Wednesday, December 28, 2011


Cavemen for many years had been indescribably bored.
Inevitably, they repurposed the forgotten/discarded instrument
of brainwashing, fitting it with a crude wick that when snuffed in
an emergency – cavemen began to jabber and do embarrassing things uncontrollably under mind control, making their colleagues nervous; it was
left to the discretion of the brainwasher himself whether a line had
somehow been crossed – focused Ugg's concentration solely on
a small, tar-based mind object. Restoring calm.

I was surprised to discover that after being possessed by the devil,
my hip flask was not only less tasty, but also more emotional.
It was no longer portable, for it began to shake and spurt when lifted
up and placed in my pocket, wetting my trousers. When I pawned it, the clerk
ask me: 'Who will be next to suffer the antics of this
emotionally unstable hip flask?' 'Fuk u,' I remember replying,
rudely – the only other thing I remember from that day
was getting run over by a truck upon exiting the pawn shop.

Religions that worship a god whose kindness is proven by his pride
in a death-defying comet which traveled a very long distance
without hitting anything.

Testing his theory of relativity by lying spread out in
a spiderweb, tongue lolling over his bottom lip, eyes rolling,
Einstein briefly wept and lasers did fire briefly (directionlessly) from his eyes.

A squid's vanity aided by a tentacle-full of assorted random
pharmaceuticals, it couldn't stop watching itself in a puddle,
and it couldn't stop seeing a beautiful frog in a tutu.

The senseless towel, ensconced in the wedding buffet, looked like
a fingerprint. Forensics had found a match for the fingerprint
in every sauna the world over. It smelled like the makeup
of a punched transvestite.

Some praise the common lettuce's memory's accuracy and absorbency.
A new model of facial recognition software is being worked around the
same principle, that will incriminate the Michelin Man at every street corner
pickpocketing in reach of CCTV. In London. 
Augmented bodily with lost or stolen goods of customers over the years –
as if he were a powerful magnet dragged through a junk yard –
the clerk at the pawnshop where I had pawned my hip flask had
gradually become more deadly. And mean. And spangled.
The clerk saw the fate of each customer entering his shop change
before his very eyes. The small thrill this gave him made his accoutrements
clunk dully.

Observing the threesome in a porn movie I had out of curiosity rented,
I couldn't help noticing how close together the parties involved were.


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