo, and walked out the door.
And now he was seated in front of it, intensely curious about the contents inside. He looked around his bedroom, took a breath, and removed the top.
He wasn't sure what he expected to see inside, but a blue gilded kazoo was certainly far down on that list. Nonetheless, there it was, resting on moth-eaten scarlet velvet.
He looked at it, nonplussed for a few moments, then picked it up. He held it close to his face, his eyes going over the designs etched on its surface. Some unknown script spiraled its way down the length of the instrument, pod-like symbols dancing around the margins. Scrolled around the turret was a treble clef staff containing six notes.
Putting the kazoo to his mouth, he hummed the written tune. It sounded suspiciously like the outro to "The Three Stooges".
He wasn't surprised when nothing happened. He was surprised, and then drastically alarmed, when after a few moments of nothing happening, Something began to make its presence known by a rumbling that shook the whole room. The lights dimmed and then took on a quality that made everything seem a split second slow. The floor began suppurating a nacreous, viscous ooze that started to ripple outwards as if being hammered from below. A keening wail grew louder and deeper, emanating from the center of disturbances, and a large green trunk rose from the floor, tapering near the end. The sound and shaking subsided, and two large eyes near the top of the newcomer blinked.
Giancarlo could only gawk, mouth agape, then started when he recognized what was in front of him. "Holy fuck! A giant anthropomorphic-"
"Okron..." boomed the large okra in stentorian tones. "Okron the Destroyer. Why did you summon me with the Kazoo of Malfeasance?" He waved stubby arms in what Giancarlo supposed was meant to be a menacing manner.
Giancarlo looked on silently, unable to make a move at this latest revelation. He'd definitely have a chat with General Li after this was done.
Okron sighed. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you? You're completely at a loss for words here."
Giancarlo nodded, but couldn't suppress a small giggle at the thought of a giant demonic okra.
"I'd not be so quick to laugh were I you," grumbled Okron. "You've obviously never read the Okranomicon, the ancient tome that foretells my destruction of this world."
"Um, that's a bit ambitious for an okra, even one as large and obviously evil as you, isn't it?" responded Giancarlo. "I mean, how to do you plan to do any destroying? Do you have death rays, armies of angry wombats, supernatural vortexes, anything like that?"
"I slime people," answered Okron.
"You 'slime' people? That doesn't sound particularly threatening," countered Giancarlo.
"Oh, trust me, it's highly unpleasant. That, and the ensuing suffocation usually proves fatal. All in all, it's quite destructive. I think you'd be surprised, if only for the short time you had before dying." Okron delivered this last line with a palpable threat in his voice. "And when that doesn't work, we use our submachine guns, or 'Oozies', to finish the job." He closed his large eyes and tilted his head back as if in thought. "Now.... now is not the right time. It is too soon."
"What do you mean?" asked Giancarlo. The thought of being suffocated by a large okra, even one that could talk, seemed less and less appealing each moment.
"My army of minions is too few. We have spread far and wide, but our numbers are being cut down, particularly in Cajun and Indian areas," elaborated Okron. "Without them, I cannot make my move." He eyed Giancarlo balefully. "But I'll be back, and you will meet a slippery end. I'll see to it, myself."
With that, he shut his eyes and took on an almost serene countenance. The air around him bowed and contracted, and he vanished into a pinhole that snapped shut with a quiet pop. A puddle of ooze on the floor was the only trace of his visit. That, and Giancarlo's unshakeable resolve to eat as much okra as possible in order to prevent the destruction of the world.
Dear Reader, will you join Giancarlo in the salvation of humanity by eating okra at all occasions, or at least when convenient and in the mood? Or will you turn your back on your fellows and doom us all to a slick doom? Verily, the choice is yours.
He'd bought it earlier at General Li's Curio Emporium and Budget Mysteries in old Chinatown on a strange whim. Sure, he'd walked by the store many times without a second glance, but an unbidden thought crept into his head today and made him walk inside, stopping in front of the box.
"Ancient! Very special! On sale for five dollars!" beckoned the old man behind the counter. He cackled unsettlingly and smiled at Giancarlo, who immediately grabbed the box, plopped down the money on the counter, and began to walk out.
"Wait!" cried the propietor. "Very important! You must-"
"Yeah, I know. Don't feed it after midnight," interrupted Giancarlo, and walked out the door.
And now he was seated in front of it, intensely curious about the contents inside. He looked around his bedroom, took a breath, and removed the top.
He wasn't sure what he expected to see inside, but a blue gilded kazoo was certainly far down on that list. Nonetheless, there it was, resting on moth-eaten scarlet velvet.
He looked at it, nonplussed for a few moments, then picked it up. He held it close to his face, his eyes going over the designs etched on its surface. Some unknown script spiraled its way down the length of the instrument, pod-like symbols dancing around the margins. Scrolled around the turret was a treble clef staff containing six notes.
Putting the kazoo to his mouth, he hummed the written tune. It sounded suspiciously like the outro to "The Three Stooges".
He wasn't surprised when nothing happened. He was surprised, and then drastically alarmed, when after a few moments of nothing happening, Something began to make its presence known by a rumbling that shook the whole room. The lights dimmed and then took on a quality that made everything seem a split second slow. The floor began suppurating a nacreous, viscous ooze that started to ripple outwards as if being hammered from below. A keening wail grew louder and deeper, emanating from the center of disturbances, and a large green trunk rose from the floor, tapering near the end. The sound and shaking subsided, and two large eyes near the top of the newcomer blinked.
Giancarlo could only gawk, mouth agape, then started when he recognized what was in front of him. "Holy fuck! A giant anthropomorphic-"
"Okron..." boomed the large okra in stentorian tones. "Okron the Destroyer. Why did you summon me with the Kazoo of Malfeasance?" He waved stubby arms in what Giancarlo supposed was meant to be a menacing manner.
Giancarlo looked on silently, unable to make a move at this latest revelation. He'd definitely have a chat with General Li after this was done.
Okron sighed. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you? You're completely at a loss for words here."
Giancarlo nodded, but couldn't suppress a small giggle at the thought of a giant demonic okra.
"I'd not be so quick to laugh were I you," grumbled Okron. "You've obviously never read the Okranomicon, the ancient tome that foretells my destruction of this world."
"Um, that's a bit ambitious for an okra, even one as large and obviously evil as you, isn't it?" responded Giancarlo. "I mean, how to do you plan to do any destroying? Do you have death rays, armies of angry wombats, supernatural vortexes, anything like that?"
"I slime people," answered Okron.
"You 'slime' people? That doesn't sound particularly threatening," countered Giancarlo.
"Oh, trust me, it's highly unpleasant. That, and the ensuing suffocation usually proves fatal. All in all, it's quite destructive. I think you'd be surprised, if only for the short time you had before dying." Okron delivered this last line with a palpable threat in his voice. "And when that doesn't work, we use our submachine guns, or 'Oozies', to finish the job." He closed his large eyes and tilted his head back as if in thought. "Now.... now is not the right time. It is too soon."
"What do you mean?" asked Giancarlo. The thought of being suffocated by a large okra, even one that could talk, seemed less and less appealing each moment.
"My army of minions is too few. We have spread far and wide, but our numbers are being cut down, particularly in Cajun and Indian areas," elaborated Okron. "Without them, I cannot make my move." He eyed Giancarlo balefully. "But I'll be back, and you will meet a slippery end. I'll see to it, myself."
With that, he shut his eyes and took on an almost serene countenance. The air around him bowed and contracted, and he vanished into a pinhole that snapped shut with a quiet pop. A puddle of ooze on the floor was the only trace of his visit. That, and Giancarlo's unshakeable resolve to eat as much okra as possible in order to prevent the destruction of the world.
Dear Reader, will you join Giancarlo in the salvation of humanity by eating okra at all occasions, or at least when convenient and in the mood? Or will you turn your back on your fellows and doom us all to a slick doom? Verily, the choice is yours.
