“Tales From The Pyramid”

By RD Rivero

April 18, 2000

 

Oddly enough, there was no lightning that night, there was no thunder.  The skies were blackened -- at the least that much was normal.  The cloud-cover, that had diffused steadily throughout the evening hours, fell to the unhallowed earth in a schizophrenic fog.

Down in the library, in the deepest dungeons of the pyramid, the air was uncommonly damp and cool.  Stale and inundated with the foul odors of mold spores and of fungi that grew in the mortar in between the large, gray stones of the masonry.  Some of those repugnant substances of excess sprawled on the floor where they accrued in little, nudge-topped mounds.

The reading chamber was aglow in the soft, red light that shimmered from oil lamps that stood perched on the corners of an old table.  Behind was an onyx chair, chaotically placed before bookcases.  Dust-covered cobwebs adorned the shadowed shelves.  Some webs were so heavy that they had torn free to form wads of splattered decay.

The words on the book spines were clearly visible and what a wild assortment of literature.  Classical Mechanics, Annalen der Physik, In Search of Schrodinger’s Cat and others and others, too ghastly, too horrid -- No more!  I beg, no more! -- were contained in the ‘horror’ section alone.

The subject headings wee displayed in bronze plates above the tall book racks.

The door opened.  The unoiled hinges creaked along while the slight gust of air blew the red flames gently.  The cobwebs also swayed and vibrated in the current.

A small, frail figure, cloaked in a heavy garment, crept up to one of the many sections in the library, to the one labeled ‘magic.’  He muttered to himself while he treaded:  “Lunatics, Mutants, Lunatics, Mutants.”  He stopped for a brief moment of contemplation.  His eyes shown bright under the many folds of the shoal that covered his head.  He rubbed his chin over loose bandages.  “I guess you get what you pay for.”

The thin book that he had carried under his arm he brought out and, carefully if not impatiently, he returned the tome into that space between books were he had removed it from not long ago.

'Acme Book of Spells -- Cheep,’ the cover read.

“I could send a legion of fire and those blasted Blundercats need only pee on it and it would go away. Damn them!  Damn them!  Damn them!”

He whisked around in a jerk, the red cloak was sent up in the air momentarily while it turned in unison.

And a thought came to him.  A thought of evil, of malice and of dread.

He could not control his laughter.  “Not with armies, not with potions, not with plots -- but with their minds!  All those buffed bodies and nothing in the mind department.  The horror.  The horror.  It’s orgasmic!”

Ma-Mutt waddled into the room, his paws echoed his light gait.  Mumm-Ra looked down to see -- the dog moved back slowly in response to the mummy’s most devious smile yet.  His master picked him up and held him at arm’s length while he twirled around and around and around.

“So much to do, so little time.”

 

“You’ll never guess what I have in state, you’ll never figure it out ‘till the end.”

The ancient spirits of evil were not impressed.

“Figures.  No, nothing’s ever good enough.  Who knows of the vast plans and back room conspiracies that I’ve engaged in?  The schemes, the threats, the brainstorming and for what?  How many bruises have you seen on those Thundercats?  None!  Not even a hair out of place!”

Mumm-Ra’s voice resonated in the vastness of the chamber.  The stood on an elevated platform constructed from a single layer of rock.  Behind him the upright sarcophagus was open, its lid lay helpless on its side.  Before him were the four silent statues around a circular pool of boiling water -- large bubbles often burst in a spray that nearly splattered against the carved forms of the idols, of the tall idols of hideous quality.  Giant torches burn behind them, the flames liked the air above like hands, like fingers of damnation.  The walls were cast in dancing shadows that obscured and enshrouded the muraled pictographs of the dead and ancient language.

“I’ve discovered a little secret.  Oh, it’s so vicious!  I can’t believe you’ve never noticed it before.  It’s like who ever created them forgot something, something quite important.”

He pulled out the remote control and sat up on the steps in front of the pool in comfort.  The clicks of the buttons were inaudible.  An image began to form on the surface of the waters.  Bengali and Pumyra were in a workshop somewhere in the Tower of Omens.  She tended to the miscellaneous details of house work while he hammered at a red-hot sliver of iron.  In the background the fire from the kilns lit the scene.  At first the sound of that distant vignette could be heard in the pyramid but Mumm-Ra pressed the mute button.  He began to speak for the wayward figures.  Sternly:  “A fire rages in me, Thundercat!” he said, complete with wild upper-body gestures.  Then his voice rose, then his gestures became rather effeminate, less like a woman, more like the exaggerated stereotype of a woman:  “Maybe it’s something you ate?”

Mumm-Ra tried in vein to hide his laughter.

“I know, I’ll get to the point.  You don’t have to stare at me so blankly.”

He continued to click the buttons.  At each succeeding interval a different Thundercat was on display.  He breezed past the kittens -- he felt he had abused them enough already -- past Tygra, past Panthro -- he had something else in store for them later -- past even Liono -- too easy. 

“Ah, Cheetara!  What innocence!  What a budding virgin!”

She had just finished her work out, she was in her room, readying herself for a shower.

“Now behold -- no, I won’t tell you, I’ll resist the temptation.  Be innocent of the knowledge ‘till you applaud the deed.”

 

The small bathroom was bright and clear.  The air, though circulated through humming ceiling vents, was dense with humidity.  Heavy and muggy, compounded all the more with her exhaustion, made the environment unbearable.  She had spent most of the afternoon hours running through the fields around Cat’s Lair practicing her skills.

Her clothes stuck on to her sweat-soaked fur in a way that was not entirely attractive.  She peeled off her outfit and sent it down a darkened chute to the laundry rooms in the recesses of the building.

By chance she looked at herself in mirror above the sink.  There was something about her eyes -- so bloodshot, so deep in her skull -- something that frightened her, though a great evil was upon her.  She shrugged it off, she shook her head -- her hair flailed through the air and sent little sprays of sweat onto the white, tiled walls.

Cheetara twisted the cold water spigot and then the room was filled with another sound apart from the uneven rhythm of her labored breathing.  She doused her face with the refreshing liquid and for a while she was content.  Until she realized she had an unusual pain coming from her lower, left abdomen.  Her muscles around that area ached more than was ordinary for her workouts.  She tried to massage the spot but it was no use -- perhaps after the shower, she thought, perhaps after a while it would go away.

With more effort than ever she managed to slide open the glass doors of the stall.  “I must be tired,” she spoke under the level of whisper.

She stepped in, her feet touched the deceptively cold and hazardly slippery surface of the tub.  She reacted with a jerk though she had been stunned with a bolt of electricity.

The faucets opened easily in her trembling hands and almost instantly strong bursts of lukewarm water shot out from the shower head on the ceiling above.  With her eyes closed she reached out with her hands and pointed the current downward away from her face.

She moved under the water and began to rinse her hair.  When at last she was satisfied with that she turned her attention elsewhere.  She began to lather up -- a odd blue soap bought from the Wollos that she enjoyed -- but as she was about to spread those fluorescent suds over her body, just as she looked down upon herself, she noticed --

“Ah!  What is that?  What is that?  Ah!”

Cheetara was shocked.  She did not know what to do, what more to say.  She darted back from the spray of the water to a remote and dry corner of the shower stall.  She touched her breasts but the soap got in the way -- she only then remembered that, so she wasted time clearing her hands of the aromatic substance.

Still, what she had seen had not changed.

“But, how?  Could I have never seen that before?  Could I have never noticed that before?  What are these things?”  She pointed one of her breasts up to her face.

Cheetara had nipples.

Her eyes opened wide.  Her mouth gaped though her jaw vibrated with incoherent words she did not audibly utter.  Her attention was focused to that ambiguous place down there, down there between her legs.

She screamed and she darted back yet further -- if such a thing were possible -- yet further back as though she would, as though she actually could meld with the very substance of the walls in utter terror and in complete revulsion.

“I have genitalia, too!”

 

The mess hall rang with teeming conversation.  Most of the Thundercats were there at the table, the round table.  It was covered in a brown cloth that contrasted paradoxically with the rest of the vast chamber.  Above, hanging  from the ceiling, were three bright lights, hot lights that swayed gently even though there was no current to be had.  The windows were all closed shut and the ventilation was cut off for some reason that Panthro could not explain entirely but which he promised to correct by the next day.  In the meanwhile he was too busy boasting about his latest exploits.

Recently, that morning, he, Tygra and Bengali had thwarted an attempt by the Mutants to attack the Warrior Maidens.  “Those cowards, Jackalman and Vultureman, I would tell you what their names really are but, then, there are children present.”

“Oh, come on, Panthro, we’re almost adults,” WileyKat bellyached.

“Almost adults but not quite.  What was I saying?  Yes.  The mutt and birdbrain --”

The door opened and from the darkness of the outer hallway Cheetara entered.  All gazes were on her, fixed on her -- glued -- on her.  The men stared and ogled with mouths slowly opening, drool slowly forming, trickling.  She felt the pressure of all their eyes on her body and very quickly she darted to her seat next to WileyKit but even the young woman-child had taken notice.  She tried to hide her face under her hands and her arms in shame.

Only WileyKat had his mind elsewhere:  “So what happened, Panthro, what happened next?”

The panther did not answer.  His eyes and his head had followed Cheetara’s movements exactly and even then, after she was still in her seat, he did not move, he was stuck in place.

“Panthro!”

“What?  What?”  He batted his eyes, he rubbed his face, he looked around in confused disbelief.  “What, WileyKat?”

“The story.”

“Oh, the story, that’s right, where was I?”

“You were just getting started.”

“Right.  Um, well, Tygra,” he pointed to the tiger but his friend did not respond.  “Tygra?”

“Snarf!  Snarf!”

A wide set of double doors swung open in one swift movement.  A tall serving cart was wheeled into position immediately behind that gap in the table between where Cheetara and where Tygra sat.  The cart had four wide inner shelves stocked with plates and utensils, the top shelf was the one that actually contained the food.

“Kat, Kit, set the table,” a voice spoke unseen under the wheeled vehicle.  The twins got up from their chairs to the cart where they each took a fair load of plates, forks, spoons and knives.  The two were able to set the table in record time -- just when Snarf was ready to serve the food.

The small figure moved out past the cover of the tall serving cart and picked up the main course.  A rack of lamb doused, no, flooded in a sea of thick, lumpy gravy.  The meat steamed, the flesh was crisp and badly cooked to the consistency of leather that was almost impossible to slice and carve even with the sharpest instruments in the arsenal.

After that round of food was passed and fully served, Snarf returned to the cart with the empty serving plate in order to repart the second course, the side dish of mashed potatoes and vegetables.

While he waddled through the room he began to hum a melody whose words he only then remembered.  “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps to night,” he sang woefully off key, woefully painfully for all to hear, but most especially the Lord of the Thundercats.

“Isn’t there something else you could hum, Snarf?”

“Oh, come on, you used to like it.  Snarf.  Snarf.”

“Did I?”  Liono turned red, visibly red.

“I used to sing it to you at night, in bed all the time.  Snarf.  Snarf.  Or when I would give you baths, or when I would --”

The others giggled.  Cheetara was especially grateful that there was something else to divert the other’s attention.  She took the time too look over the rest of the Thundercats.  Panthro’s exposed chest showed no sign of nipples, Tygra’s skintight outfit was also devoid of that particular detail.  With Liono and WileyKat she could not be too sure. 

And what about those other --

“No.  Stop that.  I’m a Thundercat, I’m Thunderian, we don’t talk about such things, we don’t think about stuff like that.”

She too turned hot and red.  She fanned herself with her hands, hoping the others would mistake what she was doing as nothing more than a reaction to the hot vapors that poured out of the bowls off food before her.  She looked up, the rest of the Thundercats were too busy enthralled in the spat that broke out between Liono and Snarf to notice her anymore.  Still, she wondered if they had noticed what had happened to her.

“That song is an insult!”

“Soft, Liono,” Tygra began, “he’s old, you know, he’s --” he punctuated his sentence with a slight gesture:  he twirled his forefinger in small circles above his ear.

“I saw that!  Snarf!  Snarf!”  Snarf cried.  He raised a dirty spatula in the air and in his forceful quickness large globs and chunks of gooey, chewy food flung into the air to land on the tiger’s clothes and mane.

“What’s the big idea?”  He stood up in disgust.  With his hands he swiped off the excess substance, some of which landed on the floor or on the tabletop where the brown cloth soaked up the liquids -- the rest land on Panthro’s body.

“Watch it there, or I’ll make you wash me!”

In response Tygra picked up his plate and dumped it onto the panther’s lap.  He laughed.  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Panthro laughed too but he also shot up quickly into the air and tackled his tiger friend to the ground.  The men tumbled around the floor.

“Hey!  I have to clean that!  Snarf.  Snarf.”  Snarf said.  “In the jungle, the mighty jungle --” he continued to chant to himself.

Cheetara, who had been distracted by that commotion, realized that Liono was no longer in the room.  While the others were too enthralled with what was happening to the supposed ‘adult’ males, she got up, unnoticed and sprinted free from the mess hall into the recess of Cat’s Lair.

 

Lion’s room was colored in darkness, only the bathroom -- through the wide open door -- provided some level of ambient illumination.  Outside the bare windows the night had transformed into a smoky, a foggy haze, the moon and the stars were obscured completely in that vaporous oblivion although sparse fragments did glow in the clouds from time to time.

The Lord of the Thundercats lay back on his bed, he muttered to himself in soft, incoherent speech.  Only the words ‘Snarf’ could be made out in the dissonance.  Little else, little else, though.

There was a knock on the door.

“Go away!”

The knock continued.

“Go away!” The lion growled.  He got up from the bed and stormed to the door.  “I said, go away!” He yelled once again at the same time that he swung the door open.  “Oh, it’s you.”

“If this is a bad time --” said Cheetara.

“No, no, come in.  I thought you were, you know, him.”

“You’re not still mad at Snarf?”

Liono did not answer, he merely shook his head.

She stepped in -- she had to duck under one of his extended arms that he held up against the door frame.  He shut the door behind her and spun around.  The two Thundercats stood in the shadows face-to-face.

Cheetara let her eyes wander up and down the texture of Liono’s well-built frame.  She feasted visually on the shadowed silhouettes of the deep cuts and trim folds of his muscles.  She felt an odd sensation -- a knotting -- in the pit of her stomach that was totally unfamiliar.  The effect it was having on her body made her glad the room was as poorly lit as it was.

Meanwhile Liono, too, had been more than forward in his deep, penetrative gaze over her.  Only that he was bolder.  He raised his hands and clasped her on the sides of her hips right around and above her waist.  Gently he drew her close to the warmth of his body and in so doing he felt her heat too.

His eyes met her eyes before he momentarily glanced down at her breasts.

“You’ve done, you’ve changed, haven’t you?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”  She turned around quickly and broke free from his grip.

“I didn’t mean it that way.  You just look different.  Cheetara.”

“Liono.”

“You make me feel so happy.”

He walked up behind her and wrapped his body up against hers, wrapped his legs and his arms around hers.  While he pressed himself closer she felt something and darted back in shock, in amazement.

“I thought you wanted that?”  He asked in disappointed embarrassment.

“That’s not it --”

She grabbed him and dragged him into the bathroom.  He managed to close the door behind them.  “If you wanted to do it with the lights on --”

She pushed him toward one of the bright lamps and examined his chest which she herself had exposed.  She saw that he had nipples, too -- she rubbed her fingers around the heavy fur that covered them.

“Come on, Cheetara, you act like you’ve never seen that before.”

“I haven’t, Liono, not on a Thunderian, on humans, yes -- that’s why the cover up, but not on --”

He clasped her hands in his own.  “For us it’s protected in fur, surely you must know that.”

“Then explain this!”  Cheetara tore off the top parts of her clothes.  Her bare breasts bounced free into view before Liono who suddenly had to sit down.  His eyes never left those parts of her. The pace of his breathing quickened when she got closer.  One of her breasts was firmly in her hands, the soft tissues had contorted and distorted in the pressure of her fingers.  “Then how do you explain this?”  She had it pointed up to and only inches off from his face.

“Your nipples are huge -- and exposed!  That’s not supposed to happen.”

“In Thundera when everyone was naked no one ever noticed.  I mean you had eyes, you could see, but no one cared.”

He stood up yet drooped below her chin level in the most unusual way.  “There’s no need to be ashamed of your body, Cheetara, I’ll understand.”  He reached his hand out to try to caress her round, firmness -- but she took his flattened palm in her hands and drew herself to him, so close to him that her breasts pressed against his.

“You have made me very happy.  You accept my body the way it is?”

“Of course, don’t be silly.”  He kissed her on the cheek.  “I’m a man and you’re a woman, that’s all there’s to it.”

“Oh, Liono!”

That time he drew back.  She was nervous that perhaps yet something else, yet something else unexpected was also wrong with her.  He had the most wicked smile painted on his face.  He pulled down his shorts, she darted back in horror.  She almost screamed when she saw him entirely naked.

“What is it?  Did I go too fast?”

She shook her head.

“Did I offend you?”

Once again no verbal response but she did creep closer.

“Does it displease you?” He gestured down between his legs.

“How long have you had those?”

Liono was about to laugh.  “All my life, silly, Snarf said it’s why boys are different from girls.  Don’t you like them?  Come on, you’ve never seen a grown man naked?”

She shook her head violently, violently.

“Come on, what is it, really?”

She stood up then, directly before him.

“Liono!  Liono!  Liono!  How could I, I mean, that it could, but, how --”

“Snap out of it.”  He thought she was about to swoon, he grabbed her quickly.  “Why don’t we start again, start over again?”  He whispered into her ear.

“No!  We can’t.  Don’t you understand?  Can’t you see?”

She tore off the rest of her clothes, those coverings below her waist.

“We have the same sex organs!”

 

Laughter filled the pyramid and in the wake of the echoed cackle the opening bars of the devil’s own symphony resonated through the corridors and through the chambers of that ancient construction -- the very walls vibrated in the terrorized frenzy of the musical sonority.

A bright green light glowed from above the garden, up near the zenith of the pyramid.  The ceiling and the upper walls were adorned with rectangular gaps from which the air outside vented along with the views of blackened sky. 

Ma-Mutt roamed through the vast array of tables that overflowed with monstrous vegetation:  off the pots and terra-cotta containers, around the tabletops down to the floor where the stones were covered in that entanglement of thick green vines and brown roots.

Mumm-Ra set the watery can down next to the only cleared table in the room.  The only other object in sight was a CD player that blasted the music throughout the place through imbedded speakers.  He turned down the playback volume of the composition just then.

“I know what you’re going to say, my pet, you’re going to bellyache about that not being a nice thing to do to Cheetara.”  He looked over at Ma-Mutt.  The dog was digging a hole into one of the larger, flatter pots.  Clumps of wet dirt and shredded vegetation spewed into the air behind him.

Mumm-Ra inhaled deeply the scented air then sat before that cleared-out table.  He folded his hands in silence though in prayer for a while before he picked up from the floor a Venus Fly Trap that badly needed pruning.

“I must be cruel, if only to be kind,” he said aloud.  The dog gave a slight wince though he understood.  Mumm-Ra recomposed himself and continued undaunted:  “First give her sex organs -- all right, maybe those Thundercats already had them but damn it if even I wasn’t fooled,” he said while he tore off dead, decayed leaves that brittled crisp in his bandaged fingertips, “an, but then give her the wrong sex organs.”  He stopped, he looked at the dog again.  The beast came close to him, bored with the hole he had just dug.  “Come on, it’s a classic!  Someone, somewhere would laugh their head off at that one, Ma-Mutt.  If only I could write it down, if only I could put it down in a book.”

The dog jumped onto the table before his master.

“If it makes you feel better, I turned her back to what passes for normal.  Liono’s another story -- I must have inadvertently released some pent-up emotions when he saw what Cheetara had down there.”

The dog barked once while Mumm-Ra banged his hands down hard on the table in laughter.

“I may have had my fun tonight, but I’m not done with them yet!  I need to rest, my pet, I’m tired, I’ve overexerted myself.”

The room was engulfed in bright, strobing lightning.  He got up, he flailed his arms in the air to the accompaniment of both the music and the torrential rainstorm that he himself had produced by shear will alone.

He walked out of the garden with his dog behind him back to the sarcophagus, back to sleep for a while, just for a while, a little bit longer than before perhaps.

In the ethereal shadows of the hall, amidst the absolute nothingness of that vast oblivion of the darkness within the pyramid, Mumm-Ra shook his clenched fists in the air while he cursed:  “Next time, Blundercats, next time!”

 

 

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