Hookers or Cake

Bedtime Story

The founders of the great metropolis came from the surrounding jungle starving, they were looking for fruit. They wandered about fruitlessly until they saw something wriggling on the horizon, it was big, and it was pink. As they drew closer they realized it was a gigantic baby, bigger than a house. They proceeded to wonder out-loud just what the fuck a giant baby was doing in the middle of nowhere and the baby itself responded, “I am that which knows the winds secret and I see all of the lines that flow throughout time.” The travelers set up camp right there and prayed throughout the night to the baby, that it might take pity on them in their fruitless search. The baby told them that if they’d keep it safe from the ever encroaching forest, it would in turn tell them where the fruit was.
So the searchers settled there and cut down some nearby trees, building a barrier around the baby. They were careful to leave an opening for the baby’s daily meal. As it turned out, the baby ate nothing but lions. Each day at dusk a red hot air balloon would appear, land in the clearing, and a large ferocious lion would jump out. It would roar and sniff the air, rushing the baby. The baby would giggle and coo scoop the lion up as one might a miniature housecat and play with the savage beast until it tired of it and then rip off its head and devour it whole.
Many moons went by and the city became modern and no longer relied on fruit. The baby was more of a financial adviser telling the bankers where and how to invest and thus the city was quite prosperous. Though the baby still feasted on lions. Each day one would land somewhere in the city and make a beeline for city hall, where the baby lived. The city people no longer had to keep the ever encroaching forest at bay in fact there was barely any trees left at all. And one day the last tree was cut down. No one thought much of it but that night no lion showed up. It grew dark and just before midnight the baby asked, “Where’s my fucking lion?” The mayor stalled by saying the lion got hit by a truck and had been destroyed. He offered the baby all sorts of food, but the baby just began to cry and cry and cry. People lost their minds for fear and in their panic people began to riot and start fires and fights and even killed each other. The baby cried all night but come morning it was silent and fast asleep. As evening approached everyone fearfully waited but again there was no balloon and no lion. Finally, when the baby started to whimper was when I put on the lion suit.
The baby laughed at what a pathetic lion I was. I put up the best fight I could and the baby humored me for a time until he popped off my head with his thumb like a flower. He gobbled me up and thus started a new tradition of the sacrificial fake lions. The fake lion couldn’t be too shitty though or the baby’s advice would become slipshod and the city would lose a shit ton of money on penny stocks from Thailand or something. So a fake lion guild was formed, the baby was fed and life went on as normal in the big city.

In my universe God is the last remaining human being. He/She/It is holding an eternal telethon/memorial/relief concert. All the best robot/ghost/holograms are there/here. Billy Joel, now the size of Saturn, is scheduled to sing New York State of Mind between mouthfuls of hot pizza. Lady Gaga and Kanye West have promised a fight to the death with giant foam rubber dildos.

God asks for a moment of silence in remembrance of humanity but God has accidentally sat on the button that starts all of the holograms doing their act at the same time. The resulting wall of sound coalesces into torrent of white noise that is then amplified by seventeen encores all at once. The screaming stream of humanity roars into deafening silence and we are again told the old story. The old story replete with blurry family photos and about three billion years of anticipation.

I ended up on an adult chat site this evening. I don’t know how I got there. I think I clicked on a picture of some half naked girl… because I like bananas. And this whole matrix of webcams opened up. I usually just close those windows and go about my business, but I saw some girl that looked familiar. I hovered over her picture and a window opened up and it was a live feed of a girl, no one I knew, she was just sitting there topless, reading a book. People were typing messages to her on a scroll and every now and then someone would give her 25 tokens or 13 tokens and there would be a loud ding and the girl would look over her book and say “Thank You MonsterCock5000!” and then she’d go back to reading her book. It was like a Terry Gillian film.

Then I started poking around - on the website, and I saw all sorts of things.  I saw two half naked teenage girls who where in what looked like their parent’s living room in front of a Christmas tree. They where drinking tequila. It was like the fantasy of a 15 year old boy. I wondered what life would’ve been like if I’d grown up with this. When I was 15 I masturbated to bra ads I’d found in the newspaper. Like I grew up in the time of Greek mythology or something. Oh well, I guess it gave me a strong imagination.

I also saw a chat room of some girl sleeping and people where chatting to her nonetheless. Saying things like “Wake up!!!” and  “No, don’t wake up… heehee” and “Sleep forever my angel!” and ect. Someone tipped her 50 tokens and she opened one eye and muttered “Thank you MonsterCock5000!…” and went back to sleep. Like real sleep! I’m talking snoring and dog twitching sleep.

Then I saw a cam that looked like a QVC home shopping network set up. The girl was showing a fancy gold and blue jeweled ring she was chanting about time while running her fingers through a giant pile of sand. MonsterCock5000! gave her 78 tokens and she just winked and said, “I give the best hand jobs ever!”

And in only three easy payments.

I watched some TV tonight and I was appalled at how grotesquely arrogant it had all become. Maybe it was always this way and I never noticed because I don’t watch much TV. Why do salesmen need to scream at me about cars and cheeseburgers while being overrun by a marching band? I muted it and put on a opera for audio, that seem to help a great deal, but I still felt anxious.

Why was I watching TV in the first place? Perhaps it was because I owed a ham sandwich a lot of money and I didn’t want to think about it. Whatever the case the TV wasn’t helping, opera or not it all just felt so desperate, so I turned it off and got drunk. In my drunken stupor I accidentally ate the ham sandwich. So in a way, my problem was solved, but then I felt terribly guilty. I guess the only thing left to do was to set my drinking setting to guilt and turn the TV back on. It was either that or wallow in self despair for a few hours.

I watched an old episode of Three’s Company. Jack was up to some crazy scheme with Larry and an airplane stewardess. There was some confusion where everyone was listening in on everyone elses conversation. They spoke in hushed tones about love and death. I was all so beautiful that I began to cry. Maybe I was still listening to the opera, but I distinctly remember a laugh track. A laugh track and the death of more ham.

I spent the day at the cabin by the lake, eating catfish, and drawing pictures. I got cleaned up after supper and went down to the barn, Its an old barn by the shore some old timer had turned into his own personal bar and friends would show up. Well he died and friends kept showing up, so now its a bar. They should make golden statues of such lusty visionaries.

In front of the barn there’s an interesting historic marker that states the barn had been built on the ruins of an old druid church, that in turn been built over a cave, that was referred to in the old text as The Mouth of God. I actually remember that joint, before that it was called the Vagine of God, but God had a sex change and vagine became a dirty word. I guess they got new management or something, I forget, but I do remember they used to put on one helluva an all you can eat buffet.

Anywho, I wandered down to the barn and had a couple of tall frostys while chatting with Lyle. The Shining was on TV and we got to talking about it as we watched. Lyle said he thought the whole film was a metaphor for the emasculation of modern man in post industrial society.

“Its inevitable,” he said shaking his head, a wistful smile spreading. “We don’t need to kill, protect, and fuck like we did before, so we gotta find a new role or die.”

He had a point I suppose, you just don’t stop millions of years of splendidly debased urges on a dime. This momentum is in our blood, so you get cooped up with the old lady and the kid, next thing ya know yer fucking rotting corpses and doing highballs with evil spirits… which is a bang up good time as far as conscious is concerned but its hard on us poor little humans, we’re all filled with such sweet loving tales of man winning and in the Shining the old man got his ass kicked and freezes to death in a labyrinth. A labyrinth that was built on top of an ancient cave.

Back when the world was smaller and hotter, people lived their whole lives in the same place. Even the nomads camped in the same two or three KOA campgrounds, just as their forefathers had.

In those days there was just one God and her name was Edna. Edna lived in the sky and she didn’t take any shit from anyone, especially from agrarians. No sir, she made their lives a special living hell, what with the floods, locusts, and giant radioactive lizards. That kept em busy for years until she slipped up and let them discover psychedelics. Man, them drugs fucked up her whole hierarchy of being and ultimately made her obsolete.

She was let go after being just a figurehead for a time. It was shortly after that the whole industrial society came into being, followed by modern society, then post modern, followed by the age of weirdos.

My Uncle Frank was one of the first weirdos, he made large paintings about ice cream, death, and the simple joys of being a loser. Being a true weirdo he destroyed everything he made in the big weirdo destruction festivals they used to have. Of course one day some asshole thought, ” Hey! that, Dog Pooping Sad Music part VII, sure would look nice in the lobby of my bank… it all went downhill from there. Now every asshole has moved all around the earth just so they can all own large palatial estates with sculpture gardens and large oil paintings adorning the walls… well almost everyone except Edna, after she was laid-off from being God she got an apartment above the hardware store and took over her brother in-laws bowling alley. 

It was one of them sweet old bowling alleys full of dark wood and multi-colored, warm toned laminite. It had a great jukebox and suds was $1 a cup.  I stopped going there once she sold it though… Yeah her old job eventually hired her back. I guess the humans had started killing each other arguing about Dr. Pepper vs Mr. Pibb. Sure Edna was now just a scapegoat and one of several hundred Gods, but damn if she couldn’t still smote a trailer park full of iniquity like she was picking up a 3-6 spare.

In Volga, South Dakota they have one of the most awful sporting events in human history. Its called The Running of the Kittens.

Its terrible. You have to run down mainstreet while they turn loose about ten thousand little kittens and they’re all mewing and crying. The trick is you have to keep running because you are also being shot at by gunmen. So you’re running for your life and there get to be so many kittens that you start stepping on them and they’re crippled, smashed, or worse - you skid out on one and land on a bunch of others and hurt them real bad. Then you sit there surrounded by thousands of mewing and broken helpless little creatures and you are overcome with sadness and grief and you yell at the gunmen to just fucking kill you and now they won’t and then all the crying overwhelms you again and you start stomping the hurt kittens to at least put them out of their misery. You begin sobbing and smashing and you turn into this raging, smashing, crying monster that destroys the entire town. So then you wander off to the lake to drown yourself but you will no longer die, so you just live in the woods and kill hapless teens in their cars because the fall TV shows, like really suck.

Yeah, I got 2cnd place in that thing like three times… never won it all though.

I know I’m a bit late to the zombie thing. But I am surprised at how all the movies seem to follow the same zombie rules. If I were to make a zombie movie it would be a bit more sci-fi.

The zombies that come back to life would be our very selves and they would interject themselves into our lives. If you were in 5th grade, your older dead self would show up on the playground, and tell Kristy Jenkins that you have a crush on her. Or if you were in a dead end relationship your future dead self would tell your significant other, you no longer loved them.

Yes, the zombies would still be rotting and staggering, but they wouldn’t eat flesh or anything for that matter. Though I would like to have a scene with a zombie sitting alone in an old station wagon by himself, eating icecream. Perhaps he would drop the ice cream and try to pick it up to eat it, only to become self conscious once he realized he was being watched by a child.

The difficulty with my zombies is they couldn’t be killed, they’re already dead. Sure you could butcher them and make them into a zombie puree but they would just reanimate and come back, only now with more vigor. Your dead friends and relatives would also come back and because they were already dead and couldn’t pester their alive selves they would visit friends, family, lovers and or tormentors. There would be a serial killer who is driven to kill himself by the throng of zombie victims that badger him day and night. Others would kill themselves too, out of guilt and more complex reasons.

Sometimes the zombies would want strange things and they would need help as they can’t do anything on their own.

My dead uncle wanted to look at porn on the internet. Luckily the porn he most wanted to see was pictures of sleepy looking women in various stages of undress and not some weird zombie porn. I end up giving him a cheap computer tablet that had a slide-show of the images I collected for him. He wandered off never to be seen again. 

I found it best to just give them what the want and found in doing so their presence would lessen. I had a little puppy that came back. He’d been hit by a car. He just wanted to play. It seemed to make him so happy and me too, but one day I threw the ball and he ran for it and disappeared. Strange how I cried harder when he died the second time.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was on the Price Is Right? We’d been given free tickets in front of a wax museum. My girlfriend got excited and my friends were kinda interested, so we went.

The studio was really bright and smaller than I thought it would be. They had a bunch of ushers lined up just herding us in like cattle. There was a really bad stand up comedian on stage giving a midget a hard time for being from Boston. I guess he was there to warm up the crowd. After about 5 minutes the lights started flashing and this really loud 70’s music blared. The announcer yelled some names and people ran to the front of the auditorium while the audience cheered. Suddenly my girlfriend was screaming in my face and my friends started jumping and yelling, “Thats you bitch!” they pulled me to my feet. I guess the announcer had called my name. So I haphazardly jogged down to the front of the auditorium. On the way I tried to high five several people but I missed each one. I was running down a slope and they were all jumping up and down, I couldn’t get the timing right. And I think I mighta even knocked over some old lady but the usher kept pulling me along and yelled “keep going!” so onward I went.

When I got to the front, Bob came out to much fanfare and asked us each where we were from and I was just in shock and I guess I said, “Sure dude!” And Bob shot me this glance that said, “I’ll slit your fucking throat kid,” but the audience kinda laughed and Bob stuck out his chin and retorted “Whatever, Hippy!” the audience thought that was really funny. 

I never got up on stage though, some bitch named Wanda kept bidding 1$ more than me and she finally won. When she got on stage. She kissed Bob on the cheek and Bob made her reach into his pocket for some money. Oh yeah. So after the chick pulls a 100 out of Bobs pants they giggle and coo a bit and then Bob does this over the top windmill Elvis point and says “I bet you’d like to drive home in this,”

“A NEW CAR!!! screams the announcer.

And the curtain opens revealing a powder blue convertible. The audience is just jumping up and down and screaming and there is this DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! noise and everyone is losing their fucking mind they just keep jumping up and down and screaming with delight and the DING! DING! DING! gets louder and louder and the announcer keeps screaming “A NEW CAR! A NEW CAR!” and people start tearing off their clothes and just beating the shit out of each other.. They’re all sooo excited - tearing off their flesh and smashing thier bones and setting themselves on fire and the whole place just starts shaking and falling down around us. I run up on stage and Bob gives me a wink and we hop into that powder blue Chevy and gun it through a wall into another studio where we run over several kids and a marching band of clowns. We then crash through a soap opera and a news room set up before finally smashing through the 13th story windows of the studio high-rise. All goes quiet and Bob looks over to me, his white hair like a perfect cloud in the bluest of blue skies.  He whispers, “I love you. I’ve always loved you!” and the music swells as he takes my face in his hands and violently bites off my entire upper and lower lips. He smells like gunfire and a pine forest full of semen.