Seven Demons by Aidan Truhen (best motivational books for students TXT) 📕

it is simply that there is a high percentage chance I will murder them if you do. It would appear you engaged in some close combat at least.”

“Yes but that was in the line of escaping. Come on Doc—”

“It’s not as if I won’t murder this one anyway.”

“Why are you so keen on this idea it is freaking me out?”

“Vicarious desire perhaps or maybe an instinct that it might be advantageous to the group. Sadly now that you have made her look like an Aryan coati I suspect your chances are greatly diminished.”

“Aw come on that will totally fade in a few days—”

“Nonetheless a stumbling block on the road to coitus.”

“Yes well I’m sure that’s a sad thing for all of us.”

“I’m somewhat relieved actually I had wondered why you did not simply kill her when you had the chance. You are perfectly capable.”

“Because—”

“Yes?”

“…”

“…”

“…Huh.”

“Exactly.”

“Enough of your sexual adventurism, science barbarian! My art is calling!”

“I am sure that it is.”

FIVE

“HALLO MR. TELEMARK HALLO HALLO I am Inge Désirée MY GOD what a pleasure I had NO IDEA you had accepted! HOW splendid I believe this is your first conventional fair, huh? We are quite honored actually to have you here. No, you must not be modest, that is entirely inappropriate! When the fair is over you may be self-effacing, huh, but not now, no. Not at all. You must make genius quite loudly. Let us be the platform for what you want to say!”

In fact Frau Désirée spent the last two days trying really hard to uninvite Banjo Telemark whom she has never heard of but somehow the press release went out and he has an invitation which is unquestionably signed by her and somehow Banjo is here and that would be a terrible fuckup except it turns out he is this important secret brand artist whose work is all about the fluidity of understanding and context in a blah blah blah I do not know Charlie made me say it.

We are in the big office on the outskirts of Bern, a warehouse by the river converted into a business space for Eiger’s in-town business. The reception is here because Kircheisen does not open its doors until the actual festival and we are still in the art foreplay.

I do not really know the art world but Charlie does. Charlie before she murdered a woman and opted in to the Demons was a kind of a rising star of making pictures with a pencil, although in fact it is a stylus, and as well as being an internationally wanted criminal Charlie also still writes and draws an independent comic book called Giant Egg, which is all the time winning awards. In Giant Egg all the usual superhero and supervillain crap happens except that at the given point in the action at which generally a guy in black and a woman with hip dysplasia would kapow all the bad guys instead a huge midbrown egg the size of a compact car smashes through the ceiling and does nothing at all. No one knows what Giant Egg’s power set is because as soon as this happens the dynamic of the situation changes and the bad guys just stare at the egg and reconsider their life choices. Giant Egg’s silent and motionless inexplicability stretches out over them. I have asked Charlie about Giant Egg and what it means and Charlie says it is a reflection of our interiority.

Charlie’s interiority has recently secured a merchandising deal and now you can buy shirts and mugs and your own plushie Giant Egg full of crushing uncertainty to hug while you sleep.

Charlie speaks art and now so do I. It is not hard to speak art mostly it is body language and occasionally you have to say something is fraught or unachieved or if you are feeling really nasty you can say it is ludic. No one knows what ludic means so they will either panic and agree or use another word such as composed and then you can discuss whether composed is really the right word until they go away.

Do not say postmodern because although no one knows what that means either almost everyone thinks they do.

Frau Désirée is thin like a garden rake and ageless. A lot of Swiss people are ageless. They hit fifty and that’s all the aging they’re prepared to take and if age wants to do more than that it can fucking come in person and it better come loaded for bear.

Banjo Telemark meanwhile is a piratey arthouse motherfucker with three actual gold teeth and he carries a cane with a skull on it. Doc has put gloop into—like IN TO—my face to make my forehead more prominent and my lips fatter. She swears this stuff will dissolve in a couple of months and I will be the same but you know: Doc is Doc and plus also she has always wanted to rework my face into aspect ratios conforming to her personal triggers for sexy evilness so I may just never be the same and that is fine I was not so attached to the old me that I want to make a thing about it.

Frau Désirée is right now talking art and I say something about fashions in self-actualization, which is apparently a sort of low jibe one can throw in and she laughs and tells me I am yoshing. I do not know what I have said and nor does she and I guess that is probably what art conversations are like. She palms Banjo off on a geezer called Herr Doktor Doktor Paul. In high Swiss formal you give everyone all their titles in a line because missing one out is rude. Herr Doktor Doktor is old like fucking horse-drawn carriages. He must be a hundred.

Consider that for a second and understand what he has seen. He is old enough to have seen the actual Second World War as an adult. It happened all