When Nall spices and Jordan’s 13-Alarm Ungstiri Chili meet, the result is a dream of bizarre proportions for Orandius Jaxx, Emissary Head of the Mystics…
From the familiar confines of the Fool’s Pride bunk module and a deep, uneasy sleep, Jaxx suddenly finds himself rudely awakened in:
Hog Heaven
A swirling, rather nebulous region, where is anyone’s guess. Occasionally the odd incandescent bubble drifts up amongst the many color swirls and pops gently, releasing tiny little piglets with wings that merrily flit about, as well as miniature Harleys revving hellfire and brimstone, also be-winged. Louder rumbles herald the approach of larger Harleys, oftentimes pillioned by chunky porkers in leather, sunglasses, and sometimes, flower-child clothing. Pink elephants of all size, winged, cherubic and kazoo-bearing, float about in humble servant capacity for the slightest wish or whim.
Dream-Sequence Vampire
A crow of a man with disconcerting sunken eyes of indeterminate color, they always seem to gleam. Tall, with the gaunt, pale features of a scavenger, he wears tunic and trousers of coarse black cloth. The trousers are folded under where the right leg ends below the knee. A tattoo of barbed wire encircles his left eye and loops around his shaved head, trailing down his left cheek and around his neck. He wears big glittery pink sunglasses and a blue feather boa. His biker boot is sprouting with rhino tusks. He’s wearing a big crimson fez and a Groucho Marx plastic nose and mustache…and a Karl Marx faux beard.
Vampire perches atop a massive Harley Davidson motorcycle, revving the engine madly and smoking a cartoonishly huge stogey.
Vampire takes off his big pink glittery sunglasses long enough to wink suggestively at Jaxx, then slips them back on again. “Evenin’, sunshine.” He smooches at Jaxx.
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