Brief intermission after winning every war

Today I wrote the first part of what will be a two-part chapter in my fake-novel BRYAN THE TYGER. In this current episode, nothing much happens, because I'm still gloating after having proven myself the best warrior in yesterday's battle scenes.

P.S.

In other news: my Public Private Diary is fully printed; also I made a list of my latest novels that have been printed but not included in any collection.

Chapter Twelve

I ask you now, gentle reader: After winning ALL the warfare and being crowned the Bloodthirstiest Killer on the Battlefield; then enjoying the prize of an Eternal Night with Heaven’s Queen, which results in me fathering myself as twins in rejuvenated glory — a new, improved Infant Prince; plus my own shadow as a Panther Princess on the planet of my choice — where should such a lucky Tyger go for his next adventure?

Ah, excellent answer (I have the very best readership; thank you for shouting out your response to that last question above) — I agree: Anyplace will do.

So, as we stand amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, and unitary, looking down upon our Tyger form by the crystal pond in Paradise (we built a pleasure dome for ourselves when we were a Vampyre in our previous novel — this whole present tale takes place inside that novel’s castle; so our Tyger Castle where Zephyros now resides is actually a castle-in-a-castle . . . I hope that’s not too confusing), we lean against the balcony’s parapet, bending our arm on its certain rest, and gaze with side-curved head curious what will come next, both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. We then decide to address our avatar from its shadow self. So we enter the reflection of the pond and whisper:

“Tyger Bryan! Tyger Bryan!”

I open my eyes, yawn and refocus: “Here am I.” Then I remember also to say: “Speak, MUSE; for thy servant heareth.” (Thus I’m addressing my lady, Myala – that’s the proper name of my feminine shadow-self that I mentioned. Until I properly meet her in a later chapter, I must refer to her only by the all-caps title MUSE; similar to how Yahweh is known only as LORD.)

“Get thee up,” sez my reflection, “and go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me.”

We roar out a loud, hearty beast-laugh, I and my water-daemon.

Now while leaning and loafing in the garden, I meet Vampyre Eve; and she lets me lick her hand. We talk for a while. I tell her various thoughts while she scratches my ears. Then I roll over and she strokes my belly while I tell her more thoughts.

I also meet Mina and Lucy and the Master himself, Vampyre Bryan — tho our exchange is brief, and I am careful to avoid looking directly into his eyes, as he is my garden-double. That’s entirely different from one’s shadow-self, or when one’s daemon appears in the crystal pond; for, in the actual air of the pleasure dome, you’re playing with fire.

Taking my leave of this part of the dimension, therefore, I sprint back to my Tyger-castle on the border of Austria. My pace seems faster than a speeding bullet, so it’s hard to film me — I keep dashing forth out of the frame.

On the way home, however, just for a lark, I make a pitstop at Nineveh, which is my MUSE’s code-term for the 21st-century U.S.A. (she doesn’t use that country’s name directly, as its censorship is so severe around this time – she’d rather avoid getting her prophecy blotted), and I cry against the place, saying:

“Your wickedness is come up before the MUSE; therefore, I am sent to inform you: Following a short probationary period, if you have not stopt abusing the poor of the globe, including those who are poor within your nation’s own borders, all of Nineveh shall be overthrown.”

And the owners of the transnational corporations that use Nineveh as a sort of headquarters for all their wickedness meet in a boardroom and say, one to another:

“Who can tell if this Tyger’s MUSE will turn and repent, and ease away from her fierce anger, that we perish not?” — So they amend their ways.

And the MUSE saw their works, that they turned from their inhumane habits; thus she repented of the doom that she had planned to inflict upon them; and she did it not.

So that’s how I saved America. Or I mean Nineveh, rather. And it pleased me greatly — I was not angry that my MUSE did not condemn the country to oblivion; it was a cause for rejoicing that the multinationals and all their mercenaries and police and armed guards decided to side with general humanity and stop being sticklers for lawyerly rules: they agreed instead to forgive all debts, to prohibit the charging of interest, and to forgo jailing the populace. And Paul and Barnabus were released from prison as well (do you remember when I met them in their cell during that earlier episode?) – I know this to be a fact, because, when he got out, Paul sent me a postcard:

“See how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own hand!!” (Galatians 6:11)

And I sent him a postcard in answer which had my symbol on it. (I just dipped my right forepaw in whatever bloodbath happened to be before me and then pressed it onto the paper. – Everyone knows that that’s my mark.) By the way, the image on the front of the card was William Blake’s portrait of the Unfallen Lucifer. I thought that was a nice touch.