The
star exploded into a thousand times a million balls of flaming fury, spreading
across the galaxy like a meteor shower without an atmosphere yet with the light
show. as soon as it happened, as soon as the star died, it was gone, leaving
only invisible shockwaves of rattling energy to reach out like death’s unseen
hands creeping into the quivering soul, shaking loose bones.
World after world died in its wake. But one world, a world already long
dead – indeed a funerary world where one small race whose identity was lost
like a single drop in a storm would lay their dead – shook its coffin-filled
landscape gaped as a muzzle and belched out coffin after coffin until its dead,
dry soil was covered with a blanket of dead. Where other worlds died, this world
already dead rumbled so a single tomb cracked open to spit forth a demon long
dead, now once more alive.
That demon, that ifreet, a djinn once sealed away, was me. I sprang forth
from the bowels of the dead planet, struggling through the mounds of dead bodies
until I came to the surface. Dare I admit, I cackled with glee at my release,
found an abandoned spaceship and flew from the dead planet to a nearby world
bristling with life… and bought myself a bottle of gin.
Hey, it was a dry, arid planet I came from. I was thirsty!
I stepped into the bar on that new planet. It was dark and stank of
sweat, as all good bars and gentlemen’s clubs do. Despite my skeletal
appearance, no one seemed to take notice of me. I wasn’t sure if I should be
offended or relieved I’d not be chased out based upon my good looks.
I approached the bar and ordered a bottle of gin from a creature looking
much like a blue neon glowing human. That’s the best description I can give
you, seeing as most of you, dear readers, are probably humans here on Earth and
have NO CLUE what the rest of the universe is like. What the hell is up with
that? Put some money into space travel!
I digress. I drank down the gin. It was good and warmed my bones.
“That’ll be five kipiks,” said the bartender.
“Five who-wha?” I asked.
“Kipiks,” answered the blue man. “Kipiks. Money, stupid. Money.”
I gulped. I panicked. I hadn’t thought about how I could pay for the
gin. Having no kupi-kippy-whateverthefuckmoney he was requesting, I knew I had
to get out and get out quick.
So I punched the bartender in his blue glowing face. He collapsed behind
the bar, much to my delight (I hadn’t known if the blue man could be hurt
physically or not). I then turned and punched another guy sittin’ at the bar.
It pissed him off, as to be expected. I punched a few more backwater bar types
and a fight erupted. I fought my way towards the entrance, seeking escape.
I burst through the bar’s door to find the old, rusted, busted
spaceship completely stripped and up on blocks. I guess every planet’s goin’
to hell these days.
“Just my luck,” I cursed.
An orkish-looking biker then pulled up on a spaceworthy hoverbike.
“Just my luck!” I said happily to myself.
I ran to the orkish fellow and slammed a balled, bony fist into his face
right between the tusks. The orkish dude reeled backwards off his hoverbike with
a grunt and snort. I stripped him of his leather doo-dads, including his jacket
and boots. I was shocked I had time to do all this, too.
I hopped onto the hoverbike and sped away, out of the atmosphere.
It didn’t take long for me to find a new bar on another planet to
frequent. I approached things a little differently there. This time I
soft-talked the ladies into buying me drinks, mostly gin (I love gin), and I
would show them how I can grow and change the shape of my horns. Of course, I
also promised to show them, quite often, how I can do the same thing with one of
my other bones. The ladies would giggle and laugh and kiss me and, most
importantly, buy me another gin as I would tell them this.
The bar was owned by a gator-faced guy named, of all things, Doc Gator.
He wasn’t a doctor of anything. That was just his name. And when I say
“gator-faced” I don’t mean he was ugly or something. How can I explain
this to your limited knowledge of other races? Hmmm… think of a human, such as
yourself, with the face of an alligator. Yep, that’s Doc Gator.
Doc Gator had this weird get-up, too. He wore this elongated gasmask. He
said it had to do something with protecting him from all the germs in the
universe. I’m not really a LIVING creature, so I guess I’m lucky I don’t
have to worry about such things.
One day this pig-faced dude (and yes, much like my explanation of Doc
Gator, I do mean “pig-faced” to mean this guy looked human with a pig’s
face, a tattooed body and Rastafarian dreadlocks) came into the bar. His name
was Dreadly Sirius (seriously!). He got drunk and started raising hell. Doc
Gator tried to calm him down, then asked me to kick him out.
So me and Dreadly get into it pretty good, roiling like a coupla drunk
bikers all throughout the bar. After a pretty good fight, I was able to throw
him out on his ass.
Two days later Doc Gator’s bar burned to the ground by Dreadly. Doc and
I tried to hunt him down, but we couldn’t ever find him.
Two years later Doc and I had settled down again on yet another planet
and all but forgotten about pig-faced Dreadly. I found a steady girl in Davina
and I gotta tell ya, I had it bad for this girl!
Then came Dreadly roaring back into our lives. Little did we know he had
been plotting, planning and following us that whole time! Over a lousy bar
fight! I knew then, this dude’s a real psycho. This was further confirmed by
the fact he had amassed a small army of space bikers around himself.
Dreadly made his presence known to us when he followed my girl home one
night. I found her dead in her apartment the next morning.
Doc and I went to war with Dreadly and his gang. In the end we torched
the warehouse they’d been using as a hideout. We watched as the whole damned
thing burned to the ground with Dreadly inside. When the fire burned itself out,
we poked around and found nothin’ of Dreadly. I’m certain he’s still out
there.
I couldn’t stay on that planet. I left. Doc, being a good friend,
followed.
I finally crashed here on Earth in some town called Hell, Michigan.
I’ve been wandering and boozing it up here ever since. I then met Charles and
learned of this here little electronic rag. It’s a decent enough webzine, but
I know I can make it better. So I decided to hijack it from him and host it, at
least for the Halloween editions.
That brings me to Halloween. I LOVE your holiday for the dead. And I
thank you for honoring me. BWAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!
Now that ya know my story, are ya gonna buy me a gin? C’mon! Well?
BWAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
For more about Iffy, check out the article "Gettin' Iffy" in the If - Errata and the Q&A with Iffy in Issue 12
ALSO AVAILABLE:
If
- Errata 
The official fan's guide to If - E - Zine™
Send a request for you FREE copy at ifezine@gmail.com
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