Sunday, January 15, 2012

GODZILLA MOVED IN NEXT DOOR AND IS GIVING EVERYONE THE HEEBIE JEEBIES

I didn't deliberately let 3-D glasses ruin my barmitzvah.
After seeing Pokemons with mullets, a gothic David Hasselhof,
and question mark-shaped antlers on every head, I Windexed the lenses
thoroughly.

The swamp's watercolors still aren't pressed firmly enough on the
amphibious stencil. Popcorn is just obese raisins with the healthy glow
of ghosts. Not even with a shovel could you ever lift one horrorlump
after passing it through a wormhole – as heavy as a symphony of pigeons
in a clothes dryer.

Does everyone feel the genome programming them to be hungry?
Does each genome have to be readjusted after coming in contact
with a mousetrap? Nail-biting still helps one reach one's interior plastics,
their electronic tics just a bit noisier than I'm used to. So if you ever wondered
at the sound of the alarm clock of a serial killer...

Carry-on size, luckily the brain is not like such an old mobile phone.
Eventually it proved impossible to keep its orientation relative to
the pilot lights constellating my apartment, when through two walls you
could hear the squeak of Godzilla fitting his condom.

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