Shark Horse (Part 19): Shark Horse Kills Again… In Space!
By: Derek Hobson
“When hamsters are terrorists, Frankenstein monsters areheroes, and sea creatures are specially trained nazis, I don’t think Revelations is all that bad. If anything, it makes better sense as a metaphor because how else would we believe this shit?” -Steve Gowan.
“Those who live as though God sets the rules are not going by their own rules. That is the self-sacrifice that peace requires. Those who insist on going by their own rules cannot make that sacrifice.” -Criss Jami
“I don’t have the evidence to prove that God doesn’t exist, but I so strongly suspect he doesn’t that I don’t want to waste my time.” -Isaac Asimov
“I hate fish.” -Sea Wolf
“F*** fish,” I whispered these words as if they were a prayer. Never before had I ever felt so f***ing… weak. Hell, Shark Whore turned me from a half wolf/half orca/all badass into Lupa once, but I didn’t feel weak, just a little less strong — and a lot less fast. Didn’t matter. F*** it. But in comes space.
Space is big. F*** you faggos for thinking otherwise. Yeah, I bet you thought to yourself in your astronomy class, “Space is f***ing big,” — what the f*** do you know? Space isn’t just big from your little desk, in your little classroom, in your little head. When you take off into space, Earth looks about the size of a pin; its blue face is the back of that pin. No amount of depth perception can remind you that you run on that sphere. You’re grounded on that sphere. But now you’re looking at it like it’s a marshmallow meant for some hot cocoa. F*** going back to Earth. You think we could land this massive spaceship on that tiny thing? You think gravity could sustain us if we did?
What the f*** do you know?
Nothing. Nothing, when you’re sitting at your desk or in your car, or in the shower staring at your tiny dick. Your tiny dick isn’t visible on this level. The Earth is a tiny dick once you’ve been to space. If even that. If EVEN. People like to think, it’s God’s tiny dick and he nurtures it so that it’s used properly. F*** that! This is the tip of a scraggly pube. Space is black because we’re in the thick of some dude’s bush. We’re not the rock-hard phallic cosmos we like to believe, we’re as unnecessary as a f***ing tombstone (but not Tombstone with Val Kilmer and Kurt Russell. That movie is necessary. Way more necessary than the thing in its title. F***, I gotta write that review and send it in to that asshole that emailed his “fan” letter.)
We floated in the emptiness of space for God or Who knows how long.
I couldn’t breathe.
Or I wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t tell which. At the very least, I’d forgotten to breathe. And to all those fatty fishes (see the Lady Cuntessa) who think they’re fat, let me be the first to say that, being weightless, blows. Not blows like a fish’s blowhole, but blows in the sense that it sucks; like if you were to suck water from a blowhole and drown, that’s how much it sucks.
You learn your weight on Earth — you feel it. Suddenly, I weigh nothing. Nothing. My seatbelt doesn’t know what to do with me. Should it keep me locked down? It doesn’t f***ing know. Then, the captain can’t help but remind me that we’re falling. We are falling through space, but because there’s less gravity (not “no” gravity mind you, apparently “zero Gs” is misleading — according to the doctor who read up on space travel), there are some — or is some — G-force, but not a lot. And that’s when Clooney tells me we’re f***ing falling. Thanks doc.
Our ship is falling through space, which is about as close to emptiness as you can get. F*** this. F*** me. F*** space. F*** fish.
“Eh?” I said.
Shark Horse turned to face me – Why? I suppose he wanted to make sure he had my attention like the little prick he was/is – “Sea Wolf, we’re approaching Mengele’s space station.”
He has a f***ing space station? F***.
This massive metal ship comes into view, growing as we near — depth perception means shit in space. It’s this long, tube-looking thing, with a thick, circular disc wrapped around it, but four distinct corners — if you could have corners on a circle — bulged out… like lookouts or something.
I’ll be honest. That didn’t freak me out.
What did freak me out was the fact that it didn’t look like a submarine. I mean, not a traditional submarine. This metal looked like it was built by a chimp who was Darwinned out of Planet of the Apes. The plating looked like it was peeling back off the ship like cheap paint. Who the f*** built this thing? It looked broken and not just in the “old” and abandoned way like a house that’s been condemned. No, this is f***ing broken like an architect whose peddling smack and going through withdrawals from mescaline.
Unless you gave birth to a retarded baby who loved legos, you probably can’t imagine it. It was new-looking, but built like spit and shit were used for glue.
If Mengele was alive with a horde of DolphiNazis, Hitler, and Walt, then why… well. F***. I suppose Hitler would be the only one with functioning hands to build something… and that faggot flunked out of art school.
Surely, they built this before they were all… transformed or whatever.
F*** I don’t know. But it looks like shit. LostShArc, my tits.
“Docking now,” George Clowney’s voice was comforting. Irresistibly charming, I guess you’d call it (… faggo). He walked us through what he was doing as he did it, like we were nurses shadowing his surgeoning skills. I’ll take what I can get though. The only thing that would calm my fears at this point was eating the husband behind me, but I wasn’t “allowed”.
Clooney stayed on the ship and opened the side door for all of us to exit. Now, I was scared.
It wasn’t like space, it was a space station. A shittily crafted space station. We were leaving our working ship to hop aboard a broken down, massive hulking piece of shit — likely populated by DolphiNazis. F***.
I saw little jets of white air or what I assumed was air, I couldn’t hear a thing. The door behind us sealed, leaving us in a closed passage with no way out. (F*** fish.)
Suddenly… I heard an outside noise. A vacuum sucking sound and bam! My weight was back. Everyone rocked back and forth a bit – readjusting to our weights.
“Everyone alright?” Shark Whore took the lead, checking in on his crew. They bantered — it wasn’t for me.
A door opened before us were two sets of stairs, parting in either direction and absolutely flooded with water. There was some dim, blue lighting, but clearly it wasn’t for our “gifted” eyes. The doctor mentioned going to the right for whatever. F*** this.
I brought up the rear because why not? Gave me a moment to get my bearings. I stepped on the top of the stairs and it rattled. I thought it was going to snap, I didn’t realize I was so f***ing scared, I was shivering. F***!
I slumped into the water and the swooshing was louder than I would’ve liked. I looked behind me under the water and it was blue for about six feet before blackness consumed all. I couldn’t see shit. I popped my head up above the water to see if the rounded archway offered anymore light. None. This was f***ing stupid. I turned back around and saw the husband disappear into the blackness up ahead. I didn’t want to be left alone, so I followed.
There was a slight current in the water. It was pushing in the opposite direction we were going. I understood now that we must be in. That ring that wrapped around this long space station was where we were and the current was how they quickly got from place to place. You know, instead of a f***ing elevator.
I could hear Shark Whore and company in my head set, talking back and forth about Mengele’s plan; about stopping Hitler. I could care less. I was focused on that husband’s legs.
“What?” I whispered. I didn’t need to whisper, it was a f***ing intercom, but I didn’t feel alone. Something passed by. I thought I felt safe in my suit, like it was armor, but it was paper thin. It wouldn’t protect me from shit. In fact, I think it was blocking my senses, that must have been it.
The lights flickered. The current distorted for a minute and resumed. I pressed my back against the wall. I scanned the room, slowly. Nothing but metal tubes and vents running alongside our pathway. Silence.
“Hey, Shark Horse,” I radioed.
Some bubbles rose from the vents.
The lights flickered again. I was perfectly alighted underneath, so I sidled along. If I could just get to darkness, then perhaps I could see what’s been following me.
I edged to the shadow, the darkness unmoving. My paw was inches from the blackness.
I looked behind me. Nothing in the light. No changes in the current.
There was something there. Just beyond the shadows. Something lurking. Something floating. It’s eyes were resting on me. It was glaring. Chills ran up my arms. I felt numb and dumbly clung to the vent to keep the current from pulling me towards it. I couldn’t see a thing, but it was there. It’s eyes beaming at me; piercing me. It wasn’t an observer… it was a predator. It was hunting.
I needed a decoy. Something! The low swishing of water sounded ominous. I was in a f***ing fish bowl. I heard a metal pipe bend. F***. I needed something to throw in there. A cloth, a blanket. Something to shroud whatever was back at the end of that hallway. But what? But–
A silver tail swished into the light and suddenly I was thrust backwards into the blackness. F***! Whatever was there, must’ve taken off with the current and it was strong enough to propel me backwards — against the current — with a whip of its tail. F***, I’m f***ing Sea Wolf!
I planted my paws and dove forward. The current carried me, zipping me along. The space suit was slowing me down, so shredded through it. No f***ing fish was gonna make a monkey out of me. I swam through the lighting: blue lights, darkness, blue lights, darkness. I was zipping along. This creature might be strong, but it’s not faster than me. No way. Shark Whore could do all the Hitler carpet-munching he wants; I want Mengele.
I could feel the current distorting as I neared.
Blue lights, darkness, blue lights, darkness, red lights, darkness. What?
The light changed. Now it was flickering like an alarm, like sirens. But what was–
The current seemed to stop, the space station rattled. I needed to get out of this corridor. I needed to get off this ship. F*** this. F*** fish.
An army of DolphiNazis, silver bottle-noses doused with red light came into view like a hundred spartan spears. I tried to chomp something, anything, but if I did any damage, it was only dwarfed by the stampede of a pod of assholes.
Everything went black.
“…now… the true fun begins…”
“Boys can… never conquer their fathers… let alone the führer…”
That… that voice.
I opened my eyes. F***, it was bright. I tried to move, but nothing. I looked around and saw a rodent come into view. Dad?
“You foolish mortals… and you Doctor!” Mengele was talking, but not to me. Who?
I looked up and a bit to the left. There was the team. F***, there was the whole team! The doc, the husband and wife were all strapped to a metal tablet like some James Bond shit. The hubby didn’t look too good though, there was a trail of blood dripping from his corpse, down the metal tablet and plinking into the water below. The woman was in tears, she looked battered and bruised. And then, there was the Doc, who looked like he had a hole near his chest — a puncture wound of a DolphiNazi no doubt (f***ers).
Then, there was Shark Horse, strapped to a separate tablet, on his side and some ray was… I don’t know, exfoliating him? What the f*** was going on there.
“You think you can contain the field of Necrotosis, Mengele?!”
Oh, the ray was extracting the Field of Necro-f***-all. Thanks, doc.
“I don’t need to contain it!” Mengele was excited, “I just need to extract it from our greatest adversary and threat. Hah!” He laughed and I won’t lie, it reminded me of the good ol’ days, when we’d crunch on a few craniums of unsuspecting douchebags and laugh into the night.
“It’s no good!” Shark Whore was talking. I can pass my thoughts around, but I can’t drift inside of these assholes!”
“Of course not, Shark Horse!” Mengele sounded a little different, “Both Mengele and myself researched deeply into the mythology surrounding the vampires and Shark-Jesus. We saw this coming light years beyond you and even if you were intelligent enough to take on myself or Mengele, you couldn’t handle BOTH of us! We’ve planned for every scenario!”
“You– you mean?”
“Yes,” then the rodent laughed in a way that was inhuman — I mean, you know what I mean, “Mengele and I combined forces! We share space in this rodent, which admittedly, is fine for me,” his voice changed, “Not so much for me, but of course, Walt does enjoy his rodents.”
Oh shit. It all made sense. Walt Disney and Prof. Mengele were living in the same body. They- that’s- f***!
“Shark Horse!” The doc winked or something at faggo.
“HAahAHaH!” Mengele’s and Walt’s voices resonated like some auto-tune shit, “When we said that we’ve planned for every scenario, did you not think we planned for Shark Horse’s drifting ability? Did you think we combined forces first?! HahAH! Like any good scientist, we practiced on others before we tried it on ourselves. Our DolphiNazis are the end result and they are controlled by none other than our führer.”
Out of the water, surrounding this lab, a silvery DolphiNazi jettisoned out of the moat and landed with clank on the steel plating. It… stood upright. This was the f***er that led me here.
“All of the dolphins are controlled by one. Shark Horse, Dr. McAlister, meet Dunkel Herr Füher!”
“Oh yes young Shark Horse. You can’t control one of them because they’re all helmed by the same one.”
“Then, why can’t I–”
“HaHAahHa and you can’t control our leader because he, like us, has two brains living within him.”
“Who?” Shark Horse was mind-blown now.
“Don’t you recognize his thought patterns? Didn’t you feel the resemblance? Is it not familiar to you, Joseph Sigo?”
“After all, you inhabited his body once before.”
“Say hello to daddy, Shark Horse!”
F*** this. I writhed savagely, tearing off the belts that kept me confined. “You motherf***-ers!” (Literally because they’re father-figures) “Let’s settle this like f***-ing Marine Mammals!”
Oh shit, dear readers. Shark Horse and Co. walked straight into a trap! It’s a trap! And with the Field of Necrotosis being slowly withdrawn from Shark Horse, who will save the day?
What is this deadly duo/quadruple’s plan with Sea Wolf?
Why is Shark Horse’s father working with Adolf Hitler?
Will Undead George Clooney come to the rescue?
All this and more, next time in: A SharkWork Orange (or The DolphiNazi Invasion)
For the Shark Horse Series Bible, click here