Out on the ranch, the rat-faced tulip refused to grow as the insipid, pineapple-raisin colored shutters banged vehemently into the side of the main house, while the butterflies partook of the sticky sweet but tasteless nectar of the bland amaranths, however not before Ishmael arrived at the seldom used orange door and was pecked to death by the turgid black birds which tended to peck people named Ishmael to death while mocking the non-turgid blue birds which weren't really blue but kind of a dark ivory but were called blue birds anyway, now where was I, oh yeah, I was about to talk about that one blade of grass, you know the one, the most sincere blade of grass there ever was until the aphids came and the plaid cat slept with its three eyes focused in different directions but all aligned the same but only when all of the planets in the galaxy are aligned perfectly, for it was a special celestial bug that held the fate of the entire world in it's tiny mandibles of doom, which just happened to be the favorite word of my younger sibling who just happened to be a girl with an insatiable desire for goat's milk in which to dip her cookies that she had been given by the woman who works at the market and has three kids at home, one of whom had lost his legs in a tragic boating accident while hanging out with the guy who lives in a van down by the river and collects Creedence Clearwater Revival albums when he's not in town trying to find young kids out with which he would like to hang, and though this may sound creepy, he's not a pedophile like you may think; he just has a problem relating to people his own age because when he was a kid he had a bad experience with a monkey that couldn’t keep its paws to itself because of a not so rare condition that every monkey gets at least once in a while that goes by the name of wusth, not to be confused with musth, which is an annual period of heightened aggressiveness and sexual activity in male elephants, during which violent frenzies occur and is sometimes fatal for passersby if they are not equipped with special anti-elephant-frenzy-gear provided by the local safari guide that patrols the area, that is, of course, before he won the lottery and was immediately hit by lightning all the while watching a plane crash into a herd of unicorns only THREE FEET in front of the colorblind little girl who didn’t have a name but everyone called her Yellow Hat because of the way she chewed her gum which was always twenty-seven sticks of Juicy Fruit even though she hated the Wrigley family but still chewed it like clockwork with a sense of unparalleled vigor not seen by many unless you count the whole smith family but they don‘t really count because they all failed basic math but MAN could they pull a plow over to the abandoned theater where Happy Jack, the blindest of men if there ever was one, stood flanked by cheap speakers and carried in his arms a large, candy apple red guitar and strummed the strings causing the speakers to vibrate with the sound of a herd of buffalos plucking tunes from the air beneath a snakes belly but only until Mr. Redundancy and Madame Dull Wit had a kid and it threw up all over the place did the police come to shut the whole place down because the neighbors had complained of a maniacal laughter originating from a dumpster not four miles west of where a salty-haired young man picked up the grenade and, shrieking, cast himself off of the three hundred and forty seventh story balcony and exploded harmlessly in the crowded streets below the rogue field agent who was on a mission to capture the crazed serial killer who chopped up his slightly off-white victims and stuffed them in barrels of caustic soda whenever his subspace transmission device alerted him to the presence of an equine orgasm which as a result sent increasingly pleasurable orgasms all throughout the interconnected and pleasantly complex food chain until it reached little Suzy, a twelve year old who, upon receiving her first orgasm promptly notified the leader of Armenia in order to quell the uprising headed by the notorious and equally promiscuous sand gopher that lived precisely five miles above and below the surface of the red sea which had earned it’s name due to the increasing amount of red cuttlefishes littering it’s shores and surrounding area for seven feet in all directions except north by northwest which, if you traveled that route, led directly to the house of one, Curby Carbine who made his living by selling the souls of those who wished to see the one and only Vago kill the children of the St. Mary's Home for Ophans Who Grew Up in a Korean Brothel, and he did it while eating a rather large hot dog made of ground swine intestine and chicken blood, which gave anyone who happened to look upon his eating of the pork tubage the impression that he was either a homosexual or really really hungry, which would then make him upset and start eating the intestines of the viewer while shouting at the top of his lung, "I am a little teapot, short and stout," after which he would leave the tasty remains of the rude individual and begin to run amok upon the poor denizens of the small and secluded town of Jonathan Mary-Tyler Kington-Wimbleton Manorlakes located near the town of Pallet where gang wars fill the residents with dread and a fatherless boy faces the harshness of life with surprising optimism until one fateful day when the violence moves from the back alleys and into the center of Pallet Town as hundreds of black-clad Rocket Elites swarm the town, looting and burning all in their way, all solely to procure the advanced technology said to lie with a mysterious hermit named Oak, but upon arriving at his house they are assaulted by a glowing Phoenix and are driven into the woods which the golden bird promptly lights on fire, and as the screams drift over the smoking village Ash cradles his dying mother, and his soul fills rage as he plans his revenge on the leader of the Rocket gang who, unbeknownst to Ash, had known about the Phoenix and had tossed away the lives of his men on purpose to distract the authorities from the murder of the boy’s mother, which he had been planning for years ever since the great ones from beneath the sea hacked up the brilliant Stones of Eroth, the selfsame Stones that held within their murky depths a personality that was at once brilliant and frightening, a personality that rivaled those of lesser humans, especially the ones who walked for miles down dusty dirt roads paved with tears of small children with digital watches, taken in the brutal aftermath of the Vogon's demolition of Earth to be processed into food for Shai-Hulud, the great sandworm who makes his home beneath the sands of Arrakis and surfaces at the beating of a lone boy's drum, thumping into the earth like the vibrations of some primordial earthquake triggered by roiling beasts in the mantle of the universe, worn only by Universe Man, who has a watch with a minute hand, a millenium hand, and an eon hand, and when they meet, it's happy land for all the men and women who get brain tumours from their mobile phones which they hold pressed to their ears as though they can somehow save themselves from their inevidable collection when the stars align themselves and summon forth Agrajag who was murdered posthaste with a rather small orb of plutonium from Arthur Dent and his newly aquired sex slave Sailor Moon, as well as her friends, who, after venturing throught the shadow of the valley of Death with an anti-matter generator strapped to Luna the cat's back, were decidedly exhausted and required blood to drink, which they received from the freshly slaughtered baby delivered by Midnighter, after capturing Henry Bendix and ripping off his head and was followed by his daughter who wasn't really his daughter but the reincarnation of the century baby that used to be his boss before she died on January 1, 2000 which is not really the beginning of the new century but since so many people believe it to be, as opposed to January 1, 2001, it was the day that she died which is not even half as strange as WHERE she died and if I told you that she died in God's veins right after killing him, you would probably crucify me, but that's what happened so just cool your jets and we won't have any problems, because if we do, I'll have to bust out a little bit of my capoeira-esque moves and beat a nigga ass and then the cops will come and I'll be in more trouble than that guy who rode into Office Depot on a mustang - the horse not the car cuz that would just be tacky - and started beheading bitches port and starboard all because the tapes they sold him were all defective and now the whole IB class of 2006 has to do their english orals over again and no one is more pissed than Gregor Maximoff and trust ME, you don't want him mad cuz this guy is so hardcore he'd axe kick his own grandma just for the cold side of a pillow and THAT’S the kind of badass you just don’t mess with otherwise you could find yourself getting crosschopped in the face and having to spend the rest of your life in intensive care, trying to recover from the brutal face rape all because you couldn’t just leave well enough alone and had to go poke the bear when the zookeeper TOLD YOU to put the gorram stick down and you DIDN’T cuz you thought no power in the ‘verse could stop you and now you know just how wrong you were and you realize just how easy it is for your whole face to just cave inward and your classmates to start laughing as your blood covers the grass, but don’t worry cuz they’ll get what’s coming to them because just behind the science building is a mother grizzly bear and Bobby Ritschovik somehow got it’s cub and is holding it hostage in his backpack and right now it won’t stop growling just like that time when we went to Toys B We, which is just a front for the multiversal corporation Reality Incorporated that deals in the buying and selling of entire worlds because it’s so much easier than getting down into the nitty gritty, which is a saying used liberally by the garbage man who lives down the road from Vernor Vinge who, in 1993, observed that not only was technology increasing, but the rate of technological progress was itself accelerating, and argued that eventually a point is reached where it becomes impossible to make predictions about the future (he called this the Singularity) but no one knows whether the post-singularity beings will be genetic and/or cyborg-augmented human, AI, or something else and Frank, the garbage man, agrees because humans are becoming more mechanized, while computers are acquiring personalities, emotions and even desires and he wonders whether this is the end of evolution or if it’s the beginning of the next unfathomable stage as the line between carbon and silicon blurs and people everywhere wonder if robots will take over and become the Nu Man or if we will simply upload our souls into mechanical bodies and free ourselves, once and for all, from nature's flawed endowment and ascend to the level of technomagic only seen in movies and comic books like the one’s that litter the floor of a room belonging to Kenneth Rivera who might become the next Bill Gates, Steve Jobs or Hitler or quite possibly a bizarre amalgamation of all three but is most definitely the reincarnation Wade Wilson, the man who makes love to Death on a semi-nightly basis because it makes him feel alive, which is a feeling he doesn’t get much thanks to his gingivitis.
Log in to comment