Chapter 10 - Jesses Message

Chapter 10 - Jesses Message
What transpired deep beneath the ground during our congress with jesse was to have a pivotal shift in our mission. Though jesse spoke few words his gyrations communicated much like a bees waggle dance. As the fractal lights spat out from each pelvic thrust a wisdom was imparted to us, a knowledge outside of words. Though a creature of undoubted super nature jesse was mortal. In 78 Elvis died aged 42. When jesse planned his uprising through the mine shafts round South Yorkshire, spurring on the miners above he was 48. But this defeat had knocked him for six. No way was he dissipated on bacon and peanut butter sandwiches, bloated and addicted to uppers, downers and God only knows what else Elvis had slumped off the john on. Jesse sought no early grave but he was building a family. Three children he fathered, all strong in hip and gyration. Janes visionary Dick genes added to these powers meant these boys were of unearthly power. Why, jesse was mid seventies when we met. His fighting days were over. Much as we had hoped he could never reclaim his rightful throne. Sunlight would have killed him. Yet jesse said not to be dispirited. We had done right. His legion would continue the eternal bop. But they were happy hoardes. Free to party unto infinity. Deep beneath the earth. Ely, his first born had developed dance moves to commune with Valis, that life force which had visitted Philip K Dick during early 1974. Elmer was born plumb stupid. Clumsy of hip and modest in gyration. But he was loved and cared for just the same. He took to spending time with jesses legion feeling something of a black sheep. For sure his hip swivel caused ladies to experience a sigh but he could not cause the multiple orgasm that would spread through the masses if jesse or Ely flicked a move. He served as an intermediary, keeping the legion in the know, ensuring no mutinous fools would challenge the royal family. Finally, the youngest, Abel or Huckleberry as his family called him. He had the moves of the devil himself. A gyratory potential that if allowed to ripen could trump even jesse. Things went fine till Abel hit puberty. Jesse kept close watch. His legion women had learned to ride the clitoral stimuli, the multi orgasm nirvana jesses moves caused. Indeed, though some expired in ecstasy, those women folk of stronger physique became caught in a state of continual orgasm. They were the chosen. But Abel, coming into his power took fiendish delight in pushing them too far. Writhing in glorious bodily joy he would keep them thus till jesses clip to the ear put an end to such shenanigans. As Abel grew his curiosity about his uncle became an obsession. To most of the legion Elvis was more myth than man. But for Abel he became a deity. One day he would reach surface, gyrate and cause a tsunami of clitoral stimuli across the earth. Women had become secondary to gutless men whose sexuality could only be measured by cars, money and watches. Once Abel was able he aimed to take the women folk in an earthquake of sexual moaning. Liberation for all women and conquer the overworld.
Jesse made no bones about it. He was getting old. Too old to control young Abel. Ely was often too busy playing the deep dirty rock and roll, keeping the legion dancing to take proper notice of Abel. Elmer just too dumb for the task. Our rewards had been the gift of shamanic powers, conformation our early years of psychedelic use had indeed given us powers to heal mans communal malaise and a promise to bestow the greatest of honours on us, upgrading our status to archangels, not to mention the haze of fractal tiny lights that now enclosed us. Our shadow cloaks that looked like deep space strewn with dieing stars and forming minor galaxies. Such gifts were gracious. But. And we must perform the task if it was necessary. Should Abel get up top we would have to kill him. Jesse had lost interest in the over world. Insurance, pension schemes, television, cars, vacuum cleaners, suits. Mankind was fucked. Not worth salvaging. His empire and interests lay beneath the planet of the grey. Were Abel to unleash his gyrations the armies of the governments would soon be on the move. Jesse saw his empire under threat. After Thatchers war it paid to keep cool or this subterranian utopia could be nuked. Abel must be watched. Happen the lad will grow out of it, i telepathically postulated. But jesse looked down, his mandala aura grew red. 'The boy ain't right. One time he flicked his hip at Jane, his own god damned mother, and I can tell you she ain't no hussy. Hell, the poor girls climax caused a major Avalanche. Now that's dog gone perverse. I talked to the boy, Lord knows I've tried, but no woman is off his radar. Elvis would often pick from his best freinds wives like some peckerwood lion king. But that's no way for a man to be. Respect a married woman. Abel sees Elvis as some kind of role model. I near choked him with my own hands when Jane was writhing and singing to the Lord. But kill my own son? I can't do that. Down here he's contained. Ely keeps half an eye on him, hell, half my days are spent watching his gyrations are pitched low. Clitoral stimuli raises our women folk, but hell, if they all go off, full blown simultaneously, Pompeii would seem like a fire cracker. So I'm trusting you boys. If Abel gets upstairs, you've got to nail him. Now, on your way boys. Don't forget your chores, archangels you'll be. Saviours of mankind. Don't blow it.'
Chilled to the core we moved on. Ely shook our hands, Elmer smiled but Abel just watched on. We were the first land folk the legions or jesse had seen since the miners strike. To each other we were semi mythical beings. Obviously our commitment and augmented minds had brought us here marking us out as a cut above the norm but many were wary. Since the eighties few wanted anything to do with the above. The sun represented death where to us it meant life. We could never have become as they. Our dream was blown but replaced with a greater mission.
'He moves fast that boy, his gyrations once fully grown will mean he could pop up any old ware. Keep your senses alert, boys. I'm counting on you.'
Was this too much responsibility? How could we kill jesses own boy? Abel never turned his eyes from us as we left that party. I figured he knew something had passed between us and jesse.
Two full years it took to shake off our addictions. Not a night passed where I didn't dream of the task we were given. I took solace from the archangel michael, the hardest of all the archangels. If I was to become archangel I must take on his mantel. He slayed satan in a square go for God. Just as I must slay Abel for jesse. No other path or outcome dare I consider. Yet in the deepest pits of withdrawall where walking the dog is a challenge, a man, even a shaman has dark hours of the soul. Was I up to the task? Would Lipton ever return from the wild.


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