He-Man (heman) wrote,

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Down Came the Rain

“That’s it! The end!” wheezes Eldor into his empty cup. “No more He-Man. Mr. Kurtz, he dead.”
Eldor laughs a toothless laugh and sinks beneath the weight of a series of hacking coughs. Next time, you tell yourself, the closest I get to an LJ personality will be through pjammer’s bookproject.
“He’s dead,” Eldor sobs. “Dead!”

You give him a few moments to blow his nose on his sleeve and gather his wits, then you buy him another drink, marvelling amorally at how the liquor gives life to the story while destroying the storyteller. Oh well, in vino veritas.

“Where was I?” asks Eldor, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
“He-Man had just been killed by Scare-Glow,” you remind him.
“Oh, yes...”
And the dusty wheels of Eldor’s febrile mind, now greased by a taste of the pure, turn and turn once more.

With a sigh, Mer-Man lay down his dog-eared copy of the Complete Plays of Tennessee Williams and sat up on his cot. The room of his imprisonment was reasonably furnished for a cell, as would befit the stature of its sole inhabitant. It was lifeless, though. What it needed were some goldfish.

The Prime Minister of Eternia, after kicking his feet aimlessly, got up and went over to his desk. Pulling out a new piece of parchment and choosing a quill, he set to work on a letter he now knew by heart, having written it some 800 times since his captivity had begun.

Dear He-Man,

Hey, how are you? I am good, but Scare-Glow has me locked up in the highest tower of Castle Skeletor. Please come save me. Have you heard the new Spoon album?

Prime Minister and friend

And for the 800th time he folded the paper into a little origami swan and tossed it gently out the window, where it was carried by the wind for who knows how many miles.

He thought of his situation, of how he was being forced to betray his beliefs, and of how he wished he could be strong enough to tell Scare-Glow that he would rather die than abuse his power, but he wasn’t. He was just a sniffler like they all said, except he was now Prime Minister.

“That’s it!” he cried. “I won’t sign my letters ‘Prime Minister’ anymore. I’m going to sign ‘A. Sniffler’!” He found this new resolve to be comforting and he began on another letter.

Dear Annie Lennox,

I really enjoyed your Diva album. Do you think Eurythmics will get back together?

As his quill scratched away, he heard something from outside that distracted him. It was like a chorus of angry voices. He rose and walked out onto his balcony for a better look.

Far, far down at the foot of the castle were crowds of people. So small were they from this height that they looked like little more than clusters of feeder fish.
It was a protest, realized Mer-Man with terror. Clearly these people didn’t know what they were dealing with.

End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!

they chanted, and their voices rose up to the very spires of Castle Skeletor. Inside the keep itself things were very still. Scare-Glow had still not returned from his excursion. Maybe, hoped Mer-Man, they will let them just leave.
Then he saw the castle’s gun emplacements turning towards the protesters.

Mer-Man surveyed the crowd. Tears streamed down his face.

End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!

As if in sympathy with his tears, the heavens themselves opened and a great rain fell down on Mer-Man as he stood helpless in horror.

The weather drowned out the voices and the sounds of gunfire and sizzled as it splashed on cooling gun muzzles.

Miles away, this same rain fell on a battlefield that was once a tiny city. In this place devoid of life and warmth, the life-giving rain had little effect except to cause one corpse to open its eyes and reach for a powersword that was no longer there.
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