Here is a draft excerpt (A) from my new novel THE GRAND OLIGARCHS OF QINSATORIX (in preparation)
CHAPTER 1: THE FISH ROT
FROM THE TOP DOWN
During the afternoon of the summer solstice of
Anno Domini 2412. Her Imperial Highness the Crown
Princess Natasha of Qinsatorix, reputedly the most influential
interstellar oligarch of them all, lay buck-naked on her turquoise
satin couch on the Christi-Crispus patio as an exaltation of
sparrowhawks and a richesse of martingales circled overhead, and the
chaffo-finches chirped in the fragrant Okyfenoky bushes.
Meanwhile, a decilupuss and carriage came speeding along the
shore of Lake Nefertiti. The decilupuss, a ten-legged wolf-like
creature with a loud purr, was ridden bareback and at full gallop by
an Apollo lizard slave girl. The plucky slave was closely pursued by
the ornately decorated dragon-shaped carriage, which was packed with
partying Sunrise Badger fans celebrating the unexpected victory of
their University football team in the Cotton Bowl.
To the right, the purple and green Fantasia trees on Picnic
Point stretched towards the murky orange horizon as the Aton Sunstar,
the Star of Bethlehem, shimmered overhead. To the left, a fleet of
naval yachts spread their colourful sails and fired their ceremonial
boom-drones through the clouds as they sped towards the Gates of
Achilles and the mighty Tiber beyond. In the foreground, the blushing
pink roses seemed to weep for times which could have been but which
never were.
The Imperial Icarian Palace in Trivoli, the capital of our
parallel Universe sister planet Qinsatorix, bore a distinct
resemblance to a long-legged turtle. Its upper floors were
encapsulated by a huge platinum shell, and the Babylonian Gardens
stretched from its acanthus-covered Corinthian feet to the lake path.
And over four thousand years of proud Icarian history were recorded
on murals and tapestries decorating the walls and ceilings of the
palace corridors,
Princess Natasha's spacious and capriciously decorated
apartment was housed in one of the 'feet of the turtle'. While she
enjoyed entertaining her relatives and intimate friends in the Von
Coburg drawing and quartering room, she would sometimes gladly escape
through the crystal glass French windows to seek solace on her
delightfully tranquil patio.
Natasha, who'd recently turned sweet twenty-three, was only
half-Icarian. She was nevertheless as golden-skinned as her
illustrious father and sported her own brand of curiously-shaped
breasts, together with a bright red obloid instead of a tummy button,
and a green pubie-shunter. As she'd been physically adjusted and mind
controlled as a child, she also boasted a highly complex implanted
entongulator rather than a common or garden tongue.
When the princess rubbed her obloid she did so quite
compulsively while reciting the three times table. On the occasion in
question, she also thought, with aristocratic cunning, about her
smart-arse of a husband Prince Hamlet who'd been recently transposed
in irons from Denmark to help her breed the Imperial stock. It'll be
a challenge keeping that human monster under control, she concluded.
While he may be of some help in political terms, it would be
dangerous to let him become too powerful.
Not to forget my spot-ridden twin brother Caleb, pondered the
princess. He could try to join forces with one of the top brass
military commanders. Thank goodness I popped out of my dear mother's
womb a couple of minutes before he did.
And Caleb might even form an alliance with the Pelimodes,
realised the princess, Maybe we should scorch-fry Southern Artica and
exterminate those God-damned birds once and for all. The global
warming would doubtlessly help the economy, particularly in the
Archipeligos. All those interstellar tourists with their roubles,
eurocents, and vulcanos----.
Natasha noticed a gardener sweeping the leaves and honeysuckle petals
off the beautifully maintained light-blue lawn. As befitting a
squat-nosed Apollo of the impoverished Quasitundo tribe which had
recently migrated in desperation from the Inner Moon, his head was
pear-shaped, his face and eyes were metallic and square, and his body
resembled that of a well-groomed gorillochimpus.
The homely Apollo moved closer. When he grinned, he flashed a
mouthful of emeralds for teeth, Natasha was so intrigued that she
threw her legs in the air and touched her pubie-shunter though in the
extremely delicate and refined manner that befitted the time-honoured
courting customs of her Icarian ancestors. The Apollo moved even
closer, and gawped.
“What do you have to say for yourself, my good fellow?”
inquired the princess.
No comments:
Post a Comment