“Don’t blink. Blink and you’re dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back. Don’t look away. And don’t blink. Good Luck.”
– The Doctor, Doctor Who
There is a dark secret behind statues you find in public. At first glance, it is apparent that statues commemorate people and events though some are simply placed there to baffle and confuse innocent bystanders. One may think, “Goodness, that statue looks terribly realistic” and the truth is – the horrible truth, that is – statues are in fact quite animate. All they need is a sense of believability and cause, then quite abruptly they come to life.
Take for example, the previous statues that I’ve come across during my travels so far; Jimmy Hendrix, the transgendered bearded man at Seattle’s Public Market Center, and the Hammer Man. These beings are relatively peaceful, if not supportive of the people they come across. Some of them are involved in the fetish community though to date, their part of the scene is nigh impenetrable – nobody has ever encountered or documented them in action.
The most lethal of statues are those that are either hardcore fanatical Republican traditionalists with a penchant for violence or hired assassins. Take your pick but make no mistake: These brutal killers will not hesitate to exact a metric ton of hateful ceramic/metallic vengeance at any opportunity. They especially loathe bloggers who are supportive of the LGBT and fetish cultures, moreso against Canadians and ethnic minorities.
Take for example my visit to the Seattle Space Needle. During my time at the Armory, I would occasionally glance upwards at the window stills overlooking the event floor, and to my horror I would catch a glimpse of an enormous steel shape glinting off the sunlight. These were the eyes of none other than Lord Master Aquatic Chaos the Cephalopod of Aeons, once thought to be the assassin of the late Abraham Lincoln. At first I thought about being a witness to some public assassination, even going so far as being tempted to call the police. I allowed myself the benefit of doubt. Maybe my eyes were deceiving me.
No sooner when I snapped the photos of the Space Needle, I was immediately beset by flying garbage cans and debris. A most fearsome noise broke out from behind me. It resembled the noise of rusted motors, thick flowing oil, and grinding mechanical gears. I spun around and came face to face with one of Seattle’s most infamous thugs. He had me cornered, metallic arms poised to strike, circling around me like some cosmic horror from beyond.
What do you want? I asked him. “Oh,” He replied, stoically, never allowing me to leave his gaze. “I wanna dance the polka over your mutilated corpse.” I shuddered and threatened to scream for help. “It’s not your screams I want,” He replied, closing in. “Just your life.”
Without warning, my opponent lurched at me and I barely managed to avoid his initial assault. I went straight for his eyes with my satchel of belongings, pounding at his face to little avail; the efforts were valiant yet futile, he laughed as he coiled his arms around me. All hope seemed lost until I repeatedly flashed his eyes with my camera. Blinded, screaming in fury, his metal tentacles released me and smacked against the floor around us.
“Yeah, baby,” I heard a voice call out from nearby. When I glanced momentarily at it, I saw a golden pig statue grinning at the onslaught. “That’s right, keep struggling, it makes me stiff. Ungh!” It began to gyrate its hips, licking its tongue in some unsettling dubious manner. “Oh, oh, please put donations on my back! Please!” Fucking pervert.
Call the police! I yelled at several onlookers. They ignored me. It became apparent these people were reacting with the same shock of being caught in an accident, their morbid curiosities abandoning me to this horrible fate. The assassin came at me again and this time I managed to pick up an aluminum can, grinding it into his face.
Sustaining multiple injuries from the can grinding, Aquatic Chaos lurched back against the concrete perimeter and attempted to regain his strength for another charge. I would not allow him to do such. With every effort I had, I climbed onto his back and continued my relentless counterattack. My opponent screamed in agony, wrenching at me with his stainless steel arms, trying to constrict me to death in his grip.
“You goddamn Canadian!” He roared, knocking the can aside. “My face! My beautiful face!” It was then that he opened his mouth and tried to sink his barbed fangs into my legs. Kicking repeatedly away from them, I managed to grab a loose screw and hurriedly dismantled one of his arms. From a distance I heard the sound of approaching sirens.
“Damn you!” He said, releasing me as officers approached the scene, their firearms drawn from their holsters. One of them yelled for him to surrender, but the cephalopod leaped away over the concrete wall, shouting, “You haven’t seen the last of me, you canoe-loving igloo dweller!”
I was treated for physical injuries which fortunately I had sustained none. “You are a very lucky man,” One of the paramedics told me, examining me for any cuts or bruises. My travel insurance covered the expenses, of course. “Aquatic Chaos has been a menace to Seattle in recent years. He’s been responsible for multiple assaults on tourists.”
Someone should write to the mayor’s office and tell them to focus towards creating a task force to stop this legendary killer. I continue to fear for my life lest he attempts to catch me unawares. Always watch your back around statues throughout North America – you never know which one might turn on you.
Next Update: Arriving in Portland