DIM LIGHTS

Welcome to  :  Strange Bend. On. Canada.


home of the . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ' DIM LIGHTS '

-  Here's the idea . . .

Meet : Tod and Chad Lunceford.

                    Cousins. Friends. Co-accused. Self interested, self absorbed, but good natured. They careen through life pin balling from paradox to jam - to one in a million back to end of the world, and then back again. Somehow always making it. Even though the margins are often hair slim. Avid 'heads' - their activities and 'interests' lead them from deal to drop, buy to backroom. Their connected and their busy. Their 'trade' brings them into contact with many walks of 'life'.
Indirect or happen chance do - gooders, their benevolent feats are usually a lucky 'by-product' more than an intentional outcome. Their eyes focus more intuitively on the pulse of digital scales and watching for flashing lights, than scanning for incoming storms and helping campers. They just end up doing that, albeit, on their way back from making weed oil in an old 'sugar - shack' way down Charlie Smiths side-road. You know -  on the way to 'score' they end up saving / helping / rescuing a bunch of cheerleaders that would  have been eaten / incinerated / attacked by ant-men / aliens / were-wolves who were roaming / escaped / crashed in the hills.  
The world is still very loosely formed. It's evolving daily. Essentially they are anti hero dudes that have crazy capers with weird characters who are being constantly assailed by monsters while getting wasted and partying. Sometimes working with the 'enemy' for common goals ( business ) sometimes having to take them on.  Cause "like - why not . . . heh man ??? "
Sex, drugs and escaped government test 'chimps'. Super powered transsexuals, insect human hybrids, beings from other dimensions. All have residence in this 'Dim' world. Can you see it - a swamp creature creeping up on a bunch of guys on mushrooms head banging to Iron Maiden.

Awesome.

Maybe they punch out the creature ? Who knows. Maybe they get it high ?

The chaps live with their Aunt Dorthy. She couldn't give a shit about them. She doesn't mind their dealing, it keeps her in 'perks' anyhow. Bingo. Liquor and the bar. That's where shes at. And that's  alright  by the boys. This arrangement gives them plenty of lea-way to pursue their lifestyle.  And pursue it they do. Busy, busy, busy - always on the run - if it's not a bunch of monsters on their tails  - it's the cops.

Here's a couple of concept pieces I did of the guys. I also thought these might make interesting stories.  

         THE WOKED -

                                              Chad runs across an escaped / resurrected mummy on his way home, in an 'off - limits' area of town known as the 'Fucked Lands'.  After visiting their friend Mike, who having recently returned from British Columbia with 3 pounds of skunk. Chad decides to take a short cut through the 'Fucked lands' ( so named because of 'weird' things that have happened there - for years, that defy explanation - ) in a bid to save time and catch a new episode of Dallas, Chad enters. Looking about for a spot to use, he thinks he see's an old tool shed, or gardening building. After getting a dusty torch burning, and rolling the bat he sparks it up only to be interrupted by . . . . . . . . . . " ARRRAAGggghhhh . . . "

Needless to say he's winded when he gets home -

Todd - "Holy shit man - what the hell ?"
Chad panting - "Man, I just did the craziest thing !"
T - "What dude, are the cops coming here ???" Jumps up, looks out window.
C - "No man. I fought a homeless guy !!!"
T - "What ???"
C - "Yeah man - I stopped in an old shack I found in the Fucked Lands - well - "
T - "YOU WHAT ???"
C - "Man, I had to take a short cut - I'd miss Dallas, and NO WAY - I am not missing that !"
T - " So - wait, you go into the Fucked Lands, and then you fight a homeless guy ?"
C - "Well it's not like I wanted to -" Wiping a hand across his smirk -" I stopped to smoke a cone, you know - try it out -"
T - Suspiciously - "Yeah . . . ?"
C - "Yeah - well I get it going, and then I hear this noise - I guess I woked 'em - this FILTHY old dirt bag comes out wrapped in toilet paper - all Rahhhh - and shit, and tries to grab me -"
T - "Dude !" He is cut off by Chad in his excitement.
C - "Yeah, so I like jump to the side and when he comes around I kneed his balls out his mouth !!!"
T - "You what . . .  didn't you hear . . . you don't know, do you ?"
C - "Know what man - ?" laughing.
T - "That was no homeless guy - that was the escaped mummy from that fucked up chemical spill thing down at the Airport, last week. He's been missing since then."
C - "W h a t t t ???"
T - "Looks like you found him dude." Tod howls, but not for too long - remembering - "DUDE - tell me . . . you got the dope ???"
C - "Oh yeah buddy - and it's  G  O  O  D ! ! ! "

Acrid smoke blues the chip bag air as the two boys are bathed in television glow.

                                              

         THAT DAMNED THING -

                                                                       Chad and Tod come across a repulsive and loathsome new form of life inside the abandoned home of Louise Brown, Tod's ex-girlfriend. They go over to her place, actually - to look under the back shed. You see - that's where Tod stashed all of his pornography. It was a good idea at the time - but now that he's been single for awhile, couple - few years, well, it's time to get the media back. Much to their surprise the home is abandoned. Never in too good of shape to start with, it took little time for the building to atrophy. Having not made it to the shed to search for nudy mags and VHS tapes yet, they decide to enter the house to snoop around. 

And thats where they find . . . it !!!

I had an idea 'it' would be Mr. Mc Knavish. An old retired shop keeper from downtown. Nice enough, but - subtly malicious. He passed the years, tormenting and needling children. Pulling at the seams. Only to be institutionalized with dementia. He escapes / wanders off one night. But not just ANY night. For there was a stellar alignment of constellations, also - unknown to us humans, a multi-dimensional meshing, that created an energy hub in the diagonal negative fan. What does this mean : it means - old Mr. Meany  wanderers right into the middle of this galactic hick-up and gets zapped. You see, the dementia as it takes away - for a period, also gives. And what we mistake for 'wandering thoughts' and 'day-dreaming' when you go to visit grandpa - is actually higher resonance tuning. They are convening with 'outer entities'. And that's what lead Mr. Mc Knavish to the intersection and his judging ground. That as it turned out - was in Louise's, former back yard. And for his 'crimes' he is turned, actually fused with a Wolf Spider that was passing too closely at the time.  'You lived enjoying seeing others dangling in webs - so as you had once postured - YOU SHALL BE !!! '

I thought it could be cool to have Mr. M - or, 'THAT DAMNED THING' as it comes to be known - fill the role of the wise / seer - advice giver. After finding him he forces the boys to swear to and be bound by an oath of secrecy. Mr. M - needs help, and the boys can be his 'arms and eyes' out there in the world. He also feels he needs to perform some 'good deeds' in an attempt to try to help reverse his punishment. In his new - cursed condition, not only was his body changed, but so was his mind.  He can now 'see' into the future and clearly into the past. He perceives time completely differently than we do. And because of that, as things evolve - the boys come to value him more and more. So in return for the assistance, he does favors for the boys. He tells them things. He shows them things. He knows. 

      

                                                                                                      

 

The Nanny

My name is Edward but they call me 'The Nanny'.

Down at the office they do at least. It's a nickname. A stupid annoying nickname. More of a shit covered thorn that's twisted into my side ritually. But you smile and bear it. It's a good job. The pay is excellent. And besides, I just got so damned bored with labor jobs, I had to find something else. I'm not getting any younger you know. Ah, anyway - their good 'folks', the 'gang'  - down at the office. Yeah. Real good folks. A real team. And on our team I get the job of taking all the newbies out to 'pop their cherries'.  First tours. Threshold Eddie - the 'Coach'.

Give me a break.

Most often - it's a one way trip, for them, the new guys at least. It usually doesn't go so well. And the only 'cherries' getting popped are the well groomed and nice smelling orbs these young dudes have their faces stuck to. Like Mr. Good looking over there . . . in about 8.5 seconds, when the air is gonna have more lead in it than oxygen, and he is magically transformed into the incredible exploding lasagna head, whats he gonna say then . . . what - ? Nothing. So wrapped up with his life, it's ironic that's whats going to end it for him. His distraction. And believe me - I try to help. But you cant tell  ANYTHING  to a 23 year old. No way.
They  KNOW  it all !!!
Well, wait and see. I almost shot him myself on the drive over here - all his new piece - and his hair.  "Oh wow man - this is a Beretta . . . my stereo . . .  you should see the date I got tonight . . . we went skiing in Banff . . . blah, blah -"   BANG ! ! !

And that's it. I clean them up. I clean him up. I make it look good. I cover the tracks. I point arrows in other directions, and I'm gone.

They should call me something cool, like - I don't know, 'The Shadow' - or - 'The Ghost'. But they don't. I have a handle. I've gotten used to it. It goes with the job. Oh shit - what the hell does anybody know, hey ? It's all part of a days work when your . . . . . . . . 'The Nanny'.  
 

The Terrible Genie ~ LEK TARIK

In cartoon and fantasy land Genies are alright. They play jokes. Ride flying carpets. Fool around, tell riddles and have fun. No big deal. Saturday morning stuff. Rub the lantern and  -  ' F O O M !!! ' Instant kooky blue friend.  Well . . . ah  -  not really.
In this world, in the advent, that you were to run across a Genie, well - that's it - I'd say run. But that's no good. Your screwed. And your 'Super special' screwed - if you were to come across this creature.
The 'Terrible Genie'  LEK TARIK.

Only a few rare individuals have managed to survive a meeting with it. It is said that Lek Tarik was once a man. A noble and generous man. Who in an attempt to save the life of a child trapped in a burning hall of timbres - was killed. It was no accident. There was no child. There was nothing but the fire. And the trap he had fallen into. He was mislead and killed for his riches by one of his lovers and a band of her dark cohorts.  In his last furious cries he cursed them - 'All of them -' . . . . all humanity, all their small greedy hearts untill the end of time. He swore vengeance. And the flames carried him away. And years moved past without mind and without notice.

Then he returned.

Set loose from the 6th 'fold' he materialized here on the 'matter plane' to exact his revenge. And on the unwise and covetous he began. His payments are screams. And red coins falling, one splat at a time. On first appearing and greeting humans, he offers them a wish -

" What one thing could you want . . . what desires have . . . y o u ? "

And they always get it wrong.

The only way to survive an encounter with Lek Tarik, is to not ask for material possessions. To not request money or gold. To not think of your own desires,  but to ask for your life. That is the only thing that matters.
You have to be clear and precise about it. If you say " Please, I want to survive this encounter . . " You will. Minus a foot, or most of an arm. Practically skinned. Blinded. And scared forever. But . . . you'll live. Lek loves to give people what they want.
No. You have to be very, very clear with it. You have to tell it exactly what you want.
" I want you to leave me alone. You will not hurt me. You will not kill me. You will leave me / we / us  -  ALONE.  BE  GONE !!!"
Thats it. The only route.
So put away the pepper spray and brass knuckles and relax. As long as your honest and humble you have nothing to worry about . . . . .  right ??? 

The Prey

Well . . . it was supposed to be just another routine flight for Nit, Service Cadet - class 3 shuttle pilot. Between the Verla 4 - Solar Reaping Station and Termosse. Central processing grounds and sub-orbital loading platforms of Leckctll. A busy space port brimming with vessels and trade.
And it was, until our friend, Nit decided it might be advantageous to stop off on the small heavily forested sixth sub moon of Neelom -Vell. An uninhabited cluster of, well ... barely planet classed planets, just outside the Main system. You see - on the sub-moons that spin round Neelom -Vell, there grows an elusive and very valuable fungus. Chor. Now, Chor itself is of no worth other than in regards to the pollen jelly that accumulates on the underside of the outer growth wings it extends at seeding time.
Well that's fine. But when you consider the fungus only spores once every 35 years, and it's worth 1000 times more per niccrom weight measure than Trill dust - the 'high' lasts 12 - 17 days, it enhances the cognitive functions of the user and increases performance on all levels of activity. Leaves a subtle resonance of well being. No hangover. No addiction. Only byproduct is a 'glowy' complexion and stronger nails. And a passive increase in Psychic ability. It's virtually undetectable when scanned for. Either in raw form or suspended in neural system fluids of the user - i.e.  - substance screens do not work on it !!!  Well, you can start to get an idea of it's attraction.
So . . . intrepid, brave, fortune seeking, unwise Nit, takes the shuttle down to have a look. You see a fellow pilot had passed on info to him, two rotations ago at Sental, a hot night club in one of the recreation and living zones in the platform. That Chor was possibly blooming - " Out there on one of those tangled balls of shlagg they keep trying to call planets - Ah ha ha ha ha !!!" Well Nit was listening. He heard. He planned. He silently moved all the neccessary pieces together.
And thats what brought him to this little sub-moon of Neelom -Vell.  That universal motivator - greed. He thought he could cash - in. Get the pay off. Put out almost no effort, other than sneaking around with a company shuttle - for maximum payoff. Right on !!!
Well actually - wrong on. Nit in his haste and avarice - didn't stop to monitor frequency bands of any kind before he dove into the moons atmosphere. Had he, he might have picked up stacked qualon pulses, that are not hard to pick up, coming up from the deep forests below. If he had heard them, then he would have known that the only things that transmit on that clunky and prehistoric wave length are Gimpp Krutts. And their horribly bad news. Because Gimpp Krutts are the 'muscle' for Tagwarns. Filthy. Ruthless, space mercenaries and frontier opportunists. Essentially pirates by any other name.
And so after a short time Nit comes across what could be a stand of Chor. He moves in closer, his nostrils contract. "Whew - that rotting smell. Thats it. Thats Chor !!!"

And then - it all went to hell.

Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the squealer - probes, hovering off in the green black periphery. Dim blue electric eyes watching him. But he didn't.

And then the trees parted . . .  e x p l o d e d  - and he was dealing with a Gimpp Krutt - first order.  Lucky ( ? ) for Nit he had a service blaster, but that would be of little service to him. Gimpps are incredably strong and well put together. His only hope was to try to get to cover, but considering the Gimpp droid was tearing apart the forest trying to stop anyone from taking any jelly on behalf of the Tagwarns - things were not looking so good.

"Maybe I should have stayed on course  . . . .  oh, stupid, stupid, stupid . . . "

His lamentations were drowned out by the shrieking and grinding of the machine.

Tattoo Design

O.K.  ~

                   Here's a Tattoo design I did up for my old friend  -  J.T. Templeton the 3rd. He was blowing through town recently when I bumped into him.  Seems he's around for a bit in between jobs.  Said he was coming back from Alaska - "Up there things is different . . . doin some caged bear fightin. . . . nothin but a knife and your balls to pull you through !!!" I was out blow gun hunting some spring hares. He was meditating, nude, on a fallen log in the back of the Tiny Marsh when I came across him. Needless to say - in two seconds I was on my back in four inches of slime with a Bowie knife pressed across my juggler - then he recognized me - " Hey man. Whats up ?" Fucking hit men are so cool !!!
                       Well I got up and we caught up - and after racing a couple of old mustangs out to Cedar point and back, ( that ending in a ball of flame and a young french girls heart broken (( he just looks at women and they go  C R A Z Y !!! )) we sat down and that's where the idea of the tat came up. "I had a job I wuz on fur a group of 'investors' " He said. " - the work took me to the Philippines. Anyway, after a whole bunch of shit and tangle I ended up in a drain pipe filled with scorpions - and I had to chew my way out !!!" I just looked at him. "So - I thought I'd get this little guy to remind me" He lit his cigarette by shooting the end of it with a . 32 caliber Derringer he whipped from his boot - " I wanted it to remind me that life is precious, you know - to take in the beauty." He exhaled. " You know what I mean ?" I just smiled and nodded and went and grabbed my sketch book.
                        We bounced some ideas back and forth over a couple of sit downs - in public spaces, and some secret meetings elsewhere. We came up with this. The Scorpion in perspective over Mars. He likes Mars - birth planet - Zodiac. Planet of war - symbolic / mythological. Red - cool color. So I did up the semi-final designs, we proofed them -  and then went ahead with coloring.
                        In conclusion : It was very nice to see him again, and he was very happy and excited when I presented the finished design to him. He was so happy in fact he told me he even disarmed the plasma mines he had hid in the bush beside my house - WHAT ??? "Nothing personal you know, just hav'ta cover all the bases." God damned contract mercenary Intel - agents . . . . you just never know !!!