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8 Quasi-nuclear

Kindred did not know if Meeks was talking through him, to be safe, he sterilized his forceps before realizing he was a day from now.

Psychdaddy: enthralled when Kindred vibrated between days, three times the hourly fee. The uneven doc even had time to wipe the bloodstains.

Pirates? Party hats? Partake? What the hell were they mumbling about out there, outer, odder rudder stop think stop. I AM ME! me. Pirates.

Psychdaddy & Meeks outside of Scrip City, minutes after the pirate vision. Ambitextual crime partners. Squinting, their vanishing point eyes.

Will it ever blink?: Meeks, a pissed off mutter, f#cker. The doc, cool & suave: Wait a beat for the shank of the night. There, see? Kindred.

Walking aimlessly & studious a thousand feet high, red balloon the anchor, I see the motel & pharmacy, oh, light pole! Doc to Meeks: so sad.

Doc mocks, morphs psychdaddy, Meeks rocks, clocks out, I see myself stocking up on reds & blues, bennies & screws the lid tight on my mind.

Fireworks, the reds kick in. There I am, tiny, looking in matchbook doors, pounding with sticky fists. Meeks to Doc: you mean he sees twice?

He's split betwixt with his mission between. Spritzing stars microwave his neural nets. Happy New Year, doc. Ain't it a Wundurful Wurld?

Shape of ghosts etched in dust on adobe walls. Flash frozen two dimensional versions of bags of blood and bones. The universe sneezed achoo.

A dozen doppelgangers conspiring to euthanize the unbelieving with a megaton indoctrination. See that cloud? What's that look like to you?

I see the Virgin Mary floating heavenward on a spectral zephyr. Borne aloft by the last exhalation of the vaporized below. I see her, there.

Psychdaddy mydaddy crawdaddy lawdaddy jawdaddy momdaddy rundaddy nodaddy pleasedaddy diedaddy crydaddy liedaddy docdaddy deaddaddy luvdaddy

Good morning, Mr. Kindred. I see you've been working through some issues since we chatted. I'm pleased you are dealing with the Virgin Mary.

Many of my patients would be curled up in the fetal position by now, sucking their thumb and begging for a spanking. You're a tough one.

I FEEL LIKE SHOUTING AT YOU. HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? But then the feeling dissolves in a phosphorescent haze of do-gooder nonsense.

The proverbial outside observer might surmise that I am just as in need of interventionist psychotherapy as you are. Funny old world, huh?

Is it the drugs? No? So why the time slips? Did you purchase a corrupt brainstream at the Terminal? Are you mainlining a madman? Crackpot?

the eyeball is carved out of the eye socket of the first watcher of the trinity boom, who was killed by the blast. or am i hallucinating?

the eyeball is frozen and glazed. when you look at it, you can smell the shape of the mushroom cloud. you can also swallow the Virgin Mary.

this eyeball is central iconography to the disciples, because it symbolizes the core of their quasi-nuclear religion. i need to eat it.



Capcom said...

Interesting! :-)

The segment, "I FEEL LIKE SHOUTING AT YOU. HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? But then the feeling dissolves in a phosphorescent haze of do-gooder nonsense," is an aspect of my life in a nutshell. How did you know?

horatio salt said...

cuz your life is being brainstreamed at the Terminal... thanks for plugging in.

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