Sincadinna in Thrall

Sincadinna felt restless that day. Sunlight was going to last another three months and he felt hot and sticky. His legs itched to run around. Or perhaps skip or jump. It would all depend on the scenery. He yawned and stretched, knocking over a table with a teapot, a palm tree giving shade to the teapot and a squirrel that was taking a constant-morning nap on the tree. The table clattered as he toppled over, the teapot clinked and giggled before making an agile landing the right side up. The tree made a graceful fall with a thud and a rustle. And the squirrel, woken up rudely, chattered at him some fluent prestoran* curses. Some King of the Worlds!


Sincadinna, head-rushed and flustered with all the graphic prestoran, bowed to apologize to the squirrel, flinging out a generous hand eloquently, thereby knocking over the table again. The table now hit the wall with one bounce, and groaned. The squirrel jumped back alarmed and ran away, afraid he might try more peaceful gestures.


The teapot cooed to him "You wanted to take a walk, sire?" Sincadinna stared at the teapot annoyed, he had forgotten she could read his mind. It was like having a damned wife! But she did pour good tea. Standing up had drained away most of his energy and he actually wanted to take another nap, but he didn't like the arch insinuation in her voice. He wobbled indignantly


"Don't use that tone with me!" he growled


The teapot shimmied in a chuckle. A bit of tea came out of her spout and she raised her pitch to the high seas.


"Oops! Sorry, mighty lord and master, is this tone better? I didn't mean to offend you, I would bow but I'm nearly full, as are you." Her spout gestured meaningfully at his generous jelly midsection


Sincadinna muttered under his breath about the syltinac imastofaric insubordination you had to put up with these days, turned and stalked out of the orange web his head held high.


He stood on the edge of the cosmos and looked down moodily. The World below was all dark and dingy, like an art movie. People wailed sorrowfully in exactly the right key. The key that made you want to kill yourself, and then them too. There were tears and blood running in the streets like rivers, all pooled into a lake in the center that was filled with a reddish liquid. Sincadinna made a face. Gross. Deletrina again.


Seemed like Deletrina was the first World he saw every time he stepped out these days. Maybe his mood had something to do with it, after all. He made a mental note to consult with Humtrifin, his personal mad scientist about this. He reached down into his skirt and pulled out a sticky pink Cosmote.


He pushed Next on it. The World changed into a bright colourful field filled with balloons and party festoons. The whole World was crisscrossed with multicolor handkerchiefs knotted and tied end to end. Clowns roamed the streets with more handkerchiefs, tying and retying knots, changing directions and making and breaking handkerchief paths in one huge confusing medley. A tinny high-pitched music ran through the World.


He shut his eyes and winced. Slaptickus. Too loud. Too happy. Too busy. He vowed to try and get Slaptickus and Deletrina together somehow and have them learn from each other. All this paradox was really annoying. P...S... He thought laboriously, as he made a mental footnote to his earlier mental note to Humtrifin.


Sincadinna pushed the Random button this time on his pink sticky Cosmote. Maybe something new would show up. Something bouncy and skippable. He looked down. There was an unfamiliar World below, covered mostly in green grass. Or something that looked like green grass. Sincadinna was not a shy guy. He bent down and shouted


"AARE YOUU GRRRRRAAASSSSS?"


The green spread below waved and murmured "Mmmmayybee"


As he looked closely, Sincadinna saw a few boulders through the green grass. Not boulders exactly, but elevated buttresses with a smooth top in the midst of the field, that formed a rough path in some direction. In fact the tops looked very like trampolines.


Sincadinna could not figure where they led but they looked eminently jumpable. He rubbed his claws together in glee. A carefree jump across a green field on trampolines sounded just about right!


He scrambled up to his feet, raised a pioneering claw to the skies and with the warcry "OOOOOOOTHECAAAAAAAAAAAAA", he leaped off his home-planet, his skirt billowing magnificently in the nitrousy breeze. He looked down, he had remembered to wear his spotted knickers today, thankfully. He didn't want another Ugh Indecency Awareness Seminar with the Grand Excellent Amazing InterWorldary Sartoria Guidance Council


He looked down. Planet Benzofluoranthene (Sincadinna liked to think of silly names for new planets) was approaching rapidly.


By some miracle, Sincadinna landed squarely on the first plateau, which reeled under the unexpected pleasure. He was right, it was indeed a trampoline-buttress. The trampoline was dark and of a supple elastic mattressy material that felt supremely comfortable. He landed with a smug thulp and then went flying back up to the cosmos again. The new planet had quite an atmosphere. Purplish-yellow gases swirled around it in mystic patterns. The air smelled of a smooth combination of seashells and green Chimatsu*, with a hint of cabbage. Sincadinna's stomach grumbled. His favorite!


Finally, after bouncing Sincadinna's squealing behind for a while, the tortured trampoline huffed and puffed and lay still. Its precious cargo was busily actionizing his next scheduled nap, as he looked around. The trampoline was blank and black, and barren. There were no sights or sounds or lifes on it, it was completely empty.


Sincadinna edged to the edge of a buttress and looked down at the green grass. He noticed smaller trampolines sprinkled in the landscape, too far away to make out clearly. The grass was gorgeous and stunningly green.


The next buttress caught the corner of his eye and riveted it. He turned up fully to look at it, sucking in his ample tummy and he whistled in wonder. The buttress itself was a tree not a lump of plateauing rock like his current buttress. But that wasn't the wonderful part. The tree looked exactly like a money tree.


Currencies of every planet hung from its branches like washed underwear. Some of the fruits actually WERE underwear(washed and otherwise) which happened to be the currency of Yeast Funga. It was fabulous. The tree bore fruit of every currency from the big salted glaring fish of Jerifendomil, to the chattering flying squirrels of Serdifisten. He recognized the currencies of Slaptickus, Hemsnutfis, Blatteranty, Deletrina, even the flimsy pieces of paper that a few obscure throwback planets still used.


There were many currencies he didn't recognize like Bleating husbands, Vindanium birds, strange, unusual and uneasy objects all hung in uniform randomness around the giant tree that seemed to be blossoming in high season. Denominations, early editions, the tree simply hung the fortune of many Worlds, all splendidly attractive and temptful.


On top of the tree was another trampoline that was filled with citizens of all the Worlds. There were water lights, foods of many lands and flowing Chimastu in multi color flavors, and everyone was having the time of their lives. Fowl, furniture, men, women, children, electricalities, technicalities, creatures from every World and description all jumped together in perfect harmony and utter bliss gorging, drinking, playing and napping. It looked like the party of the seminallium. And he hadn't been invited.


Incredibly offended, Sincadinna crossed his hindpaws and forepaws, and uttered a dignified "HEY" which contained exactly the right quantity of offended, but uncaring, outrage. No one took any notice. Now Sincadinna lost his temper. The King of the Worlds had spoken. How dared they! He stomped his foot hard, preparatory for another eloquent "Hey" at them, when the trampoline promptly bounced him into the air. Still no one on the money tree took any notice of him. A squirrel and a chest of drawers were getting very cosy indeed in front of his very eyes, everyone was cheering them on, but he was royally ignored.


Incensed and muttering loudly now, Sincadinna started bouncing on his buttress, higher and higher, until he had enough momentum to jump on to the evil Money-tree-party-trampoline and he went flying and crying again in slightly hurt overtones "OOOOOOOOOOThecaaaaaaaaa". He looked down, he was going to land squarely on the chest of drawers, as it opened up its uppermost drawer for the leering squirrel. Hore!


When Sincadinna landed, he had his eyes tightly closed. If he landed on something squishy or slimy, he didn't want to see it coming. He landed on the trampoline itself and thankfully, nothing tingled him. He unfurled one bulbous eye cautiously. There was black trampoline all around. No party. He edged to the edge of the trampoline and looked down. It was a plain buttress, no money tree. He rubbed his eyes with a disbelieving paw. Still nothing, though his eye itched. Just rock and trampoline.


Sincadinna looked up at the trampoline he had just vacated. His breath caught in his nostrils and he made a sniffle in wonder. In place of the black rock and trampoline, was a huge spiraling corkscrew made completely of polished silver mirror. It was twisting rapidly into the air, erupting from the earth with an imagined whirring and rotating up the World reflecting light from every direction. Every instant of every inch showed a thousand views of the World.


Then he saw a fox on it. A red gold fox with a long sharp pointed snout. Sincadinna fingered his own blunt noggin enviously. The fox seemed to be climbing up the corkscrew mirror faster than the mirror itself could turn. Sincadinna made a loud whooping cheer for the fox. Then he looked more closely, and it seemed like the fox was chasing his own tail. He peered into the mirror screw every now and then, and seemed convinced that his tail was just around the corner and faster and faster he ran.


The little fox was now very close to the smooth top of the mirror-corkscrew-buttress. He reached it with one last mighty heave and dropped down dead. Sincadinna bowed deeply in respect and took off his hat before remembering that he didn’t have one. When he looked up, the fox was gone. He looked down, the fox was alive again, and chasing his tail up the corkscrew mirror again. Or maybe this was another fox, he seemed more orangy gold…Funny...


Sincadinna hopped up and down his trampoline meditatively. His last heroic brain cell woke up with a shudder and thought about the whole thing. Then he got it!


It was all one giant illusion. That, of course, satisfactorily explained why they ignored Sincadinna the Lazy King of The Worlds. ZANKY! he thought to himself with a wide grin, although he did feel a fleeting pain at the lack of the money tree. But the illusions were still awesomeness. He pulled out his pink Cosmote, as he stared at the second fox die on the mirror. This planet was definitely going on his Favorites clacklist.


He then turned around and made in a dignified wobble to the other end of the trampoline to look at the next buttress. It was an incredibly complex fountain of jet black water. The water wove in and out as black thin jet streams in many directions at once, and seemed to have no beginning or end. The water also had a heaviness about it, as though someone had mixed plenty sugar in it. It looked stark and magnificent in the intensely green backdrop. On top of the fountain where it shot out to form a uniform mushroom top, there were all kinds of living things, drinking from it, bathing in it, and doing all manners of fascinating, disgusting and clever things. But the fountain never seemed to run out, it ran on and on like an eternal dynamo.


He peered closely at it. It was not black water, it was oil, dark, viscous and shiny. Oooth, it was a long time since he had an oil bath. He bounced on his trampoline and made a leap into the fountain. And landed, predictably, on the next trampoline. The kaleidoscopic oil fountain was gone, and the money tree party was back on the trampoline he had just vacated. He searched in vain for the squirrel that was just about to hit the chest of drawers, but they were nowhere to be seen.


He stared at the glittering party for a while, and lumbered to the other edge to look at the next buttress. It was a pure pink replica of a Worwishness*, the worship site of Worwish* World. It was much bigger than the actual Worwish model and intricately designed and built.


The Worwish religion was the superclass of every other religion in the World, although some obscure pagans like the HuppHuppers* practiced multiple inheritance that diluted their purity. The Worwish Gods were bigger, better and cleaner than all their child religions, and everyone who was anyone in the Worlds, practiced Worwish. Sincadinna himself wore a Worwish armpit flower, although he found himself dancing involuntarily to the HuppHupp religional songs sometimes. But of course, as King of the Worlds, he was required to be Worwish.


Sincadinna stared at the beautiful Worwishness, handscaped in the placidest of pinks. On its top was a big soft beautiful pink cloud on which all manner of living things were lying down together, with an expression of utter bliss on their bodies.


He traced back to start a bounce onto the peaceful Worwishness cloud when he realized he was utterly exhausted with all the staring and jumping and there was probably just another illusion there anyway. He strained to look at as many more buttresses as he could, but the others were distant specks and he couldn’t make them out, even with his long-sight eye. There were many many of them, high, low, wide, thin, big and small. There was one more he could see though, far far away, it must have been huge to be visible from where he bounced.


It was a cold metallic nuclear warhead, whose tip was a faint pin point. Around the tip flew a circle of white handkerchiefs. Sincadinna rubbed his eyes and looked closely. They looked more like white doves. He would love to try that jump just to see if he could balance his graceful body on the tip of that conical head. He looked away sadly. It was nap time, and there was nothing more to be said about it. He peered down. The grass was waving again at him. He waved back "Goodbye for now"


"Whoooeeee" murmured the grass back at him


He looked down over the edge of the trampoline tried to see the end of the World, but it was too far away, and the horizon was pure green. There was grass everywhere, except for the paths made by the trampolines. He sighed and began to bounce back to the money tree party as he wound his way home.


Sincadinna pulled his pink Cosmote as he reached the first trampoline and hit Home. His World appeared cozily on top. He bounced up and landed on his porch, and fell asleep.


Much much later, Sincadinna summoned Humtrifin. Humtrifin heard Sincadinna’s whole narrative, punctured with hazardous waving gestures and waggling belly and spoke in a warm throaty bedroom purr. The teapot shimmered appreciatively, and Sincadinna glared at her.


"Sire, if I may, Benzofluoranthene is not a suitable name for anything! Besides, the World you have visited already has a name. It is called Thrall. She is one of our more obsolete worlds, a very dangerous and addictive one. Those trampoline plateaus are called Conclusions. You can bounce around in Thrall for years, and never want to come back. Your nap has saved your life!"


Sincadinna patted his belly satisfied "I always knew my naps were critical for the Worlds" The teapot snorted.



****


*Prestoran - The hydrochloric tongue of old Prestora. It is said that the really vile Prestoran curses could kill a target instantly by sending him/her/it/them into an eternal shame spiral. Prestora itself was destroyed by its own shame spirals that had gathered enough centripetal force to consume the whole planet. There are still some last Prestorans left today who exist in some obscure worlds, but no one can talk to them and live to tell the tale, except of course, politicians and condoms.


*Syltinac imastofaric - Some examples of Prestoran curses. Their meanings have been lost forever in obscurity, but they still evoke instinctive intense shame and disgust in the cursee. The curse at hand here probably had something to do with a rabbit and a few severed fingernails


*Chimatsu - A drink often called the Mead of the Heavens. It came in many colors and flavors. Some of its common names included Dorinde, Perrimarum, Vodka, etc.


*HuppHupp, HuppHuppers - The religion whose Gods demanded dance sacrifices and huge quantities of jewelry. The planet HuppHupp was one of the most twisty places in the Worlds