“All that we see or seem/ is but a dream within a dream.”
-Edgar Allen Poe
What May Suffice for a Beginning
Since I left the Society fifteen years ago, I had almost forgotten about it. I moved to Malibu, California where I made a career for myself as Rex Rod, an acclaimed male porn star, famous for his physical and intellectual endowment. I was the star of “Indiana Bones and the Lubricious Cave.” I secured the role by summarizing Sumerian mythology for slack-jawed producers and scriptwriters. The impression was indelible. “Damn it, Charles! He fucks like a horse and reads like a nerd.” Soon I monopolized the horny-professor/scientist niche. Now I live in a gorgeous ocean-front condo with supermodels. I make a lot of money and do what I want. God bless America.
Given my success, is it any wonder I forgot about the Society? I was sure I’d never to hear from them again. Until last night, that is.
I was sitting in my living room, getting ready to masturbate, when the front door burst open in a cloud of splinters. I tried to clean a glob of KY from my wrist but was blinded by a flash of light. “Recite the Holy Names!” boomed two voices through the glare—one male and one female. As the explosive light faded, my eyes refocused on two cowled figures standing across the coffee table. I was confused, but I recalled their command and coughed up the Holy Names peremptorily, like a guilty child answering an authority figure.
“Whiskey, Testicles, Pentacles, Cthulhu!”
There ensued a tense silence. For a moment, the two figures continued to confront me with the same pompous ceremonial affectation. But slowly, with an almost deliberate sense of anticipation, they bowed their heads and lowered their hoods—looking up to meet my gaze in a final dramatic gesture. I recognized them instantly: Frater Marduk Sunshitter and Sister Elektra Penis-Envy. And as they figure prominently in this story, I think I should venture general descriptions of these Magi.
Frater Marduk Sunshitter is the wisest member of the Society. He is, as such, older in appearance and slouches under the weight of three hundred Magickal degrees. When asked for further elucidation upon his characteristically cryptic answers, he strokes his long white beard and stares into infinite space. Therein lies his wisdom.
Sister Elektra Penis-Envy is a woman who, despite the prevailing masculine hierarchy of Western Magickal systems, forced her way into ranks of hitherto gender-exclusive societies. Some claim that she fucked her way to the top, and may have even consorted with Aleister Crowley, albeit in astral form. Others claim that she organized a number of women’s coalitions and the ACLU lobby the Secret Chiefs.
Without hesitation, they apprised the situation at hand.
“Frater Thule has escaped before his time,” Marduk said, “and with a terrible secret, I’m afraid. After the confirmation of his last degree, Thule was granted access to Formula XXXL-1, which allows the magus to assume the shape of any physical object. However, the procedure also makes the magus susceptible to erection, and depending on the girth, the penis will assume a corresponding degree of visibility.”
“Imagine a floating penis,” Elektra said, licking her lips.
“Yes,” Marduk said, “and if that penis were to be touched by anyone else, the Magus would then appear whole, resulting in fear first, inquiry second, and finally the gradual dissolution of our societies and further occultation of the occult.”
Marduk stroked his beard.
“And how am I supposed to help?” I said.
“Given your former membership in the Society,” Marduk said, “you are not in a position to underestimate the importance or reality of this situation. Moreover, you will lead us to Frater Thule.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“No, but where he might be. It just so happens that Frater Thule, while in use of said formula, will naturally gravitate towards exponential pools of sexual energy, i.e., porn sets. It is a built-in failsafe in the formula to keep anyone from abusing his power. And as a porn star, you have unlimited access to these pools, giving us a greater chance of finding Frater Thule.”
“In return for your service,” Elektra said, “the Society is ready to give you a million dollars and, if you like, readmission to the order with the highest degree. I myself will perform in the sacramental titty-fuck.”
None of this came to me as a surprise. The world of the occult is rife with power struggles, ridiculous scenarios, and such profound buffoonery the layman will never understand. Willing or not, I had to help, because I’m already part of the story.
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