The Big Zen Garden

Ron, you haven’t checked in for a while so I decided to hobble my ass to the slums. 10 stories and they all smelled like eggs. Phil (who was soused by the way) says hi. Jee…z he gets gropey when drunk.

So what’s the hold up, just stamp ’em, ship ’em.

Crap is that a pen in your hand? Tell me your not.

You don’t name the sand Ron. First thing they taught you. The sand names itself. You make the sand, you grow the sand, you watch the sand but sand names sand. It’s what we call freewill. We don’t give them any vote but we give them say. Say’s free, say keeps them happy and keeps our jobs cush. Without say, we’ve got a bunch of little nothings doing nothing. It’s boring as fuck. So we give them say and we don’t have to make cable tv and hooker allowances.

Why would you want to name one? Oh for, are you making a messiah? Do you have any idea what kind of fail rate Messiah’s have? Newsflash: avatars suck and prophets go offscript. Micromanagement is a no no.

Oh don’t give me that, this is different.

How? I was bored.

Uh uh my friend, I manage you, you have no idea what boring is until you manage you.

No. Breach of protocol, plus you need 200 more years before you’re up for promotion.

Just put… Evinrude back in the pile. Wait, Seriously? Fuck that, file a I527 Naming Intervention. Tina. Or Murphy. Get her an early adoption papers, parents could probably die in a meth lab explosion. Easily.
Okay, Charlie’s got a birthday party. Yeah he’s an asshole but he’s an unfair asshole and if you act all buddy buddy with him that could mean big things for you. I see the coffee pot is empty and dirty. I blame you.



Mindless Kevin In The Aftermath Of Kevin’s Mindless Consumption

Kevin is happy to be inanimate or at least he’s not protesting. Really, Kevin’s life is probably better now that he doesn’t have one. It was getting harder and harder to balance his social life with his career. Lola, (his fiance of three years) was getting impatient and was soon to leave him. This was still true but Kevin didn’t mind too much. At best, Kevin gurgles and continues existing with no linear memories or emotions. The gray blob at the center of the room was  Kevin. Kevin had an MBA when he was a man and the MBA is still valid, it’s just that Kevin is an inanimate blob of base materials. . That’s what happens when you get in the way of molecular destabilizing current; your MBA becomes moot. Apparently his cellphone was not bluetooth compliant. Also, the molecular destabilizer he had bought for 10.99 really didn’t have any practical applications. Oh well, die and let live I guess.

Oh, But Not Even For The Muse Of A Stabbing Monkey

Okay, you’re pissing me off. It’s been ten days and still tabula rasa. I’ve sacrificed a chicken in your name and you still give me nothing. Not even the chicken blood I’ve smacked on the canvas has inspired me. The tom cat I acquired from Ms. Pendelton’s apartment refuses to dance so I must go to the most desperate measure to summon you, my muse. After the tom cat comes the monkey with the knife. I hope you’re happy, I need a tetanus shot now. Screw you my muse, I’m going back to the warehouse where I was loved and respected. Here has too many tom cats and stabbing primates.

The Savage Shot The Darkness

The antique Savage sat on the desk. Even in it’s own day, the pistol was considered unpredictable but now somewhere near a century since it’s creation it was unthinkable that Frank would have loaded it; unthinkable, to everyone but Frank who wasn’t thinking quite right. The hookah on Frank’s other side was supposed to be have tobacco in it. It didn’t.

What it did have was a strange black smoke that granted Frank new spectrums of visible light. These new sights were men, men of foggy, hazy, black persuasion. From the hazy silhouette all one can see of these men are ten sharp light catching metallic edges, one for every finger. As one came closer, it seemed to laugh. Frank being not of sound mind shot the monster and in it’s a last moments it seemed familiar.

Two others came and he disposed of them just the same. Their shadows moved across the floor and stained the carpet red. More shades would come for him. In the right drawer nest to the pens sat a box of .380s one hundred full. The sweat kept on; Justin knew the trip was far from over.

My Little Electric Puppy

I stand against the southern wall of my house, a foot from the safety of the interior. The bricks are not very comfortable on my back but I still cling to the wall. The winds sweep everything including the torrents of rain. Out of a moving downed wire five feet from me. sparks fly and little imps of blue and white emerge. They run for my house, knowing that is the way their river flows. A desperate pilgrimage ensues, little creatures dying in sizzles, steam and screams just to remind you that they are alive.

I find myself the next morning with my mind less addled. The hallucinogens are dying, leaving me a foggy consciousness; sober but bound to limited capabilities. I tie my bathrobe together hiding my sallow briefs. Inside my robe’s depths, I grope for my keys. Among the debris, I find a battery. It’s glowing blue and white and I swear it’s whimpering.

Luckily, it’s a rechargeable. I think I’m going to call him Sparky.

The Failure Of A Mixed State Romance

It was hard to run from you; me being just a man and you being an amorphous blob full of unearthly delights. Sadly, I’m prett sure we’re through. When our relationship was new, I was always talking to you about my day and you’d sit there bubbling and I knew everything was going to be okay. You don’t bubble anymore, I think I took that from you.

You remember the first time we met eyes to gelatinous mass in the cellar? Do you remember what you said? Well, I do, it was deep gurgling sound. It was elation and glee. I knew happiness and happiness was you. I should have known that I couldn’t keep that feeling. Maybe I just got too greedy. Maybe I was just too jealous.

See I knew from day one that you had a history with that mold in the corner and I think I let it poison our relationship. I would just sit there and think about you two together down in the cellar while I was at work. It cost me a promotion, I could have been scrubbing toilets by now.

I’ve decided to move out and live underneath a two bedroom. The owners rarely do laundry and the wifi is free. More over, you’re not there and we can be our respective selves. I will miss you but I’ve met some nice substances here and I hope to be happy with them.

The King Of Rainbow Death

In the land where rainbows kill, the man who has the best prism is king. His name is Gumdrop and he sits upon a throne earned in blood, or actually the pink sparkly stuff that serves as a substitute in that land. His hair is blond and long, His build is slight but athletic. His hands are almost effeminate and his southpaw holds the very reigns of the kingdom, a flashlight with the great prism on a chain. How he came to be ruler of a kingdom full of giant ferrets that spoke Esperanto was a story of equal parts insanity and adventure.

Great men can come from anywhere, from the post office to Cyprus. Gumdrop came from The Mojave Desert where he was Greg Lawson, mild mannered dehydration victim. While digging, madly groping at the Earth for water, he found himself a door. It was flush, as if secret. In hopes of water, he crawled down the hole. He belly flopped four feet on to soft, almost muddy ground. The noon sun’s light peaked in through the open door and betrayed a river of lavender something moving slowly.

Greg took deep of the syrup. It tasted sweet and salty, then for a moment of bitter pill dust. It quenched as it fed, and he knew this to be his savior. Once he had his fill of the sustaining stuff, he stared deep into the tunnel as far as he could see. There was a light barely visible beyond a bend upstream. With his flashlight retrieved from his backpack, he quickly began following the river in hopes of reaching this new place.

Ten feet towards the light, he ran out of land. The slowly moving syrup looked challenging and disgusting but he felt something inside him drive him into the riverbed. Waist deep in syrup river, he trudged forwards towards light and hopefully someone who knew where the nearest the road was. The scent was intoxicating and insidious. It entered his pores and his mind, changing him irrevocably. He became Gumdrop, purveyor of havoc and holder of the light.

His pink filled ascent to the throne was at first an accidental refraction as he wanted to get a closer look at a crystal. The light upon the crystal immediately disintegrated a dignitary who was busy playing in an adjacent shrub. His envoy followed him o their poofy graves soon after they failed to destroy Gumdrop with their own prisms. It continued for some time like that until the king finally abdicated his throne and all the ferrets swore fealty to their new king Gumdrop.

All and all, an eventful three hours.