ENDRALON.SPACE · ČLÁNEK
5. 7. 2026
III ZHABEYMEEM
ZhaBeyMeem lived in Zhenshusheyhoolia near the rail line Dahabhenee. He was not from here. He was an alluvium even from another planet near the curvature of Hucenbab, so it was good for him to live near Aktamo Temple, considering that it reached its tip into other dimensions. It reminded him of home, which his home was and was not, because at the same time half of his being was on the other side of the curvature. He'd come to FX6FEE through the recruitment of the Sharp-Philisters. They smuggled him through the TheGYWSAIN, Go Yest Whereas Sensible Ay Isn't, which has NO official stop.
But The Djiboutian Sharp-Philisters have always managed to break into space-time. Contributing to this was the fact that the planetary confederation of PEACEMOT refused to recognize them as a separate planet, thus removing them from the process of a space tracing. So the Sharp-Philisters have found their own way to deal with the indifference of The PEACEMOT and get out of their long-standing frustration. They hated The Balinquist missiles most, because they traccooed themselves with the color of a swampie. And the swampie is mined guess where.
Exactly. On Sir ZhaBeyMeem's home planet, Colontert. "That bitch got her whole arm traccooed with the swampie ink. Do you get it? She didn't deserve anything but a peck between the eyes," ZhaBeyMeem snapped at the cook. "Give me more choulen!" The cook put another puffed fish with the spines all over it on his plate.
ZhaBeyMeem stuck a fork in it. Hot steam came out of the still hot choulen and then it burst. ZhaBeyMeem bit into it and gradually swallowed it without cutting it. A smearla dripped from his mouth and onto the leather jacket of Moreian Beauties. "Damn! Hand me the rag!" he hollered to the cook. He slid with the tip of his knife the rag across the table.
"Tsss," ZhaBeyMeem commented, taking a swig of water from a dirty glass with round protrusions. His brain was blood purified. He hadn't had such a big drink in a long time. He was absent-minded. The cook was finally able to clean his cubicle in peace. As he swept in front of the outside counter, something made him look up at the top of Aktamo Temple. Lightning bolts were whipping out of the dimensions, and they were rumbling quite a bit.
It's going to rain, he thought, and it will. Soon a heavenly piss came down. ZhaBeyMeem continued to sit on a bar stool behind the counter, the rain patting his back, but he didn't care. He's seen worse when he was a kid working in swampie mines. He's still suffering the effects of it today. He twisted his toes. It still hurt. It was all in a metal harness and it clicked when he walked. The first time he realized how wasteful it was to traccoo the fucking bitches here with swampie ink, that he'd spent his entire fucking childhood working for these fucking Balinquists... something snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder, at the end of the street, someone was fighting.
"Huh?" A Ba was hovering over the road, attacking a group of ficans. "Fuck, one never has peace here. What the fuck is a fucking Bacish thrac doing in Zhenshusheyhoolia?" ZhaBeyMeem barked, pulling out a high pressure rod and aiming it into a roar of screams and pain. The Ba had already mowed down two or three ficans.
"Hey, hey, hokenshir!" Someone shouted excitedly. Everybody turned to ZhaBeyMeem, who waited for nothing, but ran and jumped on top of the Bacish thrac and started beating him up. When the Ba was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, his tongues out of his head, ZhaBeyMeem looked up and saw more the Bacish thracs huddled around the top of Aktamo temple.
"Well, fuck me. Clean it up," he ordered more ficans and made his way to the central. He must inform MahammuFlaytra that the dimension to Moshquenseer had opened and the Bacish thracs were forging something. The Bacish thrac is not a mosquito even you thought it was, you sweaty pie. It's a real beast, weighs over a pound, and the fact that it's ventured outside the Hajin Zone indicates that there's a much bigger danger than space tourists coming, ZhaBeyMeem thought. He still radioed in to headquarters, but he hadn't realized that things were about to get a lot more fucked up.
He parked danda next to fa in front of The FORÉ bureau for Nastreenfaat1589XCaemino in Zhenshusheyhoolia. The fact that the headquarters was here indicated that there were some efforts to decentralize the government. ZhaBeyMeem slung his backpack onto his back, grabbed the high-pressure rod, slung a fusion tekhocot over his shoulders, and with a rumble all his own, set off for MahammuFlaytra.
The Hokenshirs were running out of the building. "What's so disturbing?" ZhaBeyMeem thought to himself as he heard the gunshots. On his way to the headman's office, he found a couple of hokenshirs shot. He put the fusion tekhocot on standby, at which point purple arcs flew around him, clearing the environment of intergalactic larvae and other entities, and watched the viewfinder for movement.
The fusion tekhocot kicked into full swing, creating a razor ball of swirling air around ZhaBeyMeem, slamming anything that entered his space. Slowly, it advanced forward. He passed through the lobby, papers flying around. Inside the office, MahammuFlaytra sat behind his desk, dark spiked round glasses on his eyes, shattered glass behind him, the wind blowing in and swirling his hair.
"Mahammu! Mahammu! Are you okay?" ZhaBeyMeem shouted at him, but MahammuFlaytra didn't answer. All of a sudden, he tumbled backwards onto his chair and fell out the window along with it. "Fuck," ZhaBeyMeem said. He stepped to the edge of the broken window. MahammuFlaytra lay broken on the pavement. On maefee the dimension to Moshquenseer opened, MahammuFlaytra had been shot. And around the tower of Aktamo temple, the Bacish thracs continued to converge, and ZhaBeyMeem lost a good friend andNastreenfaat1589 XCaemino's leader. A huge loss, especially for The Djiboutian Sharp-Philisters.
