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The logo for the fantasy comedy parody, "The Epiflairy," written in Adobe Caslon Pro Small Caps in gold and having a coarse appearance, similar to the Lord of the Rings logo.
Wavy Òchen does her part in flooding broad Ürt, because it's required.

BOOK II

SUSCROFA


This new figure, humanity, had existed for a mere many million years

when Sån, the great eye, had a horrible feeling impregnated inside her.

As Sån, daughter of Faír, stared down on the earth from the distance of

the cosmos, she grimly recalled the horrific events at the home of Suscrofa,

a recent occurrence—at least to the gods above—and only barely rumored.


Deeply disgusted and heavily enraged, as only the sun could be as such,

she called an assembly of all the other gods and all replied to her call.

Some arrived immediately; others did so reluctantly after feeling like

doing nothing all day; others refused to show up, much to the chagrin

of the middle group. Sån harangued and screamed at these gods to

show up for the meeting, whether they wanted to or not.


In nights without clouds and light pollution, a faint swirl of light can

be seen; it can be viewed next to the throne of the vain queen Cassiopeia

and pointed at by her servant Schedar; you can also find this swirl hovering

over the middle of the topmost streamer of the Square of Pegasus, when it

can be seen on its side as a diamond, a square on its side.


It is known to men as the Andromeda galaxy, most famous for its whiteness

and subsequently the outrage, hate, and oppression it receives from left-wing

Zoomers. This is the path the gods must travel to the palace of the mighty sun.

The highly-crowded halls of marble all around the palace, protected behind

a pair of grand, golden gates, are the home of the highest gods.


The everyday deities reside outside, upon the jagged crags of Jolí;

inside the halls, under the starry ceilings supported by elongated golden

beams with no apparent top, is where the elite gods have established their homes.

And Jolí is the place where, if I could muster the hardihood to say so,

I'd not be scared to describe as the Capitol Hill of the firmament—

at least, not the current state of it anyway.


After the gods had taken seats at the massive table, queenly Sån,

enthroned on her might dais, shook the long, blonde locks of her

hair four times, temporarily disrupting all communication on the earth,

then opened her mouth to exude her fury in this specific manner:


“The fear and dread I feel in my hot heart this moment for the

autonomous dominance of the universe is equal to when the

Lest, our offspring, were being and thus threatening our control

over all the cosmos and make it in their own thoughts.


Like the vile Lest before them just for existing, I now am forced

to commit all of humanity to death and destruction wherever

the ocean lusts over the earth and kept away from the great turtle.

By the flowing water of the Delaware River below, I swear to us

that I will do it! This species is a disease beyond remedy!


We have our demigods, those powerful deities of the country

including nymphs and other beasts, the aquatic creatures

residing in the lakes of the world. These beings we have not

selected to join us in celestial privileges.


Since they have survived the destruction of the lizards many chapters ago,

in the previous book, do you honors feel that their well-being is secure

when I, the sun that sees all, the reason all life exists, the master of

all you gods, am the victim of plots cooked up by that vile monster Suscrofa?”


The palace was outraged; reason and rationality were pushed aside and

emotions dominated their minds as they called for the life of the malcontent.

All of humanity was stricken with a terrible dread of horrific disaster

that would inevitably arrive and the earth shivered in fear.


The gods were so loyal to Sån that a mere mutter from the queen was

enough to control and calm the loud hubbub; silence fell upon all the gods.


Sån then broke the silence again, like she did at the beginning of

the meeting, to announce this: “Suscrofa has been punished for her crimes,

rest assured; just let me tell of her transgressions and describe the punishment

that she had received in return.


Evil rumors were flying around and reached my ears. Athirst to disprove

these claims, I descended the crags of Mount Jolíand roamed the earth,

a goddess in the form of a mortal. To recount the total amount of evil

and doom would be too lengthy and ghastly to repeat, and the author

has been busy with work and easy distractions to even get this book published!


My discoveries were nothing like the rumors spread around; indeed, the truth

was much, much worse. Passing through these mountains—Fauve, the multicolored

home of the wild beasts, and Jaîpoînt, filled with aged hippies and hillbillies,

I discovered the domain of Suscrofa. I had given a sign that a god had

arrived in the village and the common folk turned to their prayers. Then—”


“What sign did you give the public?” a god in the pantheon asked.

All-seeing Sån was aghast at this interruption, feeling it to be irrelevant

to her tale of horror. “What sign did you give the public?” the god asked again.

The sun replied to this unimportant question thus: “I gave them a sign. Now—”


“What sign did you give the public that a god had arrived on earth?”

the same god asked again. “It's a small detail, but it's still an important

detail that we need to know about!” Another deity replied incredulously,

“What do youmean it's an important detail? We don't even know your name!

Who are you to tell us that an insignificant detail is not so if you yourself

lack the information of your own name for us?”


The first god replied: “You yourself haven't been identified either and you

claim that my name isn't an important detail, like the sign Sån gave!

So since your claims are hypocritical, then any argument you make

is 100% invalid.” The second god complained that the whole thing

was totally irrelevant to the story the great sun was telling about Suscrofa.

The first god retorted that all the details, no matter who seemingly

pointless, were significant to understanding Sån's story.


This ceaseless, pointless argument went on and on and on for quite

a great long while until, at long last, the last modicum of her patience

running thin, almost to the point of nonexistence, did Sån command:

“WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS SHUT THE FUCK UP??!!”


And so, with the command of all-seeing Sån did silence fall and

arguments between any deity cease to be. Attention from all the

gods returned to Sån to tell her terrible tale:


“I had arrived at the domain of Suscrofa. It was a small temporary

home for travelers looking for a place to stay for the night.

I knocked on the door and Suscrofa answered, 'Oh, hello. It's starting

to get dark out. Why don't you come in and stay the night?'


She let me inside; everything seemed all right and nothing out of

the ordinary—the first transgression. Afterward, she offered me

a bed to sleep in for the night. I noticed the blanket has a tiny

unidentifiable type of crumb on it, possibly a piece of stone.

Before I could tell this to her, she noticed the crumb and said,

'Oh, wait a minute. Lemme clean this blanket off a little,' and

picked up the crumb and tossed it away, leaving a clean blanket.


She then divulged a plan to me of offering me some food and

drinks for my mortal body that journeyed a long way. Not content

with just that, she intended to give me breakfast and drinks like

orange juice and milk after I awoke the following morning.


When she turned her back to take care of my hospitality,

my moment had arrived. My sun rays of revenge burnt through

the sky; Suscrofa was surprised by the sudden change from

nighttime to daylight and went outside to see what was happening.


Outdoors, she looked up to the sky, but when she tried to speak,

a deep squeal replaced her words. Her depravity infected the rest

of her body; her bottom teeth turned to fangs and her top ones

into curved tusks as her face elongated unnaturally.


Her clothes and hairs were altered into a coarse, bristly fur;

her arms into legs; her feet and hands into bone-like hooves.

Suscrofa was now transformed into a boar; her evil thoughts

now well-matched for her swinish presentation.


As you can discern clearly, the disease of insanity is holding control

of every single member of the human race without exception!

You'd think that they all joined some sort of evil elite movement!

My sentence is thus: All humans are shit so they must be annihilated!”


And thus spoke Sån. Some empowered her rage further by cheering her

on loudly and obnoxiously; others expressed their praise by clapping

more quietly or nodding silently in agreement.


But nevertheless some comments came flying—and it matters not who

said it: “The eradication of all humans will most definitely be abhorred!

And have you all not forgotten the most recent eras, right from the

previous book as a matter of fact, had no intelligent mortals whatsoever?

Has it been forgotten that there were none to offer us sacrifices and prayers

to our altars? Is this world to be at the mercy of savage wild animals again?”


Such were their inquiries, and again it matters not which deities asked them;

it just mattered that such questions were being asked. Sån assuaged her

fellow gods. She, and she alone, would take care of life on earth;

not just wiping out the current life on earth, but also creating a new

race of beings with a godly birth, unlike the monsters before it.


THE FLOOD


The sun, daughter of fire, considered conspiring with her hot sister Jît

to cause a massive heat wave and drought to eliminate all of man, but

she rejected that plan because it might take too long, to the point of

being frustrating. Instead, she elected a different method of making

all mortals miserable: getting the weather gods to develop storm clouds

in the air and drown out all mankind in a great flood, because, of course.


All the winds of all the directions, all of whom blow the clouds around,

were set loose on the great eye's command.


Nortíst, the northeast wind, flew down to earth on his great, drenched wings—

all eight of them—his horrific countenance enveloped in somber misery;

all of his body hair was a messy collection of storms; his forehead, bridge

of the nose, and bellybutton housed thick white sea smoke; his wings and

his clothes were moistened and dripping wet.


The wind of the northeast was not alone on his trek to the earth,

as all this time—definitely—he was also riding on the back of

the horrendous Tõndurǔr, the storm beast, the son of Èr, who was

there with Nortíst all this time, totally true.


As the monster, who totally, 100% was flying with Nortíst all this time

and was not a last minute addition by the author just moments ago

after typing the description of Nortíst, flew over the earth, he developed

droplets of cold, miserable rainwater, with trillions of droplets entering

the clouds, darkening them, at a neck break pace.


While he flew through the air and flapped his evil wings,

annihilative gales tore apart homes and crumbled mountains;

torrents of rain poured down horizontally, overflowing crops

and voiding a whole year's worth of work, prayers, and labor.


Tõndurǔr, flying through the stormy skies, brought more chaos and

gloom over the earth and all who lived there by whipping his

glowing, forked, um...whip. It would appear as a strike of lightning

on earth and the accompanying thunder was the ground vibrating

from the strikes of Tõndurǔr's mighty whip.


The outrage and wrath of Sån was limited not to only the sky,

her incredible domain; the ocean goddess Òchen aided the

all-seeing sun; she summoned the river nymphs who reside in their

rivers, and when they arrived at flowing Òchen's underwater palace,

which was also inside Òchen herself, she spoke to them:


“A lengthy declamation is unnecessary,” she said. “I need you to

look deep inside yourselves—all of you—for your greatest

strength and might. A mortal woman, Suscrofa, has maltreated

the great eye in the sky, Sån, the sun, who is my cousin—

produced without intercourse upon the birth of her father

and my uncle Faír upon hatching out of the golden egg—

and now all of humanity must be destroyed for the better

of the universe. I need the aid of every single one of you.

It's highly imperative! Destroy your barriers, break down

the floodgates, lose all control of the horses in your rivers,

drown the bastards in your gushing waters until they drown!”


She had spoken. The nymphs of the creeks and rivers returned

to their deep holes from whence they came, then they flowed to

to the bays that lead to the sea in unrestrained pilgrimage.


Òchen, meanwhile, threw herself onto the surface of the earth,

gushing the mother with furious torrents as she trembled from

the pressure and damage.


Breaking free from their restrictive holes, the rivers swallowed the

hills, the valleys, and beyond; the roses along with the corn;

the horses with the cattle; the River Line with the Newark Light Rail.

Homes and public places, those that were able to withstand such

a strong assault and remained strong and erect, were now

sunken by a mammoth, overpowering waves that eradicated

their steeples deep below the surface.


The once-apparent distinction between land, coast, and sea was

blurring with considerable haste. The ocean was overbearing all

the world, altering it into a beach with no seaboard.


In the enormous field where there were once sheep grazing the

grass, the sharks were now feasting on the drowned livestock.

The nymphs of the rivers and creeks looked on at amazement

at temples, towns, buildings, and cities for the first time in

all their immortal lives. The forest was purged of chipmunks and

squirrels originally residing there and now was the home of the oafish,

barking seals; lions, tigers, and bears were struggling to stay above

the violent surface of crashing ocean waves.


STÎF AND LAÎF


The village of Plen lies in the desert, in the land sandwiched

between the river known as the Tigris and its sister, the Euphrates,

at least it was so when both rivers didn't rise up to help flood out

all humanity. Following the flood, it was engulfed by the sea,

turning into yet another flat area of wavy ocean.


At Plen, you can visit a mountain called Pocono, towering skyward,

once the remains of lizards from a book ago, to the clouds and the

stars glowing above, the broken down severed limbs of previous gods.


There's also an acclaimed Hotel Palomar in the town; a music store

featuring the most recent, praised music albums around; and Plen

is also the corporate headquarters Gardner Urban Construction,

founded by Kleiner Mamiya, specializing in vegetation uprooting

for inner city construction, demolition equipment, tax services,

pharmaceutical distribution, chocolate confectioneries, fast food,

covert military operations, and a hell of a lot more! Gardner

Urban Construction™—whatever your heart wishes for, it's

certain that we'll be able to provide it!


As I have finished recalling the perks of the old village of

Plen, as told to me by some of the beautifully-voiced-and-

bodied Tots, the remaining Tots interjected and told me that

nobody has any interest in the public perks of Plen and

that I should just get on with the original story. Since I

have been told so by the grand Tots, I shall continue the story.


At Plen, you can visit a mountain called Pocono, towering skyward,

once the remains of lizards from a book ago, to the clouds and the

stars glowing above, the broken down severed limbs of previous gods.

This was the sole feature that was left standing after being consumed

by the ocean. Here, two people, a man and a woman, were sailing to

the peak poking out of the ocean for refuge.


The man, Stîf, after rowing the small dinghy to the remains of

Pocono, helped the accompanying woman, Laîf, out of the boat.

Upon arrival, the pair sent prayers to the mighty ones above,

to the nymphs of all the mountains, the raging water spirits for

guiding the two to safety, and the goddess without whom nothing

would be or occur: the bright, omniscient daughter of Faír, Sån.


One would not be able to find a most pious duo on the land of the

earth—not even in the present day furthermost East—more

god-fearing and retrogressive than Stîf and Laîf, who assisted in

the torture and mutilation of Plen's homosexuals, and prayed to the

gods above nightly for the complete destruction of the West and

the like-minded people who reside there, for oppressing those

on the East simply by existing and thinking differently from them.


The pervading eye up above saw that the earth was now

a wavy ball of stormy water; just one man appeared to be

all that remained of so many million men and just one woman

appeared to be all that remained of so many million women,

both of them devout worshipers of the divine ones, free of sin.


Using her natural-born heat, she dissipated the clouds and rain;

with the aid of the southwestern wind, she cleared the mists and

fog, exposing the parts of the earth to the sky and exposing the

parts of the sky to the earth.


The heat of Òchen, too, died down. Slowly but surely, she calmed

the tumultuous waters and, with intent to blow, retrieved her conch

horn to signal the nymphs of the creeks and rivers to return to their holes.


Òchen lifted her tanned trumpet, which curves to a spiral from the

mouthpiece to widen out to the ending hole and has various flat spikes

growing up from all sides, whose notes, when she has blown through it

in the midst of the ocean, was just a mere, single asphyxiated note,

a shrill, tinny ringing sound.


As strangled and tinny as the sound was, it signaled the commanded retreat,

heard by all of the water on the world, and all of the water of the world

by which the noise was received were as stifled as the noise itself.


The rivers returned to their channels while the oceans regained their

shores. The flooding impeded; the hills and mountains arose once again;

the pine trees emerged from the sea, soaking wet, dripping; the corporate

headquarters of Gardner Urban Construction returned to the village of Plen.


The world was back to normal; the sun shone brightly in the sky,

observing the reformed, evaporating land, along with the two humans

that appeared to remain in the world; upon catching the glowing sun

in the heavens, the pair abased themselves in Sån, calling the both

of them weak and insignificant ants unworthy of the crusty toe jam

that resides between the toes of the bright sun herself.


After giving the two a sign that a god, or rather goddess

in this case, was going to cause divine communication, Sån thanked

the pair for their lifelong devotion to the immortal ones, then

stated: “You two, Stîf and Laîf, have been devout in your unyielding

fidelity towards us above all your lives and now you have been

given a great honor for your world and your race.”


“If I may be so bold, dear goddess,” Stîf replied timidly as to

have his concerns not be interpreted by the mighty sun, ruler of all the

Jolían gods, the giver of all life, as a blasphemous assault

against her divine authority, “but I feel that we mere specks of

dirt lack any kind of special power to rescue this ravaged land,

filled with no one for whom to care, nor with anything worth saving.”


“I mean not to question your holy power, almighty Sån,” added Laîf,

also showing respect to the powerful goddess and not wishing to be

seen as trying to defy or usurp the dominance of the great sun,

“but I also am unable to conceive how we can improve this dreadful

land, with all those about whom we cared seem to have been killed.”


“Fear not, my loyal subjects,” all-seeing Sån reassured the pair,

“for it is through my divine plans that you two shall save the world

and the human race.” With their confidences receiving holy stimulus,

the newly optimistic pair awaited to hear, right there, what Sån's ideas were.


“Now I want it understood,” the sun commanded, “that regardless of what

possible objections you may possibly have to my ideas, you will follow

my word no matter what. Life on earth depends upon your obedience!”

The two humans agreed gleefully to follow the divine word: “Whatever

it is you require to help save the world and bring your godly assistance

to fix these terrible lands and bring peace and hope, we shall do it!”


Sån, the glowing eye in the sky, lady of all the gods of Mount Jóli,

brightly stared at the two humans, beaming rays of pride at the faithful

dyad. “So be it,” she declared, “To help populate the whole earth with

a more gentler species devoted to us gods above, here is what you must do:


The two of you must engage in lewd intercourse so that dear Laîf

will be impregnated by the seeds of Stîf so that Laîf will create life.

This you must do—for the sake of all humanity!”


The pair were agog at Sån's request. They weren't rather keen on

fulfilling her demands, but did not wish to object to her divine

commands and seen as disobeying her authority. After a moment's

hesitation, the pair mustered up some courage to talk civilly to Sån.


“Dearest Sån, mother of all life,” they replied timidly, “we mean not

to disregard your holy authority, but it's just that we have a simple

problem with your command that might, unfortunately, hinder your

plans: The issue is that the two of us, Stîf and Laîf, are relatives

bound by blood, brother and sister, born from the same mother,

and therefore cannot fornicate with one another, even for humanity.”


Sån glared at the siblings for a little bit in disappointment.

“Well,” she finally said, “I'm very sorry that you feel that way.

You could have resurrected the whole of the human race into

your manner of thinking, as religious and loyal to us Jólians,

no more societal aberrations, the lowlifes being put in their place,

basic public order—now all that seems to be a fleeting fantasy

because you two would have the gall to disobey orders from

a goddess, specifically the sun, because you were too selfish to

consider the needs of all of your fellow humans!


Seeing as you don't want to help save the human race, then

you two siblings shall be left here all alone; the last two

humans remaining on all of earth, both of you living out

your lives with just each other; no one else to sing songs

to you; nobody else to prepare your meals for you;

absolutely no one and nothing, for the rest of your lengthy lives.”


All-seeing Sån slowly started to sally forth back to Mount Jóli;

the siblings were frightened by her warning: the pair would be

the last remaining humans on all of earth with no one else around

for many decades until they get released from this eerie silence

by the doings of Dët and rejoined with the drowned humans

deep beneath the earth within the realm of Onsîn.


“Dear goddess, wait!” the two finally exclaimed. “If this plan of yours

will truly help out the world and prove to be beneficial to

the human race...then, we shall do as requested by your will.”


Sån returned to the duo, pleased with their loyalty. “Why, that is

excellent to hear!” she replied. “Now, so that your faith will not

waver during this time, I will be keeping a watchful eye on you

two just so that you actually obey my commands.”


The two siblings followed the sun's commands to the letter,

knowing that they would breed a new human race, a more

religious race living in fear of the deathless ones, responsible

for everything. Thus, on the sun's holy orders, the both removed

their clothes, leaving nothing but their bare flesh.


Stiffly, the two nude siblings embraced one another, fondling one another's

genitalia slowly. The kisses the two gave started off as sibling,

familial kisses on the forehead before evolving into full-on lip-locking.

Stîf sucked on Laîf's breasts as he and his sister did decades ago from

their mother when they were infants.


Laîf was becoming more and more sodden as Stîf became more solid,

penetrating her below, both now fornicating hungrily and happily.

The siblings had never felt this pleased and this close before in their lives.


The coitus continued for a great while, never wanting it to end.

Laîf embraced her brother tightly than she ever had before, the both

of them sweating copiously, doing it out in the open for the sun to see.


Finally, at long last, the two managed to reach the climax of their

coition simultaneously, yelling loudly as they did so.


Stîf was still inside Laîf when it happened. The passion died off

and the pair remembered their familial relationship and the real

reason why they engaged in intercourse in the first place.


Sån, already watching them, came closer to the siblings, finding

them nude and tired. “Dear goddess,” they cried out to her, “we

have done as you asked.” “Excellent!” replied the great eye.


“I have this feeling that I spurted inside my dear sister,”

stated Stîf. “It's very likely that she will be impregnated with

my child and cause the human race to continue.” Laîf agreed.

“I feel that it will be so as well,” said shining Sån.


As the two kept on asking the goddess for her prayers for

the well-being of their possible seed, a mysterious group

was headed towards the goddess and the nude humans.

The leader of the small group came up to them, then asked,

“Uh, are we interrupting something here?”


It was a small group of humans who had been left homeless

since the great flood. Another group of humans arrived.

And another. And another. And more and more and more.


The nude siblings Stîf and Laîf, wearing nothing but their

flesh on their bones were taken aback at the humans.

They were all supposed to have been killed off. They had

orders to repopulate the human race and now they all live?


“Dear goddess, the bright sun, responsible for all life, light,

and warmth,” the siblings asked, “we mean absolutely no

disrespect nor do we wish to challenge or question your

divine authority, but you claimed that all the humans had

been eradicated and we were the sole ones remaining.


That's why we just fornicated with one another; you commanded

us to continue the human race. So, if we may be so brash,

how come there are now more humans?”


“Oh, right,” replied Sån. She paused for a moment before continuing:

“You see, while I and the massive, wavy Òchen were causing the

great flood to overcome the surface of the earth, it seems that

humanity has still persisted, in spite of the best effort of us immortals,

and the flood didn't seem to kill anyone at all.”


The siblings were still aghast at this situation. The gods are all-powerful

and cared a great deal about their people. Surely, any challenge or

difficulty would just be a test for man, trying to overcome obstacles

and improve their personalities and lives.


“I think we understand it now,” the duo said. “This has been merely a

test of fidelity towards the gods of Jóli, to see that our allegiance shall

never waiver and that the gods, in turn, shall always look after us. Correct?”


From the heavens, lustrous Sån angled closer towards the pious pair,

who were hoping their vulgar actions, as commanded by her, the sun,

would have some beneficial effect for the two of them. After a brief

moment of silence, the agleam sun inhaled for a modicum of a minute,

and opened her mouth to speak these words:


“Nah! I just wanted to fuck around with you!”


With that, the queen of the Jólian gods belted out a lengthy series of

heavy laughs, cackling at the measly siblings' collective expense.

The other groups of humans joined in on the jovial laughter, falling

to the group, clenching their bellies, tears coming from their eyes,

also at the expense of the nude siblings Stîf and Laîf.


THE DEIFICATION OF NADIE


One of the groups of humans was returning to their village

after guffawing and laughing at the misery of Stîf and Laîf

at the expense of the siblings. The group divulged the tale to

the other locals in the village, near the residents' square homes,

humble adobe abodes constructed out of bricks formed from

the moist mud of the earth and dried from the heat of the sun.


Inside these houses are plastered surfaces featuring painted designs

of members of the family, of various of the Jólian gods, each

featured for the appropriate prayers and needs of the residents,

whether it be for good crops or the health of their family, and special

floor designs, including plaid, hexagonal patterns, and rustic style.


In one of these stone houses, there resided a man by the name

of Nadie, a cantankerous, old, elderly man who held an extreme

dislike towards everything modern simply for not being the past

but instead the present, and the adults controlling all, those filthy

peasants who dare want a better life and economic prosperity.

The thoughts and feelings of Nadie would ultimately align with

those to all men, all women, and all beings that reside in the East.


Nadie was in his home reminiscing about the days of order, when all

made logical sense, back when there was still slavery of minorities,

angry about young people existing. Then, as quickly as the tide rises

when Mun gets close to Òchen and how rapidly the sea sets when

the moon retreats further away from the ocean, the life of Nadie

came to an abrupt end.


The terrifying son of black Dãrc, son of broad Ürt who carries

all of man on her belly and bosoms, arrived on the scene to

take Nadie's spirit away from his body and into Onsîn, the

realm of Onsîn the blood-born.


None in the village noticed what had happened to Nadie until

ten days after the event, when the denizens noticed that he was

suddenly stopping complaining about how women should stay

dressed in less revealing clothing than lengthy rags that cover

every single inch of their bodies, leaving no corner uncovered.


They had discovered the lifeless corpse of Nadie. Now they all

had the issue of what to do with it. Several hours of deliberation

among themselves produced no ideas or solutions.


Suddenly, one of the members produced a thought on what to do

with the body. The rest of the group, unable to produce any other

concepts or answers, decided to go ahead with it.


The idea was this: carve a sharp blade out of a stone, use it to

tear the skin, muscle, and tissue off the corpse to remove the

skeleton, take out the internal organs, and, using the plaster

made originally for the construction of the village's homes'

rooms, reconstruct the whole body, using seashells for the

eyes, and painting the areas where the hair earlier was.

This the group did. The plaster solidified. It looked almost

like Nadie, eerily so. The plastered body couldn't walk, or eat,

or converse, or spit at the young people whose most heinous

crime is just struggling to get by and be successful.


Again, the group had to make an important decision regard the

body of Nadie. They ultimately figured that as the realm of

Onsîn, home of the lord of the dead Onsîn, is located in the

land beneath the overground, it would make perfect sense that

the plaster-covered skeleton should be buried deep beneath the earth.

It would serve as a connection between the world of the living and

the world of the deceased, so the passed person could possibly

have effects on the lives on the surface of the earth.


After several decades, these practices soon became adopted throughout

the whole village, then to the village of Plen, and soon all life on earth.


THE ASCENSION OF RULERS


Many more decades had passed until the burial method of the

common people had fallen to the ears of the kings of the valleys,

the chieftains of the settlements, the rulers of the villages.

Among these people was the wise king Borus of the land of Kack.


Borus, son of Boron, was the kind and cordial ruler of Kack,

always helping his people, taking the course of what's best for them,

putting the needs of the public above his own needs and desires.


His throne room, like many a leader before and concurrent with him,

was decorated with idealized tales from his life that had actually happened,

captured on the glazed mud bricks of his palace coated in the most vivid

pigments from crushed stones from mother Ürt herself, with the floors making

contact with gypsum reliefs gilded and colored with materials the likes of solid

gold, lapis lazuli, and emerald.


The brilliantly colored scenes covering the walls depicted idealized events and

fantasies that had actually happened to the good king, Borus, including

the son of Boron forcing the invading forces of Tóneïl IV of Khornhólas

out of Kack and back into his vile homeland with the aid of his and his men's

swords and bows—which would strangle the necks of the king and soldiers

upon the arrows being loosed—and him making offers, prostrating himself

towards the mighty Jolían gods for plentiful crops, excellent condition in

battle against foes, and overall well life for the subjects of king Borus.


The burial method from the other village all those years ago had

reached his notice, along with the ears of his royal assistants.

Although he was presently the king of Kack, having inherited the role

from his late father Boron, who had gained the throne following the

death of his father Augustus, who acquired it from his father Aís,

the idea of funerary processions had never occurred to Borus before.


The good king wondered how he and future rulers would be mourned

and remembered after they had passed on. As he pondered these ideas,

one of his loyal advisers had discreetly taken an iron hammer from a

place unknown and, while the king Borus was considering future

funerary processes, struck him viciously on the head, causing him to

tumble down on the many stone steps of his throne room to his finish.


After the adviser had looked towards his compatriots, he awkwardly

stammered out, “I guess we can find out now.” For the funerary process

of King Borus, his loyal men did this: carve a sharp blade out of a stone,

use it to tear the skin, muscle, and tissue off the corpse to remove the

skeleton, take out the internal organs, and, using plaster, made originally

reconstruct the whole body, using seashells for the eyes, and painting

the areas where the hair earlier was.


His body was buried underground, as was Nadie long ago, to be a

bridge between the world of the living and Onsîn, the realm of the

dead as ruled over by Onsîn, which would hopefully have positive

effects on the land of Kack.


Thus, was Borus, along with his descendants, memorialized in that manner,

for decades to come, until a new ruler, Sòp, son of Dòttur, decreed that this

method of mortuary preservation and preparation for the afterlife would no

longer be practiced for him or future monarchs in the land of Kack

because that method was best suited for the filthy, poor plebs.


His throne room, like many a leader before and concurrent with him,

was decorated with idealized tales from his life that had actually happened,

captured on the glazed mud bricks of his palace coated in the most vivid

pigments from crushed stones from mother Ürt herself, with the floors making

contact with gypsum reliefs gilded and colored with materials the likes of solid

gold, lapis lazuli, and emerald.


The brilliantly colored scenes covering the walls depicted idealized events and

fantasies that had actually happened to the mighty leader, Sòp, including

the son of Dòttur forcing the invading forces of Tóneïl IV of Khornhólas

out of Kack and back into his vile homeland with the aid of his and his men's

swords and bows—which would strangle the necks of the king and soldiers

upon the arrows being loosed—and him making offers, prostrating himself

towards the mighty Jolían gods for plentiful crops, excellent condition in

battle against foes, and overall well life for the subjects of king Sòp.


He consulted his closest advisers about more sophisticated mortuary

ceremonies. One adviser suggested that the corpse be preserved in an

alternate manner, rather than being coated in plaster for housing lesser

villagers. Another one stated that the body should be purged of all hydration

and buried in an ornate coffin. Sòp, after hearing these ideas, was quite

pleased that he, the son of Dòttur, thought of these concepts.


The son of Dòttur, ruler of Kack, when his time arrived, had

no intentions of leaving his throne room behind, nor his belongings,

and wished to take them with him to the afterlife. His servants

initially objected to this, seeing how, upon death, he would be

able to bring his physical items—including his weighty wooden

staff coated with gold and crowned with lapis, his fancy bed

bearing his fine-linen blankets, and his Taylor Swift CDs—

into Onsîn, the realm of the dead.


The king cared not how his servants would let his spirit bring

his personal and favorite belongings from the world of the living

to the world of the dead, just that they do make it happen, so that

they would be ready for the son of Dòttur to use when he ultimately

departs from the world of the living to the world of the dead.


His disgruntled advisers eventually decided on creating a tomb

that resembled the throne room of the king, placing all his

favorite items in the room. Further thinking led to the idea of having

everything considered earthly enjoyments, including dining utensils,

clothing, furniture, and more, being part of the tomb to ensure that

no earthly expense would be spared.


As the years flew by, the king of Kack, Sòp, son of Dòttur,

passed away, moving from the living realm on earth to the

realm of Onsîn, ruled by Onsîn, god of the underworld.

The organs inside were removed and preserved in jars.

The king's body was placed in an ornate, golden coffin

encrusted with sapphire, rubies, emeralds, and turquoise,

capped with an idealized, fantastical death mask so truthful.


This coffin was placed inside a copy of the coffin, only carved

in oak and lacking in any decorative designs; this coffin was

placed inside a copy of the coffin, only carved in oak and lacking

in any decorative designs; this coffin was placed inside a copy of

the coffin, only carved in oak and lacking in any decorative designs;

this coffin was placed inside a copy of the coffin, only carved in oak

and lacking in any decorative designs; this coffin was placed inside a

copy of the coffin, only carved in tree bark and lacking any designs.


The coffins were placed in a tomb made to look like the king's

throne room in life, loaded to the brim with his beloved treasures

and belongings, with larger items strewn around the room, almost

resembling pillars while the smaller items were stored in mighty

cases of wood showcasing absolutely true scenes of Sòp that

were totally made up by his servants and advisers.


The tomb was built inside a pyramidal, mortuary fortress, as grand as

the holiest of temples, aiming from the surface towards the sky,

towards the gods of Mount Jolí, the blessed immortal ones whose

ingrown toenails we measly mortals are worthy not of clipping out

of their bodies, coated in limestone so to catch the rays of shining Sån.


Thus, decades later, were all royalty and rulers across not just the

land of Kack, but all around the world were buried this way upon

their passing. And you can try it at home, too!


MUMMIFICATION TUTORIAL


If you, dear reader, have enough wealth and influence, and either are a ruler in the ancient world who is about to die, or know a such a leader who is already recently dead, you can try out the process of mummification at home.


Duration: 70 days


To accomplish this, you'll need:

  • Deeply pious priests who have extremely high-level knowledge of both human anatomy and the proper prayers and spells for warding off evil spirits and preserving immortality of the deceased.

  • A collection of empty clay jars for saving internal organs to be deposited in the burial chamber with the corpse of the royalty.

  • Many lengthy strips of linen, enough to cover the whole body.

  • An ornate, decorative casket for the body to be placed within a series of caskets for protection.

  • Access to a dry desert environment.

  • An immense amount of power and wealth.

  • Access to an ancient royal family.


  1. Have a member of the royal family die. This is the most important part of the mummification process so that it may start.

  2. Remove most of the internal organs. Cut an incision in the left flank of the body to extract these organs from the corpse: the digestive system, the lungs, the heart, the kidneys, and all internal sexual/reproduction organs.

  3. Important! The only internal organ you keep in the body is the brain. The brain is the center of all intelligence and personality.

  4. Place the removed organs into individual clay jars. Place each discarded organ into one jar: one for the heart, one for the lungs, one for the small intestines, etc. The jars with the organs are to be placed in the tomb with the deceased.

  5. Dry the body out for exactly 40 days. Place the corpse in a dry desert environment with no cooling or coldness, preferably in the desert approximately 80 minutes east of Reno. Leave the body to dry for exactly 40 days.

  6. Fill the interior of the corpse with resin-soaked linens. Bring the body of the deceased royal member back to the palace and have one of the priests fill it up with linens totally soaked in resin, inserting it through the incision in the flank from which the organs were removed.

  7. Close the cut with an amulet. This will close the incision from earlier and the amulet will ward off evil spirits from the deceased royal.

  8. Coat the body with lotions and resins. Then, wrap the body in several yards of linen. The coated body will  cause the linen to stick to it.

  9. Important! Be sure the body has extra amulets to protect it against evil spirits. It is also highly recommended that priests also add spells and enchantments to the front of the linen strips so that the spirit of the deceased, should it be visiting the realm of the living, can easily find the tomb the body is located in.

  10. Cover the head of the mummified corpse with a gilded death mask. The death mask must be an idealized version of the leader's face as it appeared in life.

  11. Place wrapped body with mask into ornate coffin. This first coffin must also be gilded and feature decorations depicting one, or some, or all of the Jolían gods, particularly the blessings and good things they've helped the deceased do.

  12. Place the coffin into another coffin, and that coffin into another coffin, etc. The amount of coffins to nest the innermost coffin can vary, but the final amount must be discussed with the deceased royal family member before death.

  13. Important! The innermost coffin doesn't necessarily have to pay tribute to the Jolían gods. While tributes to the gods and idealized depictions of the royal member's life and accomplishments as they actually appeared are 100% necessary, the order doesn't matter at all. Just be sure that they're featured in the correct order!

  14. Organize the personal belongings of the deceased in the tomb as if it was the throne room for the still-living monarch. Be sure to include all earthly needs in the tomb, including food, utensils, clothing, favorite CDs, etc.

  15. Important! Place as much of the deceased's smaller personal things as possible into decorative chests showcasing idealized events from the life of the leader that actually happened. Put any larger items that can't fit around the tomb neatly and undamaged.

  16. Place statues of the deceased monarch around the tomb. This will guarantee the permanence of the deceased's identity forever.

  17. Have loyal guards defend the deceased's pyramid tomb to defend it from robbers. Royal guards are recommended for this step, as mercenaries might not be entirely loyal and trustworthy. Use hired mercenaries only as a last resort!


And now, you're complete and ready to mummify your deceased ancient ruler!


THE CROW AND MARIPOSA


As funerary practices were evolving the world over, the crow, coated in

glossy, pitch black plumage, was going about his business doing...crow stuff

...that crows usually do, when suddenly, he laid his chestnut eyes upon

a significant animal. This creature was much smaller than he, bearing two

pairs, on either side of her body, of multicolored wings, now in its most

evolved form, gliding through the air.


The insect is regarded by society as holy, having a connection between

the human realm and the realm of the Jolían gods, starting off as

a minute worm-like creature that could only move by crawling slowly

along the barky surface of a tree branch, then engulfing itself in a

silk covering and emerging as a creature of the air, landing only on flowers

in order to ingest the nectar and pollen that the plants birth.


The crow sat on the branch of a laurel tree close to the butterfly.

“Hello there, holy creature,” he spoke to the insect. “By what

name do your own kind call you?” “I am known as Mariposa,”

the insect answered. The two animals became instant friends.


For a few minutes, they got to know more about one another's lives.

The glorious black crow mentioned how he was responsible for saving

all the animals from the incredible wrath of frosty Snö, daughter of

Reîn and Còd. This tale impressed Mariposa greatly.


The two enjoyed their few minutes together. When suddenly, out of nowhere,

a Boeing 747 flew by and, while sparing the crow, mowed Mariposa into

tiny, minute little shredded pieces of butterfly, gently falling to earth.


The crow was horrified at this sudden change in events. The beautiful,

godly, mighty butterfly that he had known for barely a few minutes

had departed the world of the living. Sullenly, the crow flew back

to the branch where he had first met Mariposa.


Waiting until the middle of the night, halfway after the wheel-hoofed

horses pull all-encompassing Ürt towards the dark domain of sane Mun

yet intermediate of the time when the rosy-fingered dawn would make her

presence obvious in her father the sky, the crow painted the branch where

he had first encountered Mariposa black, as dark and glossy as he.

That way, he knew that the day that the butterfly died came to an end.


On the branch, he had removed photographs of him and Mariposa from the

extremely short time they had known one another from the branch, covering

them in discarded newspaper sheets, and placing them in a nearby drawer.

Although it wasn't very long, it felt like a lifetime since evil Slìp, brother of

evil Dët, son of rayless Naít, came to relieve the crow of his gloom, even briefly.


The crow remained haunted by the small memory of Mariposa; he couldn't

do anything he liked or anything he needed to even survive. At long last,

the despondent and amort crow lost all hope and was drained of all happiness,

before finally wilting away, dissolving into minutes pieces of ash, freely

blowing and flowing through the cold, windy air, doomed to be forgotten.


This was the fib that the crow planned to tell the next passerby he encountered.


THE CROW AND MIMIDAE


The crow flew to another tree to discover a mockingbird named Mimidae,

who, like the rest of his ilk, would mimic other noises and sounds it would hear.

The crow told his fib about his non-existent time with Mariposa, as told in

the previous chapter. Mockingbirds are known to be honest creatures, so

perhaps Mimidae would tell him truthfully how effective his lie would be:


As funerary practices were evolving the world over, the crow, coated in

glossy, pitch black plumage, was going about his business doing...crow stuff

...that crows usually do, when suddenly, he laid, etc. etc., etc., so on, and so on.


After hearing the crow's falsehoods, Mimidae, just like his fellow mockingbirds,

replied by mimicking noises and thoughts. In this case, he copied the sounds

and thoughts of something else: those belonging to you, the reader.


“The story you told me is an obvious lie,” Mimidae answered. “The most

blatant fault is that you and Mariposa formed a strong bond despite only

knowing one another for a few measly minutes. How did the aircraft

that kill Mariposa not harm you physically at all? And how did a

Boeing 747 even kill the butterfly even exist when this whole series

takes place in the ancient past, long before the first flight at Kitty Hawk?


You also could no way in hell have photographs to wrap up in newspaper

after a few minutes of getting to know each other. How would even get

newspaper anyway, given that they don't exist yet? It also defies the logic

of this whole series that you just dissolved into nothing after mourning

the butterfly you barely knew for a very short time. Isn't there like a god

that also rules the world of the dead that takes people there when they die?


Overall, I think your story will fool nobody because of all the obvious flaws

in it, especially with youtelling it even though it ended with you dying.

It's very stupid and doesn't make any sense at all.”


The crow was offended by this, explaining, “I took a great long while

to think of all the details. I worked very hard on this, believe it or not!

How could you say that, after all my hard work, my story is impossible

to be taken seriously by passersby?!”


“Well, I am a mockingbird,” replied Mimidae, “and we are known to

be very intelligent.” “Oh, is that so?” answered the crow. With that,

the black-feathered bird got a hold of the mockingbird's neck and

turned it in almost a circular motion, killing him instantly. The crow

then bashed the damaged head now resting on the deceased mockingbird

against the tree branch until it separated from the feather-coated corpse.


Holding the decapitated head of Mimidae in both his wings, the crow

spoke thus to it: “Perhaps, with the aid of your intelligence, my fibs

and stories will now be taken seriously by passersby! I will swallow

your head and, as it digests inside me, your great cleverness will

flow through me, increasing my own. That will teach you to be a

smart aleck and ruin my stories with your logic and reasoning!”


With that, the crow opened his black beak as wide as he could

and threw Mimidae's head all the way back into the back of

his throat, as far as it could go. The crow quickly discovered that

this was a very terrible idea. While he threw the severed head

very far down his throat, the head of Mimidae only ended up

clogging it, restricting the black bird's breathing ability.


The crow could now only produce restricted gagging sounds,

horrible hacking noises, struggling in vain to get the severed

mockingbird head out of his throat. As air failed to run through

his lungs, the crow plummeted from the laurel branch towards the

grass-coated surface below, and finally departed the living world

for the world of the deceased, the body now resting at the forest floor.

The Epiflairy is designed to be parodic
and not intended for readers under the age of 18.

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