The Adventures Of Archie 7 - The Puzzleman's Tale It was a long walk down to the green valley but so worth it. Archie bathed his aches in the river and fell asleep in the shade of a tree. The valley was a paradise, no sign of predators, plenty of lush grass and shoots. Just perfect for a rabbit. In the months that followed, Archie was a little lonely but then he had got used to living alone in the dismal confines of his hutch in the grubby shed with just the paint tins for company, so all in all he found his new life quite acceptable. Author's Note Just a bit of time out to comment on one aspect of the above. It is a subject I feel very strongly about. The paint tins would actually have been very good company were it not for the cruelty and inhumanity shown by our species. New paint tins are witty, intelligent and fond of philosophy. Some very advanced thinking goes on on the shelves of B&Q. Then they find themselves cruelly raped and abused. Their lids get pulled off, brushes are thrust repeatedly into the apertures; they are turned upside down so that their vital fluids run into trays. For what? Just because your wall is grubby or in last year's colours. Then they are dumped in dusty sheds just in case you might need them to touch a bit up with next year. The poor sensitive things are totally traumatised by the experience. No wonder they become shallow creatures obsessed with appearance and Archie found them so boring. All day they complain about their screwdriver damaged lids or the dried drips crusted on the sides. They wake up in the middle of the night screaming "I'm getting a skin on top". Same with rolls of wallpaper. Brutal. Shameless. We don't even bother to hide the facial gang-bang symbolism of the wallpaper paste. Well I've got news for you lot hoping for your Houris and harps. (Note how commendably culturally inclusive these stories are). Life is your time on the shelves of B&Q. You wait until you find out what the great decorator has in store for you. You'll regret your callous behaviour then, but it will be far too late. Back to the story It was not until the sixth month that Archie realised he was not alone after all. He had wandered much further up the river than usual in search of berries and there, at the far end of the valley was a brightly coloured square building. Nearing it, he saw that each side had nine square panels in bright primary colours making it look just like a giant Rubic's cube. He was walking around outside looking for a door when there was a loud squeaking and crunching. Looking up, he saw the top of the building rotating. It rotated one quarter turn and stopped. Then there was an even louder noise and one side of the house started to rotate, churning through the sandy soil. That too stopped after one quarter turn. There was a clattering inside the house like someone throwing things about and a faint "ooooooom, Ommmm" like someone trying to shout with their mouth closed. Archie hung back for several minutes but nothing further happened. Approaching the house again he saw something that he had missed before. In the lowest centre panel (red) there was a small rectangular section that might have been a door. Very faintly, in only a very slightly darker shade of red, was a sign "Puzzleman". He knocked. The "oooooom oom" was audible again followed by footsteps and bangs and rattles like somebody rolling huge dice. The noises came closer until Archie was sure someone was just on the other side of the door and about to answer it. Rattle, "ooom". The sounds diminished again. Despite Archie's repeated knocks, nobody came. He was outside thinking about heading back when there was a loud bang and the door was opened suddenly by one of the oddest looking men he had ever seen. Something in the expression told Archie that the Puzzleman wanted to speak. The lips pulled back from the gums in a bizarre rictus, but the enormous yellow teeth stayed closed as if locked. The Puzzleman felt his jaw with his long flexible fingers. He poked an index finger into his mouth and pushed experimentally at one canine. Nothing happened. He probed for a while then pressed a lower front tooth. It slid backwards revealing a small black gap. The Puzzleman fiddled a while longer. The tooth above it slid down into the gap revealing another gap in the upper set. The Puzzleman pushed and pulled for ten minutes, sliding his teeth back and forward, from upper jaw to lower jaw and vice versa. Suddenly there was a loud click and his lower jaw sprang open. The puzzle man stuck one long finger in to stop it closing again and said, somewhat indistinctly, "aaaaaah fthankk chrisfor at". He fiddled in his pocket, found a small piece of wire and hooked it over one of his back teeth. "Sorry about that" said the Puzzleman, "Came as fast as I could, had nearly got to the welcome mat when I had to pick up a Fate Card and it said go back to the airing cupboard. Still I'm here now, do come through to the drawing room for a drink old chap. Haven't seen another living soul for ten years you know. Got caught in a Little Boy explosion did you? Know the signs. So many go that way. It was a devil that bomb, design flaw you know, fins too small. All the atomic and nuclear bombs since just atomise you like they're supposed to, but that Little Boy chucked people all through space and time. A convention of Tax inspectors got blown back to the Precambrian apparently and they're still the lowest form of life back then. The Puzzleman chattered away as if he intended to catch up with all the missed conversation of the last ten years in the next ten minutes. It took a very long time to reach the drawing room that was visible just the other end of the short corridor. The Puzzleman threw his dice, took that many steps, threw again, walked. They were almost there when a huge sign appeared in the air completely blocking it off. "Gandelgorf The Wizard puts his curse on you, go back to the kitchen and throw again". "F***** b***** 'ell screamed the Puzzleman and kicked the hatstand. Then "Oh sorry old chap, forgot you were there for a moment, so long on my own, you know? This puzzle life does get awfully frustrating". So they went back to the kitchen and started again. There was a strange shimmering ball on top of the stove, Archie picked it up. "Oh F*** sh*** no!" shrieked the puzzleman. It was the Mysterious Talisman of Darkmoon and its sinister powers catapulted them straight into the Alternate Wierdgate Of Nesfaron. Fortunately, the Alternate Wierdgate of Nesfaron was only the Puzzleman's coal cellar. "Sorry again for my language, old bean" said the Puzzleman, "But please try not to touch anything if you can help it, especially if it looks a bit odd or out of place" At that moment the Rubic's Cube house had another of its periodic twists. The crunching and grinding was deafening inside. Fortuitously, the door of the coal cellar ended up leading directly into the drawing room. "That's a bit of luck", said the Puzzleman, "Quick before it turns again". They were both cosily esconced on the sofa sipping Whisky and Dry Ginger when it did. The coal cellar whirled away upwards. Another room appeared. It was the upstairs bathroom. Upside down. Water cascaded from the WC and covered the lounge carpet. "Looks like I forgot to flush it again!" said the Puzzleman, brushing a turd off the cat with his toothbrush. He poured them both another very large Whisky, stirred them with the toothbrush, checked the wire in his mouth was still firmly in place and began to tell Archie his very strange tale. The Puzzleman's tale. I used to be a very ordinary sort of bloke, everyday sort of job, IT contractor I was. Nice house, attractive wife, lots of friends. Only thing some might have said was a bit strange about me was my enthusiasm for mental games of every sort. I loved puzzles, crosswords, quizzes, word games, board games and card games from happy families to chess. I especially loved RPGs, whether computer or board based. But really it wasn't that unusual, I used to play long games over days with some real fanatics and compared to some of them I was a pretty normal sort of guy I can tell you. It was back in 2003 or so. Big downturn in the IT market and I just couldn't seem to get another contract. After eight months or so my cash savings were starting to run out. So I took a job with a guy I used to bump into a lot at games meetings who said he owned one of those Games Workshop places. I didn't take to the chap at all, perpetually snearing manner he had, and I was a bit suspicious about the job offer as we had not exactly been mates. I thought it might have been because he was.., you know, but I figured I would deal with that problem if it came up. I really needed the work; the pay was better than working in a supermarket, the work promised to be a lot more interesting and I was desperate. The Puzzleman reached across for the Whisky bottle and both his eyeballs fell out. "Oh W*** b*** sh***!, ooh sorry again old fruit, just ignore me please" He lay on the floor, placed both eyballs on his enormous scoop-shaped forehead and commenced tilting it back and forward trying to roll them back into their sockets. "Can I put them back for you?" asked Archie, reaching forward. "Oooh bleedin' b*ggerin' ell no, no, don't!" screamed the puzzleman. After ten minutes he had managed to roll them back in and resumed his place on the sofa. "A thousand apologies again me old mucka, but it's not allowed see?, I have to do every puzzle properly. Put them back by hand once, this life was new to me then, and a great big neon sign shot out of my head with TILT written on it and my head started going round and round like a siren. Ever so bleedin' painful it was, took me months to get remotely back to normal. Same with this" He pointed to the bit of wire wedged between his long tombstone teeth. "I used to have nice neat little gnashers once, but I fell asleep a couple of times with them wedged apart and they just grew round the object and locked up again. Have to make sure I take it out every night or I'd soon end up like a sabre-tooth tiger". "Where was I? Oh yes, the job. Well I turned up the first day and it turned out to be a really seedy little place in a dingy backstreet. I was expecting the usual Dungeons and Dragons stuff, you know, dragons with crystal eyeballs, orcs with bright purple wings and so on. Love that sort of thing. I know it's mass produced in China somewhere but it always seems to me to be the nearest you can get to real craftsmanship these days. But this place wasn't a real Games Workshop at all and the stuff was grim! Everything was carved out of coarse greyish wood, like driftwood or something or plain black hard rock like basalt. The carvings were damn good I have to say, most would say much more tasteful and artistic than the usual D&G stuff and certainly a lot more sinister, but, I dunno..., an orc should be gold and purple with faceted glass eyes for chrissake! not a squat black toad-like thing, I don't care how alive and menacing it looks. "Anyhows, beggars can't be choosers, so I stuck it out. Glad I did at first. Business was really good. Don't ask me why, but a lot of people were buying the stuff despite what I thought were ridiculously high prices. Hand carved I suppose. Geoff, Old Creepy, was a generous boss too, gave me a decent Christmas bonus after only four weeks, and I never had to cope with the wandering hands I was dreading. After a while I was sure I'd misjudged the guy. He was a decent sort, just not much at getting on with people. Can't say I really enjoyed the work though. Was expecting the customers to be the sort I spent my leisure time with, youngish types, but they were mostly middle-aged to elderly and all rather grim. Not people you would expect to have any interest in fantasy games. They just came and went in virtual silence and behaved very oddly, often spending ages just staring fixedly at individual pieces, or just stand there holding them with their eyes closed" "Been there six months before I twigged what was going on, and doing so of course sealed my fate. Geoff had gone home sick and I stayed on after hours to sort some things out. He was adamant that I should lock up at six and leave, he was always most careful to see I left on time, but I figured I was doing him a favour and was glad to put in the extra time as he had been so good to me. Banged my head on the beam coming out of the storeroom, really hard, and had to sit on the chair in front of the display cabinet because I was feeling dizzy. The world was spinning and buzzing. When it started to clear it was as though there was a sort of echo in my head. The echo sort of expanded, can't explain it, and I felt I just had to hold one of the models. Then the echo became total clarity and I knew" "You know these places that find young Russian or Far Eastern brides for middle aged blokes in the West? Where he gets a bit of glamour and some congenial company at night in return for the prized EU citizenship? Well that's what this place was. A sort of marriage agency come illegal immigration centre for every sort of semi-corporeal monster from one hundred and thirty six dimensions who wanted to get into ours. Those carvings were not just chunks of wood or stone, they were the equivalent of a dating video. The old blokes who came into the shop communicated on some strange plain via the carvings with the original subject. They undertook to support the creatures in this dimension and got various things in exchange - knowledge, power, who knows what?, in return. Maybe even sex for all I know, when you are a scrawny seventy year old with varicose veins perhaps a squat black menacing toad-like thing is all you can get. "Suppose they figured I would go to the police. They made the people-trafficking gangs of our world look like a kid's gang in a cr�che. They had real power you know, not just piddling guns and knives, they had the power of dimensions, of alternate realities. So here I am. The puzzle man. They re-sculpted me in the image of my worldy obsessions. Every minute of every day I live out my life trapped in this house, a piece on an eternal board game. I have to play games for hours just to go from one room to another. Every organ of my body is a puzzle I have to solve just to use it. You think the teeth thing is wierd? I won't go into what I have to do to take a dump. Takes me so long usually that I'm almost permanently constipated. I really worry that some day I won't be able to solve it at all" The Puzzle man lapsed into silence and stared at the floor. There was a sound of immense dice falling. A drop of water appeared on his huge and strangely shaped shoe. At first, Archie thought he was crying but the drop became drops then a dribble then a steady flow. The puzzle man was melting and reforming. Some card had been drawn somewhere and a hideous darkness was creeping into this gentle man. He was transforming into something horrible and Archie knew suddenly that he was in terrible danger. Before the change was complete Archie reacted in blind panic. Picked up the first heavy object in sight and swung it down on the Puzzleman's still recognisable head on the already hideously unrecognisable body. He had never seen brains before but as far as he could tell they seemed very normal. The creature fell. There was a look of peace on the Puzzleman's bloodied face that now sprouted a moustache that had not been there before. The body transformed again. Became something like a mustard coloured chess bishop. The strange house was quiet now. He dropped the fatal weapon, walked the few steps to the front door in a normal time and opened it. He looked back at the body. In the drawing room. With the candlestick. It was a fitting end. There was a card on the hall stand and absent-mindedly he picked it up. Looked like some decent berries on that bush over there. Whistling, Archie hopped over and began munching in that mindless thoughtful way that rabbits have. When he was full, he looked at the card. "Card of cosmic power" it said. "You are transported to Zenagthlan". The Rubic's cube house flashed neon. 'Game over' and winked out. Archie never noticed. He had been transported to Zenagthlan. Which as anyone with half a brain knows is just a fancy name for a back street in Cheltenham.
Copyright © 2003 Xoggoth |