THE FACE SUCKER
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. The prestigious digit compressed the overly intricate button. The raw data was selected. With deafening foghorn blasts and great emphatic fanfare the extremely high tech, cutting edge printing device rumbled into life and began the churn and whirr for the production of another glorious randomly generated portrait. #RGP. Tirelessly, the enslaved portaitoids endlessly fed the input tube, constantly throwing in the extra dimensional likenesses of a never ending stream of beings, the tube greedily digested them all and the furnaces blazed day and night. Ready for another output, tenderly and lovingly crafted for the intimate enjoyment of the oh so individualistic and regal selector. Multiple handed entities enthusiastically smashed their multiple hammy digit extremities together in a cacophony of appreciation and joy (the clappers clapped), as the sublime presence of the printed portrait ooozed forth from the aperture of the device. For a brief split of a second, the expunged print obeyed the Newtonian laws of physics and flew down like a glorious avenging angel to slide upon the perfectly polished chrome slide below, down down down it ran like a reunited lover it fled into the salivating hands of the aforementioned selector. Knees a tremble, and to the envy of the queued up masses behind, winding their twisted way back into the distance like a bile dripping venomous snake.
Much media hype and likings were expressed through all of the social media channels.
Meanwhile in distant realms, the ominous sounds of feather laced “FACE SUCKER” chop copters droned on over head, the locals knew that to reveal even a smidgen of yourself invited immediate doom upon your identity. Disguised as a yogurt pot, a desperate alien peasant made a desperate dash to the village well for a thirst quenching drink of alien liquid sustenance. But the pot slipped! The Face copter immediately swooped down like a bald eagle and peeled off the alien’s unique features wholesale.
On entire distant worlds in this dimension and others, entire populations of creatures aimlessly wandered without faces in a desert of unrecognisable beings desperately trying to remember what they were and if they had names. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Lord Zom, AKA The Intricate Tapestry, The Complicated Cardigan, The Ruler of the Unreal Realm, The Prince of Soy, The Wizard of the South, The Blood Bather, The Unkindest, The Big Legged one, The Pencil Destroyer and the Planet Dominator is an Intergalactic multi dimensional World Conquering Barbarian Warlord, a Drawer, a Zine Maker and Monoprint Enthusiast living and working in Edinburgh.
An orphan, Zom was raised on the Planet Zzzardough (situated half a parsec to the left of the crab nebula) by a species of hyper intelligent Sssnakeoids in the deeply buried ceramic reptile city known as “The Pit”, many miles beneath the Desert of Delirium. Zom proved himself an unbeatable warrior, a master strategist and a political genius and rose through the ranks of the ruthless Sssnakeoid technocracy to become the supreme sole ruler of The Pit.
Zom went on to totally conquer the entire planet. Raging and conquering his way through the seeable universe, Zom amassed his infamous Barbarian Horde Army, comprising of one thousand champions each more barbaric and amorphous than the last. Coming to the gates of unreality, they smashed them open, thus adding the realm of unreality to their list of dominions. On defeating his last and most bitter foe, Ohmdar of the eternal Slime Lord, which involved a profound and prophetic experience with a cantaloupe melon, Zom was compelled to journey on a search for inner peace and enlightenment.