Preface: An Excerpt from the first book of the Holy Volume:
It all began when the God, who is Alpha, and the Goddess, who was Omega, worked together. They made the universe as mortals make children. They are the Father and Mother of all living things. They are Alpha and Omega. Now and forever. Know their names and revere the fruit of their work for eternity. When the world was first crafted, it was but a great pool of water. They bathed and delighted in it happily. Then they began work on how their children would dwell upon the earth. They took the rocks of space and planted them in the sea. But the Father decided that it was not safe as he feared that his creations were more likely to drown being so close to the waves. So they took those rocks and formed masses ornamented- floating in the sky. She playfully called them orbs as she stroked them warmly. The lovers embraced as they looked upon the work that they had done so far in their shared labor. They saw that it was good. But wherever good is, evil also dwells close at hand to strike out at it. That is the truth that pervaded even the gods in the beginning. The question of how to govern their children was introduced. The goddess, full of guile, deceit, and envy, wished to rule with a hard fist ready to wipe out freedom so that all the world would bow down to her. The gracious god disagreed. He wanted his people to be free, safe, and happy. He left it in the hands of his children to worship him for what he hath done. God knew that his greatness neither increased nor decreased with man’s praises. The goddess would not listen to his divine reasoning. She wanted to take precious free-will so that she would be lifted up on high. Being the goddess was not enough for her. The goddess struck out against her god. They battled across the universe. The force of each of their blows broke many of the asteroids that they were going to use as orbs to hold humanity over the waters. The goddess tried many ways to overcome her lover turned foe. She tried to beat him and strangle him. But he managed to overcome her until finally he had to kill her. He sorrowed for this lose, though she was evil. To honor her, he encased her body into molten rock. But then he saw that he did not have enough orbs to hold his people over that waves. So with a heavy heart, he broke the goddess into pieces and made each end of her body into the very lands upon the face of the sea that are dwelt on even today. That was how it all began. The world may have had death before it had life, but the god showered his blessings upon us all. Therefore shalt thou shun the past deeds of evil of and instead overcome them with goodness. Chapter One Ilene put the book down among the pile. She considered these holy writings suggested by her parents since childhood to shape good morals. The god may be great, but I still don’t understand a few things. If he was able to encase the goddess in rocks, why couldn't he have simply created more orbs? Ilene shrugged and merely chalked it up to the indiscernible mysteries of religion. She had nothing to fear of it. That sort of life was for Alphite priests and prayer maidens, not for an already blessed princess such as herself. Speaking of her life, she looked up to hear that a praising song was being played before her throne. Here was life that began as nothing more than something for happy violins to sing of. This string quartet is played in C major. It was played with major joy too. The ballad had lyrics that boast of a sweet girl’s happy existence before her major step into womanhood. Ilene! Daughter of the Emperor! Ilene! There’s no one greater than her! There was never one like Ilene She is beautiful, the finest face ever seen Unmatched in beauty, yet she does not have pride, For kindness is her guide She showers all her subjects with courtesy No hand could be raised against her sweet charms She can make the strongest soldier lay down his arms If she were a prince, we’d call her lord Ilene, we know you can conquer without a sword Ilene is our kingdom’s greatest light Her blue eyes, her maroon-golden locks are all so bright So pretty she is that artists beg to paint her from about the earth It is how the Prince of Eurasia first knew her worth They say he has been a bored royal in his kingdom He first knew joy when he saw her face, and then some Further gossip finds that he grew sick with grief without Ilene For he knew that he lived squalidly without a face so serene Word got back that Ilene was the boy’s only chance Soon, a Pangean and Eurasian will be joined in a lover’s dance So wedding bells ring for this meeting of states In the name of Pangea, she'll make a happy mate The royal ship seemed rocked by applause. Its sound was so powerful that it seemed as if thunder, eruptions, and earthquakes were rhythmically stomping about the deck. The quartet singers swung their violins behind their backs and bowed. As these finely laced fellows went back to their rooms to change into their uniforms for work, the ship proceeded back to its usual activity. The captain put his mountainous hat back upon his head. He had taken it off out of respect to this ballad of his country’s most revered girl. He combed his wind-torn mustache and beard back with his gloved hands as he went up the steps to inspect the helmsman. As for Ilene herself, she was at the other end of the ship. The fine girl sat near the men muscling all their might to shift the rope of the sails back into the wind as the captain commanded. Ilene sat upon a carpenter’s mastered representation of her throne back home. From her seat, she listened appreciatively to the quartet’s song. Watching them play in the middle of the deck made the ship seem more like a fine court of the royals to Ilene. It was a fine tune that she was happy to hear as opposed to the half-melodious grunts of seas shanties. Ilene was even more beautiful than the song proclaimed. They failed to mention that her maroon-golden locks were as smooth as fine silk., while also forgetting to chime on these locks woven into a series of curls in a pattern so symmetrically perfect that her head’s top seemed like an image for a family crest. Ilene wore a fine dress that made a playful contest at being brighter than her own beauteous features. The violet dress sparkled as if it were a rare jewel shining out for all to see. Yet her face did seem to pale before the fine outfit as her eyes and skin did shimmer out enough to be made into song. Her smile, even, was as arched wide as the hem of the mighty ship in-route to her marriage with the Prince of Eurasia. Ilene got up. She turned to her old servant, Marlene. “I am a little dizzy from sitting on this rocky deck, Marlene. Perhaps we could wake around a bit?” Marlene hunched up from the bench by the stairs. She carried her raggedy, but finely cleaned, gown as she wadded over the rickety deck towards her lady. “Not a bad idea, little Ilene. Would you prefer to walk about the deck or below?” “Certainly on the deck. I might as well get used to it. I hear that the Prince of Eurasia loves sailing.” “Now, now, Ilene. Can’t you see the rocky foundation of this vessel is keeping my poor, old feet off-balance?” As if to illustrate, Marlene thudded about with every step she made. Not that she was a fat lady, yet she was rather tall and muscular. If not for her long black hair and fine features becoming of a maid nearing her twilight years at forty-four, one would take her burly build for that of one of the tight-fisted ship-mates. Ilene looked upon the state of her maid's body. Though it was strong, it still needed to earn its sea legs. “You’ll manage. Now come walk with me. Sitting tires me out.” Sarcasm runs in the rhetoric between these two old friends. “Very inconsiderate of you, my lady. Don’t mind me if I fall over board as these rocky waves hurl me to my demise.” “That’s the spirit,” harked Ilene, “Now let’s race up the stairs.” They rounded a corner on deck to a small flight of such stairs heading to the upper-deck of the ship’s bow. Seeing Marlene out of breath half-way up, the princess slowed down for her maid’s benefit. Marlene heaved some words. “You, little Ilene,” she huffed, “are harder to chase after since you grew up.” Breath finally retrieved, Marlene continued with regular speech as they began to walk together. “That reminds me, wasn’t that a lovely song that those boys wrote in honor of your wedding?” Ilene agreed. “Yes, indeed. Although, I think that they could have sung a few more lines on my wonderful hair design. I happen to pride myself on its craftsmanship.” The ship rocked over a slight wave like the hump of a shire’s hill. Marlene bobbed her head back in a chortle. “Really now? I should like to take the pride on your hair’s fine craftsmanship. I am, after all, the starving artist at work braiding it each morning while all you do is sit there.” The two ladies made an opening for two shipmates to go past them up the stairs as they made their way to the bow to see about some problems that the captain noticed with the rudder earlier. Ilene playfully quipped back, “I refer to it as my own pride because I have to endure hearing you sing each morning as you fiddle with my hair. Not only do you crack my lovely mirror as you sing off-key, but you fiddle too harshly with my hair and hurt me. Any other girl of lesser willpower could not endure your tortures for a minute, let alone all morning. So, my dear Marlene, I’ve surely earned the pride that comes with my hair’s beauty.” Ilene brushed a handful of her locks up as if to present them as her own accomplishment’s trophy. Upon the bow was little activity. Not many people came up here. At the moment, only the two men at work on the rudder were seen. A man standing over one of the rail’s on a self-appointed smoke break was there also. They walked about on this generous space of ship and chatted on. “You know, maybe that song isn’t perfect. Some could say it was attempting to act as your biographical ballad. If that is the song’s case, I’d be the first to vote that it didn’t capture every facet of your life.” Ilene snapped back curiously, “What do you mean?” “Well, although it was a fine to listen to, it didn’t offer a complete history of Pangea’s dear Princess to be wed. It didn’t even mention her faults, especially the ones from her naughty childhood days.” Fanatical hushes giggled from the girl as she tried to wipe away the rest of the words from her maid’s mouth. Marlene spoke on as she dodged the covering hands. “Why, I remember that our perfect little Princess was so ill-behaved that she would not admit to her faults even after I smacked her bottom red. Because of her tight lip, we’ve still yet to decipher who was throwing bad fruit at the guardsmen over the castle walls.” Ilene laughed, “Come on, Marlene. I was only six.” “Ah-ha! So you admit it after all these years. I knew I would get through to you.” Ilene smiled and blushed while spying to see if anyone was listening to these embarrassing memories. “But, Marlene, you were only my nanny then. Now you’re my servant. You’ve no place to humble a woman of my estate in public like this.” Marlene, speaking slightly more soberly said, “An elder always has place to lecture the faults of the young, no matter the age. You remember that, my little Ilene.” “Yes, ma’am,” assented the girl. “Now that I’ve embarrassed you enough with a past fault, let’s see if I can think of another,” chimed Marlene. “Oh, yes. I remember when I taught my little Ilene some proper manners. I thought it was the end of my days of spanking her. Then a party for the nations came to Pangea. The Duke of one of the revolving island states arrived a little drunk. In greeting Ilene’s parents, she heard the Duke let slip a curse word that got her spanked once. Thinking herself an authority liken unto nanny, she came behind the Duke and spanked his bottom for his potty mouth. This incident made you the laughing stock of the ball.” Ilene mused, “I still don’t know why you spanked me again later that night. It did no harm. The man did act very rude.” “Still,” said Marlene, “it was not your place to chide him.” Ilene got smart-mouthed again, “If only his nanny were with him that night.” “My point is that there are so many interesting things about our dear Ilene that would make good songs other than her beauty and her grace. I should really talk to those musical mates and help them write a ballad of Ilene’s childhood days. Would you happen to know any words that rhyme with; ‘she wet the bed until she was six’?” Ilene said, “How about: ‘after hearing the song, she gave her disrespectful maid many kicks’?” Marlene grunted, “It doesn’t quite have the melody that those boys had. Perhaps we’ll stick to the royal life of marrying abroad and leave the songs to the professionals.” “It’s agreed, partner.” They shook hands roughly as if they were business accomplices. “Now be a good servant, or nanny, or whatever you are and go fetch my ball. I’d fancy another game of catch.” Already walking toward the stairs, Marlene groaned, “Do I have to? This is the hundredth time we have played. We are both too old for these childish games. You’re about to be married and I’m fixed to retire.” “We've got to pass the time somehow. The captain told me that even though we’re riding a strong current, the Mauritian Sea is still a long trip.” Turning back, Marlene implored, “It would be healthier for your mind to read the many books you’ve brought.” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve already had my fair fill of fairy tales. I had to pass the time while you were on my hair somehow.” “You’re a brat.” “You’re so understanding.” While her maid was gone, Ilene went for a better look over the railing. There were no mountains or isles to behold. All she could see was a pure blue vista. The sea, the sky, and even the clouds looked blue. The sight seemed like the farthest she could be from home, from anything. It was like looking upon the center of forever. There seemed to be no more contact with the world that she has known. “I got the ball, Ilene. What say we get some of these boys to join-” Ilene did not turn around. She still stared into the blue. “What’s wrong, sweety?” Ilene still did not turn back. Ilene spoke slowly. Ilene only spoke seriously when she spoke slowly. “Sometimes I look out here trying to get one last look of home. Even if it’s a dot in the distance. I want to pretend to wave and imagine my parents waving back.” Marlene said nothing as she cradled the ball at her side. Ilene smiled to pretend not to look sad. It didn’t work on Marlene. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s every girl's dream to grow up in a castle, be a princess, and marry a prince. I guess the part that I can’t figure out is why mom and dad just shipped me away. Why didn’t they come with me for my special day? It’s hard to not assume that they don’t care about me.” Marlene raised her mouth. Ilene spoke a stop to that. “Please don’t give me that stuff about them being busy on government business. Please. You always taught me to say please if I wanted something, Marlene. I want you to not use that excuse again. Please. I mean, you’ve been harping on that since I was a kid. The closest thing I had to a loving parent was you. All they ever did was trade me off to school or to your care. They never thought that more than four dinners a year were appropriate. They were always too busy running the kingdom or meeting with other leaders. Honestly, I think a lot of that was just an excuse to ignore me. I don’t even remember my mother’s name. How sick is that? A mother won’t even tell her own daughter her name. Am I such a stranger?” Marlene said, “The Queen’s name is Barda if that is what bothers you.” “Oh, really? Well, you’ll have to introduce us sometime. She sounds like a lovely lady. I’ve heard the rumors. They tried for another child. They wanted a son, a proper heir. When it turned out to be a girl, do you know what they did with her? Do you know what my father did with her? Let’s just say that even you couldn’t tell me her name.” “Please,” whispered Marlene, “don’t be upset. You don’t even have a sister.” “Exactly.” The wind sighed as it careened the vessel a bit closer to the destination. “They only kept me around for military measures.” “No. That’s not-” “Eurasia is expanding. They’ve had their eye on Pangea: ‘the jewel of the world.’ So they offer me as a token of wealth. An alliance. Pangea’s wealth and Eurasia’s military will soon be brought together in holy matrimony. But like I said, at least I get the prince out of it. I get the prince just like you said good little princesses do when you read me those romances by the fire place that mother had no time for.” Ilene scoffed again. “I really hope romance is everything that you said it was, Marlene. I brought all those old story-books with me to recapture all of those wonderful feelings that they used to give me. All they did was make me feel hallow. Because none of those fabled princesses felt the way I did unless a dragon or witch was around. Things got happy again when the prince arrived. I got my prince. So why do I still feel this way? I really hope it’s better in Eurasia. I hope he is wonderful. Because I don’t know if I belong at home anymore.” Marlene put her arm around Ilene. The girl’s gaze finally snapped back to her companion. “Maybe your parents didn’t think the most of you. But I did. Maybe it hurts to think of being alone. But I’m here. Maybe you’ll be happy over there. If not, guess what?” “You’ll be there?” “You’re smarter than you look. Now let’s play catch before I make you walk the plank.” Ilene smiled as she went to the other end of the deck. “Aye, aye, captain.”
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Instead of feeling penetrated on the neck or chest, Lance felt a slight vise braced on his wrist followed by hearing a wiry click. Finally conscious that he shut his own eyes while wincing from the sight of a stabbing too horrible to be seen by his squeamishness, he opened them in witness to what caused these contradictory senses.
Lance looked up to see Pam had locked handcuffs on his wrist. The other end was attached to her own wrist. Her smile returned to puckish mirth for mischief as she said, "Just because I cuffed you while getting on top of you, don't go fishing any ideas out of that gutter of your mind. This here is standard procedure. Since I couldn't convince you, the Royal Pain appoints Minor Nuisances to not leave their candidate's side until they are annoyed into joining our ranks." Life became a most awkward nightmare for Lance after that. He thought of approaching the police, but since his life wasn't technically threatened he was afraid he'd be laugh out of the station for the irony of arriving already handcuffed. Besides, it's not like he was kidnapped either. The Advocates allowed Lance to leave the meeting and go home. Only, Pam was to stay linked to him every step of the way. She joined him in his apartment for the first time. This wasn't the way he expected her arrival here to play out. He tried to sleep that night with Pam next to him. Lance remained clothed, already feeling uncomfortable enough. Pam happily warned him that she snored. Lance heard her snore only farts that night. Living with her attached bore down on his routine. He couldn't shower because Pam said she'd close her eyes while demonstrating with fingers over which she made a slit for her to see through followed by an eyebrow raise. Also, it was a frustrating puzzle getting his shirt off since it couldn't get around the entire human connected to his left arm. So there was no hope of washing her sharp fart smell off for the next few days. Pam prodded at him physically and verbally every waking moment they were together. Every time they walked, she held him back like a owner trying to control a dog. Lance tried desperately to eat cereal, but she kept grabbing mounds of the flakes with her hand straight out of the bowl. Sometimes she'd throw the bits at him or about the apartment's furniture. Bereft of proper sleep, rejuvenating hygiene, and a filling breakfast; Lance took the bus to work feeling like a lifeless husk of a man who just happened to have working legs and a pulse. Lance didn't know where she got the energy be ever-so giddy. He assumed it was because she got the most sleep, had the most breakfast, and given the smell still orbiting his nostrils from the night before: didn't care much for cleanliness. On the bus she told every new passenger explanations about their binding ranging from kidnapping to an eccentric part of marriage vows. They all ignored her. The unfortunate bachelor's co-workers at the telemarketing department of his company did not ignore this as they gave unique calls of mockery to him. "Looks like someone got lucky last night." "I didn't know it was bring your fetish to work day. I would have brought my whip." "You know a ring is a much better token of loyalty." This and the berating of his boss for the, "disturbing display on company time," wore on him for days. This cycle of annoying inconveniences giving way to nightly flatulence, shy lack of showering, stolen meals, poking, prodding, insults, and near-termination of employment broke him on only the third day. A renewed Lance came back into work after the weekend was over. During the weekend, he under-went the orientation for a new group he had joined. His co-workers asked where his girlfriend went. He merely laughed it off, knowing that giving the answer meant revealing the nature of his new organization, thus leaving him no choice but to invite them to join as well. This was only Lance's first week as a Minor Nuisance after all. Lance wanted to take time to at least work his way up to annoying one hundred people into cursing him out. Lance sat at his desk. He turned on a recording app he added to his cell recently. He picked up the company phone to make his first random call. Lance breathed out to chill his mounting anticipation over the ringing phone line until finally: "Hello? Mr. Larry Ming? Sorry to bother you, but I have a great deal on insurance I'd like to share with you." Lance wasn't actually sorry. Lance grew to be happy to advocate for annoyance now that he understood the power it held over human life. Lance was awash with confusion. "What is she talking about, Pam? I thought we were just visiting your cult. I didn't know I was being forced into membership."
"Hear me out, Lance," she said rapidly edging her eyes nervously at the crowd judging her performance in the test that was on. "At least let me tell you what we're all about before you refuse me and ruin my chance to move up in rank." Lance folded his arms sternly. She pouted out a pitiful, "please," and Lance slid his hands out in letting her get on with it. Pam clapped quickly and proceeded. "Okay. So check it out: We have always been around since the dawn of humanity. Ever since then it's been all about progress and unity. We've never been about that. I'm not saying we want to go back to being cave-people, but the truth is: the most natural state of all humans is found in conflict, frustration, and stagnation. From the prehistoric times to now, we've been on the fringes keeping humanity in check by reminding it of its follies." "We annoy it from age-to-age. True divinity is ever debated. True wisdom ever mocked. Truth is not from the government, but the people. We're also all the little conflicts of interests wrapped in every cranny of your day-to-day life. We're the driver at the intersection acting like we don't know what the right-of-way is. We're that food service guy that never gets your order right. We're the producers that cancel your favorite TV show, and prolongs the lowest rated. We're every troll online. We could say we invented trolling in general. We're your politician from that party you hate. Or is it the other? Perhaps we're both. I'll never tell." "We're everywhere. We're legion. We're everyone that has ever made you feel as though people were out to get you, because a good percentage of people actually are, because they're with us secretly. We advocate to annoy. We're annoying and we're ingrained in every inch of your life." Pam tapped Lance's chest. "Deal with it," she said with a punchy twang in her voice. Lance looked around the room of people. Pam didn't come last Tuesday. So coming to these meetings must be optional. Lance wondered how many other annoying people were out in the world. "So what's the point of these meetings? Do you guys plan new schemes to bother society? And how do you decide on rank?" Pam chuckled a small laugh. "You're already thinking like an advocate, brother. We do indeed plan how we annoy each community we occupy. Sometimes we have national and global meetups too." Lance was struck by this. "Global? You mean there's more of you?" Pam put her hands judgmentally on her hips. "I thought you were paying attention, new guy. I wasn't joshing when I said we're legion. We have cells all over this reactionary planet. And as for how we're ranked," she said waving her hand to the flood of people. "It mostly goes by seniority, but that's usually because the art of annoyance is a craft one develops in practice during the whole of their life. Take Mrs. Hershel, our Royal Pain. She cries at her kids that they don't love her, even though they visit all the time. She judges every grand-kid harshly based off the normal inter-generational yahoo that every stereotypical old person hates: music, religion, sex, yadda... yadda..." The Royal Pain beamed with pride at this praising of her work as Pam admonished on. "And the best part is that her malignant behavior is accepted because of her age. It's not as easy for a young one like me to go from Minor-to-Major nuisance. I've had to get at least one hundred people cursing me out on record through my phone's camera. Then I needed to convince a new guy to join: you," she said this with a double-point of her index fingers to Lance. "From there, a Major Annoyance needs to discover new methods of aggravating strangers all on their own. Such as Gary over there who came up with the idea of looking at your phone during social gatherings. That was you, right, Gary?" A man glued to his phone at the front of the seated robes didn't bother to look up as he said, "Can't talk. Spamming conspiracy theories on FacePage." Pam carried on, seeming bolstered by this. "To grow even beyond that, to make annoying people the purpose of all of your life and reach new heights... that's how one grows to be a Pest, and then: a Royal Pest. Once you're old and all your energy is spent, there is nothing left of you but to be a Royal Pain, high and proud in your esteem of tormenting all about you and leading advocates of all lower levels on the radical path." Pam gave her hand to him. Though Lance didn't take it, she thrusted the warmth of her palm into his as she concluded zestfully, "What do you say, Lance? Now that you know all bout us, are you ready to shed off the mundane existence and become a fulfilled Nuisance and beyond?" Lance was still struggling to get used to her soft hand in his when he found himself still questioning. At least he was going to overcome his characteristic of constant acceptance as a vice. "Why me?" The tenor of it jabbed at Pam. She knew his answer to her offer by the sound of it. Still Pam replied, "You called me once before we dated. You offered me insurance. Just for fun, I acted like I was going along with your deals on premiums by giving you false information. Please don't tell me you believed me when I said my name was J.K. Ringwald. Anyway, after I hung up before I gave out my credit card number, I couldn't stop laughing. Yet when I did, the idea hit me out of this impromptu prank. I thought you were a good candidate as a recruit for my coming trial. I did a web search of the name you gave me on the call. I saw you had a dating profile through a link on your FacePage posts. So one thing led to another and..." Pam faded her voice into a giggle. Lance closed his eyes in a steady blink to take this in. He lifted his hands in conjunction with his measured sentence in processing what he just heard Pam admit to. "Let me get this straight: the only reason you wanted me to join your cult, to date me... was because I'm a telemarketer?" Pam nodded attentively with a smile she tried to hold with all her might. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked this with defining fury that shocked all in the gymnasium including himself. He yelled on despite this. Screw it if expressing himself bothered these nut jobs. Bothering people is what they're all about, right? "You don't do that, Pam. I mean: you don't get to use people like they're pawns in your mind-warped game of chess." Lance wrenched himself from looking at her to take a few furious stomps across the stage from her. He took a pause with himself over the silence of the body still recovering from their own shock. Lance turned back, but stayed away while he railed on. "Just because I'm a telemarketer doesn't mean I like calling people so uninterested in what I have to sell. 99% of the time, yeah, I do kind of get self-conscious if I annoy someone. It's a job for crying out loud. I do it for money. I don't get off by harassing someone. And I don't care if everyone at my company does either- if they're all sleeper agenst for you freaks." He locked his eyes with a hallow vehemence on to Pam. "Maybe that's a 'dull' way of looking at life, but so what? It's my life and I'll live it the way I want to. I'm not controlled by society and I'm definitely not giving any such control to any of you people." The heaviest of pauses passed. After a half minute, it started to weigh on Lance and it made him gulp a little. Pam had locked her own eyes into his. The smile leveled out, but the thoughts behind this new face were blank to Lance. The equally cold voice of the Royal Pain came out, shaking Lance up as if hit with a slap. "Sister Pam: you have told him our ways and he has rebuked us. There is now only one thing left to be done with this one if you wish to pass this trial." Pam turned towards the Royal Pain. The mistress of obnoxious handed the young pupil some object. Lance could see it from where he was. His mind was stabbed with the notion that it was a knife. They didn't want anyone blowing the whistle on their secret society after all. Lance was about to bull-doze his way for the exit when Pam jumped on top of him. The sheer speed of her hurled inches near him made him tumble back. He tried to lash his feet to pull him away, but Pam already lunged downward upon him with the cold grip of the metal. Is their a fate more annoyingly inconvenient than death? Find out in the climactic conclusion next week! They opened the double doors at the end of the hall before an answer could be made. A great multitude of robed advocates were sitting in a gymnasium before them. They sat cross-legged to behold the Royal Pain, their leader.
The Royal Pain in this cult's cell was a old woman with spectacles. Aside from this, the scene seemed to be the real-life version of the first poster that Lance saw. The Royal was plugging her phone into a boom speaker. She announced: "Nuisances, annoyances, pains in the neck, rear, and every other extremity: let us open our meeting of rapturous disharmony with the ceremonial call of a random number to harass." She pressed a button on her phone. A ringing tone thundered about the room. Pam pulled Lance towards the wall. "Put on a robe and take a seat. Prepare to be as loud and obnoxious as possible when they pick up." Lance got an extra robe hung on a rack by the door with blazing mechanical fluidity. Pam then nearly wrestled him to the ground until he sat cross legged like the others. Lance was just getting used to the strange scene when the phone was picked up on the other end. An omniscient voice came over the room and said, "Larry Ming's Asian Buffett. How may I help you?" No sooner did the poor Asian restaurant owner's words pass out did a torrent of savage voices tremor out to assault his, as well as Lance's, unprepared ears. There were screams, slurs, animalistic grunts, and bad pop lyrics among other unspeakable combinations of the swelled, pulsating tumor of an abomination that the hive of human voices can be when meshed so heinously together at once. Mr. Ming could only respond with mixed anger and fright. "Stop calling here, you stupid kids. I'll have you all arrested, damn it." He hung up. The tone of the phone line droned over the gymnasium until the Royal Pain switched her end of the line off as well. Hands softly linked by fingers, she just as softly said, "Now that we have completed the sacred opening ceremony of the mass prank call on a random soul, it is time we shared in our stories of advocation to the holy providence of annoyance." Many hands clamored up to be chosen. The Royal Pain picked one. "Yes. Go ahead, Minor Annoyance Gary." A skinny guy stood up to nervously to announce his accomplishment. "Today I drove really slow on the highway and hogged the left line while doing it." Gary deflated out in a blasting sound of ecstasy. "I've never felt so alive in my life." The Royal Pain made a gesture unto Gary liken unto two 'As' to symbolize her blessing. "Give ear, children of aggravation. Minor Nuisance Gary's story is a touching reminder of how even the smallest act of annoyance can leave an impact within and without. Who knows how many people you made late to work, Gary? And who cares? All that matters is that you were in full service to being bothersome. Such obedience to the commandment of being a discomfort to society is the quality that leaves you all with the chance to grow in your ways of annoying to become the Royal Pain yourselves someday. Then: all the world is at your fingertips." Gary bowed with his arms extended out robotically. "I thank thee, Royal Pain. Your guidance helped me tremoundasly." With that, he sat back down. The Royal Pain then selected another hand that was up. Lance and Pam became engaged in conversation as this person's speech was either to feeble or too far across from their position to garner their attention. Lance had a library of questions disorganized, falling off the shelves in his head. He started with his most recent query. "What does she mean by Royal Pains and getting the world at your fingertips?" Pam happily nodded to Lance in approval. "Talking while someone else has the room's attention, eh, Lancelot? Good on you. They'll see that you'll make a natural advocate." Lance blocked his mouth from curtly stating that she never answered his question, and instead proceeded to asking many more. "I just want to know what exactly you advocates are. What is the point of all this? Why am I here? How does this all fit into this test you have to take?" Pam's reply to this was lost between her listening eyes and her moving lips when Vinny, near at hand, intervened on their private talk. "It seems you need reminded of our ways, young one," Vinny said contemptuously with venom at his tongue to Pam. "We must inform new non-nuisances of our history when first brought before us." Pam made no move to disagree as Vinny got up in the middle of Minor Annoyance Lisa's speech about how she managed to talk on her phone during an entire movie so he could say, "I take pride in obnoxiously interrupting sister Lisa's story to make an announcement, your high annoyance." Vinny pointed to Pam and Lance, both frozen from not knowing what to say or do. "Minor Nuisance Pam has brought an outsider to us: a non-nuisance." Choked gasps of chattering disbelief engulfed the gymnasium. "Only major nuisances and beyond may bring non-nuisances to our circle to be converted ," Vinny said this as though he were on a roll, "I have discussed this with sister Pam and she asserts that if she were to pass her test to achieve the rank of major nuisance, any such exploitation from the order could be arranged. I seek your cousel, O most annoying of our cell's number. What is to be done?" He brought out these last two sentances with pious arms stretched out for guidance. The Royal Pain adjusted her specs to squintly eye Lance from afar. Then she beckoned Lance and Pam to her stage made of retractable bleachers. "Come, young ones," she said with motherly warmth. "I have no doubt in your abilities of annoyance, Minor Annoyance Pam. We will begin your test of initiation into the rank of Major Annoyance now. Come, come. Bring our guest up here with you." Lance then found himself being practically forced onstage by the zealous pushes of Pam's arms to the marked guffawing of some members of the crowd. The greatest heights of the laughter were reached when Lance's ankle hit the first seat on the bleacher, nearly falling on his face that was blocked by his elbows blocking the landing with a hallow clap of metal under the wood of the seats. Pam then pulled him up. For some reason the laughter ceased then. This gave Lance an opportunity to cool down his face. The Royal Pain was raising her arms as well as an earnest smile to speak. That's what cut the laugh track. The Royal Pain took Pam's hands. Pam bowed her head down, but not her characteristic smirk of mischief. "Pam Amberson," The Royal Pain said in getting ready for praise of her student, "you've come a long way, my child. Like many of us, you were found an outcast from the world because your liveliness set you out from the mundane zombies that oppress humanity's energetic potential. My aging mind seems to forget, what did the weak-minded authorities put you in that juvenile detention center for?" Pam brought her neck back up to say, "They put me away for pretending to stab kids with a pop-pastry chewed up to be knife-shaped. I still don't know what the big dilleo was. I was only, like, eight, and it looked more shaped like a stick anyway." Lance glued his eyes to Pam as she told this story. He wondered why she never shared this. The Royal Pain slapped her own forehead in playful self-deprication. "Ah, of course. Forgive me, child. For so many of us have come from that cage for the most happy of humanity unfulfilled, it's so hard to recount all of the stories from that place." The Royla Pain rolled her voice into a bitter sermon. Her face became shadowed with wroth. It transfixed Lance with some sudden fear of her. "And so many stories should not be the case. Those who ever persecute us want freedom killing order and harmony for this world. It limits us all to only one life, only one possibility. It takes away the nature of randomness and the wonderfully unexpected, decaying true joy, not this artificial farce that this modern world commercially pumps into us, even from our childhood, so much so they ex-communicate the most undesirable of the young. Our body of people welcomes all in that none else will accept." The Royal Pain chilled her speech down. "That is why we are glad to have you, sister Pam. It is why tonight we give you a chance to prove your loyalty to a life outside the accepted. Are you ready for your test?" Pam whispered yes in an awe that Lance didn't expect a pistol like her capable of expressing so humbly. "It is well you brought a guest tonight wit you as we instructed, sister. For now your test is to annoy him into joining our ranks begins." Lance jumped back with sharp surprirse bolting from his throat. "What?" Pam turned to Lance with an excited smile widening her eyes back in anticipation. "This should be a fun exercise of my annoying prowess." The nature of Pam's test is revealed. Will Lance escape the fate of joining the advocates? Better yet, should he? Found out the fate of Lance and Pam next time as we go deeper into the history of the Advocates of Annoying. "I'll be honest: when I first met you, I didn't take you for the cult type."
Pam, Lance's guide through the soft orange sunset of the evening streets, raised her eyebrows and arms up in nonchalant agreement. "What can I say? My cult is like: the best secret society ever. We're more underground than the Illuminati." Pam creeped her ominously cute little brown eyes squinting closer to Lance's face in parody of a character from a horror movie that they saw last night as she hissingly asked, "Do you know why?" Lance asked why, calmly expecting a punchline. "Because," she said with a jerk back of her neck in boast as her voice grew deep as it chortled out these words as if they were evil 'bwa-ha' laughs, "you've actually heard of the Illuminati. You've never heard of us. No one parodies us or references us online. It's like we don't exist, but we're very much controlling society in ways that would blow your mind. Scary, right?" Lance only chuckled out, "Okay, okay. They sound fun. We almost there?" It was just down the street she said, pointing to an old brick-building before running for it as she quickly said, "Race me, bitch." As soon as Lance rushed his legs after her, her big and loose orange sweater, fluttering over her black jeggings and old tennis shoes like a dress made him laugh as she outpaced him. She made it to the building first. She whooped it up, pumping her arms into the air over her frizzy dark hair bobbing about as if it were a dancing explosion rhythmically hopping to the beat of her celebration. She pointed to him mockingly. "Suck it." Lance was a tad out of breath. So he couldn't think of anything clever to say. So he only mustered up saying, "Good race." Then he extended out his hand for a handshake of good sportsmanship. She smooshed his hand between a snapping clap of both of her own hands. She tilted her head to a railing for stairs to a cubby-hole outside the building. "Come, doggy. My cult is down here. They're going to love you." That reminded Lance of something he'd been meaning to ask her. "Hey, Pam. I been meaning to ask you something. What kind of cult are you in exactly?" As he made his way down the darkening dampness of the cubby-hole's staircase, he considered why he didn't ask sooner. He had enjoyed dating Pam ever since he met her through a dating app. So far, they'd only been out for coffee twice and a forgettable movie once. Lance still hadn't made a move. He felt a little push of shame on himself for this, but brushed it off in favor of having platonic fun with her. And Pam was definitely fun, if a little... out there. Pam recently accused Lance of being a little dull but still, "kind of cute." Lance nearly sputtered out the overabundance of hot caffeine that he drank as she said this. It surged him with feeling both insulted and excited at the same time. It was the first come-on she kind-of offered since they met. After laughing at his choke on coffee, she focused the conversation on Lance's dullness, saying that society instilled too many inhibitions in him, as they did in everyone. She promoted living more freely, even if that meant being a little annoying to the public. "And may civilization as we know it be damned if they got a problem with it." She practically yelled this to the café attendants, most were startled, but all opted to act like they didn't hear the strangely dressed woman. Lance thought she had a point, but feared she went a bit overboard with this philosophy. This was a tough thing to call a fault though. Her occasionally obnoxious behavior came from that same playful energy that Lance felt he lacked in his 9-5 existence as a tele-marketer. Pam would sing show-tunes out of nowhere, threw popcorn in his mouth, and replaced walking with skipping dance steps. Pam was very cute herself, but certainly not dull. Still, she did go overboard. Just this evening she kept bothering a lady in line at the café by asking her for the time too often. The poor lady kept fishing her phone from her purse to say it. The lady stopped after Pam asked a fourth time in the mere space of a minute. "But," she argued with an evil giggle, "wasn't it funny how she still kept telling me the time after I asked two more times? That's so outrageous. I mean- what? Did she think I was a different person asking the same question behind her? It's a killer how compliant people are to bull like that, submitting to norms without even stopping to question them. Someone asks for the time, you tell it to them damn it. Even if it's more than once, you tell it to them. No room for negotiation." Lance still stood on the stance that it was kind of rude. That's when she called him dull and cute. "But that's okay," she went on to say when he showed signs of coffee-choking flabbergastration, "being boring can be fixed. Cuteness is forever." After saying this, Pam made a yippy growl of attraction at him as he smiled in shyness. "Tell you what: I'll take you to my cult. They taught me everything I know about living a life unrestrained. You'll see. Let's go." He didn't want to blow it with this girl. So here he was, still dully unquestioning as he followed Pam into the dark and damp void found below the cubby-hole's staircase to prove to her that he wasn't the dully unquestioning type. Oy. Lance overcame this discomfort by telling himself that if he was serious about dating, then he needed to be open to other people's lives, even if that involved their crazy religions. Lance wasn't sure if she heard him ask what kind of cult it was because of the acoustic shift of the din brought on by the catacombed walls surrounding the stairs. She finally responded only to really say, "Hold on. Got to do the secret knock to get in. Memorize it, bro." She knocked repeatedly for a full minute it seemed. She pounded violently as she shrilly yelled a series of phrases that Lance noted were things that door-to-door people typically say. "Jehovah's Witness. Trick or Treat. Vacuum Salesman. Police." She then stopped. The door opened. "Pam the ma'am," familiarly said their odd greeter, "Get in here, girl. We're just getting started." He was a husky guy in a red cultish robe. Only Lance could just as quickly tell that the robe was actually one of those blankets with sleeves in them. Lance struggled for the name of that novelty product in his mind when he found that the big guy's joviality stiffened when he caught sight of the extra guest. "Who's this?" "A friend," she said. "What level is he?" Pam looked hesitantly at Lance and back at the doorman. "He's only a minor convenience." The doorman doubled back in shock, nearly closing the door on them. "A non-nuisance? Here?" Pam stopped the door with her hand, nearly inches from crushing her fingers on the door. "Come on, Vinny. He's got potential. Besides, you know the rules. Non-nuisances are allowed in if they are accompanied by a major-nuisance." Vinny glared at her. "But you have not reached the rank of major-nuisance, young one. You're only a minor one." "I will when I pass tonight's test." Vinny ruminated on this and let them in. They proceeded down a gray hall. Its dismal color seemed instantly shadowed away to Lance by three illuminating fixtures: the stunning ceiling lamps, the glittery multi-colors of party-streamers attached to the border lined between wall and ceiling, and the many posters promoting Pam's cult. Lance wondered where such signs were advertised if this society was so secret as he scanned them during the passing by of some of them. The name of the cult lined the top of each poster: "The Advocates of Annoying." One poster featured a split in different settings representing the separate lines on the phone. On one end was a kitchen with a lady making a comical grimace created by a bewildered anger. On the opposite end was a much stranger scene. A group of people robed like Vinny were gathered around a central figure in red blanket-sleeved-things with two 'As' designed like the 'anarchy-A' symbol crossed into each other with something like a dimply smile formed by the crossing of their extended middle lines in each letter's mid-line. Various other symbols of more ambiguous shapes of design were on this robe, perhaps meaning to denote a high rank. Such variances on the number of sewn-in shapes were found on the robe's figures. Some had a blanket-sleeved-thing bare of symbols, like Vinny's. The central guru was holding a phone in one hand that his disciples were happily moving their open-mouthed heads near, no doubt inferring that everyone was collectively yelling into the device, creating the grinding face of astonished anger on the other end. On the center man's other hand was an outstretched palm to Lance, complimented by a charismatic smile. The main message was found on the bottom of the poster in the same bold, friendly text found on the top that had the group's title: "Come. Be a nuisance with us." Another had a similar message. Under the cult's name again was a scene with a guy approaching an old man at a diner booth that the elder was seated in. As the standing man took a handful of fries from the old man's plate and eating some more under a please smile to the sitter's utter disbelief dumbly lit over his face, the bottom text read: "Have you bothered your brother today?" After seeing a similar scene swapped out with women while asking you bothered your sister, Lance got the gist. "So," he queried to Pam even though knew the answer that he merely wanted to confirm out of his confusion, "your cult is centered around annoying people?" What are the secrets of this mysterious cult? What is their end game? Will Pam pass her test? Will Pam and the other advocates accept the dull, but cute Lance? Delver further into the world of these apostles of aggravation next week. Here's hoping random cliffhangers annoy you. |
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