07:00; ‘Mary-Lou Freebush Shauchenfreude’ agreed. She insisted on seeing pictures of Leonard beforehand, then insisted she could leave herself a back door to her old con, then cried a little, but she agreed.
07:10; I worked up to it; 1st a picture of Herman Pavell, Leonard’s stand-in; While ‘Genghis’ beats all before him, joyfully, with his ‘braun’, we re-film all such bouts with Pavell for Leonard’s delusional review.
07:20; Pavell: how Leonard sees himself; Perfect pectorals, fabulous abdominals, divine deltoids & great grapefruits of genitalia. Floor-length lab coat, leather gauntlets & PVC posing pouch are ‘the dressing’.
07:30; Pavell’s re-filming served to enforce a clean & clear break with reality. Leonard, happier, watches & re-watches his ‘battles’ ad infinitum, in Castle Totemborg’s cinema, the only ‘real’ apparatus therein.
07:40; She must see Pavell as ‘Omegan Deathveil’ bows to ‘Baron Genghis ‘Brute-Caesar’ Napoleon-Totemborg’, hands her blade to ‘Doctor Sprungfeld ‘Lightning-Rod’ Bach-Stabbington’ in her submission.
07:50; And then there was the real picture of Leonard …
08:00; To her credit, & as she had not eaten since 5pm, ‘Mary-Omegan’ dry heaved little. The acne, the boils, an overbite; these are only a creator’s cruel cross-hatching upon cadaverous body & a waif face.
08:10; On the minor details she is extremely perspicacious. Only in semantics do I try to correct her. She stated her mission as helping ‘Genghis’ to take over the world. Inaccurate: ‘he’ believes he already has.
08:20; Not the whole world, but continental Europe, Asia & Africa. UN leader-actors will attend their wedding in chains; not the Queen, as we had to ‘bomb’ ‘London’. Most treasonous tabletop model, ever.
08:30; Smuggled out invisibly by midnight light, ‘Omegan’ has flight booked for Berlin, the connection there to ‘Totemborg Blimp’, to arrive in Bad Hersfeld just behind the Daftwager-dossier, outlining her role.
08:40; A brief mind-read reveals that, for now, ‘Omegan’ will go along with the plan, with an option to later renew her streak of betrayal & attempt to cut me out of the payoff. Those instincts are very sharp …
08:50; … sufficiently sharp that she will cut herself, if she betrays me. The only other apparatus that actually works in Castle Totemborg is a self-destruct. ‘Genghis’ does not have the trigger; it is only I who do.
09:00; Breakfast: silver-dollar pancakes & fried iguana eggs. Mail: Already received a mysterious black inked letter on white paper, another vice versa the first & invitations to High Tea at Terma Gent’s Club.
09:30; Tea, at noon, without the rattle of tea cups in the wake of cannon-fire. How quaint! TermaGents is yet-more exclusive than La Pantalon Rouge; men can’t even pay to get it in. Or want to, for all that …
10:00; I visit Top Hat’s statue in the London Cathedral cemetary. This, too, I laced anti-graffitti’er carniverous carnations. Shroudog, interested, does not notice the pilfering of bones, from Cortex Cad’s tomb.
10:30; Cad’s physical relics should stave off any attendant senilities of his soul jar. Thankfully, he was in a mausoleum rather than totally interred. A little invisibility goes a long way in the resurrection man’s job.
11:00; I infilitrate Terma Gents, invisibly. There the Josephine Brand portrait, here the Germaine Greer print. One wall bears the works of Emily Dickinson, another quotes, from Virginia Woolf’s masterpieces.
11:10; Altogether: finest, refined female minds in London. Lady Sybil ‘Volcano-Day’ Plath-Zombistra puts forth an Italian defence against Professor Dementia ‘Rusty-Bar’ Cogliostro-Brink, on the chessboard.
11:20; Feng shui floorplan: Dame Norma ‘Genie’ Solomon-Blatt & Viscountess Superia ‘Dream’ Genuflect-Cantor, serial stealers of each other’s businesses, are promoting their new co-written self help book.
11:30; Under chandelier: Nobel Award winning doctors Nadia ‘Cortes-North’ Nephilim & Gabriella ‘Deep-Ice’ Benevolentia are showing off smaller models of their fuel cell technology, active in automobiles.
11:40; By bay window: Inspector Janis ‘Redcoat’ Trousseau-Barnes, of the Yard, talks to business nemesis catch-me-if-you-can career criminal cat-burglar, Cheryl ‘Magpie’ Finder-Keeper-Jones, over wine.
11:50; Famed Ministry of Defence spy-turned-3rd World revolutionary, Captain Nomenclature ‘Self-Destruct’ Squint-Vole lectures loud, on her time with the insurgents of Uganda, before being blow-darted.
12:00; Quiet! The Terma Gent Club; male-free, (besides Club-Code-mandated 4pm-5pm open poetry slam, for male relatives, over 21, with staff present, in the Tea Room) since their 1st suffragette success.
12:10; Nice to visit, yes but, even if my visa extended beyond these brief business hours, I wouldn’t stay. It isn’t the company of women that aggravates me, it is the company of women making a point in an …
12:20; … excision of the company of men. Posturing, uptight & avowed mysandrist Termagents (the legal name of this club). But when they fall from rules to lusty drools: gulliblity. A greatly redeeming feature!
12:30; Don’t mistake me; the prolonged boyhood of the Agnate Club, with a special place in its heart for old school food (the arteries, blocked), the juvenile pursuits of my ‘peers’ & a ‘no-girls’ rule wears thin.
12:40; It is only when a member leaves the immediate aegis of such clubs, like fish tempted from coral reef cover, that they become my fodder. Am I a ‘shark’? Perhaps. We are both misunderstood badasses.
12:50; Currently I ask Maid de Lune, discreetly, as to which ‘ladies who lunch’ might be being led on like the luciously lucrative lemmings they are, over a cliff of marriage & into a financial meatgrinder, below.
13:00; True, soliciting such from gregariously gossip-girls would be easier than child’s play; ‘ovum play’, if you will. I certainly do. But the reason for the barrier is my very means of surpassing it: Lune is no girl.
13:10; I myself laser-surgeried de Lune’s body hair & chemically stimulated his natural breasts into existence. Quite the cosmetic surgery victory & well advertised, (though more for the resulting prison break).
13:20; Simply: While working days in the Swiss Gesund Heights Surgery & Spa Treatment Resort, on a fictional, profitable patient, I spent my nights in the Swiss Vault Depths Prison & Reformatory Institute.
13:30; As previously stated: I have never been ‘incarcerated’. Staff doctor, at 1 of the most secure facilities on Earth (no Lunatic Asylum, but adequate), holding some of its greatest criminals: I met old friends.
13:40; The Vault Depths: mostly holding those who tried to steal from the Swiss Vault itself. Notation: ‘tried & failed’ does not apply to the Swiss Vault, because the term ‘tried & succeeded’ never has, either.
13:50; There was Doctor Morningstar, passing time until a beast of his creation came. Dark Heimdall, when they still thought mere mortal chains could hold him. Laughing Gas, his power curdling within him …
14:00; … & there, between Dead Letter & The Albatross, was de Lune. Nothing special, except that he was the least physically or mentally gifted to attempt to rob the Swiss Vault. The stupidest in the barrel.
14:10; Apparently he had been romantically entangled with a teleport, who had connivingly convinced dL that her powers were so different to the norm that they could defy even a standard Swiss Vault’s safe.
14:20; Reality ensued: they attempted to break in, they learned why no teleport, invisible or dimension-phaser has been able to steal from the Swiss. The teleport managed to escape, whereas de Lune did not.
14:30; Swiss Vault-Depth prisoners have chances; unlike The Vaults themselves (whose contents don’t need to breathe, eat, excrete or exercise & don’t attempt escape) Geneva Conventions protect inmates.
14:40; De Lune couldn’t fly, summon weevil armies & didn’t control crime syndicates. One might say I empathised. I wouldn’t, which is why I resolved to purge the pity by inserting breasts in dL, inside prison.
14:50; Preliminarily, plans went thus: with breasts, de Lune had the singular favour of some of the richest, most solitary men in the underworld, & their lawyers. He sold old commodities, in an artificial vacuum.
15:00; Secondary Stages: as de Lune’s cash on ‘the outside’ rose steadily, I prepared my argument for the warden. Both as part of my defense & a specialist branch of dL’s industry, de Lune began to lactate.
15:10; There are 1000s of cases where male prisoners of war, due to malnutrition, resulting in liver problems, began to lactate spontaneously. Misappropriating my files, so it seemed dL began lactation first …
15:20; ‘Prisoner of War’, never a term a warden wants to hear, signed off on my ridiculous claim that as a psychological therapy for dL’s emasculation of lactation, to which he had consented, I gave him teats.
15:30; Dr. Shutter Grutt, whose ‘petticoat rehabiliation’ was then-experiencing a (very) brief revival, had done worse without consent. Grutt couldn’t contradict, after Grey Field Sanitarium Fire & his own end.
15:40; Meanwhile, de Lune acquired sufficient funds to hire one of the most prestigious human rights lawyers on the continent. I testified as the prosecutor’s medical expert on his ‘liver disease’ for great fees …
15:50; De Lune served much-reduced minimal-security sentences. His customers: angry. But, seeing how much de Lune had made, a few male shapechangers arranged that they should be ‘caught’ in Vaults …
16:00; Unlike Jefferies & the Agnate Club, not only the TermaGents know de Lune’s past, they also hired him straight out of prison, for slightly more than they pay their female employees. I do not know why.
16:10; The soon-to-be nuptially-nabbed of the Poetry Slam poets are easy to distinguish, even without de Lune’s info. Their intendeds are obvious in the audience, they smile constantly & their poetry is awful.
16:20; Prosthetnic Vogon Jeltz: ‘Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me/ As plurdled gabbleblothits on a lurgid bee/ Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes …’
16:30; Poetmaster Grunthos the Flatulent (not confined to patriachal beauty paradigms): ‘Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning’.
16:40; Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex. This is the low point. It is not that ‘there are no words’, it is that there are far too many of them, all of them from Paula.
16:50; Dead Letter’s daughter discovered her love was a bigamist, spoke a tailored-to-him Mind Worm Geas & sent him into mouth-frothing beserk-convulsions. This was considered the evening’s high point.
17:00; Hard act to follow, Dame Clymenstra Freckhilde ‘Aberrant-Meerkat’ Charleston-Jonesbury gives it her all, reciting doe-eyed to a tall-dark-&-ravishing in the front row. He is either deaf, or dedicated.
17:10; I mean no insult to Clymenstra herself, who financial acumen has created a sturdy fortune in banking, & I mean every insult to her poetry. She rhymed ‘blossom’ & ‘bosom’; I rest my case, conclusively.
17:20; … Abruptly I take the fellow’s arm on the way out. Yes, he struggles. A mention of a few past targets calms him down, as it did ‘Mary-Lou’, & so ‘Joseph James Goldhedge de Javu’ comes to my club.
17:30; It is good of ‘Joseph James’ to pay the taxi fare. Still, it by no means makes up for his past misdeeds. Not even for Mrs. Sautland: the pills, in her coffee, & what her daughter did, to herself, afterwards.
17:40; He even holds the door open for me. How sweet! Habit, no doubt; such a practised liar. Ms. Kleinmann found that out, just after she signed that legal paper proffered to her by big men with short hair.
17:50; Such a svelte voice. Quite simply darling! Voice: it was what won Miss Julia over. She would have followed him anywhere, & did. Right to a brick-walled room: her kidnapping video was filmed inside.
18:00; I lay it out for ‘Joseph James’; yes, Clymenstra is rich; not solvent. In the face of recession, she has leveraged her company to the hilt. By his face of incomprehension, sock puppet aid may be required.
18:10; Difficult concept for both of us: Clymenstra is a good person. She isn’t pillaging the payroll & pensions; rather, she is throwing in her own finances with her employees, to protect them. Highly deranged.
18:20; Nevertheless, she has no money to spend. She will be a millionaire, easily, but a decade away. If ‘Joseph James’ tries to split the estate under divorce, the creditor house of cards falls & he gets nothing.
18:30; Clymenstra is an anxious poet. As ‘Joseph James’ looked upon her so earnestly, she considered the above threat to her company. Dismissed, naturally, in the face of false adoration. Such useful doubts.
18:40; In the end he might get 50,000 straight settlement & 50,000 in accrued alimonies. For ten years. Or, should he accept my offer, he will earn (as much as he has ever earned anything) 10 million pounds.
18:50; One year, at most. Quite possibly: under 6 months. Minimal risk. The mark: One ‘Queen Cleopatra ‘Morgue-Merlin’ Boediccea-Dreamcatcher’, aka ‘MaterPriestess Delphi ‘Holy-Fire’ Angeli-Ka’! Ha!
19:00; Royalty is a little rich for his blood: secret service security checks & act-of-treason capital punishment judgements being what they are. He is not encouraged by further facts like: the crown is dirt poor.
19:10; That Mediterranean mudpie she ‘rules’ was long ago annexed into diplomatic extinction is detrimental to his interest. That the queen is quite mad, ugly & rabid does deters him, yet further. He stands up.
19:20; That her mother, prominent spellcastrix, patented an extremely simple type of incantation, with no showy value whatsoever, & had accumulated approximately 34 million pounds, by her end, stops him.
19:30; It was father who was the etioliated prince of an all-but-dessicated race. Mother millionaire left all her riches to daughter after spouse passed: the fortune made & the non-royal royalties of her spells …
19:40; … He sits. How is it, he asks, that I know we can take her for her fortune? I know because, of the original 34 million, I have, over the past 7 years, taken approximately 14 million of ‘Cleopatra’s’ cash.
19:50; I met the gel while working for the Ouijinni on his Dagon-Homunculi Army. Magically-made, the DH did still require all their vitamins & minerals; in their case mercury & the blood of forsaken children.
20:00; The Death-Gold Djinn Palace, cemented in blood, bone & gold ore, had the high steps of legend the DH were, as legion, to march down. On an orphanage supply-run, I found her fainted, half way up.
20:10; I couldn’t leave her there. The DH were due soon; having to step over an insensate gel would break their stride! The kindest thing to do was to roll her down, using her ‘staff’ as poking-device/leverage.
20:20; Unnatural History Records: Fey League of Recondite Gentleman Sorcerors smashed Ouijinn’s Board, deliquiscing Djinn Palace into shifting silicates. Of my kidnap of a napping heiress, History is silent.
20:30; Her humvee made the making good of my escape easier, & the considerable stash of cash in her well-concealed wallet inspired me to keep her. ‘A victim in the garrote, is worth two in the sniper sight’.
20:40; Listening to her fevered ramblings on the ride back informed me entirely of ‘Cleopatra’s’ designs on evil-stomping. A credit check on her license (Princess Shelley Snease) said I should allow her to live.
20:50; 3 years before Leonard Kopf, I conceived of my ‘masquerade’ scam. Ouijinn inspired; every time O’s Board was found, its finder felt that 1 of 3 wishes should resurrect O’s DGD Palace & DH Army.
21:00; ‘Cleopatra’, who was to wish upon my star of disaster, would live out her dreams of bravely fighting lich wizards & demon saints. Dreams of being a hero sealed her absurdities quite completely for me.
21:10; ‘Cleopatra’, bold & beautiful as the day she was became queen of the pirates who kidnapped her after her strange-yet-famously-strong magic clan was wiped out, leaving her the only heir to its secrets!
21:20; Just as with Kopf’s science, Snease’s private reality retroactively retconned her parents into: a chin-clefted brave-kind king of a lost kingdom, & the pert-buttocked sassy-genius witchchild of the moon.
21:30; I had ‘Cleo’ ferried to her large Mediterranean island manor house. St. Vago’s, a speck-in-a-puddle island with the strategic significance of a poop, no shops & a tourist industry composed of maroons.
21:40; ‘Cleo’ sleeping off a sunburn & heatstroke, sufficiently of sound mind(!) & body to take me as confidante (once I displayed an understanding of all she had disgorged, in the desert) to comission my aid.
21:50; 3 events on St. Vago’s: An unused aerodrome was built in WW2, finished by war’s end. A fantasy film, ‘Traum Siegfried’ was filmed 1970s there, plastering faux hieroglyphs over Civil Defense notices.
22:00; Finally, its subsistence fishing industry: collapsed. Widespread poverty, music to my ears as it already was, made manipulating local mayor/post/fire/police/drug-dealer was so simple it was high physics.
22:10; By the time ‘Cleo’ was conscious, again: the entire town of St. Vago was in collusion with me, just as Kopf’s household staff still are. St. Vago’s former fishermen: pirates, quaintly-loyal to ‘Queen Cleo’.
22:20; St. Vago’s net-weaver ladies: white-robed priestesses & sacrificial daughters, of the moon, in ‘Cleo’s’ temple (unused aerodrome). Sundry St Vagos: vampires, zombies, deepest-trench’s lloigor spawn.
22:30; Archnemeses: illusionists, playing the parts of Dr White Horse, Dark Scythe & Frog of a 1000 Spawn. Specially made: Fenroar; Alpha Moonwolf, Brahm; Blood-Royal Vampire & Luke, Hell’s Duke.
22:40; Fenroar, Brahm & Luke, along with her allies Angel Michael, Wizard Bildungsroman & Captain Flash: strapping-young local-boys. ‘Enemies/allies with benefits’ respectively, ‘Cleo’ bedded all of them.
22:50; Mater Priestess to her temple, Queen to her Pirates & Protector to the entire magical world. Dress: costume catalogue’s ‘Slave Leia(?)’ outfit, & slender white staff, topped with a murky ‘moon crystal’.
23:00; ‘Joseph James” role in this? Of late, while outwardly spunkily-independant as ever, her private chamber prayers to the ‘Moon Goddess’ have hungered for an equal mate. Well: very-almost equal mate.
23:10; Unlike Kopf, I do not require a professional because any girl could have caught him & not cut me in. I need ‘Joseph James’ because prior attempts in ‘Cleopatra’s’ making mates have never stuck, long.
23:20; Allies & nemeses alike, she eventually rebuffs them. Kopf, obsessively compulsive, adhered to his self-imagined story, strictly. ‘Cleo’s’ story changes with mood & interest, & so does a designated boy.
23:30; First she is witch anointed to destiny by her iron-toothed grandmother, then an angsty half-vampire struggling with her bloodlust, then a phantom of girl sacrifice brought forth by a goddess, for revenge.
23:40; ‘C’s’ ambassador to the ‘realm’, I’ve charged her 14 million in fake ‘mystical’ props to her inelegant charades: good. But: even her eye colour changes – I can’t arrange a seduction to end this production.
23:50; Solution? St. Vinescent Witblood of Narn, Haemomancer-Osteopath of Twilit Order, Shapechanger Scion of the Masqueraid Tribe, Former-Fallen-Angel & Now-Arisen-Demon, ‘Savior of Naegea’.
00:00; ‘Joseph James’, consumate actor that he is, will reveal layer after layer, in a 7-veil dance in self-sacrifice, shame, angst, death, loss, rage & violent purpose – all the emotions shallow folk fantasize about.
00:10; He will arrive on her island, hunting one of her enemy/lovers, summarily dispatching them with excessive ease. ‘JJ’ will then turn on her, arbitrarily mistaken into thinking that she was in cahoots with evil.
00:20; Banter will ensue, each condescendingly advising the other to back down. They will battle – she will not win. She won’t have it her own way, for once. He won’t win either, of course; melee interruptus.
00:30; Taking this chance, mutual enemy to the protagonists, The Leviathan shall rise (Navy surplus submarine). Buckling & swashing, hither & yon, both will be incapacitated by a swift sweep of its tentacles.
00:40; Awaking simultaneously in the underwater grotto of the The Leviathan’s Sea Monkey Servants, they will argue incessantly & blame each other for getting captured. Then the jailers will begin the torture.
00:50; ‘Cleopatra’ will laugh at threats of torture attempting to illicit private datum (the temple’s ‘secret spell’, perhaps). Already knowing no physical torture could bend her, they will torture Vinescent, instead!
01:00; He will scream in a manner in which it already pleasures me to imagine. Tossed, broken & bleeding (No. 4# Makeup) into the cell, he will be yet more resolute in their war, against The Leviathan’s evil.
01:10; At the threat of his death, she will divulge the info as she has fallen in love with him. As The Leviathan imbibes the spirit of the goddess in an attempt to destroy the whole world, last-min saves are tried.
01:20; Vinescent will propose a perfectly legitimate course of action. ‘Cleo’ will agree, then perfunctorily stun him & kiss his sleeping lips before leaping fearlessly as the Leviathan’s sacrifice, to halt its evil rise.
01:30; ‘JJ’ will wake, realise the purpose in ‘Cleo’s’ deception, find her apparently lifeless corpse, tear his shirt asunder & cry ‘No!’ to the endth power. Freed Sea Monkeys will begin to keen their new queen.
01:40; ‘She made the ultimate sacrifice for us. We didn’t deserve her. Worst of all, I never told her my true feelings!’ Luckily, his true love & mum’s magic amulet she always wears, will miraculously revive her.
01:50; Roll on the wedding bells & cease the snare-drum beat of ‘Cleo’s’ transient seditions. ‘Joseph James’ shall take to himself 10 million pounds. Disposal of new funds, & wife, will be at his own discretion.
02:00; All I require is my 10 million & his discretion. Princess Shelley’s end was always arranged as dead or left-to-die – this will end the unwieldly illusion, once and for all. I turn: ‘So, do we have an accord?’