This story is part of the Zooko’an Mythos. More stories from this cycle can be found here
In ancient times, when much that has now been long forgotten was as yet undreamed, came the Sexless Atrocities to our world.
Like semen passing through a diaphragm, their very advent was transgression. This is the story of Gor-Gar-Trax, that Sexless Atrocity which went on a famous quest of sorts to attain sex. The traditions of various tribes tell of this quest, indeed, the stuff of legends. The jist here follows.
In those days [were there days, or indeed was the sun alight yet? Traditions vary] anyway in that previous cycle Gor-Gar-Trax was known by the name Zortrax. Zortrax was about, shambling to and fro when Its path did happen upon one of the Singing Butterflies of Rocka’too’ohgah 17. Zotrax knew not what it was, from within, but he [It!] felt something inside stir. Widely it is known that warm and friendly relations between the Sexless Atrocities and the Singing Butterflies are unheard of. Interactions twixt the twain merely limited to the former stamping out the latter. Yet some new, dare I say it, feeling, seemed to pull at Zortrax, compelling.
To put it bluntly Zortrax fully intended to pin this Butterfly down by the wings and forcibly sodomise it till its exoskeleton would crack. The Butterfly, for its part simply danced away and disappeared, as is their wont.
Zortrax looked high and low, all the while a strange ache deep down. Searching, questing, franticly a’ looking, Zortrax did happen upon an EyeBallSlugDude at his silent work. The EyeBallSlugDudes, it is known, appear as a gelatinous, almost amorphous blob of dark grey, though generally tear shaped. Atop the fat end of the tear shape rests the large white eyeball orb, iris a’centered. Extending a pseudopod, terminating in a claw-like appendage, they produce from within themselves a pen-like utensil. They write their poetry on the wind. Some say their telling is of future prophesy, that their writings shape destinies, that they chronicle the entire history of the world down to the tiniest detail. Others claim that they only post messages for others of their kind in different places and different times, but indeed no one knows. Not only is this great telling [great for it is the only occupation at which they are ever seen at] not only is it composed upon the shifting currents of air, but also inscribed with invisible ink, in a language known only to them and with a secret alphabet which is furthermore encrypted and then encoded, finally enciphered and at last written backwards that none might guess at its meaning. No one knows where they come from nor wither they go nor what their aim might be. The EyeBallSlugDudes.
Changing shape and assuming an eyeball orb for a head, though still larger and more menacing of body, Zortrax reached out with a many-jointed arm and grabbed at our gentle SlugDude by the scruff to face him, Eye to Eye. Zortrax formed mandibles and opened an orthodontal nightmare of a mouth, letting out a horrendous, wordless shriek. Wordless, for the Sexless Atrocities have no language. Zor shook our good EyeBallSlugDude in apparently sexual [ ! ] frustration, much as a street detective might shake down a local low-life for information. SlugDudes however have no mouths and this confrontation was
doomed to go nowhere.
Zortrax cast him aside, carelessly. Into the void the, with your slug soul.
Zortrax, unresting, burrowed deep underground creating vast cavern systems, the cast offs from which formed great mountain ranges.Taking to the sea in order to consult all-knowing Leviathans what lolled in the depths. Seaweeds and marine animals were incidentally heaved on to the shore. And so was dry land populated.
Careening wildly all about in such a restless tumult that the positioning of the planet was actually thrown off kilter and a’ tilted but a’ ways. So our world came to have seasons.
Restlessness not yet abated, the Atrocity paused for but a bit, surveying the damage wrought. That’s when things got wierd. A buzzing noise that started low down and built up to a high-pitched shriek and then—The scene before Zortrax flattened up into 2 dimensions and then folded like a paper fan. What’s more, it began to rotate, and stepping out as if from a revolving door there emerged one Sqargadaboogadabugadaba–!
Pointy ears, diminutive in size, slender,with generally elvish features. Purple skin, big bushy white eyebrows and scraggily white goatee….Damn handsome. I’ll say his name again and it goes Sqarga-dabooga-dabuga-daba! Wiley trickster that he is, Sqarg sized up the situation without skipping a beat. Stepping out from his “door”, Sqarg performed a dance to the rhythm of his own name, which he sang at the same time. That’s just what he does.
And if you think about it, there are a lot of things in this universe that sing themselves into existence.
Quite simply Sqargadaboogadabugadaba did show Zortrax!
a new and very appealing image, all frilly and lace, innocent, yet somehow also dirty, containing a mysterious opening, thus distracting the Atrocity and setting Zortrax upon a new quest.
Zor ran all about in search, aha-ha! but this tricksy little opening did play hard to get. Zor would a’ spy it in the corner of vision only to have it vanish as Zor turned around. To and fro, but it often seemed the hole was stealthily following just behind. There it is, crap! But ya missed it.
Zortrax! spun around and around like a dog after its own tail until at last the prey was seized, and oh yeah, Zor tagged that thang! With pounding thrust, like none other before, like no other Sexless Atrocity, that’s for sure. All of the universes need, all of life’s’ ceaseless genetic program to couple, desire for union, urgency, lust to go beyond the mere self, and even genuine passion, such thrills surged through Zortrax’s romping form. An entire cosmos was almost satisfied, for but an instant–And so Zortrax was fooled into riding right on into his own backside, which Sqargadaboogadabugadaba had disguised with frilly lace, deceiving Zortrax with the simple magic of the image of a buttock captured upon a mirrors surface.
And Zortrax rammed it until he had cracked open his own exoskeleton and emerged anew, as if from a cocoon, metamorphed.
Gor-Gar-Trax is now commonly evoked as a spirit of change, of mutation. A catalyst for the awakening of hidden potential. When HE passes by (he, no longer “it”) things tend tend to change. The toaster begins to feel lascivious stirrings toward the blender. Guess who? Gor-Gar-Trax, who once was a Sexless Atrocity that we refer to as Zortrax, an enemy of life, now become ally.
Sqargadaboogadabugadaba, well, he makes trouble. An instigator. An inter-dimensional traveler, he knows the ways between. They say he can grant such knowledge as well, but no information about how to make contact with this entity is currently available. His name actually has one extra syllable, not shared here. To utter this name with the full 11 syllables might grant Transcendental Illumination, or utter oblivion, to the speaker. Spoken by a person of the right temperament, while in the right frame of mind, and when the stars are just right, this 11-fold name could change everything. Everything.
The EyeBallSlugDudes? Omnipresent, yet unseen. I’ll tell their story another time.