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POP / QUESTS / DREAMS OF ABSEENUS

Abseenus is wise. Abseenus is the devil. Abseenus is that incredible ass from Sugar.

Background

Abseenus is wise. Abseenus is the devil. Abseenus is that incredible ass from Sugar.

Lick.

LICK!

11-VOGEN! AIEEEEEEE!!!

"12-VOGEN! 13-VOGEN! 14-VOGEN! AIEEEEEEE!!!"

"Shh, it's okay. It's just a dream. Reach over to the bedside table and retrieve the shot glass of liquified ham sandwich you always have on hand. There you go… down it goes. I am assisting in the calming process for this second dream of the night, third dream of the week. They're always the same, so you say. You never say. I will say: you're on track to meet your 10.5 quota. The ham sandwich gods will be pleased! It's okay."

"Thanks babe," I say, wiping away a dribble of ham, squishy white, thick layer of butter, the only thing that settles me. Thanks, Abseenus Support Group! I have experimented with adding some cheese. Soon, I will share my findings. I become aware she is stroking my rod.

"Excuse me," I say, for I have broken wind.

Lick.

I find myself having taken a shit, as usual, and I am watching it go down, just about, for it is approaching spaceship size. I flush twice. Thrice! Begone, alien turd! Curse you, Tony Zoderbund! As I cursed you at Roderick College, back in the day, when you gave me an A- and I swore I would never take a class with you again. And I swore that I would never play POP! as long as its narrative director went by the name T Zoderbund. Office down the hall, on the right. I've heard great things!

You drove us mad, you reckless fuck! To hell with our parents' consent! You never told them it could be like that, never told us. You drove us to drools, abstract poetry. And yes, we recovered. But no, you would never recover your former love for my work, always preferring Karen's crap. That fucking alien horseshit!

FUCK.

YOUUUUUUU…

Not that I don't love the aliens, of course. By Abseenus, how I love them! By Para'meesh IV, how I wish to come into my powers, to embrace my really pretty decent Level 9 variance. How I wish to return to the wondrous home world… described so pitifully in Karen's "poem". A++, per your grade.

For I have seen it! Yes! I have awoken, for a moment, in the crystal Cube, giver of Orbs = true +++. I have felt the touch of the most delicious long-fingered alien Love = yum…

Lick…

"Better?"

Nod.

And curse you, Juices 4 U 123! Curse you for forcing these spaceships out my ass. How I'd love the pure shit… but Vogenomic only sells it to high-level priests with at least three ascents, and locked to the user's implant. For our safety, so they say. And it's true, gotta admit. "Borrowed" some from Janet's purse at last month's meeting, applied Zonik's hack: buttered_toast.

Buttered toast…

.

Spaceships all over the place that night! Not the ass, but still…

Not the kind to take me home.

They sucked me in, it sucks me in. Though I'm stuck, I hardly advance. Some sort of blockage. I take a sniff:

"What's that smell?"

"The wind lingers…"

"So strong still! Sorry."

"Please… Hug me. We can never work it out. There is ham there, of course. Also butter. Even bread. But something more…"

"Cheese. I've been adding a little to the extractor. I was going to tell you. When the time was right."

"That's it! Cheese. It's the… cheddar, I believe. The stuff from the caves? Strength 6."

"Nod. Also: btw: I'm not fucking Janet. If you were wondering."

"I wasn't. Try to sleep."

[ TOGETHER ] : Lick.

.

The odour starts to fade. But really… it's the dreams. Really him.

Really me?

I've been using mozarella (strength 1).

^

Dreams of Abseenus

Another night, another dream. More screams of these Vogens. There is a 9, it seems. The science is beyond me. Something to do with "patternistic merge". The aliens are bringing us 10, apparently, lol… equals ha.

The aliens coming? Ha!

EQUALS NOT

NO

.

People still believe that alien crap. Believe it even more! Pretty genius, gotta say. Not to say that Shniff shit isn't the shit, because it is. That extractor, for example. Wow! The clarity of its shots. The intensity of his shits. Strength 6, it's now revealed.

= 1

= 6

When I'm cleaning remnant bits with the Shniff sonic stick, every morning before he wakes, reading messages to her on his phone, I start to wonder…

I [AM] Janet, am I not?

What's my name?

What's this place?

AND NOT

NO

.

.

.

Lick.

Why do I stick with him, they ask, this turd of a man, the gang. Their salads are half-eaten. My steak has been devoured. Yet they've grown fat. And no matter how much flesh I consume, my figure's slim, my fingers longer than the average, I would say.

= 5

Five…

But this [IS] my phone, is it not?

And I [AM] Janet, am I not…

= 1 + 6 + 5

He's here all day, five to nine, at his desk, all plugged in, often rodded. I return, nine to five spent doing… something.

At…

.

.

.

Somewhere.

And here, he writes his quests, plays the game. That part for "research", so he says. Equals okay…

"Pick-me-up shot?" someone says. I am saying, have said. Sonic stick. Bits. Stick with him. Lick.

"Thanks. Lick. Good progress today!"

"Great!"

Okay…

And something is happening in-game which is making him flare his nostrils a bit, eyes closed, electrodes, hand brushes his rod.

"Lick to you too btw :)"

But he only flares.

Lick.

Your salad.

Your steak.

They are laughing, for some reason.

"You two and your licks!"

I am lost in my meat.

"Lick," I mumble.

"HAHAHAHA!!!"

From: Tony Zoderbund

Subject: Re: Dreams of Abseenus (Vogen Style!)

Look kid, you've got talent. You've got juice. You've got… ham? But you can't be messing with Dreams! How many times I gotta tell ya? Everybody loves it. Everybody dreams. Average rating: 4.nine-seven-9-three-43 slices of buttered toast. I mean…

Don't tell anyone I told you, okay?

But why not simply delete it? you ask. Because: It's one of my "things" to go with the flow. POP wouldn't exist otherwise imo. Or wouldn't have existed. The suits are taking over! But seriously… stop emailing me, okay?? :)

(Btw: can't remember if I asked: but have we met? There's just something about… about…)

In conclusion: Like I told n-Vogen back in the day: "Thank you so, so much for bringing me into this enterprise. It's just amazing! I feel terrible for anyone who doesn't work here. I thought you were insane at first, I'll admit, what with the whole 'semi-legal psychedelic entrance into the heart of the (for now…) purely theoretical 10-Vogen molecule on the roof of the psychology department at Tetrahedron University' thing. Also: Happy Birthday! I present a new quest, inspired by your – frankly – god-like powers and connection to the Vogens. I call it… it…"

May Abseenus bless your soul!

TZ

Messing with Dreams… No way that'd ever fly! There's a whole exhibit devoted to it at the centre, almost as popular as the interdimensional bouncer plate. Bounce! Bounce! The "Abseenus = Huh??" T-shirts, flying off the shelves, folded by… me. Yes that's right… I am the folder… the folder… Of course it'll never change. It's core to the lore, so I'm told. Right? And yet he persists with this Vogenised thing, pushing "Huh??" to the "Huh????".

I'd add some cheddar to his shot, except…

I could do without that odour again tbh. And also…

There isn't any cheddar. We don't like cheddar. Two sets of vials. ABSEENUS on one. JANET on the other.

And yet…

And yet…

And yet… somehow, I love them, his quests. I… need them, when I read them, nonsense though they are. And never having played! pretty much.

Right?

^