And that was that.
The Holy Bible had spilled its deepest ugly doll.
I wasn't even scandalized.
In one passage, I read how Championship Wrestling obviates the necessity of tendons. Marty McFly was the hero of the story. The resolution
of his heroism increased in proportion to the disco frog acidity
litmus-flashing in median strips along the backs of his legs
just below the exhaust pipes of his jetpack.
Also, the Bible says McFly will rise from the dead as
an animated gif. A jerky aerial performance that will be advertised –
thousands of years later when our technology has improved –
in the uncanny, repetitive alignment of a pillow and a billboard.
A sample of actual drinking water will be the first known scientific attempt
at plastic wrap, in Ghana. Recycled/disposable Stormtrooper spectacles.
Furniture wound up in cozy-by-the-fire postures offering glimpses
of a mysterious snarling jawbone under their bloomers, in each household
where GANGSTA magic is practiced around a Venn diagram.
Feverish gossip in the coalmines – among zombie canaries. Each facially
outfitted with the same, nicotine yellow jawbone.
The sewing machine wrote the Holy Bible: which is peppered
with the terminology of social networking. Stands there bloated,
its safety off. On the belly of the Lego man it will create next
will rest a Lego machete, a form of Facebooking definitely
exploring the inner chambers of his expression.
In his head it is either wet or dry; either the analog mechanism
of the Lego man's thoughts stands knee-deep in mud, or indeed
this is where his weary thoughts have gone to hang up their socks.