Saturday, December 4, 2010

WE WANT YOU OUT OF HERE

Based on a mixtape loaded with incriminating teenage angst-inflected, self-important schlock music, Interpol sought a warrant to forcibly remove Nessie from the Hudson River where it had been sticking its slick wet otter head out for centuries producing blurry pictures on living room mantle pieces and desktops of office cubicles. The main challenge still lay in proving that the tape belonged to the monster. A positive finding would outright nail the creature but Interpol had an appetite for a good red herring still, and thrived on their exquisite knack for wasting everybody’s time. Interpol loved this. And hoped fervently that the Loch Ness Monster was some sort of con job or, on the other side of the spectrum, a poorly understood scapegoat-like loner that simply was a magnet for trouble. They’d pursue the case until it finally rendered full proof that the mixtape with the teeny tunes on it didn’t belong to the monster and get that sweet sick thrill of running the full length of a dead lead and coming up against the sickly orgasmic climax of such a concussive disappointment. Interpol thrived on this sort of thrill still. After all these many years. Never tired of it. Sticklers for failure.

But the townsfolk still wanted the monster out of the Hudson because its body mass displaced a great volume of water, and with it gone, they were sure much of their belongings which they’d somehow lost in the river, now stuck in the mud below, would in Christmassy fashion materialize. Old shoes. Bath toys. Computer parts. Memorabilia. Kitchen utensils and garage tools. Garden furniture. All would half-poke out of the mud in the water’s displacement by the monster’s removal from the river. The tape did belong to the monster. It liked that kind of music. 

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