Saturday, October 22, 2016

Look Before You Leap

No gods, no masters
Is this what you wanted?
Look upon what you have wrought

The annihilation of the sacred
The desecration of value
Chaos has incarnated to avenge us

The purpose of life is to end
Agent Smith insists
We are all Agent Smith

Kill kill kill kill
You can't take my dignity
The mistaken hero claims

Three blows later
Bleating mammal in distress
Wordlessly begging for mercy

No eyes no face
Haphazard heist of hands
Mind already gone, body holding on

Mind already gone, body holding on

You ended the idea of soul
We'll strangle every trace of life
Bullets to the chest
Chainsaw to the neck

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Doctor Inko Wrecked and His Mother The Stacked Deck

"I love my bloody drums! I love my bloody drums! The drums I love are covered in blood!" Doctor Inko Wrecked sang obnoxiously.

"Pff." His mother, The Stacked Deck, pffed.

"What am I missing? What am I missing?" The Doctor continued.

"Oh my God it's perfect!" His mother said, referring to the script as she watched the author type it.

"Are you going to get to this part where I'm up here?" The Doctor asked as he climbed onto the back of the couch upon which the author sat.

Friday, September 30, 2016

Bread for the Bread God

Willerby Wallerby waddled down the lane. Was it a bowling lane? A road? An idyllic rustic path through a meadow or garden? A modern indoor shooting range, lead dust poisoning the air? Your assumption, whatever it was, can be considered completely correct. He pensively paused and pawed his lucky rabbit paw. How silly. Can't be very lucky if some sap managed to kill the rabbit and take her paw. Willerby Wallerby never thought of such things. He thought mostly of his friends Thessicone and Haplatunn, whom he loved desperately and dearly. The lane became a white void. Willerby Wallerby sat down disoriented. Perfect white everywhere he looked. He felt gravity functioning as normal, breathed air that smelled the same as the lane he'd somehow left, heard sounds appropriate to his previous setting, could see his hands when he held them in front of his face, but everything else offered no point of reference.

"Hey!" No change to his environment. His tongue became an elongated prehensile appendage. Without his consent it grew from his mouth and spelled "Hey!" in front of him, then withdrew and returned to normal rapidly enough to give him mild whiplash. "Thessicone!"

His friend Thessicone, whom he loved desperately, appeared before him disoriented and unamused. "Willerby!" Her tongue copied his from when he said "Hey!".

"Whoa!" He shouted. His tongue spelled the word. Their tongues hung in the air for a moment before racing back into their heads and returning to normal. They stared into one another's eyes afraid to speak. Cautiously Thessicone sat down across from Willerby and whispered "Haplatunn?"

Their dear friend Haplatunn appeared. "What the fuck?" Willerby and Thessicone's eyes violated the laws of three dimensional space and grew literally as wide as teacup saucers as Haplatunn's tongue spelled to match her speech. Haplatunn fainted after her tongue return to normal. Willerby and Thessicone looked at Haplatunn, then one another. Willerby tilted his head to one side and scooted closer to Thessicone. Her eyes became question marks. His became hearts. Not the silly <3 symbol, literal beating hearts. Thessicone's became exclamation points. Willerby kissed her. She could feel his tongue spelling out how he felt about her inside her mouth. Their eyes returned to normal. Willerby felt his love reciprocated and the couple grew to understand one another more deeply than any two people had ever been understood.

Haplatunn regained consciousness. Her body became a modestly equipped county library with a good selection of computers and a poor selection of books of entirely pedestrian taste.

An inscription over her entrance echoed the problem that would plague the remainder of her existence: "What is a dream?"

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Doctor Breakfast and The Silence

Doctor Breakfast awoke to the sound of screams caused by the kind of pain that outlives the one who feels it. The kind of scream a mother tries to send beyond the material plane when her child is stillborn, the kind of silent pain when the deepest trust one can hold is betrayed completely and unexpectedly over what seems like nothing. If the pain that caused the scream that woke Doctor Breakfast was an apathy it would be the kind of apathy that shrugs and flips a coin when asked "Would you rather lose all of your senses or know what you want from your life and achieve it in an existentially satisfying way?"

Doctor Breakfast was hungover. He rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. You know, when you pull all that green ectoplasm out of your tear ducts. It's seven PM and writing that made me remove some of mine just now.

"Did anyone else hear that?"

The Silence answered him. "My bad, that was me."

"Cool it mom, you were deafening."

The Silence existed.

"What's on the agenda today?"

The Silence stood outside Doctor Breakfast's bedroom door. "Get dressed and get up, we've got crime to fight."

Doctor Breakfast donned his Bacon helmet, Egg shirt, and Toast shorts. His stethoscope was an ordinary stethoscope and he donned it as well. "Why were you screaming?" He opened the door and embraced his mother.

The Silence existed.

Doctor Breakfast belched.

"You drink too much." The Silence observed.

"Nobody screams like that over their son drinking." The Silence was observed.

The Silence sighed. "Our struggle is eternal. Neither side will admit defeat or gain enough strength for victory."

"Don't remind me." Doctor Breakfast quickly consumed enough alcohol to solve all my problems permanently.

"God in Heaven, hear my cry. Show me mercy. End my life."

"Amen." Belched Doctor Breakfast.

Monday, September 12, 2016

Sexual Intercourse and Paintball: A Critical Comparison

Sex, like paintball, is more fun when you're good at it. They often leave you with strange scratches and bruises, out of breath and covered in sweat. When you're the best in town, word gets around and everyone wants to play with you. Aggression and a willingness to try new things is often rewarded but occasionally backfires. After a great session you drive home feeling on top of the world, your perception bathed in an endorphin induced afterglow and generalized sense of well-being.

A bond of trust exists between participants. Some pain can be fun, but safety rules should be well understood and followed. Going too far is a different line for each individual. A negative reputation can follow you around and keep you dry for as long as the rest of your life. Your first time will probably be intense and over very quickly. Men are much more interested in participating than women.

Sex isn't exactly paintball. Paintball always costs money. It's very rarely a one-on-one experience. You can drive to a facility and play with whoever showed up that day because few people are particularly picky about with whom they play paintball. Men aren't judged very harshly for being bad at paintball or unable to make anything happen.

Paintball isn't exactly sex. Sex often has permanent physical and psychological effects. It can cause jealousy, inspire murders, and destroy social circles. In many countries it is more strictly regulated than paintball, and, unlike paintball, everybody wants to play.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Volume Three: Return of The Thing

Not even God himself had a chance to prevent the calamity that befell our people.

Every sleeping soul was disturbed and joined the realm of the waking. The realm of the waking was overcome with an incomprehensible sense of dread.

A dissonant chord shook the universe. Even the deaf could hear it. It built in volume and harmony until our minds felt a single moment away from breaking and then stopped. The silence was absolute.