Phase III: An unnatural geometric mass plagues the North Pole of the planet Saturn in the form of a hexagonal storm. The aberration has been met with multiple hypotheses since it’s discovery in 1981 but due to the length of a Saturnian year spanning approximately three decades to an earthling, study of the anomaly is a slow-paced process. There has been a proposal that this formation is a result of a large, icy tower extending up into the alien atmosphere. There have even been claims that strange objects have been seen ejecting themselves from this monolith into the void of space. Snap! Dandy Chase finds himself cloaked in the shadow of a looming, black obelisk residing in a barren, rosy desert. There is a vetch of cracks interjecting the gloomy surface of the structure that an enormous, ebony bagworm has slithered out from. The semi erect cylinder dangles inches from Chase’s face, giving a routine of shivers resembling that of a horse plagued by a swarm of flies. Snap! The worm clamps together its jaws. Dandy feels frozen as he peers into the glassy orbitals of the Psychidae. There is a feeling of falling in place that washes over him and within the deep lifeless eyes of the creature he can see what appears to be a galaxy form. A window, some sort of projection. Do his eyes project light? Are they a window as well? Meteors streak through the void and clamor through the silence like a mute pinball machine. Grandiose gestures of the cosmos are no more than a blink as all existence explodes and reforms over and over at an increasing rate. The show casts a strobing light onto Chase like a film projector. Snap! The insect claps together its rigid pincers and the strobe increases in speed. Snap! Snap! Chase’s eyes begin to roll back white as the pace of the strobe excels further. Snap! Snap! Snap! Dandy Chase finds himself sitting on a barstool drenched with sweat as he begins to vomit. Snap! The squeeze’s fingers slam into one another in front of Dandy’s face as he leans toward him in jerky mechanical movements. “That be the swill to perk thy gills, eh?” “What the..” “Hark! Weary traveler! I be the big squeeze, the big squeeze is where…” “Yeah, yeah! I remember.” Dandy wipes the spew from his mouth and remembers the woman in red. He can’t seem to remember where he was last night but knows he’s on an assignment, and this is definitely turning out to be one of those big smelly ones. Chase reaches into his coat pocket and fingers passed the perfumed parchment and cold steel of the letter opener to remove a carved stone adhered to a golden, heavy-anchor link chain. Chase dangles the trinket in front of the big squeeze and begins his interrogation. “What’s this smell like to you?” The squeeze’s eyes somehow become even more defunct than their previous state as small spasmodic rhythms retreat him further from Dandy’s proximity. The squeeze pours himself a drink and sloshes it into some excuse for an orifice before he begins to speak. “Fishy flesh and ocean decree, the smell it spoke a sea ye seek, of star reflect and lie in dream, seems to me, that be a key, for sight unseen form six in three, upon a door is what ye seek, slotted hole and small relief, to slip thine stone and free the scene, but beware the beggars plea, a heart of stone to match the fee, the one whom owned she be the sting, to smite ye throat and smudge and break and beat, but if’n ye dare ye destiny, lie behind mine door… Thar she be…” The big squeeze lifts his arm executed in a single digit pointing over Chase’s shoulder. Dandy spins about in his seat as a spotlight flicks on to expose an entryway he hadn’t noticed before. Chase makes his way across the room and stands before a bespeckled door resembling a swirling atmosphere of clouds and fleshy tones. A carved wooden mustached face is looming atop the doorframe gazing down at a small hexagonal portal. Dandy Chase ignores the feeling in his gut that any good detective can trust in a bind as he stares at the opening in the door. He can’t seem to remember where he was last night but he’s almost certain he’s on an assignment and the rent is past due. Chase slowly lifts the stone to the hole in the door. Dandy remembers the woman in red as he inserts the trinket precisely into the void and twists it like a key. Snap! “Jesus fucking Christ man! Close the goddamn door ya filthy bastard! You’re late as hell and it’s a fucking shit show in here. Get these motherfuckers on and give me a goddamn hand, would ya? Jesus fucking Christ!” A humpback in a white lab coat slams two yellow polyvinyl chloride gloves into Dandy Chase’s chest. The man stares up at Chase as he smacks and gnaws on his toothless maw and a roaming lazy eye scans the periphery. Chase looks toward the direction of the amblyopia and notices a heaving and bloated miniature Shetland laying on the cold tile floor of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ man! Come the fuck on, would ya? I ain’t got all goddamn day!” The humpback traverses across the room and in monotonous movements begins to bend his rigid knees like a rickety elevator stopping at each floor on the way down. Dandy’s confused stare is interrupted as a rotary telephone mounted to the wall bustles loudly. “Leave the damn phone and get your ass over here, Jesus fucking Christ!” Dandy slips on the gloves without thinking and moves toward the coprolalic. “This fat bitch is about to fucking pop. Give me a goddamn hand. We have to get this motherfucker up on that shitty fucking table.” The man gestures for Chase to go toward the rear of the bloated Shetland as he slides his hands under the quivering body. “God…” The phone rings again. They begin to lift the moaning patient from the floor. “Fucking…” The telephone buzzes once more. As they lift the body a black, tarry substance releases it from the tile floor, retracting hair and skin on the way up. “Dammit!” The phone makes one last attempt as they slam the pony down onto a cold steel instrument table. “Ain’t no kind of goddamn work for a goddamn doctor, I fucking swear. Good shit a bastard would just mosey his ass in here and give me a goddamn hand, the hell ya fucking say, huh?” “What’s wrong with her?” “The fuck do you think? Don’t ya know a goddamn thing?” The old cuss begins to stab at the bloated belly of the pony with his gloved index finger. “They fill ‘em the fuck up. Stuff ‘em goddamn full of the shit. Then we have to ship the bastards.” With each gouge the pony let’s out a gurgle. “Only a matter of fucking time. The bastards are working their way the fuck up. It’s a real shit show in here now, gonna be a real fucking shit show out there soon. Just you fucking wait.” Dandy Chase looks down at the miniature Shetland’s glazed eye. The bloodshot sphere rolls about erratically as it moans and heaves. They stare at one another and Chase sees something moving within the jelly of the sclera and into the iris of the pony. What appears to be some sort of oily black grub begins to emerge from the pupil of the horse. Chase remembers the temptress in red. Suddenly the stare is broken by the doctor pushing the instrument table away and down a dark hall murmuring to himself. “Ain’t no kind of goddamn work for a fucking doc…” Dandy just watches as the two disappear into darkness. The telephone rings. Chase looks over to the wall where the rotary phone is mounted and picks up the receiver and places it to his ear. “I’m trying to reach Dandy Chase.” “Dave… is that you?”