Flash-Fiction Contest

Dear sergeant-commander Xiao Leng,

Before I explain the shameful debacle I have caused, understand that for the past eight months I have been unimaginably bored. The conflict pops and fizzes in the sky and on the horizon in an array of colours and vibrant echoes, and at night the view is truly magnificent, like a never-ending fireworks show. But would it hurt, I say to myself, for just a slice of it to come visit me once in a while?

I am a good girl. You'll be pleased to hear how diligent I've been. I clean the sand out of my armour every day, I send out drones every week, and I replace my exoskeleton every month (it loses its shine). But the pathetic truth is that nobody wants to attack this position. The hundred miles I am tasked with patrolling is thoroughly dead.

Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to excuse myself, or justify my subordination on the grounds of childish boredom. But at the very least,

Felix momentarily stopped chopping at the pine tree and wiped a greasy cloth across his forehead. Whichever way he turned it seemed the sun was in his face--either reflected off water in a bucket, or off the windows in his toolshed, or off the bronze android he hadn't worked on since last year. He fought the urge to resign to the cool safety of sleep while the sun cooked the landscape around him. Napping was dangerous. Any unnecessary daytime rest could be his last.

And besides, his shift hadn't ended yet.

At around noon, a shimmering figure appeared dancing about on the horizon, occasionally stopping for drinks in the shade of acacia trees. Felix watched for hours as the walker ambled across the desert. The sun hung slightly lower in the sky by the time it was within shouting distance, by which point Felix was thoroughly exhausted. He sat on a felled tree trunk and drank an ale.

"Good afternoon!" Felix called.
The figure limped in his general direction. It carried a firearm so long that it clawed at the ground

Average Thursday

"Nice and easy now," Benny said in my ear, his foul breath sending a little shudder down my spine. "Don't do anything stupid. For old times's sake."
"Relax, man, I'm not doing anything," I said. The barrel of his gun pushed a little deeper into my neck as we took the next few steps, out of the building and into the sunshine.
Would've been a really pleasant day otherwise, were it not for the gun under my chin, and for the line of cops outside.
"Nobody moves or this ****er gets it," screamed Benny at 'em, then lowered his voice just for me, once again showing the pistol into my neck. "Just like old times, right?"
I kept looking forward, but I could imagine the rage, still visible in his deranged eyes. Who could've known that bashing a guy with a whiteboard marker years ago could've caused this? Benny had always been a prick, but I'd never imagined him sticking up a bank and taking hostages. Where the hell did he find a gun in the first place? I'd always wanted to have one myself...
At any rate, he'd done it, and here we were. It was all too fortunate - for someone, at least - that I was around. A perfect target for Benny's rage. Like old times.
I didn't sigh, because that might've upset him, and this was an important moment.
"We can negotiate," said a policeman softly, unarmed, hands outstretched. "It's okay. Just let the hostage go."
"**** off will I let the hostage go," yelled Benny, pulling me a little to the left. "Not happening. Stay the **** away from me!"
"Easy there," said the cop again, visibly sweating. Yeah, having the life of a hostage on the line probably felt a wee bit stressful.
But it was all okay.
"The gun's empty! His gun's empty!"
Benny gasped at the sound of my voice. After that came a loud gunshot, and I shuddered. Perhaps it was real, perhaps I imagined it... the little squelching noise when the nine-millimetre bullet perforated his skull. The cold barrel of the pistol, as well as Benny's left hand on my shoulder, both retreated, backwards and downwards, and away from me.
In but a few moments people took me in their hands, pulled me in some direction. Policemen, then doctors from that ambulance I just noticed.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said, as things happened around me. It was over. Benny was done for. Finished. It was over.
Someone shoved a cup of coffee in my hand. I thanked them. Could do with a coffee right about now.
Then they left me alone for a minute. A few minutes later, a grumpy policeman approached me. "You said the gun was empty," he said, looking at me. "How did you know?"
"Counted the shots back in the bank" I shrugged. "Fifteen, right?"
"Fifteen," he nodded. He kept staring at me, then let out a sigh. "However, the gun wasn't empty."
"What?"
"There was one more bullet. In the chamber."
"So... he could've..." I started trembling a little.
"Yeah," said the cop. "Consider yourself lucky. You knew the robber?"
"Yeah... from high-school. Not a friend, no."
"I see," nodded the cop. "That why he pull you out?"
"Yeah. Told him to leave the rest alone. That worked."
"Not gonna miss the guy, huh?"
"Not after today."
"Well, then. Take care for now..."
Again, I was left alone for a bit. Took another sip of my coffee. Of course there'd been a bullet in the chamber. But that was a risk I had to take.
A few minutes later, another shade blocked out my sun. I raised my eyes, smiling.
"Good shooting."
"Cheers," shrugged Tim. "And you... good nerves."
"What can you do... Sometimes you just have to act."
"Just like old times, eh?” he said, looking at me.
"Just like old times."
We sat in silence for a bit.
"I bet your boss didn't like what happened," I said.
"Nope. Told me I risked your life."
"But it was me that did it."
"That's what I told him. Don't worry, it'll be fine. We're done now."
"Yep. Still can't believe it... Wanna go for a drink tomorrow?"
"Sure. You owe me for all the paperwork I'm going to be writing up."
I smiled again.
"Good seeing you, Tim."
He nodded, touching his forehead with two fingers, smirking.
"Good seeing you too."
I sat there for a little bit more, drinking from my coffee. It was all over. At last.
I then noticed someone looking at me. I turned to see you.
"What' you looking at?" I asked you angrily.
"Nothing," you said, still slightly shocked to have witnessed everything.
"That's what happens when you **** with me," I said, and the look in my eyes made you a tad uncomfortable.
"Sorry," you said, moving away. Must still be in shock, you thought about me. After all, you felt a little shocked too. How could you've expected your local bank branch would suffer an attempted robbery right in front of you?
You kept walking down the street, thoughts flying in your head. Because if you'd been there earlier, you would've been one of the madman's hostages as well...
You shook your head, moving onwards. God, what a way to start a Thursday...

„Lucy Weber is interested in August Vinyl Flea Market.“

Peter was staring at the top right corner of his computer screen. He was not really surprised by that message appearing, but he was finding it a little unsettling that the webpage was still reporting pretty much her entire life even though he had not exchanged a message with her for almost a year now and was very careful about not liking any content even remotely connected to the girl. He may have had some affections for her still left in him but he was making damn sure to separate them from his keyboard. Yet, the facebook knew. And so, she was always there – in the top right corner with all her events and photos and comments on statuses of countless people that he did not know.

Peter was not sure whether he was more upset by a fact that the webpage knew him better than he knew himself or that Zuckerberg forgot to add a plugin for reciprocity. Because, somehow, he was quite sure that Lucy’s feed was not behaving the way his was.

The boy alt-tabbed to google maps; only to find that the place of the August Vinyl Flea Market, an event for all those hipsters who write those obnoxious statuses about gramophones, was not really that far from where he was living. Quite close to a hardware store he was sometimes shopping at, actually. And he did have the time, of course. After all, what other occupation could he possibly have had at Saturday four o’clock in the afternoon? The idea that he will go to said event and that he will – hypothetically, of course – meet the girl was getting more and more real.

Of course, the whole prospect was outright silly right from the beginning. Because considering that attending people can very easily (and quite often do) not attend, where is the certainty in being interested? There is none. Peter knew, but this had been rather secondary in his considerations.

„Maybe I should even write to her. Ask her if she is coming and if she wants to meet. Have a cup of cofee and all that. What would be bad about it? I mean, there was nothing in the past, nothing to be ashamed for and nothing to be sorry for,“ thought Peter. But despite his considerably brave rhetorics, he knew deep down that this exactly was the reason of his admittedly sorry state – that in the past, it was nothing that actually had happened. And for all that Lucy was to him, now she was in the first place a stranger. And it is incredibly hard to write to a stranger.

He stood up and started walking back and forth in his room. He felt quite enraged by the idea that he will waste three hours of his – admittedly not that precious – time chasing a chance: a magical ghost; a ghost that he does not know, a ghost who does not know him and a ghost who – should he actually meet her – can very well turn out to be a completely different person than the one he was so wishing to meet. If he indeed was in love – and there can hardly be any other reason that forces one to behave in such a silly way – he may had been in love with his image of her rather than her actual self; and that image was much too dear too. Thus, Peter was not really able to tell whether he was more worried by a chance of meeting her or by a chance of not meeting her.

Peter picked up his cell phone and stared at the screen for a little while. He chose a contact and pressed the green button.

„Hey, hmmm?“ answered a voice in the telephone.

„Hey, Jordan, are you free this afternoon? Wouldn’t you want to see that movie I was talking about? It starts at 15:30 at the Mirman cinema,“ said Peter into the phone.

„Sorry, Pete, I already have something today.“

„Ah, okay, well – take care then.“

„See you on Monday. Bye,“ finished the voice in the phone.

And so that barrier went down as well. It was quite funny – and it must be said that nearly everything from the very start of the day was inherently funny; for Peter as well as for everyone else – how this idea of his, nurtured for half a day already, turned into a kind of an obligation. Peter now could not even think about not going there. Granted, he was still unsure whether he actually wanted to meet her, but not going there was no longer considered an option. Unless there was a legitimate excuse, but as we know, due to Jordan’s plans, there was none. But why was he in such a need of an excuse? To whom he needed to excuse himself? Peter’s thinking was not making much sense, but on this day, very few things was.

He picked a clean shirt and got dressed. He was trying to remember all the things that he ever knew about the girl that he once knew and then he tried to assign a few questions that he would had been able to use in a conversation to each of those things. He knew that this is not how conversations go; at least in this thing he remained rational; but that still had not meant that such virtual talks are meaningless. These imaginary conversations could very well end up being the only thing left from this day once she decides to not attend. Not like she ever declared she was attending. But she was interested. Still interested, hopefully.

Peter checked the facebook page for the last time.

„Lucy Weber is interested in August Vinyl Flea Market.“

He picked his keys, put his shoes on and left the house.

(This competition is not related to or affiliated with Renault, Renault Norway, or Renault Z.O.E. in any way, shape, or form.)

I eit lafta hus langt inne i skogen budde det ein mann. Han var ingen uvanleg mann, i 30-åra med glattbarberte kjakar. Når han kjørte til byen handla han typiske ungkarsvarar og snakka med ingen. Han kjente ikkje nokon i sentrum og likte seg best heime.

Vel heime ville han sette seg i sofaen, skru på tv-en og **** på TV-Norge medan han knaska potetgull og drakk øl. Ein sjeldan gong tok han telefonen ut av lomma og bladde på Tinder. Av og til var det eit par damer der og han sveipa til høgre men fekk ikkje nokon respons. Somtid leita han fram noko porno på telefonen og runka til noko slags japansk eller amerikansk hardpuling medan han tenkte på Trine, som hadde flytta til Kristiansund og gjekk på sjukepleiarstudiet medan ho pulte Gunnar, den jævla tosken som stemte AP og kjørte Prius og sikkert hadde kjøttfri dag kvar måndag.

Ivar heitte denne mannen frå skogen. Han var ikkje uvanleg på noko som helst vis. Ein ting gjorde at han skilte seg ut: hans Renault ZOE med 400 km rekkevidde.

Fy faen for eit dyrt lån han hadde måtta ta opp for å ha råd til jævelskapen, og fy faen kor mykje tid han brukte på å bekymre seg kvar gong han kjørte til jobb og trudde han høyrte ein slags lyd i motoren som ikkje skulle vera der. Når han kjørte til byen var det storstas, for da registrerte han kvart blikk mot doninga frå sentrumsnissane og slentra frå bilen mot butikken med breie bein medan han med viktig mine trykka på låseknappen på bilnøkkelen. Sette han bilen til lading var det som eit heilag ritual, han førte livskrafta til bilen like vørdent som når ein tilbedar fører offergåver til gudens alter.  Bilen var for Ivar som eit samuraisverd; minst like viktig for han og minst like dyrebart. I bilen budde sjela hans, og lagnaden deira var vevd saman.

Det var ein dag i juni at Ivar angra på kjøpet av sin Renault ZOE. Han hadde gått lei av Tinder og av å runke i sofaen, da han svært så uventa høyrde at det plinga i telefonen, såg kva det var, og oppdaga at ei dame hadde sveipa høgre på han. Mona heitte ho, og ho likte turar i skogen og Kaizers Orchestra.  Ho hadde visstnok ein kid på tri år men ho hadde òg langt blondt hår og temmeleg store puppar. Ho var ute etter noko seriøst. Ivar var kanskje einstøing, men han var ikkje blyg. Han sendte straks ei litt vittig melding, og krona det heile med eit blunkefjes. Mona svarte innan minutt, og snart var dei i full gang med å skrive fram og tilbake. No hadde han bitterdø sjanse.


Han og Mona avtalte at dei skulle møtast i helga.
kriLaurdagen kom og Ivar hadde sommarfuglar i magan og ståkuk på jobb heile dagen. Klokka fem, eit par timar før dei hadde avtalt å møtast, satt han nydusja og finkledd i sofaen og venta. Klokka seks sette han seg i den gode gamle Renault ZOEn og kjørte ned til sentrum. Han fann Mona på McMoire’s Irish Bar klokka fem over sju og dei fann tonen straks. Ho var litt tjukkare enn på bilda og hadde farga håret lysblått men på den andre sida tiltalte det Ivar at ho ronka han under bordet med foten medan dei prata.

Etter fem øl medan Ivar hadde drukke ein appelsinjus og mange glas vatn (han skulle jo kjøre heim), vart dei einige om at Mona skulle overnatte hos han den kvelden..

Men Ivar kunne jo ikkje vite kva som var i ferde. Han la så vidt merke til at kvinna kika litt skeptisk bort på ladestasjonen og ledninga mellom den og bilen der han var parkert.

Begge sette seg i bilen og han byrja på heimvegen. Mona såg ut som ho tenkte djupt på noko, og Ivar vart bekymra. «Faen, no held ho på og skiftar meining og så får eg ikkje pult likevel,» tenkte Ivar.

«Ka du tænke på, Mona?» spurde Ivar forsiktig.
«Eh jo, Æ såg den ledningan som gjekk te bilen da,» sa Mona, «de e vel ikkje ein sånn elæktrisk bil det her?»

«Jo, det e da vel det?» svarte Ivar forsiktig.

«Å, æ vesst ikkje at du kjørte sånn homobil da,» sa Mona litt surt.

Ivar vart forfjamsa og sur.. Han hadde tenkt tanken at ein elektrisk bil kunne vera litt homo, men ein Renault ZOE? Det hadde han tykt var ein maskulin bil, og ikkje ein sånn homobil som folk i byane kjørte. Han kjente sinnet trykke på men bestemte seg for å vera diplomatisk:

«Han e miljøvænnlig da,» prøvde Ivar seg.

«E du sånn grøn òg du?» Mona såg på klokka «æ veit ikkje, æ, æ trur æ har løst te å sova heim i kveld læl eigentle.»

Mange tankar spant i hovudet; Den forferdelege, at han kjørte ein homobil, var mest dominerande av desse. Den andre, at han ikkje skulle få pule likevel, konkurrerte òg om plassen (og det var lenge sida sist, etter at jævla Trine fòr til Kristiansund og trefte den tosken Gunnar).

Ivar fatta det eine logiske valet: bilen var ein del av han og han var ein del av bilen. Viss bilen var ein homobil, var det mest rett for bilen å ikkje leva lenger og han kunne ikkje leva utan bilen. Han dreidde brått rattet og sikta på ei gran som han kjente. Mona skreik men Ivar visste at det var det beste han kunne gjera med tanke på situasjonen. Dei kolliderte med den hundre år gamle grana i nitti kilometer i timen og den stakkars grana tok nemneverdig skade av den dramatiske kollisjonen. I lokalavisa stod det at mann (36) og kvinne (32) kolliderte med gran i 90 kl. 01.47 laurdags kveld og at bygda og spesielt Tim (4) var i sorg over tapet på Mona Skorseth. Såleis endar soga om Ivar. Han levde eit kort liv og el-bilen og homofobien vart han til bane.

Using "ho" instead of "hun". "Noko" instead of "noen" (I think?). And the word "laurdag". "Elæktrisk"!? "Vatn"? And a multitude of other things. Quite remarkable.

Is "homobil" exclusive to Nynorsk, or...?

But then you talk of Kristiansand instead. Make up your mind, dammit!

This story was related to me by an old man in the land of Shamash.

Once Kuruki was on the run from Konu, the queen of the underworld, having humiliated her by teaching the spirits of the dead to sing ribald songs about her youthful exploits. Enraged, she gave birth to a thousand monstrosities, the most terrible of them being powerful demons and these were their names: Ghul the feathered cobra, Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle and Gorunga the ape of pestilence. Now Kuruki is a swift-footed god, and he laughed as he ran across the hilly lands, and the forested lands, then finally into the flat lands, always ahead of his terrible pursuers.
Finally he grew tired, and he feared that he might be overtaken. So when he came to the city of Kish, a young city then (for indeed all things were still young), he entered and spoke to the city dwellers using the following words: «People of Kish, I am the god Kuruki. On the day of creation I stood midwife as the heavenly cow gave birth to mankind. Now I am on the run as the angry goddess Konu has sent a thousand monstrosities against me and marching at the head of this terrible host are the feathered cobra Ghul, Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle and Gorunga the ape of pestilence.

The people felt honored to be visited by a god and asked Kuriki how they might help him. The god spoke to them using the following words: «This I have devised and this you must do: gather clay, gather straw and gather water, make three times a thousand hundred sun-baked bricks; with these you will surround Kish with a city wall and let the wall be as tall as sixty men and so wide that the best jumper could not jump its width in one attempt. Do this and I will be protector of this city for ten thousand generations of men.»

The people of Kish obeyed the god and all began to make bricks for the wall. Kukuri was installed in the most noble house in the city as a celebrated guest of honor. For one week the people toiled, and the wall grew to the height of ten men. By this time the men became annoyed and discontented as Kukuri who, due to boredom, had begun to seduce all their wives and daughters. The men armed themselves and went to the house where Kukuri was lodged, intending to kill him. They went in, found Kukuri sleeping in his bed with several of their wives, and in their anger slew all of them. As the sun rose the next day Ghul the feathered cobra appeared on the horizon, at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty three. The people wailed and gnashed their teeth, regretting what they had done to Kukuri.

As the demon host approached, Kukuri unexpectedly came out of the house where he was lodging, hale and healthy as ever and roaring with laughter. He said the following things to the astonished townspeople: «People of Kish, this I have devised and this you must do: bring dry straws to the gates, and pile it up in heaps inside. Do this and the feathered cobra will not harm you.»

The people hurried and did as they were told by the god. When Gomorg slithered through the gate, Kukuri took a torch and lighted the straws. Gomorg writhed in agony and died, dissolving into a thousand creatures that slither and crawl on the ground, who escaped and plague men to this day. The rest of the demon host also fled into the hills and became the dogheaded men of Zul.

Kukuri explained to the assembled people of Kish how he had cleverly filled a pig-skin with rocks and made them think it was himself sleeping in his bed. He chastised them and as punishment for transgressing made them swear that for generations thereafter, the seventh daughter of every house, noble or otherwise, would live as priestesses in his temple. And so it is in Kish to this day.

The people then went back to work on making bricks for the wall. Two more weeks passed and the wall was now as tall as 30 men. By this time the people were again in uproar, as Kukuri  out of boredom had taken to eating enormous amounts of food and so the city's granaries were all empty. The people and their children were all starving. In the middle of the night the men and women of Kish armed themselves and went looking for Kukuri, again intending to kill him. They found Kukuri asleep in one of the granaries, stroking his by now enormous belly. They took Kukuri captive but, before they could slay him, he pleaded for his life saying: «People of Kish, if you kill me, will it bring back your grain? Instead, follow me and I will show you a wondrous thing I have devised.»
The people saw the reason in his words and were curious about what it is he intended to show them. Kukuri led the people to a house where he had assembled giant vats, and in those vats he had mixed barley and water, and by spitting in the vats he had sanctified them and made their contents froth and come alive. Kukuri persuaded every one of the townspeople to drink of these vats using giant straws, and once they did, they were filled with joy and thought no more of killing Kukuri. Kukuri, roaring with laughter, grabbed a whole vat in his mighty arms and emptied it in one gulp. After that he grew sick and pale; he spewed out all the grain he had eaten in great convulsions, and the people were happy and felt doubly blest.

As the sun rose Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle appeared on the horizon at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty three. The people, surprised to note that they no longer feared the demon hosts, armed themselves and rushed out of the city to fight it. Many were swallowed whole by Shamurg before they fled back inside the city wall. Terror set upon them, and they pleaded with Kukuri to help them against their terrible enemy. Kukuri laughed and answered them, saying the following: «People of Kish, this I have devised and this you must do: take all the remaining vats I have filled with the drink that causes merriment and place them outside the gates. Do this and the lion-headed gazelle will not harm you.»

Hearing his words the people sprang into action, dragging the heavy vats outside the gates and then hurrying back inside. Once Shamurg and his host reached the gates they came upon the vats and, finding them irresistible, drank greedily from them and soon fell into deep sleep. Then on Kuruki's signal the townspeople rushed outside and Shamurg and all the host in their sleep. As Shamurg died he dissolved into thousands of ravenous rats and mice, vermin that plague all of humanity to this day. The people were happy and returned to their homes where they all slept very deeply.
But when they awoke they all felt sick and they understood that this was the price for impiously having attempted to kill the god a second time.
And so the people of Kish to this day mix barley and water in vats to make a strong beer of which they drink profuse amounts at festivals, and they do not consider it shameful to overindulge and empty one's stomach of its contents. And they say that this drink is a blessing from Kukuri, in which he mixed a bitter poison to remind them of their past impiety.

Three more weeks passed and the wall was now finished, standing as tall as sixty men. By this time the whole city grew more and more annoyed with Kuruki, as he had begun to teach the young people to disrespect their elders and themselves with lewd dances and songs. All day and night he was in the temple square playing a skin drum, and the youth were all dancing there in front of the whole city. One night the men and women armed themselves and went after Kukuri, more intent than ever on slaying him. But when he saw them approaching, Kukuri ran away to the house where he was lodging, and bolted the door. The townspeople surrounded the house and demanded that he come out.

At dawn, while all of this was happening, Gorunga the ape of pestilence appeared on the horizon, at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty three. Gorunga opened his mouth and breathed miasma into the city of Kish. All the people fell terribly ill, and multitudes lay in the street dying. As they were dying they begged and pleaded piteously for Kukuri to come out and help them. When Kukuri heard this, he roared with laughter. He came out of the house carrying with him a bag of magic healing dust, which he had stolen during his adventures in the underworld. Seeing this, the dying people stretched out their arms and cried out to him. But Kukuri laughed and told them the following: «People of Kish, you have sheltered me against the demons sent by Konu and completed the task I gave to you. This is well, and deserves a reward. I should heal you all, had you not impiously attempted to do me harm, who is a god. I will scatted this healing dust about the city, so that some of you will recover. Others will die as repayment for your transgressions.»
Kukuri did so, and some of the townspeople immediately recovered. But others died of the illness, and the living wept bitterly at the loss of their friends and kin.

Outside the city, Gorunga had no way of entry into the city of Kish whose walls were now too tall for even the mightiest demon to scale. Seeing no way of extracting Kuruki, the demon host turned around and made its way back to the underworld and the goddess Konu. Gorunga, ever embittered by his defeat at Kish, returns to the overworld from time to time bringing pestilence and death. But because of the magic of Kuruki, some of the people always survive. The people of Kish built a temple to Kukuri, the one that is still there and whose gardens and columns amaze all who come to see it. And to commemorate the siege of Kish by the demons of the underworld they hold festivals at his temple, drinking many vats of beer and dancing shamelessly to the beat of skin drums.

This story was related to me by an old man in the land of Shamash.

Once Kuruki was running away from Konu, the queen of the underworld, having humiliated her by teaching the spirits of the dead to sing ribald songs about events of her youth.Enraged she gave birth to a thousand monstrosities, the most terrible of them being powerful demons: Ghul the feathered cobra, Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle and Gorunga the ape of pestilence. Now Kuruki is a swift-footed god, and he laughed as he ran across the hilly lands, and the forested lands, then finally into the flat lands, always ahead of his terrible pursuers.
Eventually he grew tired, and he feared that he might be overtaken. So, when he came to the city of Kish, a young city then (for indeed all things were still young), he entered and spoke to the city dwellers using the following words: «People of Kish, I am the god Kuruki. On the day of creation, I helped shape mankind out of clay and straw. Now I am on the run as the angry goddess Konu has sent a thousand monstrosities against me; marching at the head of this terrible host are the feathered cobra Ghul, Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle and Gorunga the ape of pestilence.

The people felt honored to be visited by a god and asked Kuriki how they might help him. The god said to them: «This is what you must do gather clay, gather straw and gather water, make three times a thousand hundred sun-baked bricks; with these you will surround Kish with a city wall and let the wall be as tall as sixty men and so wide that the best jumper could not jump its width in one attempt. Do this and I will be the protector of this city for ten thousand generations to come.»

The people of Kish obeyed the god and all began to make bricks for the wall. Kukuri was installed in the most noble house in the city as a celebrated guest of honor. For one week the people toiled, and the wall grew to the height of ten men. By this time the men became annoyed and discontented as Kukuri who, due to boredom, had begun to seduce all their wives and daughters. The men armed themselves and went to the house where Kukuri was lodged, intending to kill him. They went in, found Kukuri sleeping in his bed with several of their wives, and in their anger slew all of them. As the sun rose the next day, Ghul the feathered cobra appeared on the horizon at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty-three. The people wailed, regretting what they had done to Kukuri.

As the demon host approached, Kukuri unexpectedly appeared out of his host’s domicile, hale and healthy as ever and roaring with laughter. He said the following things to the astonished townspeople: «People of Kish, this is what you must do: bring dry straw to the gates, pile it up in heaps inside. Do this and the feathered cobra will not harm you.»

The people hurried and did as they were told by the god. When Gomorg slithered through the gate, Kukuri took a torch and ignited the straws. Gomorg writhed in agony and died, dissolving into a thousand creatures that slither and crawl on the ground, who escaped and plague men to this day. The rest of the demon host also fled into the hills and became the dogheaded men of Zul.

Kukuri explained to the assembled people of Kish how he had cleverly filled a pig-stomach with rocks and made them think it was himself sleeping in his bed. He chastised them and as punishment for transgressing made them swear that for generations thereafter, the seventh daughter of every house, noble or otherwise, would serve as priestess in his temple. And this custom continues in Kish to this day.

The people then went back to work on making bricks for the wall. Two more weeks having passed, the wall was now as tall as 30 men. By this time the people were again in uproar, as Kukuri, out of boredom, had taken to eating enormous amounts of food and so the city's granaries were all empty. The people and their children were all starving. In the middle of the night the men and women of Kish armed themselves and went looking for Kukuri, again intending to kill him. They found Kukuri asleep in one of the granaries stroking his by now enormous belly. They took Kukuri captive but, before they could slay him, he pleaded for his life saying: «People of Kish, will killing me bring back the grain? Instead, follow me and I will show you a wondrous thing I have devised.»
The people, hardly persuaded by his words, were curious about what it is he intended to show them. Kukuri led the people to a house where he had assembled giant vats. In those vats he had mixed barley and water, and by spitting in the vats he had made them froth with life. Kukuri persuaded every one of the townspeople to drink of these vats using giant straws and once they did, they were filled with joy and thought no more of killing Kukuri. Kukuri, roaring with laughter, grabbed a whole vat in his great arms and emptied it in a single gulp. After that he grew sick and pale. He spewed out all the grain he had eaten in great convulsions, and the people were happy and felt even more fortunate.

As the sun rose, Shamurg the lion-headed gazelle appeared on the horizon at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty three. The people, surprised to find that they no longer feared the demon hosts, armed themselves and rushed out of the city to fight it, whereupon many were swallowed whole by Shamurg, before they fled back inside the city wall. Terror then set upon them, and they pleaded with Kukuri to help them fight against their terrible enemy. Kukuri laughed and said in reply: «People of Kish, this is what you must do: take all the remaining vats I have filled with the living drink and place them outside the gates. Do this and the lion-headed gazelle will not harm you.»

Hearing his words the people sprang into action, dragging the heavy vats outside the gates and then hurrying back inside. Once Shamurg and his host reached the gates they came upon the vats and, finding them irresistible, drank greedily from them and soon fell into deep sleep. Then on Kuruki's signal the townspeople rushed outside and killed Shamurg and all the host in their sleep. As Shamurg died he dissolved into thousands of ravenous rats and mice, vermin that plague all of humanity to this day. The people were happy and returned to their homes where they all slept very deeply.
But when they awoke they all felt sick and they understood that this was the price for impiously having attempted to kill the god a second time.
And so the people of Kish to this day mix barley and water in vats to make a strong beer of which they drink profuse amounts at festivals, and they do not consider it shameful to overindulge and empty one's stomach of its contents, like their god. They say that this drink is a blessing from Kukuri, but that he also mixed into it a bitter poison to remind them of their past impiety.

Three more weeks having passed the wall was now finished, standing as tall as sixty men. By this time the whole city grew more and more annoyed with Kuruki, as he had begun to teach the young people to disrespect their elders and disgrace themselves with ridiculous dances and songs. All day and night he was in the temple square playing a skin drum, and the youth were dancing in front of the whole city. One night the men and women armed themselves and went after Kukuri, more intent than ever on slaying him. But when he saw them approaching, Kukuri ran away to the house where he was lodging and bolted the door. The townspeople surrounded the house and demanded that he come out.

At dawn, while all of this was happening, Gorunga the ape of pestilence appeared on the horizon at the head of a demon host numbering three hundred and thirty-three. Gorunga opened his mouth and breathed miasma into the city of Kish. All the people fell terribly ill, and multitudes lay in the street dying. As they were dying they begged and pleaded piteously for Kukuri to come out and help them. When Kukuri heard this, he roared with laughter. He came out of the house carrying with him a bag full of things that can heal sickness, which he had stolen during his adventures in the underworld. Seeing this, the dying people stretched out their arms and cried out to him. But Kukuri laughed and told them the following: «People of Kish, you have sheltered me against the demons sent by Konu and completed the task I gave to you. For this you deserve a reward. I should heal you all, had you not impiously attempted to do me harm who is a god. For this reason I will only heal some of you, while others will die as a result of your transgressions.»
Kukuri did so, and some of the townspeople immediately recovered while others died of the illness, The living wept bitterly at the loss of their friends and relatives.

Outside the city, Gorunga had no way of entry into the city of Kish whose walls were now too tall for even the mightiest demon to scale. Seeing no way of extracting Kuruki, the demon host turned around and made its way back to the underworld and the goddess Konu. Gorunga, embittered by his defeat at Kish, returns to the overworld from time to time always bringing pestilence and death. However, because of the healing that Kuruki brought, some of the people always survive. The people of Kish built a temple to Kukuri, the one that is still there and whose gardens and columns amaze all who come to see it. And to commemorate the siege of Kish by the demons of the underworld they hold festivals at his temple, sharing all the good things that were brought to them when they protected Kuruki from demons of hell.