Lex Macedon arrives in atomic fashion: never when you expect but always on time.

 

Blue Eyes looks at the Ziggurat guards like lepers. She defecates while walking past them, shoveling sand & shit onto their shields with her hind leg. The Arab-stocracy congregates a gasp, the Four Horsemen laugh, and Basileus Yester-Dad stands stone-faced. Lex hears the pitter-patter of something on his father’s mind, but he hasn’t decided yet if he cares or not.

 

The Ziggurat is dressed for the highest convergence. These events are always the same; day-eating politik droll people only go to so they can argue over who’s kid got accepted to the best college or who has the nicest iPhone. But! The party planners swear that this convergence has more personality traits than usual. Their selling point:

 

It’s a Wedding. It’s a Funeral. It’s a Crossroads.

 

Things are going to happen, this everyone knows. But let’s get real here, Lex cares more for the scarabs stuffing their faces with his mare’s feces than whomever is getting tied down today.

 

Blue Eyes has a strange tic when Lex starts to dismount. She twists her head from side to side to get that nice neck crack, the pop behind the ears that every colt knows feels damn good. Lex notices immediately when she doesn’t this time. Blue Eyes is staring at something across the room.

 

There they were, towering over the feeble sultans of the Arab-stocracy: the horse and the rider. A Thessalian steed, hulking beast painted skeleton white. On his back, a beauty of carved obsidian. Her skin black as death, sweet as a stolen kiss.

 

“Who the fuck is that?”

 

Serfs rush in to usher Lex and his mount to their party, The Hellenistas. All the known world had come to fear the bronze wolves of mount Hellas: Tall-Men from the Aegean beyond.

 

Someone even wrote a song for these bastards:

“O march the singularity

Bade jackal born out

Beast man mama maybe

Bacchus best forget who’s

Legs he drank plague per

 

Phalanx placenta no no no

The boats the spears no no no

The tears the fears yes yes yes

They’re almost here yes yes yes

 

GO LAUGH GO LAUGH GO LAUGH

NOW NOW CRY CRY CRY WOLF!”

 

Beneath the umbraculum stand our Hellenista regency. The usual suspects were all there:

 

Basileus Yester-Dad: Magna-Boss of the Hellenistas. He has one eye; the other was lost in a wrestling match with Grykobo, the solar rhinoceros. Yester-Dad played a key role in the Ninth Stage of Titan-Battle Prime, where he personally led a stealth operation into the heart of the Islamic After-Life to save Allah’s cute second cousin from a gang of pervert Boy-Ghouls. He’s a no-nonsense hard-ass, and when he’s not making foreign kings bend the knee, he spends his time going on afternoon bike rides and drinking red wine.

 

The Four Horsemen: The elite personal guard of the current Hellenista Basileus. These four were specifically picked by Yester-Dad himself.

 

• Velvet Wotan: A magician. Black glasses. Kangol beret. Chrono-Bum Snapper Carr meets Simon Magus meets The Fonz. The less said, the better.

• Phaedra: Surgeon. X-Ray vision. Ignores Hippocratic Oath. Big car geek. If you mention the myth that shares her namesake, she’ll castrate you most likely.

• Sergio Sky: Hyper athlete. Gun enthusiast. Engineer. Fan of street foods.

• Friar Qhuvu: Soothsayer. Dream weaver. Anti-pedophile = prefers having sex with people over the age of 46. Movie buff. Drops quite a bit of acid on the day to day.

 

B’aa’st: Biggest and baddest lawyer on the planet. She acts as the legal representative of the Hellenistas. She’s scary because she loves paperwork. Doesn’t have a lot of hobbies besides her job, although she spends ample time taking care of the plants in her apartment.

 

Auryon: The second most prolific artist in the world. His first published novel was released as Empires Fall For Femageddon, but it’s more commonly known today as Hail Hera! The story tells of a matriarchal world where men are seduced by shadow nymphs and accused of rape, then subjugated to be sex slaves. People make fun of how weird the writing style is, but his books sell like gum-welfare in a middle school classroom, so nobody doubts Auryon’s talent.

 

Roksana: Trans teen pop icon. Her fanbase is so rabid that her private security force is authorized lethal countermeasures in dealing with groupies. She watches MMA and Adult Swim cartoons in her free time. Oh yeah, and she’s Lex Macedon’s ex-girlfriend. She claims to have dumped him over his decimation of Planet Love, where he fire-bombed every half-price bookstore and executed any poet who supported the government. However, word on the street says she got fed up with Lex for never letting her pick the movie to watch + the fact that he spent more time with her sister, Luka Gorgo.

 

Luka Gorgo: The unanimously agreed upon greatest wordsmith of all fucking time. Sister to Roksana. Chain smokes all day and doesn’t take shit from anybody. She’s so good at writing that she can’t enjoy anything anyone else puts out. It’s honestly kind of depressing. Lex likes to hang out with her so his poetry can get a little bit better. They don’t really talk to each other while they’re together, which has a quality in itself. I mean, how often do you get to have a friend to enjoy the muted morning with?

 

Lex stands before the ensemble and gives them a shrug that says,

 

<Hey guys - yes I did remember to close the garage door

before I left - and no I’m not sorry for letting Blue Eyes drop

a deuce at the entrance - you all totally thought it was

hilarious – also someone needs to buy a new filter for the

Brita because the light started blinking red last night.>

 

Everyone rolls their eyes. You can see it from a hemisphere away: it’s Lex Macedon, he’s gonna do what he wants to do. The universe has and will be his for a while. At least he keeps it interesting.

 

Yester-Dad gets up off the cathedra, approaching his son. Puts his hand on his shoulder. Lo, Pep Talk cometh. The parent-poetry you never feel like listening to but still do. This one is different.

 

“I know my place in the tapestry. There will come an hour when the sky bends neck over bowed knees, when the scimitar is polished with the tears of Zoroaster, when the knot yields and the stallion grinds molars through Balkan brass. These are the things not to be seen in the waking, the forbidden moment, the dream sunset. I will be an epitaph by then, my name cemented as origin, alpha point for you. Could be today, tomorrow, or 20,000 years.”

 

Pops always brings the best ego-boosts. If you can’t relate, then that sucks, I guess.

 

“You are not a mere conqueror, Lex. You are a force of nature. Something cosmic, come to judge the reeds grown on this continent’s cheek.”

 

“Cool.”

 

Yes. It’s obvious. You’ve been asking yourself a simple question since this whole thing started. Who is this all-star cunt Lex Macedon? Welp, here are a couple facts:

 

He dyes his hair NSYNC blonde, bleach boy custom.

 

His eyes are Oz green.

 

Snakes are afraid of him.

 

He razed Planet Love to the ground.

 

He beat up God & the Devil & all their boyfriends too.

 

He banned coconut-flavored anything from existence.

 

He wrote the greatest short story collection ever, then set it on fire.

 

He’s NOT a good person.

​

An oriental horn is blown. The wedding is beginning. A teenage boy walks out, dressed like Queen Victoria. An older woman emerges from the other side in the guise of Charlie Chaplin’s The Tramp, but with massive tits. They join hands, and then explode into an elaborate Argentinian dance: the South American Scorpion Tango.

 

Lex Macedon has a sixth sense between his ears, something he nabbed from his campaign on Planet Love. Apophenia is seen as disability to some, a weapon of mass deconstruction to others. Our boy hones in: initiate Hindu-brainwave-88, the No/One/Can/Hear/Me thought cycle…

 

*Something very  s t r a n g e  was/is/will-be going on*

 

Tango Making Arab-Stocracy = Weep Tears Of Joy \ A Man, Standing Next To Guards With {Poop Covered Shields} Is ‘Sweating Bullets’ \

Four Horsemen = Restless \ Auryon = Turned On By Tango \ Roksana

= About To Fall Asleep \ Man ‘Sweating Bullets’ Keeps Scratching

{Left Arm} \ Luka Scribbling On {Notepad} \ Dad Goes To The

{Restroom} \ Black Hole Girl With Skeleton Horse Behind Arab-

Stocracy = Reading {Book} \ It’s {Libra By Don DeLillo}. Nice.

 

“Excuse me.”

           

Lex is shocked out of the psych-scan. There’s some rando with a Mop-Top haircut right in front of him. This is impossible. Sixth sense apophenia consumes all sensory input. Bowl-cut bozo must have appeared out of thin air. Lex is annoyed.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Here. Bring all your friends.”

 

Mop-Top hands Lex a flyer. It’s an invitation.

 

LEX MACEDON,

YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED AT…

THE FIRST OF THE FINAL WARS

A MESOPOTAMIAN MASSACRE HOSTED BY PARTY BOY

LETHAL ARMAMENTS & A POSITIVE ATTITUDE ENCOURAGED!

SUNDAY SUNSET, 8:28 PM, BABYLON TOWER, SHINAR CITY-STATE

 

 

Lex is both confused & intrigued. He looks up to find Mop-Top vanished. And the strange continues with an epiphany.

​

Well + Shit = Never Left {Apophenia Mode} \

\{Flyer} Written In {Argent Alphabet}

Same One My {Brain} Is Wired To \

/ Fossil Communication

Existed Forever + Undiscovered \

 /World Fed To Me As {Tempest}

I Knew = I Know = I Will Know \

/ Today + Tomorrow + 20,000 Years

& Ten Seconds From Now Is Too Real \

/ Because I Think {My Dad} Is Going To Die

 

The man sweating bullets moves like a javelin across the room, shoving the Tramp Bride and Groom Victoria to the floor. Left sleeve switch-stiletto pops into hand like magician wand.

 

/ I Can’t Stop Him = I Don’t Want To = It’s Supposed To Happen \

 

Yester-Dad walks out of the restroom and is met with a blade in his stomach. He cracks the attacker with a backhand, breaking his nose and dislocating his jaw. Yester-Dad pulls the knife from his gut. Falls to the ground. The Bronze Wolf Basileus bleeds like broken levee.

 

The killer tries to escape, darting for the door. He slips on the beetle infested shit. The Four Horsemen shatter him with tommy gun screaming. He dies instantly.

 

Lex walks over. His father is dead. Somehow, the mouth doesn't move, but Lex can hear his voice.

 

“Hey, Lex.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Did you see the playlist I sent you, with those Billy Joel songs you like?”

 

“Yes, it was so good. I also loved that one you put by Stephanie Mills... something something ‘love like this’...”

 

“Never Knew Love Like This Before. We would listen to it all the time under the lighthouse midnight.”

 

“Sick.”

 

“Alright, well... remember to get the registration sticker for the-”

 

“Don't worry, I already did the state inspection. I'll put the new one on by tonight.”

 

“Okay. Talk to you soon.”

 

“Bye, Dad.”

 

Lex Macedon has no tears for passing storms. Things on a schedule tend to happen, so grief's never been worth the asking price. The Arab-stocracy orders the serfs to clean up the mess. B’aa’st leads the Hellenista entourage out of the Ziggurat, the Four Horsemen taking the corpse of Yester-Dad with them. Blue Eyes waits for Lex Macedon, who keeps reading the flyer again and again.

 

“What say you, Blue Eyes?”

 

“Neigh.”

 

“Exactly. You know what, maybe she gets it too.”

 

They walk toward the Black Hole girl and her horse. She’s still standing there, looking bored.

 

“Hi. I know you from somewhere.”

 

“Probably. Names are stupid if you think about them for more than five seconds, but stupid is better than mundane most of the time. I’m Lady Dharma. This is Makara.”

 

“Lex Macedon. Blue Eyes is over there. Do you like weird shit?”

 

“Duh.”

 

“I know a cool spot for some sundown ultraviolence in a couple pages.”

 

“I don’t work tonight.”

 

“Brilliant. Go with me.”

 

Dharma grabs his palm and quickly writes something down with a sharpie before riding Makara off into the steppe. Lex lunges for the saddle, spearing after atop Blue Eyes with coiled reins in one hand while deciphering the scrawl on the other. For some reason, he doesn’t think the words are meant for him, but they make an absurd sense:

​

[I know the hurt of silence.

The itch when you’re away.

But the call came and the

Phone was picked up.

It’s in the past. Fleeting.

The façade is just that.

Of course I still love you.

How could I not?]

 

Deep breaths and synced heartbeats cast rhythm onto the cashmere winds. Lex Macedon hunts the girl like an assault weapon. You can hear their laughter from the ridge, but you wouldn’t understand it. They speak in a tongue unnoticed by some, forgotten by most.

 

A dead language, resurrected.