The Life and Times of Membrane the Amoeba, Book 1: The Birth of Stench.

By Dix Reaper

"The Birth of Stench" is the first book in a series that documents the life of Membrane the Amoeba. The overall title for the whole series is "The Life and Times of Membrane the Amoeba". "The Birth of Stench" is a selection of short stories that follow on from one another and take the reader on a journey through Membrane the Amoeba's life experiences, adventures, relationships, disappointments and general interactions with the world around him. Membrane the Amoeba may be an amoeba, but he is also a human being and he exists in the human world. Although his adventures take place in the human world, the stories contain fantastical scenes with characters, just like Membrane, that are not human but behave in a human way and whacky, crazy situations that defy logic. The genre is dark humour as Membrane displays just about every cringe-worthy human trait that one can think of, but it is written in a tongue in cheek way, always focussing on the hilarious side of his sordid activities. He is a representation of socially unacceptable behaviour, as he is extremely egotistical, vain, narcissistic, selfish, always out for himself and uses foul language. Membrane is not a good looking or agreeable amoeba. On the whole his character is downright ugly, arrogant and obnoxious. He also stinks, his breath, his armpits, his hair, his ass, his groin, his feet and his pillow all stink. He is in love with his ass-hole and is totally preoccupied with his bowel movements. Membrane is slovenly, lives in filth and is always on the lookout for an easy opportunity to swindle somebody and get the best for himself at the expense of others. Despite this opportunism, Membrane very often comes out as the loser in his adventures and even though they end in a humorous way, there is a kind of pathetic tragedy that comes through that makes the reader think a bit more deeply about the story. The intention is for the reader to identify similar situations and characters in their life and laugh at them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dix Reaper
• Release date: Jul 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311665256

Book preview

The Life and Times of

Membrane the Amoeba

Book 1: The Birth of Stench

By

Dix Reaper

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by Dix Reaper

All Rights Reserved.

Foreword

Dear reader, I hope this book finds you well and breathing. I must commend you on the momentous step you have taken by purchasing this book. I’m sure you will find it interesting, entertaining, enjoyable and wholesomely fulfilling.

The best part of this book will not actually be found in these pages. It will be found in your own life, the way you view the world and the way it responds to your interactions. This is the first in the many instalments that will document the life and times of our beloved character, Membrane the Amoeba and I wish you well on this journey of self discovery and learning. There are not many other occasions where you will be able to issue so many guilty smiles and still feel clean.

People have often asked, ‘who is Membrane, or what is Membrane?’ In the face of such demeaning and naive questions, I have felt it necessary to simply answer, ‘Membrane is an amoeba. He is the Amoeba, the main character of this book and the many others that will follow. However, and I think this is probably the source of those stupid questions, Membrane is not only an Amoeba, he is much more than that. He is a living being, albeit merely with a nucleus, mitochondrion and a few other odds and ends, he is a creature that feels, hears, sees, smells and most importantly of all, worships his arsehole. Oh, he also stinks, never gets on with anyone and exhibits aspects of just about every prejudice you can think of. He is the stereotypical representation of all that we live for today and he will make you cringe while you are laughing and find secret identity where you feel utter disgust.

By acquiring this book you have not only opened yourself up to the exciting life of Membrane the Amoeba, but you have embarked upon a wild and adventurous journey deep into the meandering dimensions of his existence where you will be unable to stop your personality from merging with his. You will feel what he feels and identify with his complex psyche, for as it has been said since the beginning of the current epoch, Membrane is in all of us, and we are all in Membrane. You will come face to face with his enemies, stare down the barrel of his many struggles and stand tall in the caverns of his insurmountable challenges. You will feel proud to be a part of his adventures and will in many cases pre-empt his actions or find yourself hoping for an outcome that you know he will favour. But most of all, you will find pieces of yourself in all that Membrane does and if you don’t, then you’ve fucked up and bought the wrong book.

Enjoy!

Dix Reaper, 2015.

Table of Contents

1. Sweet Cherry Pie.

2. Starfish and Fairy Tails.

3. The Curse of the Poopergeist.

4. Membrane’s Beer Party.

5. Membrane Smokes Dark Matter.

6. Membrane and Solly Screamers.

7. Membrane Gets Ripped.

8. The Unpleasant Affair.

9. Dreamscapes.

10. Membrane Finds GOD.

11. Unkind Exudate.

12. Membrane’s Water Breaks.

Sweet Cherry Pie

There was once a very old man whose name was Cruikshank. Cruikshank was not a very nice old man, as he would sit on his veranda in the small town where he lived and swear at people passing by his dirty little abode. He would shout the swearwords very loudly, often spitting some yellow, tobacco-laced saliva in the process.

Fuck you, you mother-fuckersssss!!!!! he would generally screech with a snarl on his crumpled old face. This ritual would turn heads and result in indignant responses of various natures. Some reactions ranged from the passive - repaying of the compliment, to quite violent actions, such as stones being hurled or fists flying. The latter were extremely rare occurrences but did not deter the old man.

Cruikshank had a very good imagination and conjured up some extremely creative combinations of swearwords. These combinations were often reserved for individuals with a certain look or manner about them. The old man was very observant and managed to capture a person’s character in the string of curses he hurled at each passing individual.

One day, however, the old man died. It was not a peaceful death, sitting in his rocking chair, pipe dangling from his purple lips, nor was it a prolonged, unpleasant death, riddled with slow deterioration and conditions such as incontinence and dementia (although he had suffered from these for at least twenty years anyway). It was a quick, violent death.

On the day of Cruikshank’s death, the driver of a twenty-four wheeler carrying a load of expired chickens destined for the abattoir in the low income area (to be used specifically for the local school’s feeding programme) failed to notice the old bugger’s house on the right as he came screaming into town. He subsequently went barrelling through Cruikshank’s house like a male walrus on a beach full of female walruses. The destruction was devastating, as there was not much left of the little old house, save a few stone foundations with a floor and a thick, gungy layer of grime and filth coating it. Amidst the crashing noise and utter annihilation of the house, Cruikshank could be heard screaming his last ode to the sinner’s saint of cursing.

When the truck finally came to a stop three hundred metres past the poor little house, a slimy greyish-purple thing with a few yellowed teeth sat nestled in the grill. On closer inspection, it could be seen that it was actually the top jaw of Cruishank, having being ripped away from the skull, but still attached to the palate, with a rotting tonsil hanging off it. As interested bystanders moved closer to inspect it, it twitched and shuddered, the attached nerves obviously attempting to carry out the habitual hurling of expletives at approaching humans.

All of a sudden, while people were marvelling at this peculiar leftover of Cruikshank, a mangy Coyote-looking Jackal slunk up and grabbed the toothed palate and tonsil from the grill and made a run for it. It scampered off with only a fourteen year old boy with protruding ears called ‘Wing-nut’ trailing it. The Coyote-looking Jackal ran into the bushes, followed closely by Wing-nut. With a scream, Wing-nut leapt