Archimedes Huck: Beer Mage -2-

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Chapter II: Skulls & Broken Glass

Despair. Oblivion. Death. These are the times without Ales. These are the times where Lagerless vagabonds walk the black stars of the Universe.

Sedona went very wrong. All I remember was that strange restaurant, what did they call it…Mac-Donald’s? Archimedes went there, to the Kingdom of the Golden Arches, and beseeched it’s mighty ruler not to sell poisonous Ales to the peasants of Mac-Donald’s kingdom…

It didn’t matter now. I am sitting here in Lady, my nano-cloud, the gaseous form of instruments and cameras that I follow Huck with on his missions, was destroyed in the blast. However this “Mac-Donald” is, and his billion followers, well they have enemies. Enemies that have access to bombs that reach the temperature of the sun. That melt flesh and Ale. Manufacturing on a new nano-cloud is 50%, soon I can venture back out into the world, soon, Lady and I can be back in the fold.

“Aleready!” shouted Archimedes during his slow motion plunge into melee carnage. Bodies and parts of bodies, smashed, broken and torn, leaked and splattered their way across the remainder of the parking lot of McDonald’s.

It was hard to tell flesh apart from the charred ground beef; they mixed in a taco salad of despair and carnage that told a devious and sickening tale. Something, or someone, had interfered with Archimedes peaceful interaction with the McDonald’s manager.

The nano-cloud was back up and working, and I could survey the sad aftermath of the parking lot explosion. McDonalds, as I now know it is pronounced, decided to start serving beer in their American restaurants.

It was a mistake they would soon regret.

###

Wings flapped in a syrupy green smoke. It was almost mist, but something darker, something sicker. I hope it wasn’t the cow people again, their influence on the Beverage Dimensions was strong, yet somehow feeble.

Back to the matter at hand, the flapping. Something yellow seemed to form against the green fog, its strangely phallic shape weirdly complimented by its goat-like appendages. Of course, appendages could be a word I’m using generously here.

It was like a Banana centipede, mixed with a goat person, and a moth thrown in for good/bad measure. It was Panana, the Banana-Goat God-Man. Lord of Piña Coladas.  And Panana was really pissed.

I was dreaming again.

###

Billy Bock pranced out of the wreckage. He was hard to kill, being made of Alelloy. His bio-parts were a bit charred, nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“Archimedes, brother, are you well?” Billy proclaimed in an alien-computerized goat voice.

“I’m as Aleready as ever, Billy,” Archimedes coughed out, making a gurgling noise afterwards. He was drunk, but also badly beat up, and the gurgling was blood mixed with saliva and beer.  The battle, or rather the aftermath now, were a fastly fading haze.  Best heal.  Come back.  Regroup.

THIS IS AN UNFINISHED WORK IN PROGRESS>