Gloom Blob of Doom: The Dreadful Dripping of the Doom Blob of Gloom

Gloom Blob of Doom: The Dreadful Dripping of the Doom Blob of Gloom

(A tale of snacks, sugar cubes, and spiralling cosmic terror)

The moon fractured. Again.

Or so Quaraun claimed. But Quaraun claimed a lot of things.

His mind, more often then not, was a muddle of Absinthe, opium, and LSD. Usually all at the same time. So no one was at all surprised to see him, standing on the roof, pointing up at the sky, and screaming that the moon had fractured again.

The moon had already fractured in the year 2525, when the Comet Swift Tuttle flew too close and hit it. It was now the year 3999 and no one had seen the sun is over a thousand years. There were religions that preached the sun was a myth of ancient conspiracy theories, that sun never existed. No one save BoomFuzzy was old enough to remember the world before the comet strike. No one but BoomFuzzy was old enough to remember the sun.

GhoulSpawn knew the sun, but GhoulSpawn was from 1978, spit out by a random feral portal that had sucked him up and decided to drop him in this sunless far future of Earth.

Quaraun had seen the sun and the moon before it fractured. Before the remnants of the moon orbited earth in great Saturn like rings, before the ice fragments of the comet engulfed the earth. Quaraun had also fallen into a portal. Perhaps the same portal that had brought GhoulSpawn here, because the portal had taken Quaraun to 1978, and Quaraun briefly got to see the 20th century civilization, complete with the sun overhead and the moon, still round and not split in half.

But as quickly as it has taken him to 1978, it returned him to 3999, and he’d been drinking absinthe more heavily then usual ever since, and so no one was to see Quaraun, standing on the roof, pointing up at the sky, and screaming that the moon had fractured again.

In truth, the Fractured Moon remained its usual cracked self — still broken from the comet strike of centuries past, still hanging close in Earth’s white-blue sky like a bruised eyeball full of regrets. But tonight, the Pink Necromancer stared wide-eyed at it, as though it had sprouted fangs and was about to eat his soul. Again.

He had claimed, only just last week, that it had already eaten his soul.

Inside the wreckage of an upturned Amtrak Downeaster car — long since repurposed into a cozy, ice-buried caravan of quilts, copper pots, and antique lace doilies — Quaraun had lit twelve black candles in a precise crescent. Their wax oozed like molten shadow over antique soup cans stamped +3 Dexterity if Consumed on a Tuesday.

GhoulSpawn picked up an can that remained without a candle and examined it.

“+3 Dexterity if Consumed on a Tuesday”, he mouthed, then turned to BoomFuzzy and asked. “Who makes these? Was there like some TSR fan making canned soup before the apocalypse happened?”

“TSR?” BoomFuzzy asked. “What the flying fuck is a TSR?”

“Uhm… oh… yeah… I forgot I was in the 40th century and you know nothing about the 20th century. Damn. I’m never gonna get used to this. TSR was a game company, they liked to give every thing stats for dexterity or charisma or strength and stuff.”

“Yar come from a strange world, Ghouly,” BoomFuzzy said as he checked the temperature of his enchanted crock-pot.

The flickering, blue-green glow of BoomFuzzy’s eternally bubbling fondue pot cast eerie shadows across Quaraun’s silver-spangled pink silks and the iridescent jellyfish-tentacle hair coiled about the Elf’s frail shoulders.

Quaraun’s long, twitching ears caused the silver chains of his piercings to jingle. He placed a delicate, jewelled hand over the ancient mahogany spirit board etched in both Old Faerie script and obsolete 25th century bio-cybernetic runes from before the comet had hit the moon. His voice trembled as he whispered:

“O ancient spirits of doom and gloom… tell me of the fate that waits beneath the frozen stars… Stars and ice. Ice and stars…”

Quaraun had already been awake for seventy-two hours. His glass opium pipe, carved with fuschia screaming skulls, dangled from his lips like a forgotten icicle. Nearby, a tray of LSD laced sugar cubes melted into absinthe, each cube having been soaked in a generous splash of BoomFuzzy’s Green Fairy Wine and three doses of whatever hallucinogenic fungi GhoulSpawn had bioengineered into syrup.

The pointer on the board jerked.

D.
E.
A.
T.
H.
…
J.
E.
L.
L.
Y.

Quaraun’s eye twitched.

He gasped.

“Death by… Jelly?”

He gasped again.

“THE MOON HAS TURNED TO JELLY! AND GOING TO KILL US!”

BoomFuzzy, standing beside the stove with a pink frilly apron tied over his purple tartan kilt, didn’t even look up from where he was buttering toasted seaweed buns for his famous +9 Moxie Lobster Rolls (vegetarian lobster substitute, of course — spliced fungal clone meat harvested from the brains of a long-extinct crustacean).

“Aye, sounds about right. Weren’t ye screamin’ ‘bout giant psychic space hamsters last week?” BoomFuzzy scoffed as he grated radioactive cheddar into a bubbling pot of mac & cheese that pulsed with suspiciously unearthly glow.

“Wasn’t it Clockwork Gnomes, last week?” GhoulSpawn asked. “I thought he was jibbering about the giant psychic space hamsters two weeks ago? Remember? We was camped by the miasma River and he said the river had turned into hamster vomit.”

“Ah, yes, I remember.”

“But this is worse!” Quaraun wailed, now clutching his watermelon tourmulian pendulum. The delicate silver chain swayed over the pendulum board, which displayed a stylized illustration of a cosmic void filled with floating pizza slices and screaming squid. The pendulum swung dramatically toward “CATASTROPHIC SPACE-BASED JELLY INCIDENT”.

“T’ain’t real, Love,” BoomFuzzy said.

Quaraun shivered.

“It is real,” the paranoid Elf whispered. “It is coming. A gelatinous, planet-sized abomination, born of madness and sugar. It shall consume the moon. The stars. The sky. It shall wiggle as it swallows worlds. Wiggle and wobble. Wobble and wiggle. My sanity will drop by -100! I must lay out my hot footing powder.”

BoomFuzzy, unfazed, continued layering slabs of triple chocolate cake, each infused with +10 Happiness and a frosting that screamed in twelve languages when sliced. He licked a spoon and peered at Quaraun with mild amusement.

“Aye, ye done drank th’ glittery Faerie pee again, didn’t ye? Told ye not t’mix the absinthe wit’ th’ pink sugar cubes laced in GhoulSpawn’s jellyfish hallucinogens — “

“It’s called LSD,” GhoulSpawn interrupted.

“Aye, and look at what it doing to me Elf. It’s jibbering up his brain — “

“I haven’t got a brain,” Quaraun said. “I am a JellyFish. JellyFish don’t have brains.”

“Aye, and now ya speaking in contractions, so I knows ya gone full fruity. Last time ye started preachin’ the gospel of the Grape-Scented Tentacle God.”

“Spaghetti. A flying spaghetti god who was bathing in grape juice.”

“Whatever, same difference.”

At the far corner of the train passenger car camp, surrounded by salvaged radio parts and vibrating cans labelled +4 Tinkering When Eaten Cold, GhoulSpawn hunched over a steaming pile of metal spaghetti.

“This thing,” he muttered, screwing a gear into a brass spine. “Will either be a coffee maker or a death ray. I dunno yet, man. Depends if I attach the banana peeler. What do you think?”

The gadget farted steam and let out a suspicious burble.

Quaraun jumped back.

“There! It speaks in the tongue of the Jelly Beast!”

“You’re high, Quaraun,” GhoulSpawn replied casually, flipping a switch that caused the whole device to spark blue and belch out a puff of glitter.

“I am doomed!” Quaraun shrieked. “Doomed and jellied! Jellied and doomed!”

BoomFuzzy plopped a massive lobster roll onto a plate, garnished with bio-luminescent celery and deep-fried snowflake fungus, drizzled in honeyed balsamic soy glaze.

“Eat yer roll, Love. Ye’ll feel better. Might even hallucinate a friendly space hamster who’ll knit ya a blanket. For th’ jelly apocalypse.”

“But I saw it! The pendulum spoke! The spirit board agreed! The tarot screamed with every card! Death, The Tower, The Blob. The Blob! The Great Glaring Jelloid Blob!!”

BoomFuzzy finally walked over and wrapped a warm arm around Quaraun, planting a chocolate-smeared kiss on his cheek.

“Aye, Love. The only blob ya need worry ‘bout is this chocolate cake. It’s got more fudge than a corrupt priest’s confessional. And that’s what’s eatin’ the moon. Now come eat it back.”

“I do not trust your cake.”

“Ya don’t have to trust it. Just chew it.”

GhoulSpawn leaned over the table and dropped a card onto the spirit board.

“Here,” he said, grinning. “I added a new Major Arcana. The Pie. It represents snacks, salvation, and sedative sugar comas. I shuffled it in next to The Snail God of Existential Regret.”

Quaraun blinked.

“There is… hope?”

“Dude,” GhoulSpawn said with a wink. “There’s always hope. Especially if BoomFuzzy made dessert.”

• +1 Glass Opium Pipe of Cosmic Revelation added to Inventory
• +2 Absinthe Sugar Cubes (Laced with Hallucinogenic Jellyfish Syrup) added to Inventory
• +1 Spirit Board of Jelly Horror added to Inventory
• Achievement Unlocked: “Wiggly Doom Approaches: Survive a Jelly-Based Existential Crisis”
• Quaraun gained +7 Hallucinatory Insight Into The Cosmic Dessert Pantheon
• BoomFuzzy gained +9 Cake Crafting Skill: Triple Chocolate of Doom
• GhoulSpawn gained +6 Improvised Tech Tinkering (Possibly Explosive Coffee Maker?)
• Moral of the Story: Don’t trust your visions of doom when you’re licking LSD off a sugar cube. Especially if dessert is on the table.

This story is published in:

• Three Wizards, Cozy In the Apocalypse

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Includes the following stories: Lanterns Over the Faerie Glen Spacious Space The Pond’s Invitation Gloom Blob of Doom: The Dreadful Dripping of the Doom Blob of Gloom The Sweet and Sour of Lemons The Boat Fiasco Five Ways To Save Money in Las Vegas The Book in the Brook and the Minnows Who Found It There, a Poem by Quaraun the Last Moon Elf The Wand Mishap One River In Three Perspectives Bluejay I Think, So I Exist Oyster Mushroom Harvest on a Rotting Log Forest Kings and Their Antler Crowns Cattail Pollen Spaghetti with Wild “Oregano” Sautéed Mushrooms and Diced Tomatoes Served with Poutine, Naturally Lord of the Hive The Comfort Found in a Hearty Winter Tomato Stew Golden Field, Pink Glories Truly creative things happen when one thinks differently, yet nobody wants to think differently Pink Marabou Trimmed Rainbow Leg Warmers, a Purple Feathered Black Leather Codpiece, and an Emerald Green Overly Fluffy Scarf The Mischief of the Purple Unicorn Frostbound Legends: Harvesting Apples in the Rain Jibber Jabber Ramblings by the Fire The Sandcastles at Twilight The Heirloom The Crooked Dice Sounds In The Night Shadows and Fog Gladsomeness

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The Pink Necromancer, Moon Elf silk weaver & merchant: Quaraun on Noodle Beach. His master chef Phooka turned Lich husband: BoomFuzzy with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. And their on again/off again mad scientist Sheep Demon lover: GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. Time Travel setting swings back and forth between 40th century Maine after a comet hit the moon decimating the planet, and the 1970s, Maine. Quaraun in the main character, he and BoomFuzzy are a married gay couple. GhoulSpawn is their shared live-in lover. Art by Wendy Christine Allen.

BoomFuzzy King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn: Quaraun's husband, BoomFuzzy aka King Gwallmaiic, a Scottish Phooka, who is King of The UnSeelie Court. Quaraun is his court mage and advisor, as well as the only Elf in The UnSeelie Court. BoomFuzzy is a "classic fantasy type" Necromancer who uses sorcery to raise the dead. Being a Faerie he is also an illusionist and master of trickster magic. By profession, he is a Master Chef, owning the global monopoly on restaurants, taverns, pubs, and food trucks. Until his death, BoomFuzzy was regarded as the world's most powerful wizard. He is now a Lich. BoomFuzzy is also half-Human. His mother was a Mongolian/Chinese Human, which is why he wears distinctively Asian outfits, along with a great kilt worn as a cape. Known as BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, he often takes the form of a purple Unicorn. BoomFuzzy's exact age is unknown, though he was well over two thousand years old at the time of his death, and Quaraun resurrected him as a Lich around 500+ years ago, making him close to 3,000 years old. In his BlackBird form he is fifteen thousand years old. Art by Wendy Christine Allen

Quaraun Quaraun the Insane aka The Pink Necromancer: The F2M transgender Persian Moon Elf main character: The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun The Insane, with BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. F2M for those unaware = Quaraun was biologically born female, but transitioned to live as a male; this is why there are stories where Quaraun is sometimes pregnant, in spite of being male and using he/him male pronouns. Quaraun is a Necromancer by the actual dictionary definition of the word, meaning he is a psychic medium who sees and hears ghosts, and uses tarot, spirit boards, and seances to communicate with the dead. By profession he is a silk weaver/tailor/silk merchant. Quaraun is an Elder God JellyFish who takes the form of an Elf to blend in with society. His 12 foot long hair is made out of venomous, stinging jellyfish tentacles. Quaraun is BoomFuzzy's apprentice and regarded as the world's most powerful still living wizard. Quaraun's exact age is unknown, but he is somewhere around 750 years old. In his SunTa form he is twelve thousand years old. The Scared Pink JellyFish that lives in him, is stated to being over two million years old. Art by Wendy Christine Allen

Main characters: The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun (A Moon Elf) and his husband King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy aka The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Lich King of Fire Mountain (A Phooka/Faerie).

BoomFuzzy is King of The UnSeelie Court;

Quaraun is his Court Mage;

GhoulSpawn (not pictured) is Quaraun’s apprentice.

They are the world’s three most evil super villains, though they do not see themselves as evil. They own the world’s only functioning BioDome and thus hold the world’s monopoly on crops, food, livestock, and fabric, holding the Human population at their sadistic mercy.

These stories are told from their point of view.

 — — Art by Wendy Christine Allen

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