Friendly readers of this blog will know of my stubborn fondness
for my peculiar friend, Dr. P. L. Tarrec. I find him fascinating in a
scientific, anthropological, sort of way. He is an expert in Eastern European
history and an authority on the occult and…other things which are left
unspoken. I publish his weekly horoscopes even if they appear somewhat less
frequently than their title would imply, and despite the fact that they are
infrequently anything like accurate. His alchemical interpretation of The
Apocalypse of John, of which I have read only a portion, is scintillating and I
am anxious for him to finish writing it.
But, to this point, I have kept many things about my friend Dr. Tarrec and his work secret. And this is by his request. His research often takes him into dangerous places and he has, over the long years (centuries, he assures me) of his investigations, made numerous enemies – including operatives of various espionage groups (some operating without official sanction) in Washington, Beijing, Moscow, and Islamabad-as well as members of that mysterious cult known as The Brotherhood of Games. I share Dr. Tarrec’s writings with the public only reservedly and with his careful permission.
It was some months ago that Dr. Tarrec introduced me to another shocking revelation of his work. At that time he swore me to secrecy and I accepted without hesitation. I understand and appreciate the need for discretion. Dr. Tarrec now assures me that it is possible to speak of these things, even necessary.
Dr. Tarrec led me to his laboratory (blindfolded, as always), guiding me carefully down steep stairs and through echoing, drafty, stone hallways. “What I am about to show you, my boy,” he said to me, “or rather, who I am about to show you, is a person of great mystery to me, even after all the years that I have known him. He is…” and here Dr. Tarrec halted both his speech and his steps. He laid a hand on my shoulder before continuing, “he is quite singular. Prepare yourself.”
But even with his warning, I was quite unprepared. Nothing could have prepared me for the revelation Dr. Tarrec made to me. When he removed the blindfold from my eyes I saw his laboratory, as I’ve often seen it, but now there was melon sized mound on the work table, covered with a crimson colored piece of heavy velvet.
And I heard a muffled voice shouting, “Hear me, great demons of hell!” Dr. Tarrec saw my expression of wonder and fear and with a comforting motion of his hands assured me that all was well.
“Hush, you miscreant,” he said to the unseen owner of the voice.
“Come to me, you 6,000 terrors of hell! Come to my aid, you nameless monsters of the lower depths!” came the voice again.
“I said be quiet!” Dr. Tarrec said again, somewhat agitatedly. “We have a guest, and I will insist that you treat him with respect. He is my friend.”
Then Dr. Tarrec turned to me and said, “Jefrey, my boy, may I introduce you to Jumjuma.” And with that he flicked the velvet cloth away from the table revealing a tangle of electrical cables and medical tubing filled with oozing fluids connected to a human head. There on the table grinning and winking was a Living, Speaking, DECAPTITATED HEAD!
(Sorry. My prose went a little Lovecraftian there for a moment.)
Jumjuma turned (but how I do not know, he –it- had neither the sternocleidomastoid or trapezius muscles…) to look at me, then grinned a most wicked grin and said with a sly Groucho Marx impersonation, “You’ll pardon me if I don’t get up.”
It was then that I fainted.
But, to this point, I have kept many things about my friend Dr. Tarrec and his work secret. And this is by his request. His research often takes him into dangerous places and he has, over the long years (centuries, he assures me) of his investigations, made numerous enemies – including operatives of various espionage groups (some operating without official sanction) in Washington, Beijing, Moscow, and Islamabad-as well as members of that mysterious cult known as The Brotherhood of Games. I share Dr. Tarrec’s writings with the public only reservedly and with his careful permission.
It was some months ago that Dr. Tarrec introduced me to another shocking revelation of his work. At that time he swore me to secrecy and I accepted without hesitation. I understand and appreciate the need for discretion. Dr. Tarrec now assures me that it is possible to speak of these things, even necessary.
Dr. Tarrec led me to his laboratory (blindfolded, as always), guiding me carefully down steep stairs and through echoing, drafty, stone hallways. “What I am about to show you, my boy,” he said to me, “or rather, who I am about to show you, is a person of great mystery to me, even after all the years that I have known him. He is…” and here Dr. Tarrec halted both his speech and his steps. He laid a hand on my shoulder before continuing, “he is quite singular. Prepare yourself.”
But even with his warning, I was quite unprepared. Nothing could have prepared me for the revelation Dr. Tarrec made to me. When he removed the blindfold from my eyes I saw his laboratory, as I’ve often seen it, but now there was melon sized mound on the work table, covered with a crimson colored piece of heavy velvet.
And I heard a muffled voice shouting, “Hear me, great demons of hell!” Dr. Tarrec saw my expression of wonder and fear and with a comforting motion of his hands assured me that all was well.
“Hush, you miscreant,” he said to the unseen owner of the voice.
“Come to me, you 6,000 terrors of hell! Come to my aid, you nameless monsters of the lower depths!” came the voice again.
“I said be quiet!” Dr. Tarrec said again, somewhat agitatedly. “We have a guest, and I will insist that you treat him with respect. He is my friend.”
Then Dr. Tarrec turned to me and said, “Jefrey, my boy, may I introduce you to Jumjuma.” And with that he flicked the velvet cloth away from the table revealing a tangle of electrical cables and medical tubing filled with oozing fluids connected to a human head. There on the table grinning and winking was a Living, Speaking, DECAPTITATED HEAD!
(Sorry. My prose went a little Lovecraftian there for a moment.)
Jumjuma turned (but how I do not know, he –it- had neither the sternocleidomastoid or trapezius muscles…) to look at me, then grinned a most wicked grin and said with a sly Groucho Marx impersonation, “You’ll pardon me if I don’t get up.”
It was then that I fainted.
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