(It goes without saying that this tale is about some folk who live in a different universe...)
The demonster hopped from zone to zone, casting the more unsavoury parts of its body into the sidelines but as soon as one part went the way of its predecessor, another grew for ungrafting.
The citizens by this time had become accustomed to these busy, busy, busy critters riddling their streets with lumps of their skin cancer as well as the more dick-dory appendages. . .and almost welcomed this offure for their gardens. For once planted. these discards grew.quite quickly.into trees of interlocking tumours bearing. within days, great big dollops of putrid fruit.
“Nuff to keep us goin’ in these hardening times...” would say Ol’ Ma Manning.as she harvested the over-rich ruptures and melonheads from the meshed vines of her own particular zone
Only the demonsters could straddle the zones. For one zone was as distant from any other by time rather than space - and it was time of wnich the citizens had very little.
“Gif me jus’ one hour extra before I do die, and I will use it to do good for others.But fings being like they are, I’ve got no time but for meself,” Ol’ Ma Manning repeated to her neighbour as they leant across the zone fence.
“Times is ‘ard ‘ere too,” came back the usual response.
The demonsters took such conversations between the two zones, toting message pads like there were no tomorrows.
But,one day,the demonster of which we speak.entered burn-up on a particularly energetic gambol between two tight interfaces.
In transit, it jettisoned its beer belly, that had been particularly scorched, into a field that was near unto where O1’ Ma Manning was pegging up her late husband’s trews on the washing-line.
“Gor blimey, enuffer bleedin’ oo-fo,” she told the ghost of her husband who was evidently just the wind ballooning out the trews.
The zones nudge each other in the night, like an audience at a saucy film.
And from the tightening ancient furrow between two eroding historie, .there bloomed a swollen bagging of blood atop a mighty tree-stalk of mottled, knotted flesh that threatened to encroach on another universe.
The demonsters clamber it like an infant school of spiders, apparently zoned out and looking for Earth itself.
(Divine Rights 1988)
